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THE 
 
 ^xNEID OF VERGIL 
 
THE ^NEID OF YERGIL 
 
 BOOKS I— VI 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE 
 
 JAMES RHOADES 
 
 LONDON 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK : 15 EAST le*" STREET 
 1893 
 
 Aii rights reserved 
 
TO MY WIFE 
 
PREFACE 
 
 To write a verse-translation of the ^neid, though the 
 labour be one of love, must in the nature of things be 
 a somewhat thankless undertaking : for in the first 
 place, if it is inipossible to reach perfection in the 
 rendering of any poem from one language to another, 
 it is past impossible, when the two languages are so 
 remotely akin as Latin and English, and when the 
 style of the author was, even in his own tongue, un- 
 approachable for subtle delicacy and artistic finish : 
 and secondly, even should he attain to a high degree 
 of excellence, the qualified approval of a few scholars, 
 and the thanks of an infinitesimal fraction of the 
 reading public, are likely to be the translator's sole 
 reward. 
 
 And yet it has seemed to me that, if one could 
 produce a version of the ^neid that should be in 
 itself an English poem, and at the same time a faith- 
 
viii THE ^NEID OF VERGIL 
 
 ful reflection of the original, neither adding to the text 
 nor diminishing from it, such an achievement would 
 be worth the time and labour required for the task. 
 Admitting to the full the high standard that has been 
 reached by some of my predecessors, though with the 
 details of their work I have purposely kept myself un- 
 acquainted, I do not think that the prime virtue of a 
 translator, namely absolute fidelity to the original — 
 eschewing paraphrase where possible, and resisting all 
 temptation to be brilliant on his own account — has 
 hitherto been kept sufficiently in sight. I am far from 
 supposing that in the present volume I have done 
 more, myself, than honestly attempt it ; but it cannot 
 be said to have been seriously attempted by those, 
 however able and felicitous, who have hampered them- 
 selves at starting with the exigencies of a rhyming 
 metre. 
 
 Notwithstanding the argument of Sir Charles 
 Bowen in the Preface to his ' Virgil in English Verse,' 
 I hold that lineal conformity is not a matter of the 
 first importance, and that verbal closeness, or, at any 
 rate, identity of meaning, is. For this reason I should 
 in any case have chosen Blank Verse as the vehicle 
 best adapted to my purpose : but, besides this, it is 
 the metre of the English Epic, and therefore, in my 
 opinion, the metre most fitted for reproducing the Epic 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 of another nation. Further, as a matter of personal 
 taste, I feel that the deep seriousness, the pensive 
 majesty, the underlying pathos of Vergil's poetry, are 
 fundamentally incompatible with any measure more 
 rapid than the English Iambic ; I can conceive no- 
 thing less like the Vergilian cadence than what Milton 
 terms ' the jingling sound of like endings ' ; nor, on the 
 other hand, do I know of anything that savours so 
 much of Vergil as parts of the Blank Verse of Milton 
 and of Cowper. 
 
 Such is the substance of my defence against 
 possible assailants of the metre which I have selected, 
 and also my apology to critics and readers for ventur- 
 ing to add my 'sum of more to that which ' already 
 perhaps in their opinion ' hath too much.' 
 
 It seems almost superfluous to state that in the 
 present work, as in my translation of the Georgics, the 
 debt I owe to the late Professor Conington's writings 
 is incalculable. And I would also here express my 
 sense of obligation to Mr. Arthur Sidgwick, from 
 whom, in the, way of warm encouragement and 
 friendly criticism, I have received more help than any 
 book could give. 
 
 The Old Gakth, Reading ; 
 January lO, 1893. 
 
THE ^NEID 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 ^NEID I I- 
 
 Of arms I sing, and of the man who first 
 From Trojan shores beneath the ban of fate 
 To Italy and coasts Lavinian came, 
 Much tossed about on land and ocean he 
 By violence of the gods above, to sate 
 Relentless Juno's ever-rankling ire. 
 In war, too, much enduring, till what time 
 A city he might found him, and bear safe 
 His gods to Latium, whence the Latin race, 
 And Alba's sires, and lofty-towering Rome. 
 
 Say, Muse, what outrage to her power the cause. 
 Or angered why, the Queen of Heaven constrained 
 A man, so marked for goodness, still to ply 
 The round of peril, bear the brunt of toil : 
 In heavenly breasts do such fierce passions dwell ? 
 
2 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 12-33 
 
 There was an ancient city, the abode 
 Of Tyrian settlers, Carthage, far to sea 
 Facing Italia and the Tiber-mouths, 
 Wealthy of substance, and in war's pursuit 
 None fiercer, far beyond all lands, 'tis said. 
 To Juno dearest — Samos e'en less dear. 
 Here were her arms, her chariot here ; that this 
 Should, fate consenting, a world-empire be. 
 E'en then the goddess bent her cherished aim. 
 Nathless she had heard that from the blood of Troy 
 A race was rearing, destined to o'erthrow 
 Her Tyrian towers ; that issuing hence should come 
 A people of wide empire, lords of war. 
 To ravage Libya : such the round of fate. 
 Moved by this fear, Saturnia, and therewith 
 Still mindful of the former strife, which erst 
 At Troy for her dear Argos she had waged — 
 Nor were the quarrel's causes and fierce pangs 
 Yet banished from her soul ; in memory's depth 
 Lie stored the doom of Paris, and the affront 
 Of her spurned beauty, and that loathed stock. 
 And the high prize of ravished Ganymede — 
 Fired with these thoughts beside, the Trojan few, 
 'Scaped from the Danai and Achilles fell. 
 Still must she keep upon wide ocean tossed 
 Aloof from Latium ; and for many a year 
 They roamed, fate-driven, through all the circling 
 
 seas : 
 Such moil it cost to found the Roman race. 
 
34-57 THE MNEID, BOOK I 3 
 
 Scarce out of sight of the Sicilian land 
 To sea-ward they were sailing cheerily, 
 Tilting the salt foam with each brazen beak. 
 When Juno, nursing in her bosom's depth 
 The undying wound, thus with her own soul spake : 
 ' I to shrink foiled from my design, too weak 
 To ward the Teucrians' king from Italy, 
 Because the fates forbid me ! and could Pallas 
 Burn up the Argive galleys, and their crews 
 Drown in the deep, for one man's mad offence, 
 Ajax, Oileus' son ? With her own hand 
 She, hurling from the clouds Jove's nimble fire, 
 Scattered their barks, with winds upheaved the sea, 
 And him, from riven breast panting forth the flames, 
 Upwhirled and staked upon a pointed rock : 
 But I, who walk the queen of heaven, at once 
 Sister and spouse of Jove, with one weak race 
 These many years am warring ; and is there left 
 Still who to Juno's godhead bows the knee. 
 Or lays a suppliant's offering on her shrine ? ' 
 Such thoughts revolving in her fiery breast, 
 Lo ! to the storm-clouds' home, ^olia, tracts 
 Teeming with furious gales, the goddess came. 
 Here in a vast cave ^olus, their king. 
 The wrestling winds and roaring hurricanes 
 Bends to his sway and curbs with prison-chains ; 
 They, with a mighty rumbling of the hill, 
 Growl chafing round their barriers ; on the height^ 
 Sceptre in hand, aloft sits ^olus, 
 
4 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 57-80 
 
 And sleeks their passions and allays their ire ; 
 
 Else would they hale sea, land, and vaulted heaven 
 
 In their wild flight, and sweep them into space. 
 
 But with this fear the sire omnipotent 
 
 Penned them in caverns dark, and o'er them piled 
 
 The bulk of lofty mountains, and a king 
 
 He gave them, who by settled bond should know 
 
 To grip the reins, or slacken, at his word. 
 
 Him Juno then with suppliant voice addressed : 
 
 ' ^olus, for to thee the sire of gods 
 And king of men hath given to soothe the waves 
 Or lift them with his wind, a race to me 
 Hateful, now sailing o'er the Tuscan deep. 
 Bears Ilium and her conquered household gods 
 To Italy : strike wrath into the winds. 
 Sink and o'erwhelm their barks, or sunder far 
 And broadcast fling their bodies on the deep. 
 Twice seven fair nymphs of matchless mould have I, 
 Of whom Deiopea, fairest-formed. 
 In lasting wedlock will I knit with thee. 
 And dedicate her thine, that all her years 
 She for such service at thy side may spend. 
 And make thee father of a race as fair.' 
 
 Then answered .^olus : ' Thy task, O queen. 
 Is to search out thy pleasure, mine to do 
 Thy bidding : of thy grace is all I own 
 Of power, this sceptre, and consenting Jove ; 
 Thou set'st me in the banquet-hall of heaven, 
 And mak'st me ruler of the clouds and storms.' 
 
8I-I03 THE JENEID, BOOK T 5 
 
 So having said, his spear he turned and thrust 
 Against the hollow mountain-side : the winds 
 As in compact array, where vent is given. 
 Rush forth and with tornado scour the world, 
 Swoop on the sea, and from its sunken bed 
 Upheave it whole in one wild onset, east, 
 South, 'and southwester with thick-coming squalls. 
 And roll huge billows to the shore. Anon 
 Rises the creak of cables, cry of men : 
 Clouds in a moment from the Trojans' eyes 
 Snatch heaven arid day ; black night broods o'er the 
 
 deep : 
 Skies thunder ; the air lightens, flash on flash ; 
 No sign abroad but bodes them instant death. 
 Straight are ^Eneas' limbs with shuddering loosed ; 
 He groans, and, stretching his clasped hands to 
 
 heaven. 
 Thus cries aloud : ' O thrice and four times blest 
 Who won to die beneath Troy's lofty towers 
 Under their kinsmen's eyes ! O Tydeus' son. 
 Bravest of Danaan blood ! to think that I 
 On lilium's plains was suffered not to fall. 
 Nor at thy hand pour forth my spirit, where 
 Fierce Hector by the son of .^Eacus 
 Lies stricken low, where huge Sarpedon, where, 
 Caught down beneath his current, Simois rolls 
 Shields, helms, and bodies of the countless brave ! ' 
 
 Such words out-tossing, a loud blast from the north 
 Strikes him full-sail, and lifts the floods to heaven ; 
 
6 THE ALNEID, BOOK I 104-127 
 
 Crash go the oars, then swerves the prow ; the waves 
 Receive her broadside : on rolls, heaped and sheer, 
 A watery mountain : on the wave-tops some 
 Hang poised ; to some the sea deep-yawning shows 
 Bare ground amid the billows, surge with sand 
 Raving ; three ships the south wind's sudden clutch 
 Hurls upon hidden rocks — Italian folk 
 Name them the Altars rising 'mid the waves — 
 •A vast ridge on the sea-top : three the east 
 Drives on to banks and shallows from the deep, 
 A piteous sight, and breaks them on the shoals, 
 And heaps the sand about them : one which bore 
 The J.ycians and Orontes true of heart, 
 I'l'en as he gazes, a huge sea astern 
 Strikes from above : dashed headlong from on board 
 Down goes the pilot : her, e'en where she lies 
 Spun whirling thrice, the eddying gulf devours. 
 Scattered here there upon the weltering waste 
 Swimmers are seen, and heroes' arms, and planks, 
 And Trojan wealth upon the water strewn. 
 Now the stout ship of Ilioneus, and now 
 Of brave Achates, that which bare on board 
 Abas, and that too of Aletes eld. 
 The storm hath quelled ; with rib-joints loosened, all 
 Let in the watery foe, and gaping sp_lit_ 
 
 Meanwhile that ocean was one roaring mass, 
 And a storm launched, and all his water-floods 
 Wrung from their lowest deeps, was Neptune ware, 
 And sorely chafed he : o'er the deep he peered, 
 
127-148 THE JENEID, BOOK T 7 
 
 Above the billow lifting a calm brow : 
 Far scattered over all the main he sees 
 iEneas' fleet, he sees the Trojans whelmed 
 Beneath the waters and the fallen sky, 
 Nor from her brother's heart were hid the wiles 
 And spite of Juno : to his side he bids 
 Eurus and Zephyr, and bespeaks them thus : 
 ' Holds you such blind reliance on your birth ? 
 So 1 dare ye now without my fiat, winds. 
 Mix earth and heaven, and mass these mountain- 
 heights ? 
 
 Whom I But best the uproared floods appease 
 
 Not all so lightly shall ye answer me 
 Your trespasses hereafter. Speed betimes ! 
 And say ye to your king, not his, but mine 
 The empire and fell trident of the sea 
 By lot assigned. He sways the savage rocks, 
 Of thee, O Eurus, and thy tribe the home : 
 Let .^olus hold court and vaunt him there. 
 And rule close-barred the prison of the winds.' 
 
 So saying, and swifter than that word, he smoothes 
 The swelling waters, routs the banded clouds, 
 Brings back the sun. Cymothoe therewithal. 
 And Triton lends his shoulder to thrust off 
 From the sharp rock their vessels ; he himself 
 Upheaves them with his trident, and makes way 
 Through the vast quicksands, and allays the flood. 
 And skims the wave-top lightly charioted. 
 And as when oft in some vast throng hath risen 
 
8 THE yENEID, BOOK I I49-I73 
 
 A tumult, and the base herd waxeth mad, 
 
 And brands and stones, wrath-furnished weapons, fly, 
 
 Then, if some hero chance upon their sight. 
 
 Of weight for worth or exploit, they are hushed 
 
 And stand all ear to listen ; with his words 
 
 He sways their passion, soothes their ruffled breasts ; 
 
 So all at once the roar of ocean died, 
 
 What time, forth peering o'er the main, the sire 
 
 Borne on a cloudless heaven his coursers drove. 
 
 And flying gave his willing chariot way. 
 
 Toil-worn the children of .^Eneas strive 
 To make what shores are nearest, and at length 
 To Libya's coast they come. There is a spot 
 Deep in a cove's recess : an isle there makes 
 A harbour with the barrier of its sides, 
 'Gainst which no deep-sea billow but is dashed, 
 And sundered into wavelets far withdrawn. 
 On either side huge cliffs, a towering pair, 
 Frown up to heaven ; sheer down in shelter sleep 
 Broad waters, while, a scene of waving woods, 
 Black shaggy groves hang beetling from above. 
 Under the cliff's face is a crag-hung cava^ 
 Within, fresh springs and seats in the living rock 
 Nymph-haunted : the tired ships, to moor them here. 
 No cables need, nor hooked anchor's fang. 
 Here, mustering seven from all his tale of ships, 
 ^neas enters ; yearning sore for land,' 
 Outleap the Trojans, gain the wished-for beach. 
 And lay their brine-drenched limbs upon the shore. 
 
174-197 THE yENElD, BOOK I 9 
 
 Achates from a flint first struck the spark, 
 
 And nursed the fire in leaves, and, heaping round 
 
 Dry fuel, on tinder quickly caught the flame. 
 
 Then sea-marred corn they fetch, fate-sick, and gear 
 
 Of the corn-goddess, and their rescued grain 
 
 To parch with fire prepare and pound with stone. 
 
 Meanwhile ^neas scales a crag, to scan 
 In one wide survey all the sea, if aught 
 Of Antheus and the Phrygian biremes there 
 Wind-drifted he may spy, or Capys, or 
 Caicus' arms upon the lofty stern. 
 Vessel in sight is none, on shore he sees 
 Three stags before him ranging ; in their rear 
 The whole herd follow, and in long array 
 Wind feeding through the valleys. Then he stopped, 
 Seized in his clutch a bow and winged shafts — 
 Weapons which true Achates chanced to bear — 
 And first themselves the leaders, holding high 
 Their heads with branchy antlers, he lays low. 
 And then the herd, and all the rout pell-mell 
 Plies with his arrows through the leafy brakes. 
 Nor stays his hand till seven huge frames on earth 
 He casts in triumph, to match the tale of ships. 
 Thence to the port he hies, gives all their share, 
 And next the wine, which on Trinacria's shore 
 In casks Acestes had in bounty stowed — 
 A hero's gift at parting — he metes out, 
 And soothes their sorrowing breasts with suchlike 
 words : 
 
lo THE yENEID, BOOK I 198-219 
 
 ' O comrades, for not all unlearned of ills. 
 Are we already — O schooled to worser woes 
 Than these, of these too heaven will grant an end. 
 E'en Scylla's fury and deep-bellowing rocksi' 
 Have ye drawn nigh, and proved the Cyclop-crags : 
 Courage recall ; dull fears forego ; belike 
 This too one day will be with joy remembered. 
 Through shifting perils, by many a brink of death, 
 Toward Latium are we faring, where the fates 
 Portend us quiet resting-places : there 
 The realm of Troy must from her ashes rise : 
 Endure, and hoard yourselves for happier days.' 
 
 So spake his lips, while, sick with extreme woe, 
 Hope's mask he wears, and chokes the anguish 
 
 down. 
 They to the spoil, the feast that is to be, 
 Address them, flay the ribs, the flesh lay bare ; 
 Part cleave it into pieces, and on spits 
 Still quivering- fresh impale them ; other some 
 Set caldrons on the shore, and tend the fires. 
 Then with the food they summon back their 
 
 strength. 
 And stretched upon the greensward take their fill 
 Of old wine and fat venison. When good cheer 
 Had banished hunger, and the board was cleared, 
 In endless talk for their lost mates they yearn, 
 'Twixt hope and fear uncertain whether still 
 Among the quick to deem them, or e'en now 
 Suffering the worst, and deaf to their last cry. 
 
220-240 THE ^NEID, BOOK I ii 
 
 And chiefly good ^neas, now the fate 
 
 Of keen Orontes, now of Amycus, 
 
 And inly, Lycus, thine untimely doom, 
 
 And for brave Gyas, brave Cloanthus, mourns. 
 
 And now they had ended, when from, heights of 
 air 
 Down-glancing on the sail-flown sea, and lands 
 With shores and widespread peoples stretched be- 
 low, 
 Jupiter thus upon the cope of heaven 
 Made pause, and fixed his eyes on Libya's realm. 
 Him then, such cares revolving in his breast. 
 Sadder than wont, her bright eyes brimmed with 
 
 tears, 
 Venus bespake : ' O thou who swayest the tides 
 Of men and gods with sovereign power eterne, 
 And scar'st them with thy bolt, what crime so dire 
 Can my ^neas, what the sons of Troy 
 Have wrought to-thee-ward, that against them now. 
 By death so minished, the whole world stands barred, 
 And all for Italy 1 Surely that from these 
 Should one day is^ue with revolving years 
 The Romans, ay, from these the warrior-chiefs 
 Of Teucer's blood requickened, born to rule 
 All-potent sea and land, thou promisedst : 
 What purpose, sire, has warped thee } I indeed 
 Hereby, with counter-fate requiting fate. 
 Oft solaced me for Troy's sad overthrow ; 
 But the same fortune, that pursued so long, 
 
13 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 241-251 
 
 Still dogs them with disaster. Mighty king, 
 
 What end dost thou vouchsafe them of their toils ? 
 
 Antenor, from the Achaean midst escaped, 
 
 Could thrid lUyria's windings all unscathed, 
 
 Far inward to Liburnian realms, and pass 
 
 The well-springs of Timavus, whence the sea 
 
 Bursts through nine mouths 'mid thunder of the 
 
 rocks. 
 And whelms his fields beneath the roaring main. 
 Yet here Patavium's city founded he, 
 To be his Teucrians' dwelling-place, and named 
 The nation, and hung high the arms of Troy ; 
 Now rests he tranquil, lulled in calm repose : 
 But we, thine offspring, whom thy nod assigns 
 The height of heaven, our ships— O misery ! — lost. 
 To slake one wrathful spirit are forsook. 
 And sundered far from the Italian coast. 
 Is this the good man's guerdon ? Dost thou so 
 Restore us to our empire .■' ' 
 
 Upon her 
 Smiling with that regard, wherewith he clears 
 Tempestuous skies, the sire of men and gods 
 His daughter's lips touched, and bespake her thus : 
 ' Truce, Cytherea, to thy fears, and know 
 Unshaken stand thy children's destinies : 
 Lavinium's city and predestined walls 
 Thou shalt behold, and in thine arms up-bear 
 High-sou led .<Eneas to the stars of heaven ; 
 Nor hath my purpose warped me. This, thy son — 
 
261-285 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 13 
 
 Yox I, to ease thy gnawing care, will speak, 
 
 From fate's dark roll her inmost secrets wring — 
 
 Shall wage a mighty war in Italy, 
 
 Crush the proud folk, and for his warriors found 
 
 A city and a system, till the third 
 
 Summer hath seen him lord in Latium, 
 
 Three winters o'er the vanquished Rutules sped. 
 
 But young Ascanius, newly now surnamed 
 
 lulus — IIus was he while enthroned 
 
 Stood Ilium's State — shall compass in his reign 
 
 Thirty great cycles with revolving months. 
 
 And from Lavinium shift his empire's seat. 
 
 And Alba Longa's ramparts rear with power : 
 
 Here now shall reign full thrice a hundred years 
 
 Great Hector's line, till Ilia, royal maid 
 
 And priestess, shall twin offspring bear to Mars, 
 
 Their sire ; then glorying in the tawny hide 
 
 Of the she-wolf, his nurse, shall Romulus 
 
 Take up the nation, build the war-god's town. 
 
 And call them Romans after his own name. 
 
 For these no bounds of power, no times I fix, 
 
 An endless empire grant them. Nay, fierce Juno, 
 
 Who now with terror scares earth, sea, and heaven, 
 
 Shall turn to kinder counsels, and with me 
 
 Cherish the Romans, masters of the world. 
 
 The toga'd nation. So hath heaven decreed. 
 
 A time shall come with gliding lustres, when 
 
 The house of Assaracus to her yoke shall bow 
 
 Phthia and famed Mycenze, and bear sway 
 
14 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 285-307 
 
 O'er conquered Argos. From that glorious line, 
 Of Troy descending, Caesar shall be born. 
 Destined to bound with ocean his domain. 
 As with the stars his glory, Julius, 
 A name bequeathed from great lulus. Him, 
 Laden with eastern spoils, shalt thou one day 
 Hold safe in heaven : to him too prayers shall rise. 
 Then wars shall cease, the rugged times grow mild ; 
 Hoar Faith, and Vesta, and Quirinus then 
 Yoked with his brother Remus, shall give laws ; 
 Grim-knit with bolts of iron War's temple-gates 
 Close-barred shall be, while hellish Rage within 
 High on a grisly pile of arms, his hands 
 Brass-bound behind him with a hundred knots. 
 Shall roar terrific from blood-boltered mouth.' 
 
 So saying, he sends down Maia's son from heaven, 
 That Carthage her new towers and lands might ope 
 To greet the Teucrians, lest, unlearned of fate, 
 Dido repel them. Through the vast of air 
 His plumed oars he plies, on Libya's strand 
 Has swift alighted ; ay, e'en no\y he is 
 About his errand ; the god wills, and lo ! 
 Those haughty hearts the Punic folk put by ; 
 Their queen in chief toward the Teucrian host 
 Now harbours gentle thoughts and kind desires. 
 
 But good .£neas, all night long perplexed 
 With many a care, when first the genial boon 
 Of light was given, resolved to issue forth, 
 Search out the new land, and what shores he hath 
 gained 
 
307-33I THE MNEID, BOOK I 15 
 
 By the wind's grace, whether by man or beast — 
 
 So savage seem they — tenanted, then bear 
 
 Back to his friends the tidings of his quest. 
 
 In woody creek beneath a hollow rock 
 
 His fleet he hides, by trees and bristling shades 
 
 Closely embosomed, then himself strides forth. 
 
 Achates sole beside him, in his hand 
 
 Two javelins brandishing broad-tipped with iron. 
 
 Him, half the wood-way through, his mother met. 
 
 In face and garb a maiden, armed with gear 
 
 Of Spartan damsel, or like her of Thrace, 
 
 Harpalyce, what time she tires her steeds, 
 
 Outspeeding arrowy Hebrus in her flight. 
 
 For from her shoulders huntress-wise was slung 
 
 A shapely bow ; her tresses she let trail 
 
 Upon the winds, bare-kneed, her flowing folds 
 
 Close gathered in a knot. Ere he could speak, 
 
 ' Ho ! ' cried she, ' youths, if ye have chanced to spy 
 
 One of my sisters, tell me where she strays. 
 
 With quiver and spotted lynx-skin girt, or else 
 
 Hard on the track of foaming boar, full cry.' 
 
 So Venus, and in answer Venus' son : 
 < None of thy sisters have I seen or heard, • 
 O — damsel must I name thee ? for thy face 
 Nor mortal seems, nor human rings thy voice : 
 O goddess surely, or Phoebus' sister thou, 
 Or of the blood of nymphs, whoe'er thou art. 
 Be kind, uplift the burden of our woe. 
 And deign to say what heaven bends over us. 
 
i6 THE MNEID, BOOK I 33 '"354 
 
 Cast on what borders of the world : for here 
 Witless of country or of folk we roam, 
 By winds and mighty billows hither driven. 
 So on thine altars at our hand shall fall 
 Full many a victim.' 
 
 Then spake Venus : ' Nay, 
 Not mine to claim such worship ; Tyrian maids 
 Wont thus to wear the quiver, and bind their limbs 
 High with the purple buskin. Here thou seest 
 The Punic realm, a Tyrian people, this 
 Agenor's city, but all the borderland 
 Libyan, a race untamable in war. 
 Dido, whom erst from Tyre a brother's fear 
 Banished, now reigns their empress ; 'tis a long 
 And tangled tale of outrage, but the main 
 Threads I will trace. Sychseus was her spouse. 
 In all Phoenicia lord of widest lands : 
 Fondly, poor heart, she loved him, by her sire 
 A virgin given, and in first bridal yoked. 
 But reigned o'er Tyre a monster-king of crime, 
 Pygmalion, her brother, and there came 
 Fury between them. At the household shrine, 
 Impious and blinded by the lust of gold. 
 With stealthy stroke at unawares he slays 
 Sychseus, all reckless of his sister's love. 
 Long he concealed the deed, by many a base 
 Dissimulation with illusive hope 
 Fooling the love-sick bride. But in her sleep 
 Uprose the form of her unburied lord, 
 
354-376 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 17 
 
 That, lifting a face pale in wondrous wise, 
 Laid bare the ruthless altar, and therewith 
 His steel-pierc'd bosom, and unveiled to view 
 All the dark horror of the household crime. 
 Then from her home at swiftest speed to hie 
 He bids her, and for aid upon the way- 
 Unlocks old treasures in the earth concealed, 
 Store known to none of silver and of 'gold. 
 Scared at the tale, Dido her flight prepares 
 And friends to fly with : round her throng.whom fierce 
 Hate for the tyrant, or keen terror, filled ; 
 Chance-proffered ships they seize, and lade with gold : 
 Pygmalion's treasures from his gripe are borne 
 O'er seas,ia'woman piloting the way. 
 So to the place they came, where now thou spyest 
 The lofty walls and rising citadel 
 Of new-built Carthage, and of land they bought — 
 Called Byrsa from their bargaining — so much 
 As with a bull's hide they might compass rouad. 
 But who are ye, sirs, from what shores arrived, 
 Or on what journey bound ? ' So questioned; he 
 With accents from his deepest heart-springs drawn, 
 Sighing, replied : ' 
 
 ' Goddess, should I recount 
 From their first source, and wert thou free to hear. 
 Our sorrows' sad recital, eve would first 
 Put day to sleep, and shut the gates bf heaven. 
 From ancient Troy, if haply through thine ears 
 Troy's name has entered, borne o'er many a main, 
 
i8 THE yENEID BOOK I 377-396 
 
 The wind's whim drave us to the Libyan shores. 
 
 Men call me good ^neas ; in this fleet 
 
 Snatched from the foe my household gods I bring, 
 
 In fame extolled above the stars. My goal 
 
 Is Italy, my country, and a race 
 
 Sprung from high Jove. With twice ten ships I 
 
 climbed 
 The Phrygian main, by fate's clear promise led. 
 My goddess-mother pointing me the way ; 
 Scarce seven remain, by winds and waters riven. 
 Myself the while, a beggar and unknown, 
 Range here the Libyan waste, an outcast banned 
 From Europe and from Asia.' His sad plaint 
 Venus could bear no longer, but broke in 
 Thus on his grief's mid utterance : 
 
 ' Whosoe'er 
 Thou art, not all unloved, methinks, of heaven 
 Draw'st thou the breath of life, who thus hast reached 
 Our Tyrian city : but go forward still. 
 And hence to the queen's palace win thy way : 
 For news I bring thee of thy friends' return, 
 Thy fleet in harbour, by the shifting gales 
 To shelter driven ; or idly and for naught 
 My parents schooled me in prophetic lore. 
 See yonder swans twice six in jubilant line. 
 Which from the skiey region with his swoop 
 Jove's bird was routing o'er the plains of heaven : 
 Now in long train they seem some lighting-ground 
 To choose, or, chosen, to eye it from above ; 
 
397-420 THE JENEID, BOOK I 
 
 19 
 
 As these, returned, with hurtling pinions play, 
 Wheel in one flock through heaven, and utter songs, 
 So, of thy ships and friends aboard them, some 
 Are safe in port, and some with swelling sails 
 Now make the harbour : only do thou still 
 Go forward, follow where the pathway leads.' 
 
 She spake, and turning shone with rosy neck ; 
 Her head's ambrosial locks breathed scent divine ; 
 And, as her robe fl§wed downward to her feet, 
 She stepped no doubtful goddess. When he knew 
 His mother, her fleeting form he thus pursued, 
 Crying, ' Ah ! cruel thou too, wherefore mock 
 Thy son so oft with semblances untrue .' 
 Why may I never clasp thy hand in mine, 
 Or hear unfeigned accents and reply .? ' 
 So chiding, toward the town he wends his way. 
 But Venus with a dark haze hedged them in. 
 As on they strode, and a thick mantling mist 
 Miraculous shed over them, that none 
 Might see, or touch, or compass them delay, 
 Or ask their cause of coming. She herself 
 Aloft to Paphos hies, her loved abode 
 Blithe to revisit, where her temple stands, 
 And with Sabaean incense ever smoke 
 A hundred altars, fragrant with fresh flowers. 
 
 Meanwhile, where points the track, they speed 
 their way. 
 And now the hill they climb, that o'er the town 
 Ha,ngs huge, and frowns above the opposing towers. 
 
20 THE AlNEID, book T 421-442 
 
 ^neas marvels at the mighty mass, 
 
 Mere huts of yore, he marvels at the gates. 
 
 The busy din and paving of the ways. 
 
 The Tyrians in hot haste are building walls, 
 
 Rearing a citadel, and uprolling rocks 
 
 By toil of hand ; some choose a dwelling site, 
 
 And with a trench surround it : they appoint 
 
 An awful senate, laws, and magistrates. 
 
 Here these are digging harbours, yonder those 
 
 Lay deep foundations for a theatre. 
 
 And hew gigantic columns from the rocks. 
 
 Lofty adornments of a stage to be. 
 
 Such toil in early summer as keeps the bees 
 
 Busy in sunshine amid flowery fields. 
 
 When forth they lead the ripe youth of their race, 
 
 Or pack the amber-dripping honey, and stretch 
 
 Their cells to bursting with the nectar sweet. 
 
 Or ease returning labourers of their load. 
 
 Or form a band, and from their precincts drive 
 
 The drones, a lazy herd : how glows the work ! 
 
 How sweet the honey smells of perfumed thyme ! 
 
 O happy ye, whose walls already rise, 
 
 Exclaims iEneas, toward the city-roofs 
 
 Upgazing, and so enters through their midst. 
 
 Hedged in with darkness, marvellous to tell 
 
 And mingles with the folk, unseen of all. 
 
 Within the city's midst a grove there stood 
 Bounteous of shade, where first the Punic host. 
 Scaped from the brunt of whirlwind and of wave, 
 
443-464 THE ACNEID, BOOK I 21 
 
 Dug forth, as queenly Juno had foreshown. 
 
 The symbol of a fiery horse's head : 
 
 For so, said she, their race should ever prove 
 
 Peerless in war and with abundance blest 
 
 Sidonian Dido here a mighty fane 
 
 To Juno's praise was rearing, rich with gifts 
 
 And with the indwelling goddess : see ! of brass 
 
 High on ascending steps the threshold lay, 
 
 And clenched with brass the lintels, of brass too 
 
 The doors on creaking hinges. In this grove 
 
 A strange sight met him, that first soothed his fear ; 
 
 Here first ^neas dared for safety hope, 
 
 And in his broken fortunes firmlier trust 
 
 For 'neath the mighty fane while he surveys 
 
 Point after point, still waiting for the queen, 
 
 And marvels at the city, as he marks 
 
 What fortune hers, her craftsmen's emulous hands 
 
 And toil of labour, there set forth he sees 
 
 The battlefields of Ilium, and the war 
 
 By fame now bruited over the whole world, 
 
 Priam and Atreus' sons, and, bane of both, 
 
 Achilles. With arrested steps be cries 
 
 Weeping, ' What place. Achates, or what clime 
 
 But with the story of our grief o'erflows ? 
 
 See Priam ! e'en here too honour hath its meed, 
 
 And there are tears for what befalls, and hearts 
 
 Touched by the chances of mortality. 
 
 Fear naught, and thou shalt find this fame will bring 
 
 Some safety with it' He spake, and feasts his soul 
 
22 THE yENEID, BOOK I 464-4S6 
 
 Upon the empty picture, sighing sore, 
 
 His face all bathed with grief's abundant flow. 
 
 For, as they fought round Pergamus, behold ! 
 
 Here fled the Greeks, Troy's bravest at their heels. 
 
 The Phrygians here, Achilles in his car 
 
 With crested helm pursuing. Nor far aloof 
 
 With tears he knew the snowy-canvassed tents 
 
 Of Rhesus, which, in the first sleep betrayed. 
 
 Red Tydeus' son was deluging with blood. 
 
 Who campward now drives off the fiery steeds, 
 
 Or e'er on Trojan pastures they had browsed. 
 
 Or drunk of Xanthus. Elsewhere was portrayed. 
 
 His arms in flight flung from him, Troilus : 
 
 Poor boy! for with Achilles overmatched, 
 
 Dragged by his steeds to the void car he clings. 
 
 Thrown backward, and yet grasping still the reins : 
 
 Neck, see ! and hair are trailed along the ground, 
 
 And his reversed spear scribbles in the dust. 
 
 Meanwhile the Trojan women to the shrine 
 
 Of unregardful Pallas passed along 
 
 Bearing the peplus, all their tresses loosed. 
 
 As suppliant mourners with hand-bruised breasts ; 
 
 On earth the goddess with averted gaze 
 
 Her eyes was fixing. There Achilles too 
 
 Had thrice dragged Hector round the walls of Troy, 
 
 And now was bartering his dead corse for gold. 
 
 Then from the bottom of his heart he heaved 
 
 A mighty groan, when he beheld the spoils. 
 
 The chariot, nay, the body of his friend, 
 
487-509 THE JENEID^ £00K I 23 
 
 And Priam outstretching his defenceless hands. 
 
 Himself too there among the Achaean chiefs 
 
 He recognised, and dusky Memnon's arms 
 
 And eastern warriors. With their mooned shields 
 
 Perithesilea like a fury leads 
 
 The Amazonian ranks, and blazes forth 
 
 Amid her thousands, one protruding breast 
 
 Looped with a golden girdle — warrior-queen, 
 
 Who dares the shock of battle, maid with men. 
 
 Now while .^Eneas the Dardan at this sight 
 Marvels, beholding, while amazed he stands 
 In one fixed gaze immovable, the queen, 
 Dido, in matchless beauty to the fane. 
 Thronged with a mighty company, has come. 
 As by Eurotas' banks, or on the heights 
 Of Cynthus, when Diana plies the dance — 
 A thousand Oreads upon either side 
 Massed in her train — she on her shoulder bears 
 A quiver, and as she treads o'ertops them all — 
 A secret rapture thrills Latona's breast — 
 Such Dido seemed, so moved she through their 
 
 midst 
 Rejoicing, busied with her realm to be. 
 Then in the sacred portals and beneath 
 The mid vault of the temple, hedged with arms. 
 Propped high upon a throne, her seat she took. 
 There laws and judgments gave she to her folk. 
 Now meting forth their tasks in equal shares. 
 Now doling them by lot : when suddenly 
 
24 THE y^NEW, BOOK I S09-531 
 
 'Mid a great throng /Eneas sees approach 
 Antheus, Sergestus, and Cloanthus brave, 
 And other Teucrians whom the black typhoon 
 Had scattered o'er the main, or swept afar 
 To alien shores. Achates and his chief. 
 Thrilled and bewildered betwixt joy and fear. 
 Yearn eagerly to clasp their hands, but still. 
 By the strange fact confounded, make no sign, 
 And from their cloudy covering watch to learn 
 The heroes' fortunes, on what shore their fleet 
 They are leaving, with what hope arrived, for lo ! 
 From all the ships came envoys craving grace, 
 And with loud clamour making for the shrine. 
 
 So when they had entered and gat leave to speak. 
 Their eldest, Ilioneus, thus took the word 
 With heart unruffled : ' O queen, whom Jove assigns 
 To found a virgin city, and curb in 
 Unbending nations with the reins of law. 
 We Trojans, tempest-driven from sea to sea, 
 In bitter case implore thee, from our ships 
 Ward off the unutterable doom of fire : 
 Spare us, a pious race, and on our plight 
 Look with no distant eyes. We have not come 
 To harry with the sword your Libyan homes, 
 Or seize the spoil, and drive it to the shore : 
 Such lawlessness we like not, nor so prone 
 Are conquered men to insolence. There is 
 A spot, by Greeks Hesperia named, a land 
 Of old renown, mighty in arms, in soil 
 
53-1-55*4 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 25 
 
 Prolific, where the CEnotrian heroes dwelt, 
 
 Now by a later race named Italy, 
 
 If rumour lie not, from their leader's name. 
 
 Thither our course we held, when, big with storm, 
 
 Orion, rising with a sudden sea, 
 
 Drave tis on hidden shoals, and scattered us 
 
 Far athwart billows of o'ertoppling brine 
 
 And pathless rocks, before the headstrong south : 
 
 Hither we few have floated to your shores. 
 
 What race of men is this } What land allows 
 
 Custom so cruel .' The welcome of the shore 
 
 Denied, they dare us at sword's point set foot 
 
 Upon the utmost margin of their land. 
 
 If men and rnortal arms ye hold so light. 
 
 Yet look for gods mindful of right and wrong. 
 
 .(Eneas was our king, none juster, none 
 
 More famed for goodness, or for feats of war. 
 
 If fate still spare that hero, if he still 
 
 Feeds on the air of heaven, nor yet is laid 
 
 In cruel darkness, naught have we to fear ; 
 
 No, nor wouldst thou repent thee to have been 
 
 His challenger in kindness. Cities too 
 
 And arms to aid in Sicily have we, 
 
 And Prince Acestes, sprung from Trojan blood. 
 
 Let us but haul our battered fleet ashore, 
 
 Fit planks in the forest, and trim oars, that if 
 
 Vouchsafed us still to make for Italy, 
 
 Comrades and king restored, with hearts elate 
 
 To Italy and Latium we may go ; 
 
26 THE ^NEID, BOOK T 555-576 
 
 But if cut off our safety, and if thee, 
 Best father of the Teucrians, Libya's deep 
 Holds in its keeping, and no hope is now 
 Left in lulus, we at least may seek 
 Sicania's strait from whence we sailed, the homes 
 There waiting, and Acestes for our king.' 
 So Ilioneus ; and instant with one mouth 
 Clamoured assent the sons of Dardanus. 
 
 Then briefly Dido speaks with drooping eyes : 
 ' Cast fear adrift, and shut the doors on doubt, 
 Teucrians : the hard conditions of the time. 
 And raw youth of my kingdom to this push 
 Compel me, and to guard my frontiers round. 
 ^neas and the race that call him sire 
 Who can there be that knows not, and Troy's town 
 Heroes and heroisms, and all her wars' 
 Vast conflagration ? Not so dull the hearts 
 We bear in Punic bosoms, nor so far 
 Out of the sun's track in his charioting 
 Our Tyrian town. The great Hesperian land 
 And Saturn's realm, or Eryx and the tract 
 That bows to king Acestes — choose ye which ; 
 Safeguarded I will speed you on your way 
 With stores to boot. Or would ye in this realm 
 Sit down beside me } the town I build is yours : 
 Haul up your ships : Trojan and Tyrian 
 Without distinction shall be held by me. 
 And would that by the selfsame tempest driven 
 Your king himself ^neas had been here 1 
 
576-600 THE ^NETD, BOOK T 27 
 
 For my part, I will send through all my coasts 
 Sure scouts, and bid them traverse Libya's land 
 From end to end, if haply cast ashore 
 Forest or city holds him wandering.' 
 
 Fired by these words long since Achates bold 
 And Sire ^neas burned to break their cloud. 
 Achates first gat utterance : ' Goddess-born, 
 Say now what purpose rises in thy heart ? 
 Thou seest all safe, comrades and fleet restored, 
 One only lacking, whom our own eyes saw 
 Gulfed in mid-ocean : with thy mother's words 
 Else all things tally.' Scarcely had he spoke. 
 When suddenly the cloud that wrapped them round 
 Sunders, and melts into the open heaven. 
 F'orth stood ^neas in the clear sunlight 
 Resplendent, face and shoulders like a god : 
 For she who bare him on her son had breathed 
 A glory of hair, and ruddy light of youth. 
 And on his eyes glad lustre — such a grace 
 As artist's hand to ivory lends, or like 
 Silver or Parian chased with yellow gold. 
 Then to the queen, by all unlooked for, thus 
 Sudden he speaks : ' I, whom ye seek, am here, 
 Trojan .^Eneas, snatched from Libyan wave's. 
 Thou, who alone the unutterable woes 
 Of Troy hast pitied, and dost impart to us — 
 The remnant of the Danai, wearied out 
 With all mischances both of land and sea, 
 Beggared of all — a city and a home, 
 
28 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 600-623 
 
 Dido, to yield thee worthy thanks stands not 
 
 Within our means, nor theirs who else survive 
 
 Of Dardan blood, scattered the wide world o'er. 
 
 May heaven, if any powers regard the good. 
 
 If justice and the self-approving mind 
 
 Weigh aught in the world, return thee guerdon due ! 
 
 What age so blest as to have borne thee ? What 
 
 Parents so noble as to call thee child ? 
 
 While rivers still shall run into the sea. 
 
 While shadows sweep the mountain -sides, while 
 
 heaven 
 Shall feed the stars, thy glory, name, and praise. 
 What lands soe'er me summon, shall remain.' 
 So saying, his right hand he reached forth to greet 
 Friend Ilioneus, Serestus with his left, 
 Then others, bold Gyas and Cloanthus bold. 
 
 Astounded by the hero's presence first. 
 Then at his vast misfortune, thus outspake 
 Sidonian Dido : ' Through such mighty perils, 
 O goddess-born, what fate pursues, what force 
 To barbarous shores impels thee ? Art thou that 
 .^neas, whom kindly Venus by the wave 
 Of Phrygian Simois to the Dardan bare, 
 Anchises ? I myself remember well 
 When Teucer, from his own home ousted, came 
 To Sidon, seeking a new realm to win 
 By Belus' aid : my father Belus then 
 Was harrying Cyprus, whose rich soil he swayed 
 With conquering sceptre. From that time to this 
 
623-646 THE ^NEID, BOOK T 29 
 
 Troy's chequered fortune hath been known to me, 
 And thine own name, and the Pelasgian kings. 
 Even he, their foeman, with high praise would laud 
 The Teucrians, from the Teucrians' ancient stock 
 Claim to be sprung. Then enter, sirs, our house. 
 Me too like fortune, tossed from toil to toil, 
 Suffers-at length to make this land my home : 
 Not all unlessoned in disaster I 
 Learn to befriend the wretched.' With such words 
 She to her palace leads ^neas in, 
 And for the temples of the gods proclaims 
 Due honour. For his comrades therewithal 
 Down to the beach she sends a score of bulls, 
 A hundred burly swine with bristling backs, 
 Fat lambs a hundred, with their dams to boot. 
 Glad gifts for the glad day. Meanwhile, within, 
 The palace is set forth in all the pomp 
 Of royal splendour, and amidst the hall 
 A feast are they preparing — coverlets 
 Wrought deftly of proud purple, on the boards 
 Ponderous silver, and, embossed in gold, 
 The brave deeds of her sires, an endless-long 
 Array of exploits traced from chief to chief 
 Down from the earliest dawning of her race. 
 
 ^neas, for a father's love forbade 
 His mind to rest, sends forward to the ships 
 Achates, bidding him with speed acquaint 
 Ascanius, and conduct him to the town — 
 Upon Ascanius a fond father's heart 
 
30 THE ^NEID, BOOK I 646-670 
 
 Is wholly set — and presents he bids bring 
 Snatched from the wreck of Ilium, a long robe 
 Stiff with embroidered gold-work, and a veil 
 Purfled with yellow-flowered acanthus, worn 
 By Argive Helen, and from Mycenae brought. 
 Then, when to Troy she sailed, a bride forbid — 
 Her mother Leda's marvellous gift ; therewith 
 A sceptre which erewhile had known the grasp 
 Of Priam's eldest daughter Ilione, 
 A pearl-strung necklet, and a double crown 
 Of gems and gold. Upon this errand sped, 
 Achates now was hastening to the ships. 
 
 But Cytherea in her breast revolves 
 New wiles and new devices, that, for sweet 
 Ascanius, Cupid, changed in face and form. 
 May come, and with his gifts inflame the queen 
 To frenzy, and wrap all her frame in fire. 
 Ay, for in sooth she fears the treacherous house 
 And double-spoken Tyrians : Juno's hate 
 Sears her, and trouble at nightfall returns. 
 Thus, therefore, she bespeaks her wingM Love : 
 ' Son, my sole strength and mighty power, O son, 
 Who laughest even at the Typhoean bolts 
 Of the great Father, to thy feet I fly. 
 And suppliant sue thy godhead. How ^neas. 
 Thy brother, is buffeted from shore to shore 
 Over the main by Juno's rancorous spite — 
 These things are known to thee, and with our grief 
 Oft hast thou grieved. Phoenician Dido now 
 
670-694 THE ^NEID, BOOK T 31 
 
 Holds and enchains him with her flattering words ; 
 
 And much I fear where Juno's welcome tends ; 
 
 She will not idle where such hopes are hinged. 
 
 So to prevent with guile and gird with fire 
 
 The queen I purpose, that no power may change, 
 
 But strong love for .(Eneas fix her mine. 
 
 Next how to achieve it hearken my device : 
 
 The royal boy, my chiefest care, e'en now 
 
 To the Sidonian town sets forth to go 
 
 At his loved father's bidding — in his hand 
 
 Gifts that escaped Troy's burning and the sea. 
 
 Him wilt I hide upon Cythera's height, 
 
 Or on Idalium in my sacred seat, 
 
 Lulled in deep slumber, that he may not know 
 
 Nor intervene to mar my stratagems. 
 
 Then for one night^no more — feign thou his *'orm. 
 
 And don the well-known features, boy for boy, 
 
 That when with rapture at the royal board. 
 
 The wine-god brimming. Dido to her breast 
 
 Shall take thee and embrace, and on thy lips 
 
 Imprint sweet kisses, with the subtle fire 
 
 Thy breath may poison her at unawares.' 
 
 Obedient then to his dear mother's words. 
 
 Love doffed his wings, and with lulus' gait 
 
 Walked gaily forth. Meantime Ascanius, 
 
 While gentle slumber o'er his frame she pours, 
 
 Venus, to her immortal bosom clasped. 
 
 Bears upward to Idalia's wooded heights. 
 
 Where soft amaracus enfolds with flowers, 
 
32 THE MNEID, BOOK I 694-717 
 
 And fans him with the breath of odorous shade. 
 
 And now, all joy, Achates for his guide, 
 Cupid the royal gifts obediently 
 Came bearing for the Tyrians. Entering, 
 He sees the queen set in their midst, reclined 
 Upon a gold couch proudly canopied. 
 Now Sire .(Eneas, now the Trojan men 
 Gather, and stretch them on strewn purple. Slaves 
 Pour water on their hands, and proffer bread 
 From baskets, and bring towels with shorn pile. 
 Within are fifty handmaids, charged in course 
 To heap continuous store, and magnify 
 With fire the hearth-gods ; and a hundred more, 
 With men as many and of like age, to load 
 The board with viands, and set the winecups on. 
 The Tyrians too, throughout the festive hall 
 Gathered in crowds, are bidden to recline 
 On broidered couches. At Eneas' gifts 
 They marvel, marvel at lulus too — 
 The god-light in his face, the well-feigned words — 
 And at the robe, and veil embroidered-fair 
 With yellow-flowered acanthus. Most of all, 
 Ill-starred, and destined to the coming bane, 
 The fair Phoenician cannot gloat her fill, 
 But feeds the flame with gazing, by the boy 
 Ravished no less than by the gifts. But he, 
 When he had clasped .^neas, and hung close 
 About his neck, sating the hungry love 
 Of his pretended sire, moves toward the queen. 
 
717-738 THE. ^NEID, BOOK I 33 
 
 She with her eyes, and she with all her heart 
 
 Cleaves to him, and fondles at her breast anon- 
 
 Dido, all witless of how great a god 
 
 Is her poor bosom's burden. He the while, 
 
 His Acidalian mother heeding well, 
 
 Slowly begins to blot Sychseus out, 
 
 And with a living passion to forestall 
 
 A heart long stagnant and to love unused. 
 
 When the first hush upon the banquet fell. 
 The board removed, they set on mighty bowls, 
 And crown the winecups. Loud the rafters ring, 
 As through the wide hall rolls the roar of tongues ; 
 Down from the gilded roof hang lamps ablaze. 
 And flambeaux flaring put the night to rout. 
 And now a cup heavy with gems and gold 
 The queen bade bring, and filled it with pure wine, 
 As Belus used, and all from Belus sprung ; 
 Then through the hall fell silence : ' Jupiter, 
 Of hospitable laws, men say, the giver. 
 To Tyrians and to travellers from Troy 
 Grant that this day propitious be, and that 
 Our children's children may remember it. 
 Let Bacchus, source of jollity, be near. 
 And bounteous Juno ; and, ye Tyrians too, 
 Grace ye our gathering with goodwill.' She spake 
 And on the table poured the votive wine. 
 And, having made libation, with lip's edge 
 Herself first touched it, then to Bitias 
 Passed with a merry taunt ; he, nothing loth, 
 
 D 
 
3.1. THE ^NEID, BOOK I 738-756 
 
 Drank of the foaming goblet, and dived deep 
 
 Into the brimming gold ; then other lords 
 
 In turn. lopas of the flowing hair 
 
 Makes the hall echo with his gilded lyre, 
 
 Once taught of mightiest Atlas : and his song 
 
 Is of the wandering moon, the toiling sun. 
 
 Whence human kind and cattle, whence rain and fire ; 
 
 Arcturus, and the showery Hyades, 
 
 And the twin Bears ; why winter suns so haste 
 
 To dip themselves in Ocean, or what check 
 
 Retards the lingering nights. With shout on shout 
 
 Applaud the Tyrians, and the sons of Troy 
 
 Make answer : therewithal in varied talk 
 
 Unhappy Dido still spun out the night, 
 
 Drinking deep draughts of love ; and much she asked 
 
 Of Priam, much of Hector, with what arms 
 
 Aurora's son came girded to the fray. 
 
 How fair the steeds of Diomede, or how vast 
 
 Achilles. ' Nay, but, O my guest,' said she, 
 
 ' Come, tell us from the first the Danaan plots, 
 
 Thy comrades' woes, and thine own wanderings : 
 
 For lo ! the seventh returning summer now 
 
 Bears thee a wanderer over land and wave.' 
 
1-14 THE jENEID, book II 
 
 3S 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 ^NEID II 
 
 All lips were hushed, all eyes attentive fixed : 
 Then Sire ^neas from his lofty couch 
 Addressed him thus to speak : 
 
 ' Unutterable, 
 O queen, the grief thou bid'st me to revive, 
 How Troy's magnificence and royal power, 
 Woe worth the day ! the Danai overthrew ; 
 Thrice piteous scenes which I myself beheld, 
 And was a mighty part of Such a tale 
 Who or of Myrniidons or Dolopes 
 Or stern Ulysses' soldiery 'could tell, 
 And hold from weeping ? Now too dewy night 
 Adown the sky falls headlong, and the stars 
 Sinking invite to sleep. But if to learn 
 Our woes such longing take thee, and to hear 
 Brief-told Troy's dying anguish, though my mind 
 At the remembrance shudders, from the grief 
 Recoils, I will attempt it. 
 
 ' Broken in war 
 And baffled by the fates, the Danaan chiefs. 
 
 Da 
 
36 THE ^NEID, BOOK 11 14 35 
 
 Now that so many grew the gliding years, 
 By Pallas' aid, artificer divine. 
 Build up a horse of mountain bulk, the ribs 
 Of pine-planks interwoven, feigning it 
 A votive offering for their home-return ; 
 So runs the rumour. Into its dark side 
 Picked warriors stealthily by lot they stow. 
 And fill the deep vaults of its mighty womb 
 With arm6d soldiery. 
 
 ' There lies in sight 
 An isle, fame-bruited, Tenedos, full-fraught 
 Of power, while yet stood Priam's empire — now 
 Mere bay and roadstead, ill for keels to trust. 
 Hither they sail, and on the barren shore 
 Lie hid. We deem them far upon their way. 
 Bound for Mycenae with a favouring gale. 
 Thereat all Teucria shuffles off the load 
 Of her long mourning. Wide are flung the gates ; 
 Whence issuing forth with rapture we behold 
 The Dorian camp, the haunts now tenantless, 
 The shore left void : here the Dolopian band, 
 Here fierce Achilles pitched ; here lay the fleet ; 
 Here were they wont to meet us, host to host. 
 Some gape at Maid Minerva's doom-fraught gift, 
 And marvel at the monster-horse ; and first 
 Thymoetes urged it within walls be haled. 
 And lodged in the fortress, ^ through treachery, or 
 To this e'en now the fates of Troy were tending. 
 But Capys and the minds of saner bent 
 
36-6o THE ^NEID, BOOK II 37 
 
 Bid either hurl it headlong in the sea — 
 
 This Danaan ambush, their suspicious gift, 
 
 Or nre it from beneath, or pierce and probe 
 
 The womb's dark hollows. With fierce party-cries 
 
 This way and that the wavering crowd is torn. 
 
 ' Then first of all Laocoon in hot haste 
 Comes rushing down the citadel's steep height. 
 Thronged with a mighty crowd, and cries from far, 
 " Alack ! so mad, my masters ! do ye think 
 The foe departed ? deem ye any gift 
 Of Danaans can lack guile .? have ye so learned 
 Ulysses 1 either in this timber caged 
 Achaeans lurk, or 'tis an engine framed 
 Against the walls, to spy into our homes 
 And pounce upon the city from above. 
 Or else some trickery lurks therein ; trust not 
 The horse, ye Trojans ; whatsoe'er it be, 
 E'en gift in hand, I fear the Danai still." 
 So saying, with main strength a huge spear he hurled 
 At the brute's flank, and where the framework bulged 
 To belly : it stood there quivering ; the womb shook ; 
 The vaults rang hollow and gave forth a groan : 
 And had the powers above, had our own wit 
 Not turned awry, he had prevailed to sack 
 The Argives' den ; Troy still were standing ; thou 
 Priam's tall citadel unshaken still. 
 
 ' Meanwhile a youth, his hands behind him bound, 
 See ! Dardan hinds come haling to the king 
 Loud-clamouring, who, to shape it even so, 
 
33 THE ^NETD, BOOK IT 60 84 
 
 And let the Achseans into Troy, had thrust 
 A stranger's wilful presence on their path, 
 Dauntless of soul, and armed for this or that — 
 His wiles to ply, or fall on certain death. 
 Eager to see, Troy's sons from every side 
 Rush round him like a torrent, each with each 
 Vying to mock their captive. Come now, hear 
 How Danaans can deceive, and learn from one 
 The villainy of all. For as he stood 
 Helpless, confused, a target for all eyes. 
 And gazed around upon the Phrygian ranks, 
 " Alas 1 " he cried, " what land, what ocean now 
 Can harbour me ? or what last hope have I — 
 The wretch, alike from Danaan earth debarred, 
 And for whose blood the Dardans howl no less. 
 To quit their hatred ? " By that burst of grief 
 Changed was our humour, checked each rude assault ; 
 We urge him speak, relate from whence he sprang. 
 His errand what, and why, a thrall, so bold. 
 Then, fear abandoned, thus at length he speaks : 
 " All will I truly tell thee, King, quoth he. 
 Betide what may ; my Argive birth I own ; 
 This at the outset ; nor, if Fortune shaped 
 Sinon for misery, shall her spite, beside. 
 Shape him to fraud and falsehood. It may be 
 Borne on men's voices to thine ear hath sped 
 Some sound of Palamede from Belus sprung, 
 A name world-famous, whom by lies betrayed, 
 Guiltless, and on a villain's charge, because 
 
84-106 THE MNEID, BOOK II 39 
 
 The war he gainsaid, the Pelasgian lords 
 Once did to death, now, lorn of light, deplore. 
 To him as comrade and near kinsman I 
 Was by a needy sire in earliest youth 
 Sent hither to the field. While yet ehthroned 
 Scathless he stood, and' at kings' councils throve, 
 I in some sort held rank and honour too : 
 But when Ulysses' treacherous spite, I speak 
 No secret, drave him from the realms of day, 
 Downcast and darkling my sad life dragged on, 
 With inward wrath for my friend's guiltless fate. 
 Nor — madman — could I hold my peace, but vowed, 
 Should chance but offer, to my Argive home 
 If e'er returned in triumph, to wreak his fall, 
 And, thus outspoken, stirred the goads of hate. 
 Thence my first slip to ruin, Ulysses thence 
 Ceased not to scare me with new charges, thence 
 To sow dark rumours in the common ear. 
 And hunt for armed accomplices. Indeed 
 No rest he took till, Calchas at his side — 
 But why the unwelcome record do I thus 
 Vainly unroll ? or why the tale prolong .'' 
 If all the Acha;ans in one class ye file. 
 And hearing that suffices, take, 'tis time, 
 Your vengeance ; this the Ithacan would wish, 
 And this the Atreidae grudge no gold to buy." 
 ' Then truly burn we to .search out and learn 
 The why and wherefore, strangers as we were 
 Tp guilt so monstrous and Pelasgian guile. 
 
40 THE .^KEID, BOOK II 107-128 
 
 He, quaking, with false heart his speech renews : 
 ' " Oft were the Danai fain to take their flight, 
 Leave Troy behind, apd quit the weary war ; 
 And would they had done so ! the rough sea as oft 
 Opposed its stormy barrier, and the south 
 Scared them from going. Chiefly when yon horse, 
 Ofj<!ffaple-beams compacted, stood erect, 
 With bellowing storm-clouds the whole welkin rang. 
 Doubtful, we send Eurypyhis to ask 
 The oracle of Phoebus : from the shrine 
 This dolorous word he brings. ' It was with blood 
 Of a slain virgin .ye appeased the winds, 
 When, Danai, first ye made for Ilium's shore : 
 With blood no less must your return be sought. 
 And expiation of an Argive's life.' 
 
 ' " When to the people's ears this utterance came. 
 Numbed were all hearts, and through their inmost 
 
 bones 
 Ran a chill shudder — who was he by fate 
 Predestined thus t Apollo's victim who ? 
 Then he of Ithaca with blusterings loud 
 Drags forth into their midst Calchas the seer ; 
 Hotly demands, what is this will of heaven. 
 Nor lacked there who e'en then foretold to me 
 The schemer's cruel outrage, or who saw 
 The end, yet spake not. Twice five days the seer 
 In silence hides him, vows no word of his 
 Shall denounce any, or to death consign. 
 Scarce driven at length by the Ithacan's loud cries. 
 
129-152 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 41 
 
 To crown their compact, he breaks forth in speech, 
 
 And dooms me to the altar. All approved, 
 
 Nor recked to turn what each for self was fearing 
 
 To one poor soul's destruction. Now drew near 
 
 The unutterable day ; for me were now 
 
 The altar-rites preparing, the salt cakes 
 
 And brow-encircling fillets. I c-onfess 
 
 I plucked me from perdition, brake my bonds. 
 
 In miry pool all night sedge-sheltered lay, 
 
 Till they should sail, if haply sailed they had. 
 
 Nor lorlger my old country may I hope 
 
 Or children sweet, or longed-for sire to see. 
 
 Of whom far likelier they for my default 
 
 Will claim the forfeit, with their death, poor souls ! 
 
 Atone my trespass. But I thee implore 
 
 By the high Gods, and powers that know the truth, 
 
 By what remains to mortals anywhere 
 
 Of faith untarnished, pity woes like mine. 
 
 Pity a soul with unjust burdens bowed." 
 
 ' Life to his tears we grant and pity too : 
 Priam's own voice first bids the man be loosed 
 From grip of gyve and fetter, and thus speaks 
 With kindly word : " Whoe'er thou art, henceforth, 
 As for the Greeks, forget them and forego : 
 Ours shalt thou be, and to my questioning 
 Unfold true answers : this huge monster-horse 
 Why built they ? by whom fathered ? to what end } 
 A sacred symbol ? or some tool of war } " 
 He had said : the other, well equipped with guile 
 
42 THE .EAEID, BOOK IT 152 174 
 
 And craft Pelasgian, to the stars upturned 
 
 His hands now fetterless : " You, quenchless fires, 
 
 And your inviolable majesty 
 
 I call," quoth he, " to witness, and you too. 
 
 Altars and heinous swords which I escaped, 
 
 And garlands of the gods, my victim-gear ; 
 
 Lawful it is for me to break my vows 
 
 Of fealty to the Greeks, lawful to .hate 
 
 The men themselves, and all things air abroad 
 
 That they hide in the closet, nor am I 
 
 Holden by any of my country's laws : 
 
 Only do thou stand by thy plighted word, 
 
 Troy, and, safeguarded, guard thy promise safe. 
 
 If truth I tell, if richly thee repay. 
 
 ' " All hope and courage for the war's emprise 
 On Pallas' help the Danaans ever stayed : 
 But from what time, with Tydeus' impious son 
 Ulysses, crime-contriver, dared to rend 
 Doom-fraught Palladium from its hallowed shrine. 
 And slew the watchmen of her castled height. 
 And snatched the sacred image, and feared not 
 With hands blood-reeking to contaminate 
 Her godhead's maiden fillets, from henceforth 
 The Danaans' hope at ebb slid ever back. 
 Crushed was their strength, the goddess' heart estranged. 
 Nor doubtful the dread signs Tritonia gave ; 
 Scarce was her semblance lodged within the camp. 
 When from the upturned eyes shot quivering flames, 
 A salt sweat coursed along the limbs, and thrice — 
 
1 74-195 THE MNEID, BOOK II 43 
 
 Wondrous to tell — of her own self she sprang 
 From earth shield-laden, and with spear that shook. 
 Calchas at once with prophet-voice bids brave 
 Ocean in flight, for that no Argive arms 
 Could uptear Pergamus, except they seek 
 At Argos for new omens,-and bring back 
 That will of heaven, which erst they bare away 
 O'er ocean with them in their curved keels. 
 And now that homeward-wafted they have sought 
 Mycenae, 'tis to get them arms, and gods 
 For their way-fellows, and, the sea recrossed, 
 They will be here unlooked for. In such wise 
 Doth Calchas sort the omens. Warned by him 
 They reared this image in Palladium's place. 
 For outraged godhead, their dark crime to quit. 
 But to this monstrous height of woven planks 
 Calchas bade lift it and upbuild to heaven, 
 Lest through your gates it be received, or drawn 
 Within the ramparts, and so shield your folk 
 Beneath their ancient worship. For if hand 
 Of yours had wronged Minerva's offering. 
 Mighty destruction then — -which augury 
 May heaven first turn upon himself 1 would fall 
 On Priam's empire and the Phrygians ; but 
 If by your hands your city it should scale, 
 Asia iierself should in a mighty war. 
 Assail the walls of Pelops, and such doom 
 Remain in store for our posterity." 
 
 ' By such decoys of Sinon's art forsworn 
 
44 THE .-ENEID, BOOK II 196 219 
 
 The tale gat credence, and by craft were caught 
 And forced tears, whom neither Tydeus' son, 
 No, nor Achilles of Larissa, nor 
 Ten years had conquered, nor a thousand keels. 
 
 ' A mightier portent and more fearful far, 
 Poor souls 1 here bursts upon them, and confounds 
 Their blinded senses. For Laocoon, 
 The priest of Neptune, as by lot assigned, 
 Was at the wonted altars sacrificing 
 A mighty bull, when, lo ! from Tenedos, 
 Over the tranquil ocean serpents twain — 
 I shudder to recount it — with huge coils 
 Cumbering the deep, ply shoreward side by side ; 
 Reared on the surge their breasts and blood-red manes 
 O'ertop the billows ; the remaining bulk 
 Skims ocean aft in labyrinthine folds : 
 Hark ! how the brine seethes audibly 1 and now, 
 Their glowing eyes with blood suffused and fire. 
 The shore-fields they were gaining, and their chaps 
 Hissed, as with flickering tongues they licked them ; we 
 Pale at the sight fly scattered ; they with line 
 Unwavering at Laocoon aim, and first 
 His two sons' slender bodies either snake 
 Embraces and enfolds, and gnawing feeds 
 Upon the hapless limbs ; then him they seize 
 Up-hurrying armed to aid them, and bind fast 
 With mighty spires, and now — their scaly length 
 Twice wreathed about his waist, twice round his neck — 
 With heads o'ertop him and high-towering throats. 
 
220-243 THE JLNEID, BOOK II 45 
 
 He, while to rend their knots he strives amain, 
 His fillets with black venom drenched and gore, 
 Uplifts to heaven heart-piercing shrieks ; as when 
 'Scaped from the altar, bellows a maimed bull, 
 That froni his neck shakes off the erring axe. 
 But to the temple's height that dragon-pair 
 Gliding escape, and seek the citadel 
 Of fell Tritonia, to find covert close 
 Under the goddess' feet and orbed shield. 
 Then through the trembling hearts of all there crept 
 Strange fear ; and " rightly hath Laocoon 
 Paid for his crime," they cry, " with point of spear 
 Wounding the hallowed wood, what time he hurled 
 His guilty lance against the flank." Then all 
 Shout that the image to her shrine be drawn, 
 And supplication to the goddess made. 
 We cleave the city-walls, the ramparts ope ; 
 All gird them to the task, beneath the hoofs 
 Set wheels a-gliding, and around the neck 
 Stretch hempen hawsers ; with war-laden womb ' 
 The doom-fraught engine scales the wall : around 
 Boys and unwedded girls sing litanies, 
 And joy to touch the cable with their hands. 
 And so it enters, and glides threateningly 
 Into the city's midst. Land of my birth ! 
 O Ilium, home of gods, and, famed in war. 
 Ye Dardan battlements ! four times it stopped 
 .At the gate's very threshold, and four times 
 From out its entrails came a clash of arms. 
 
46 THE jENEID, BOOK II 244-264 
 
 But frenzy-blinded we press heedless on, 
 And in our hallowed citadel uprear 
 The luckless prodigy. Then, even then, 
 Cassandra for the coming doom unlocks 
 Those lips ne'er trusted by the sons of Troy — 
 So heaven decreed it : we, that day our last, 
 Fond wretches ! range the city, and festoon 
 With gala-boughs the temples of the gods. 
 
 ' Meanwhile the face of heaven is turned, and night 
 Comes up from Ocean, in its mighty shade 
 Both earth and sky, and Myrmidonian wiles 
 Enveloping : stretched silent on the walls 
 The Teucrians lay ; sleep held their weary limbs. 
 E'en now the Argive host from Tenedos 
 With vessels in array was wending on. 
 Through the kind stillness of the silent moon 
 Seeking the well-known shore, when sudden lo ! 
 The royal galley reared her signal-fires. 
 And, shielded by the gods' unequal doom, 
 Sinon by stealth lets loose the pinewood bolts. 
 And womb-imprisoned Danai. Them the horse 
 Restores, thrown open, to the light of day. 
 And from the hollow frame with joy they leap — 
 Thessander, Sthenelus, those lords of war. 
 And dread Ulysses, by the lowered rope 
 Down-gliding ; Acamas, and Thoas, and 
 Son's son of Peleus Neoptolemus, 
 Machaon first of all, and Menelaus, 
 Ay, and Epeus, framer of the fraud. 
 
265-288 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 47 
 
 These storm the town, buried in sleep and wine ; 
 The guards are slain ; through the wide portals all 
 Let in their friends, and join the federate band. 
 
 ' It was the timfe when the first slumber falls 
 On suffering mortals, by the high God's gift 
 Then sweetliest stealing o'er them : lo ! in sleep 
 Hector before mine eyes, all woe-begone. 
 Did seem to stand, and shower down floods of tears ; 
 Torn by the dragging chariot, as of old. 
 And black with blood-stained dust, and his swol'n feet 
 Pierced with the thong. Ah ! what a sight he was ! 
 How all unlike that Hector, who returns 
 Clad in Achilles' arms, the spoils of war. 
 Or fresh from hurling on the Danaan decks 
 The fires of Phrygia ! now with draggled beard, 
 And hair blood-clotted, wearing all those wounds 
 So thickly dealt him round his native walls ! 
 Weeping myself, I first, methought, addressed 
 The hero, and drew forth these sorrowing words : 
 " Light of the Dardan land, O staunchest hope 
 Of Teucria's sons, what long delay hath held thee .' 
 Or from what borders, Hector, art thou come, 
 Much looked for } is it thus that wearied out 
 With all the myriad slaughters of thy friends, 
 City and townsmen's ever-changing woes. 
 Our eyes behold thee ? What unseemly cause 
 Hath marred thy cloudless features 1 or what mean 
 These wounds I gaze on } " Not a word spake he, 
 Nor recked mine idle questioning, but groan 
 
48 THE MNEID, BOOK II 288-310 
 
 On laboured groan from out his bosom's depth 
 
 Upheaving, " Ah ! fly, goddess-born," he said, 
 
 " /\nd snatch thee from the flames : the foemen hath 
 
 Obr walls, and Troy from her proud summit sinks. 
 
 Enough to king and country hath been given : 
 
 If any hand could Pergamus have saved. 
 
 Then mine had saved it : Troy commits to thee 
 
 Her worship and her household gods ; these take 
 
 As comrades of thy destinies ; for these 
 
 Seek out a mighty city thou at length 
 
 Shalt rear thee, having roamed wide ocean o'er." 
 
 Such words he spake, and in his hands bare forth 
 
 The sacred fillets from the inmost shrine. 
 
 And Vesta's might, and her undying fire. 
 
 ' Meantime the walls grow one confused scene 
 Of widespread anguish ; and, though far withdrawn 
 My sire Anchises' palace amid trees 
 Lay sheltered, ever louder and more loud 
 Surges the din, swells out the alarm of war. 
 I start from sleep, to the high roof-top mount, 
 And stand, all ear, to hearken : as when fire 
 Falls on the corn beneath the furious south. 
 Or ravening torrent from a mountain-flood 
 Lays low the fields, lays low the laughing crops. 
 The oxen's labour, and drags forests down 
 Headlong, the hind from some tall craggy peak 
 Mute with amaze stands listening to the roar. 
 Then is the bare truth self-attested, then 
 The Danaan wiles unmask them ; see e'en now 
 
3IO-330 THE MNEID, BOOK IT 4^ 
 
 The house of Deiphobus a vast ruin yawns 
 O'ertopped by Vulcan ! see his neighbour too 
 Ucalegon in flames ! Sigeum's gulf 
 Reflects the blaze afar. Up goes to heaven 
 Shouting of men, and clarion's bray ; distraught 
 I seize mine arms, though arms lack argument ; 
 But my heart burns to mass a warrior-band, 
 And with my comrades hasten to the hold : 
 Frenzy and anger urge my headlong will, 
 And death methinks how comely, sword in hand. 
 
 ' But Pantheus, from the Achaean darts escaped, 
 Pantheus, the son of Othrys, see ! and priest 
 Of Phoebus on the height, in his own hand 
 The sacred emblems of the vanquished gods. 
 And dragging his young grandchild after him, 
 Nigh at wits' end comes hurrying to my door. 
 " Pantheus, how stands the fortune of the day ^ 
 What point of vantage seize we ? " Scarce had I 
 Uttered the words when, groaning, he replies : 
 " The latest day, the inevitable hour, 
 Has dawned on Dardan .land ; we, Trojans once, 
 And Ilium, and the Teucrians' giant fame 
 Have been, and are not ; Jove's remorseless will 
 From us to Argos hath borne all away ; 
 Our town's a-flame ; the Danaans lord it there. 
 Towering amidst the city-walls erect 
 The horse rains armed warriors ; far and near 
 Sinon with victor-insolence spreads wide 
 The conflagration. Through the folding gates 
 
 E 
 
50 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 330353 
 
 Some enter, myriads countless as e'er came 
 
 From great Mycenae ; some, to bar our path, 
 
 With weapons have beset the narrow ways, 
 
 A wall of steel-blade edges flashing bare. 
 
 For death-blow dight : scarce seek the foremost guards 
 
 To hold the gates against them, or maintain 
 
 The blindfold conflict." At such words as these 
 
 From Othrys' son, and at the doom of heaven, 
 
 I rush into the midst of fire and fray, 
 
 Where the grim Fury, where the battle-din 
 
 Me summons, and the shouts uptossed to heaven. 
 
 Then, lo ! by moonlight borne across my path, 
 
 Rhipeus, and Epytus, right brave in arms. 
 
 And Hypanis and Dymas join with me. 
 
 And gather to my side, and Mygdon's child. 
 
 The youth Coroebus. In those days it chanced 
 
 He, with mad passion for Cassandra fired,. 
 
 Had come to Troy, and as a son was now 
 
 To Priam and the Phrygians lending aid, 
 
 Unhappy, not to heed the warning voice 
 
 Of his heaven-frenzied bride. Whom when I saw 
 
 Close-banded and with stomach for the fray 
 
 I thus the more exhort them : " Warrior-hearts, 
 
 Dauntless in vain, if your desire be set 
 
 On folloA'ing one who dares the bitter end ; 
 
 Our fortune's plight how desperate, ye may see : 
 
 Gone are the gods, from shrine and altar fled. 
 
 Ay, one and all, by whom this empire stood : 
 
 The town ye seek to succour is in flames ; 
 
353-377 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 51 
 
 Die we, and plunge into the battle's midst ; 
 One safety hath defeat — to hope for none ! " 
 Thus were the warriors' souls to frenzy wrought. 
 Then like to ravening wolves in a black mist, 
 Whose belly-rage unbridled drives them forth 
 To grope for prey — their cubs left lone the while 
 With droughty jaws await them — on we press 
 Through darts, through foes, to no uncertain doom, 
 Thridding the city's midst : night's ebon wings 
 Float round us with their overarching shade. 
 Who could unfold the havoc of that night, 
 Tell o'er the slain, or match our teen with tears ? 
 Stoops to her fall our ancient city, she 
 The empress of the ages. Through her streets 
 And homes, and hallowed thresholds of the gods, 
 Heap upon heap the dead lie strewn and stark ; 
 Nor Teucrians only pay the bloody debt ; 
 Sometimes, though vanquished, to their heart returns 
 Valour, and down the conquering Danai go. 
 Look where you will, heart-rending agony 
 And panic reign, and many a shape of death. 
 
 ' First to confront us, with a mighty band 
 Of Danai backed, behold Androgeos, 
 Who, all unconscious, taking foes for friends, 
 Thus as a comrade hails us : '' Haste, my men ! 
 What laggard sloth retards you ? others, see ! 
 Amid her flames are plunderirig Pergamus, 
 While ye from your tall ships are newly come." 
 He said, and, greeted with no sure reply, 
 
52 THE .'ENEID, BOOK IT 377-398 
 
 Felt in a moment fallen amid foes. 
 
 Staggered, both foot and voice he backward drew. 
 
 As one, who, struggling with rough briars, hath trod 
 
 At unawares a serpent underfoot, 
 
 .Starts back in sudden terror, as it rears 
 
 Its wrath on high, and puffs a purple throat. 
 
 Not otherwise, confounded at the sight, 
 
 Androgeos was retreating. On we rush. 
 
 With serried arms enclose them, and on ground 
 
 They knew not, and with terror ta'en aback, 
 
 Slay them on every side. So fortune's breath 
 
 Fans our first effort. Here Coroebus cries. 
 
 Waxed jubilant with courage and success : 
 
 " Where fortune at the outset, comrades mine, 
 
 With such clear signs of friendship points the path, 
 
 Be ours to follow : change we shields and don 
 
 The Danaan emblems. Craft or prowess, which, 
 
 Who cares to ask in dealing with a foe .' 
 
 Themselves shall furnish us with arms." So saying. 
 
 The plumed helmet of Androgeos 
 
 He next puts on, with buckler blazoned fair, 
 
 And girds an Argive sword upon his thigh. 
 
 The like does Rhipeus, ay and Dymas too. 
 
 And all our youth exulting ; every man 
 
 Arms him from out the recent spoil ; then on 
 
 We press, commingling with the Danaan ranks, 
 
 Led by no gods of ours, and hand to hand 
 
 Through the blind night wage many a battle-bout 
 
 Send many Danaans to the shades below. 
 
399-423 THE yENEID, BOOK II 53 
 
 This way and that they fly, some to the ships, 
 
 And seek at headlong speed the trusty shore ; 
 
 Some clambering up the monster-horse again. 
 
 Vile dastards, hide them in the well-known womb. 
 
 Ah ! not for men to trust, if gods be loth ! 
 
 See where, with locks that stream upon the wind, 
 
 Maiden Cassandra, Priam's daughter, comes ; 
 
 Vainly to heaven her burning eyes she casts — 
 
 Eyes, for her tender hands are locked in chains. 
 
 This sight Coroebus brooked not ; mad with rage 
 
 He hurled him on their very midst, to die. 
 
 All follow, and in. close array rush on. 
 
 Here first from the high temple's top o'erwhelmed 
 
 With friendly darts, most piteous slaughter falls 
 
 Upon us, through the aspect of our arms. 
 
 And lying semblance of our Grecian crests. 
 
 Then too the Danai, with a groan- of wrath 
 
 For the maid's rescue, mustering from all sides, 
 
 Fall on — impetuous Ajax, and the twin 
 
 Atridae, and all the host of Dolopes ; 
 
 E'en as at times, when a tornado bursts. 
 
 Winds meet in shock of battle, West, and South, 
 
 And East exulting in his orient 'steeds ; 
 
 The forest creaks, and Nereus, all a-foam. 
 
 Storms with his trident,' from its lowest depth 
 
 Upchurning all the ocean. Such beside 
 
 As through the darkness in the gloom of night 
 
 We routed by our stratagem, and chased 
 
 The city's, length, appear, arid first 'are they 
 
54 THE JENEID, BOOK 11 422-444 
 
 Our shields and lying weapons to discern, 
 
 And mark the incongruous accent of our tongues. 
 
 Straightway we are outnumbered and o'erwhelmed ; 
 
 And first Coroebus at the altar-steps 
 
 Slain of the warrior-goddess, by thy hand, 
 
 Peneleos, bites the dust : then Rhipeus falls, 
 
 Of all the Teucrians foremost without peer 
 
 For justice and fast-cleaving to the right : 
 
 The gods ruled otherwise : next, pierced by friends, 
 
 Both Hypanis and Dymas are laid low ; 
 
 Nor all thy goodness, Pantheus, no, nor did 
 
 Apollo's fillet shield thee in thy fall. 
 
 Ashes of Ilium, and ye funeral-fires 
 
 Of my lost friends, witness, when ye went down, 
 
 I shunned no Danaan missiles, and no chance 
 
 Of blow for blow, that, had fate willed my fall. 
 
 This arm had earned it. Sundered from the rest 
 
 With me are Iphitus and Pelias, 
 
 Iphitus age-encumbered, Pelias 
 
 Sore-wounded by Ulysses. Straight we hie 
 
 Toward Priam's palace, by the shouting led. 
 
 But here a giant conflict we behold, 
 
 As warring else were nowhere, none beside 
 
 Dying the city through ; so stubborn raged 
 
 The war-god, while the Danai roofward rush, 
 
 And the shield-tortoise driven besets the door. 
 
 Close cleave their ladders to the walls, and nigh 
 
 The very entrance up the rungs they press. 
 
 With left hands shielded intercept the darts, 
 
■444-467 THE ^NEID, BOOK IT 55 
 
 Rnd with the right clutch fast the battlements. 
 Meanwhile the Dardans see ! upwrench' amain 
 Turret and rooiing-tile ; with these for darts, 
 Seeing the end, in death's extremity, 
 They stand on their defence ; some topple down 
 August ancestral splendours — gilded beams ; 
 Others with drawn blades block the doors below, 
 i^nd guard them densely massed ; fresh heart I take 
 To aid the palace, ease with help our men, 
 And add new vigour to the vanquished. 
 
 ' There was an entrance, a blind door that led 
 p-rom hall to hall of Priam, posternwise 
 Left rearward of the palace, by the which 
 While yet the empire stood, Andromache, 
 Poor heart ! would ofttimes unattended seek 
 Her royal kinfolk, to his grandsire's knee, 
 Dragging her little" son Astyanax. 
 Mounting, I gain the summit of the pile, 
 From whence the wretched Teucrians were hurling 
 Their ineffectual darts. A turret stands 
 On the sheer edge, with its high pinnacle 
 Reared to the stars, whence Troy would oft be viewed. 
 The Danaan ships too, and the Achaean camp : 
 This, armed with tools, assail we round about. 
 Where the high floor-joists lend a tottering hold, 
 And from its deep bed wrench, and hurl it : lo ! 
 Suddenly with a crash down, down it goes, 
 Trailing wide havoc on the Danaan ranks : 
 But up come others, and meanwhile the storm 
 
56 THE .-EXEID, BOOK II 467-490 
 
 Of stones and motley missiles knows no stay. 
 
 Hard on the threshold, by the very door, 
 
 Pyrrhus exults, flashing in armed sheen : 
 
 As when a serpent fed on poisonous weeds, 
 
 B)' winter-frosts kept swollen underground, 
 
 Fresh from the shedding of his slough, with }-outh 
 
 New-burnished, rolls his slippery length to light, 
 
 And, sunward towering with uplifted breast, 
 
 Flickers the three-forked lightning of his tongue. 
 
 With him huge Periphas, and Automedon, 
 
 Achilles' charioteer, who bare his arms, 
 
 And all the flower of Scyros, storm the walls, 
 
 And at the roof fling fire. In front of all, 
 
 Gripping a two-edged axe, himself is there. 
 
 Bursting the tough doors through, and from their hinge 
 
 The brass-bound valves divorcing : see 1 e'en now 
 
 He has hewn a beam out, scooped the stubborn oak, 
 
 And made a monstrous and wide-yawning breach. 
 
 The inner palace and far-lengthening halls 
 
 Ope and lie bare, the secret sanctuary 
 
 Of Priam and the kings of long ago ; 
 
 And standing on the threshold's edge they see 
 
 Arm'd warriors. 
 
 ' But confusion reigns within, 
 Wild shrieks and piteous uproar ; far-withdrawn 
 The hollow chambers, hark ! with women's plaints 
 Are wailing : the cry strikes the golden stars. 
 Then through the wide halls trembling matrons stray, 
 And, fondly clinging, clasp the doors and kiss. 
 
•491-5" THE ^NEID, BOOK II 57 
 
 On presses Pyrrhus with his father's might ; 
 Nor ban-jers, no, nor guards his onset brook ; 
 With quick blows of the battering-ram the door 
 Totters, the valves fall forward from the hinge : 
 Force cleaves a way : the Danaans flooding in 
 Burst them a passage, cut the foremost down, 
 And fill the wide space with their soldiery. 
 Not all so madly doth a foaming flood 
 Burst through the barrier of opposing banks 
 With conquering swirl, then, raging on an heap, 
 O'erride the country, and through all the plain 
 Sweep byre and herd before it. I myself 
 Saw mad with slaughter Neoptolemus, 
 And both the Atreidae on the threshold ; ay, 
 And Hecuba I saw, with her sons' brides 
 A hundred, and, along the altar stretched, 
 Priam, polluting with his own heart's blood 
 The fires himself had consecrated. All 
 Those fifty bridal chambers, the rich hope 
 .Of children's children, portals proudly dight 
 With trophies and barbaric gold, lie low ; 
 And still the Danai swarm where fails the fire. 
 
 ' Of Priam's fate too haply thou wouldst hear. 
 Soon as he saw the city stormed and fallen. 
 His palace doors wrenched open, and the foe 
 Amid his inmost chambers, the old man 
 About his shoulders, palsied now with age, 
 Binds, unavailing, long-forgotten arms, 
 Then girds-him with his helpless sword, and, where 
 
S8 THE jENEID, BOOK H 511-532 
 
 The foe throngs thickest, turns his steps to die. 
 
 Midmost the palace, under heaven's bare vault, 
 
 Stood a huge altar, and a bay-tree near, 
 
 Of immemorial age, drooped over it, 
 
 Embracing in its shade the household gods. 
 
 Here round the unavailing altar-stone. 
 
 Like doves swept headlong by a murky storm, 
 
 Hecuba and her daughters huddling cowered. 
 
 Clasping the sacred images. But when 
 
 Priam she saw in arms of youth arrayed, 
 
 " Ah ! my unhappy lord, what thought so dire 
 
 Pricked thee to don this battle-gear .' " she cried, 
 
 " And whither bound so hotly ? Not for such 
 
 Succour or such defenders craves the time. 
 
 No, not were my own Hector now at hand. 
 
 Enough, withdraw thee hither : all shall be 
 
 Saved by this altar, or thou slain with us.'' 
 
 So spake she, and drew towards her, and set down 
 
 Her aged lord upon the hallowed seat. 
 
 ' But lo ! from Pyrrhus' slaughtering sword escaped, 
 Polites, one of Priam's sons, through darts. 
 Through foemen, the long corridors adown 
 Comes flying, and traverses the empty court. 
 Wounded. Him Pyrrhus with pursuing stroke 
 Plies hotly, and all but within his grasp 
 Holds even now, and pricks him with his spear : 
 Bursting at length upon his parents' view. 
 Before their very eyes prostrate he fell. 
 And poured his life out in a rush of blood. 
 
533-556 THE AlNEID, BOOK 11 59 
 
 Then Priam, though fast within the net of death, 
 
 Brake all restraint, nor voice, nor passion spared. 
 
 " For crime so shameless may the gods," he cries, 
 
 " If justice be in heaven such deeds to mark, 
 
 Pay thee due thanks, fair meed requite thee, who 
 
 Hast forced mine own son's murder on my sight, 
 
 And with his death profaned a father's eyes : 
 
 But he — thou liest to call thyself his son — 
 
 Achilles, erst with Priam, though a foe. 
 
 Dealt otherwise ; with kindling shame he owned 
 
 A suppliant's rights and honour, rendered up 
 
 The bloodless corse of Hector for the tomb. 
 
 And sent me to my realm again." So saying, 
 
 The old man heaved a weak and woundless spear, 
 
 Which, straightway by the clanging brass repelled. 
 
 From the shield's outer boss-rim harmless hung. 
 
 " Therefore," said Pyrrhus, " shalt thou bear the news. 
 
 And to my sire the son of Peleus go : 
 
 Look that thou tell him of my sorry deeds. 
 
 And how degenerate Neoptolemus ; 
 
 Now die." So speaking, to the altar's self 
 
 He haled him trembling, slipping in a pool 
 
 Of his son's blood, and, wreathing in the hair 
 
 His left hand, with the right flashed out his sword. 
 
 And plunged it in his body to the hilt. 
 
 Such was the goal of Priam's destinies ; 
 
 Such end befel him, with his eyes to see 
 
 Troy burnt, and Pergamus to ruin fallen, 
 
 Erewhile o'er many nations, many lands. 
 
,6o THE JENEID, BOOK II 556-577 
 
 The haughty lord of Asia. There he lies 
 
 A vast trunk stretched along the sand, a head 
 
 Shorn from the shoulders, and a nameless corse. 
 
 ' Then first fell horror closed me round ; I stood 
 Amazed : uprose the form of my loved sire, 
 As I beheld the king, in age his peer, 
 Cruelly wounded, gasping out his life. 
 Rose to my mind Creiisa too, left lone. 
 And my house plundered, and the plight of young 
 lulus. I look back to scan what force 
 Is yet around me : one and all worn out 
 Have vanished from my side, cast them to earth 
 Headlong, or, fainting, dropped into the flames. 
 
 ' Now was I left alone, when I discern 
 Clinging to Vesta's shrine, and silently 
 Lurking within her solitary cell. 
 The daughter of Tyndareos : the fierce glare 
 Of conflagration lends me light to stray. 
 And cast my eyes o'er all things, far and near. 
 She, with a dread foreboding in her heart 
 Of Teucrian hate for Pergamus o'erthrown, 
 And Danaan retribution, and the wrath 
 Of her forsaken lord — she, common fiend 
 Of Troy and her own country, hidden close. 
 Couched by the altar from the scorn of men. 
 At once my soul caught fire, and rising wrath 
 Prompts to avenge my country, and exact 
 The wage of wickedness. Shall she forsooth 
 Live to see Sparta, and her native town 
 
577-599 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 6i 
 
 Mycenae ? in the triumph she has won 
 
 Walk as a queen, and with her eyes behold 
 
 Husband and home, her .parents and her sons, 
 
 Thronged round with Ilian women, and a train 
 
 Of Phrygian bondsmen ? What ! with Priam slain, 
 
 Troy burnt to ashes, and the Dardan shore 
 
 Bedewed so often with the sweat of blood ! 
 
 Not so : albeit no memorable name 
 
 By woman's death be won, nor triumph yield 
 
 Such victory, yet to have wiped out a pest, 
 
 Wreaked worthy punishment shall be my praise. 
 
 My joy to surfeit in avenging fire. 
 
 And to have slaked the ashes of my friends. 
 
 Such words outflinging, and by rage of heart 
 
 Transported, sudden to my sight is borne, 
 
 Never till now so dazzling to behold. 
 
 And in pure radiance beaming through the night. 
 
 My gentle mother — goddess undisguised — 
 
 Such and so stately as her form appears 
 
 To sons of heaven : she held me by the hand, 
 
 And thus, moreover, spake with rosy lips. 
 
 " Son, what fierce anguish in thy bosom stirs 
 
 Ungovernable wrath .' why ragest thou ? 
 
 Thy care for me fled whither? Wilt thou not 
 
 See first where thou hast left thine age-worn sire 
 
 Anchises, whether still survive thy wife 
 
 Creiisa, and Ascanius thy child t 
 
 Whom all ere this, encompassed every side 
 
 By prowling Greeks, did not my care prevent. 
 
62 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 600-621 
 
 Or flames had snatched, or foeman's sword devoured. 
 
 Think not it is the hated face of her, 
 
 The Spartan daughter of Tyndareos, 
 
 No, nor much blamM Paris, but the gods, 
 
 The gods, whose unrelenting hate o'erturns 
 
 This empire, and Troy's loftiness brings low. 
 
 Look — for the cloud which, o'er thy vision drawn. 
 
 Dulls mortal sight, and spreads a misty murk, 
 
 I will snatch from thee utterly : but thou 
 
 Fear not thy mother's bidding, nor refuse 
 
 Her bests to hearken — here where thou but seest 
 
 Huge shattered fragments and stone rent from stone. 
 
 And dust and smoke blent in one surging sea, 
 
 Neptune with his vast trident shakes the walls. 
 
 And heaves the deep foundations, from her bed 
 
 O'ertoppling all the city. Juno here 
 
 Storms at the entrance of the Scaean gate, 
 
 Implacable, and raging, sword on thigh. 
 
 Summons her armed confederates from the ships. 
 
 Now backward glance, and on the embattled height 
 
 Already see Tritonian Pallas throned. 
 
 Flashing with storm-cloud and with Gorgon fell. 
 
 The Sire himself each Danaan heart imbues 
 
 With courage and victorious might ; himself 
 
 Against our Dardan power stirs up the gods. 
 
 Son, snatch at flight, and let thine efforts end : 
 
 Nowhere will I forsake, until I set thee 
 
 Safe on thy father's threshold." She had said 
 
 And vanished in thick shadows of the night. 
 
622-644 THE ^NEID, BOOK IT 63 
 
 Dread forms Appear, and mighty potentates 
 Of heaven, that warred with Troy. 
 
 ' Ah ! then mine eyes 
 Beheld all Ilium settling into flame, 
 Troy, Neptune's city, from her base o'erthrown ; 
 As some hoar ash-tree on the mountain-tops, 
 Which eager husbandmen in haste to fell 
 Hack at with steel and showering axe-strokes, it 
 Threatens and ever threatens, and nods on 
 With quaking foliage, rocking crest, until. 
 Little by little, 'neath the wounds o'erpowered. 
 One dying groan it utters, and falls stretched 
 Along the hillside, a root-severed wreck. 
 I get me down, and with the god to guide 
 Through fire and foes win unimpeded way ; 
 Weapons give place to me, and flames retire. 
 
 ' So when at last my father's door was gained, 
 And the old home, my sire, whom first I seek — 
 My first thought now to bear him to the hills — 
 Refuses to live on, Troy laid in dust. 
 Or stoop to exile. " Ye, whose blood," he cried, 
 " Hath yet youth's freshness, and whose strength 
 
 stands whole 
 In native vigour, do ye speed your flight; 
 Me had the high gods destined to survive. 
 They would have spaired my home. Enough and more 
 That I have seen one downfall, and outlived 
 The capture of our city : here e'en here 
 Lay out my body, a;nd bid farewell, and go. 
 
64 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 645 666, 
 
 This hand shall find out death ; the foe will take* 
 Pity on me, and hunger for my spoil. 
 Light is the loss of burial. Long ago 
 Hateful to heaven and useless, I drag on 
 My lingering days, e'er since the sire of gods 
 And king of men breathed on me with the blast 
 Of his wing'd bolt, and touched me with his fire." 
 
 ' So spake he, and stood firm, persisting ; we, 
 M)' wife Creiisa, and Ascanius, 
 And the whole house, poured forth in tears, beseech 
 
 him 
 Not to whelm all in his own ruin, nor add 
 Weight to the push of doom : he spurns our prayer. 
 Stands rooted to his purpose and the spot. 
 Once more I turn to arms, and long for death 
 To end my misery ; for what counsel now. 
 What fortune was vouchsafed me ? " Didst thou think 
 That I could leave thee, sire, and go my way .'' 
 Fell word so monstrous from a father's lips ? 
 If it be writ in heaven that naught remain 
 Of all this city, and thy fixed purpose hold, 
 So fain to heap upon Troy's funeral-pyre 
 Thyself and thine, death opes thee wide the door ; 
 And, fresh from bathing in the blood of Priam, 
 Soon Pyrrhus will be here, who butchers .son 
 In face of sire, and sire at altar-side. 
 For this then, gentle mother, did thy hand 
 Pluck me from sword and flame, that I might see 
 The foe upon my hearth-stone, see my sire, 
 
666 68S THE JENEID, BOOK II 65 
 
 Ascanius and Cretisa at his slde^ 
 
 Slaughtered and weltering in each other's blood ? 
 
 Arms, arms, my men ! their last reveille calls 
 
 The vanquished. To the Danai give me back : 
 
 Let me revisit and renew the fight : 
 
 Ne'er shall we all die unavenged to-day." 
 
 ' Therewith once more I gird my sword on, brace 
 And fit my left arm to the shield, and forth 
 Was hurrying from the house, when lo ! my wife 
 Clasping my feet upon the threshold clung, 
 Stretched forth the young lulus to his sire. 
 "If bound for death, speed us with thee through all ; 
 But if past effort teach thee still to place 
 Some hope in arms, then first defend our home. 
 Bethink thee to whose hand thou leavest us, 
 Thy sire, and young lulus, and myself. 
 Once. called thy wife." So loudly pleading she 
 Filled all the house with moans, when lo ! there falls 
 A sudden portent marvellous to tell ! 
 F"or, as betwixt their gaze and their embrace 
 His sorrowing parents hold him, on the crown 
 See ! of lulus' head a tongue of fire 
 Light-hovering shone, and, harmless to the touch 
 Licked his soft locks, and round his temples fed 
 We in a flutter of alarm shake out 
 The blazing hair and with spring water strive 
 To quench the sacred flame ; but joyfully 
 My sire Anchises with a starward gaze 
 Lifted his voice and upturned hands to heaven. 
 
66 THE JENEID, BOOK II 689-712 
 
 " Almighty Jupiter, if any prayer 
 
 Can bend thee, look upon us ; only this ; 
 
 And, if our goodness earn it, Sire, henceforth 
 
 Grant us thine aid, and ratify this sign." 
 
 Scarce had the old man spoken, when there pealed 
 
 A sudden crash of thunder on the left ; 
 
 And, gliding through the darkness from on high. 
 
 Shot with a torch-like trail of rushing light 
 
 A star ; we mark it o'er the roof-top glide, 
 
 A clear-cut path behind it, and at length 
 
 Bury its brightness beneath Ida's wood : 
 
 Then lo ! a long-drawn furrow-line of light!. 
 
 And o'er the region hangs a sulphurous smoke. 
 
 Conquered at last my sire uplifts his head. 
 
 Invokes the gods, adores the sacred star. 
 
 " Up, up ! no tarriance more ! I follow, and where 
 
 Ye lead, am with you. ' Gods, that guard our land, 
 
 Preserve my house, preserve my grandchild : yours 
 
 This omen, in your holy keeping Troy. 
 
 Son, I submit, content with thee to go." 
 
 ' He said ; and through the streets more loudly now 
 Is heard the fire, and nearer roll the tides 
 Of conflagration. "Come then, father mine. 
 Mount thee upon my neck ; these shoulders, see ! 
 Shall bear thee up, nor feel that task a tojl. 
 Come what come may, one peril both shall share, 
 Or one deliverance. Hand in hand with me 
 Let walk the child, lulus, and my wife 
 Follow our footsteps from afar. And ye. 
 
712 -735 THE JENEID, BOOK II 67 
 
 Servants, be mindful ; heed what I shall say. 
 
 Quitting the city to a mound ye come 
 
 And ancient fane of Ceres in the waste : 
 
 Hard by, an aged cypress, by our sires 
 
 With holy awe regarded years on years. 
 
 To this one goal by divers tracks we'll come. 
 
 Father, do thou the sacred emblems take. 
 
 Our country's household gods, within thy hand : 
 
 Fresh from the slaughter of so fierce a strife. 
 
 For me 'twere sin to touch them, till I wash 
 
 Me clean in running water." So I spake 
 
 And, over my broad shoulders and bowed neck 
 
 Donning for robe a tawny lion's hide, 
 
 Stoop to the burden ; twines his hand in mine 
 
 The child lulus, with unequal steps 
 
 Following his sire : my wife comes on behind. 
 
 Forth fare we through the shady ways, and me 
 
 Whom erst no showering missiles could make blench. 
 
 Nor banded Greeks in hostile ranks arrayed. 
 
 Now every breeze affrights, and every sound 
 
 Startles, so tremulous am I, at once 
 
 Fearful for my companion and my load. » 
 
 ' And now, nearing the gates, the journey's length 
 Methought I had o'erpast, when suddenly ' 
 A sound of hurrying footsteps to mine ear 
 Seemed borne, and, peering through the dark, my sire 
 Exclaims : " They are upon us ; fly, son, fly ! 
 I see their glowing shields and glittering arms." 
 Then, in the scare, some Power that loved me not 
 
68 THE yENEID, BOOK II 736758 
 
 Snatched my bewildered sense. For as I thrid 
 
 Untrodden paths, the wonted track forego, 
 
 Alas ! my wife Creiisa, now by fate 
 
 Torn from me, to my sorrow, either stopped. 
 
 Or missed her way, or weary sat her down — 
 
 I know not — to our eyes restored no more. 
 
 Nor did I once look back to learn my loss, 
 
 Nor turn my thoughts upon her, till we reached 
 
 The mound of ancient Ceres, and her shrine. 
 
 Then, then, of all our gathered forces, she 
 
 Alone was wanting to the way-fellows, 
 
 Slipped from the sight of husband and of son. 
 
 Whom in my frenzy did I not upbraid 
 
 Of men and gods ? Or what more cruel hap 
 
 Saw in the falling city } Ascanius, 
 
 My sire Anchises, and Troy's household gods 
 
 1 give into my comrades' care, and lodge 
 
 Safe in the winding vale, then seek once more 
 
 The city, and gird me in my glittering arms, 
 
 Steadfast to re-encounter every risk. 
 
 All Troy retraverse, and expose my life 
 
 Anew to every peril. I repair 
 
 First to the walls, and that dark portal, whence 
 
 My feet had issued, trace and follow, back 
 
 Each step in the dark, and scan with searching eye. 
 
 The horror round, the very silence too 
 
 Scares me ; then home I turn, if haply — ah ! 
 
 If thither haply she had bent her steps. 
 
 The Danai had rushed in, filled all the house. 
 
 Speeds the devouring fire before the wind. 
 
758-7S1 THE ^NEID, BOOK II 69 
 
 Rolled to the roof-top ; now the flames outsoar it ; 
 
 The billowy heat goes raging up to heaven. 
 
 Thence I pass onward, and cast eyes again 
 
 On Priam's palace and the citadel. 
 
 E'en now within the empty corridors 
 
 Of Juno's sanctuary, as chosen guards, 
 
 Phoenix and dread Ulysses watch the spoil. 
 
 Hereinto gathered from her burning shrines, 
 
 Troy's plundered treasure — tables of the gods, 
 
 Cups all of gold, and captive raiment, lie 
 
 Massed in a heap. About it in long line 
 
 Stand boys and trembling matrons. Nay, I dared 
 
 Even to launch my shouts into the dark. 
 
 Making the streets re-echo, as I called 
 
 " Creiisa " and " Crelisa," cry on cry, 
 
 With mournful iteration, but in vain. 
 
 Searching the city thus from house to house, 
 
 And raving without end, the hapless shade 
 
 And spectre of Crelisa's self appeared 
 
 Before me, statelier than the form I knew. 
 
 I stood aghast ; my hair rose, and the voice 
 
 Stuck in my throat. Then thus, methought, she spake, 
 
 And with such words allayed my trouble : " Why 
 
 To frantic sorrow give such wanton way, 
 
 O my sweet lord ? Without the nod of Heaven 
 
 These things befall not ; at thy side to bear 
 
 Creiisa hence- — nor fate decrees, nor he 
 
 The lord of high Olympus suffers it. 
 
 Lo ! exile long awaits thee, and to cleave 
 
 A vast expanse of ocean : then shalt thou 
 
70 THE JENEID, BOOK II 781-804 
 
 Arrive Hesperia, where with gentle march, 
 Through their rich fields the Lydian Tiber flows. 
 High fortune here, a throne, a royal bride, 
 The Fates assign thee. Banish now thy tears 
 For loved Creiisa : I shall never look 
 Upon the proud homes of the Myrmidons 
 Or Dolopes, ne'er go to be the slave 
 Of Grecian dames, a Dardan woman I, 
 Wed to the son of Venus the divine. 
 But me the mighty mother of the gods 
 Holds on this shore. And now adieu ! Guard well 
 The love we cherished for thy child and mine.'' 
 So saying, she left me weeping, yearning sore 
 To speak, and vanished into empty air. 
 Thrice, as she stood, my arms I would have flung 
 About her neck, and thriCe my baffled hands 
 Closed upon nothing, and a form that fled, 
 Like to light breezes, one with winged sleep. 
 So passed the night, and so at length I turn 
 Back to my friends, and here with wonder find 
 New comrades, a vast concourse, matrons, men, 
 An army massed for exile- — piteous throng ! — 
 From all sides gathered, armed in heart and gear. 
 Where'er I list to lead them over sea. 
 And now o'er Ida's topmost ridge the star 
 Of dawn was rising, bringing back the day : 
 The Danaans had beset and held the gates, 
 Nor hope of help was offered : I gave o'er, 
 Took up my sire, and for the mountains made.' 
 
I-I5 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 
 
 71 
 
 BOOK lit 
 
 ^NEID III 
 
 ' When Asia's realm and Priam's guiltless race 
 The high gods doomed to overthrow, when fell 
 Proud Ilium, and all Neptune's city Troy 
 In dust lies smoking, we are driven to seek 
 By auguries from heaven far outland homes 
 And lands unpeopled, and a fleet we build 
 Close underneath Antandros and the heights 
 Of Phrygian Ida, doubtful whither fate 
 Dooms us to journey, where vouchsafes to stay ; 
 And men we muster. Scarce had summer dawned 
 When, as my sire Anchises now bade hoist 
 Sail to the breath of fate, with tears I quit 
 My native shores, the harbours, and the plains 
 Where once was Troy. An exile forth I fare 
 Upon the deep with comrades and with son, 
 My hearth's Penates, and the mighty gods. 
 
 ' There lies a land afar with widespread plains 
 Dear to the war-god, which the Thracians till. 
 Once swayed by fierce Lycurgus, from of old 
 With hospitable hearth-ties knit to Troy, 
 
72 THE ^KEID, BOOK III 16-39 
 
 While yet her fortune stood. Hither I sail, 
 And, with fate frowning on my iirst essay. 
 Upon the winding shore trace city walls, 
 And, from my own name, name them iEneadae. 
 
 ' Unto Dione's child, my mother, I, 
 And to the gods, was doing sacrifice, 
 As prosperers of our toil, to heaven's high king 
 Slaughtering a sleek bull on the shore : hard by 
 A hillock stood with cornel-coppice crowned, 
 And myrtles bristling thick with spear-shaft wands. 
 Approaching, by main force I strove to pluck 
 The greenwood from the ground, that I might deck 
 With leafy boughs the altar,' when a sight 
 Portentous meets my gaze, and strange to tell. 
 For from the first tree, torn with severed roots 
 From out the soil, trickle black gouts of blood. 
 That stain the earth with gore. My limbs quake 
 
 chilled 
 With horror, and cold fear congeals my blood. 
 A second stubborn wand once more I turn 
 To pluck me, and probe deep the hidden cause ; 
 And black blood follows from the bark once more. 
 Much pondering in my heart, I 'gan to pray 
 The wood-nymphs and Gradivus, too, my sire. 
 Guardian of Getic land, to prosper well 
 The vision, and make light the omen ; but, 
 When for the third time, and with mightier heft. 
 The spear-wands I assail, and tug and strain 
 With bent knees 'gainst the opposing sand — should I 
 
39-6i THE ^NEID, BOOK HI 73 
 
 Speak or be silent ? from the mound's recess 
 
 A piteous groan is heard, and to mine ears 
 
 An answer borne : " Why rendest thou a wretch 
 
 Like me, ^neas ? At last within my grave 
 
 Spare me, and spare those righteous hands to stain. 
 
 Troy-born am I, no alien to thee, 
 
 Nor from a mere log flow these blood-drops : ah ! 
 
 Fly, fly the ruthless land, the shore of greed ; 
 
 For I am Polydorus, here transfixed 
 
 And overwhelmed by crop of iron spears 
 
 With pointed pikes upspringing." Then, indeed, 
 
 Quelled with distracting fear I stood amazed : 
 
 My hair rose, and the voice stuck in my throat. 
 
 ' This Polydorus, with vast weight of gold, 
 Unhappy Priam erst had secretly 
 To care of Thracia's king consigned, when now 
 Misdoubting of the Dardan arms, he saw 
 His city girdled by the leaguers' ring. 
 But Teucria's power once crushed, her fortune fled. 
 The Thracian, following the victorious arms 
 And star of Agamemnon, snaps all ties 
 Of honour, and, Polydorus done to death, 
 Lays his rude gripe upon the gold. To what 
 Drivest thou not man's heart, O lust of gold 
 Accursed ? When the trembling left my frame, 
 To chosen heads of the people I recount — 
 My sire in chief — the portents of the gods. 
 Demand their judgment. All are of one mind 
 To quit the land of crime, fly friendship stained. 
 
74 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 61-83 
 
 And give our fleet the south wind. So we pay 
 
 The rites of death to Polydorus, heap 
 
 A huge mound o'er him : altars to his shade 
 
 Sad with blue fillets and black cypress stand, 
 
 And round them, with locks loosed in wonted wise, 
 
 The Ilian women : cups of milk a-foam 
 
 Yet warm, and bowls of consecrated blood 
 
 We offer, and lay the spirit in the tomb, 
 
 And with loud voices raise the farewell cry. 
 
 ' Soon as the deep gave promise fair, and winds 
 Had lulled the main, and Auster soughing low 
 Gave seaward summons, to the beach my crews 
 Haul down the ships, and throng the shore. Then 
 
 forth 
 From harbour fare we ; lands and cities fade. 
 In the mid main a sacred home there lies. 
 Unto the mother of the Nereids none. 
 Or to yEgean Neptune, dearer : this 
 Once round the shores and sea-rims wandering 
 With filial love the Bearer of the bow 
 To Myconos high-cragged and Gyarus bound. 
 And steadfast planting taught to laugh at storms. 
 Hither I sail ; a safe port's halcyon calm 
 Here greets the weary crews ; to land we leap. 
 Worship Apollo's town. King Anius — 
 King among men, and priest of Phoebus too — 
 Brow-bound with fillets and the sacred bay, 
 Speeds towards us ; in Anchises an old friend 
 He knows : so, clasping hospitable hands. 
 
83-I04 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 75 
 
 His roof we enter. 
 
 ' I was worshipping 
 The antique stone-built temple of the god : 
 " Give us a home that shall be ours, O lord 
 Of Thymbra ; ramparts to the way-worn give, 
 A breed of sons, a lasting city : keep 
 Unscathed Troy's second bulwark, what remains 
 'Scaped from the Danai and Achilles fell. 
 Whom must we follow ? whither bid'st us go ? 
 Where fix our habitation .? Father, grant 
 A sign from heaven, and sink into our souls." 
 
 ' Scarce had I spoke when suddenly meseemed 
 All things 'gan tremble, doors and sacred bay ; 
 And the whole mountain moves ; the shrine flies ope, 
 The caldron rumbles. Prone to earth we falj. 
 While to our ears is borne a voice : " O sons 
 Of Dardanus long-suffering, that same land, 
 Which bare you iirst from your ancestral stem. 
 Shall to her fertile bosom welcome back : 
 Seek out your ancient mother ; there shall reign 
 The house of ^neas o'er the world's wide shores, 
 And his sons' sons, and all their seed' to be." 
 So Phcebus : and a mighty joy arose 
 Confused, tumultuous ; with one voice they cry, 
 " What is this city whither Phoebus now 
 Summons the wanderers, bids them to return ? " 
 Then, pondering records of the men of old. 
 Thus spake my sire : " Hearken, ye lords of Troy, 
 And learn what hopes are yours : amidst the main 
 
76 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 104-126 
 
 Lies Crete, of mighty Jove the island, where 
 
 Mount Ida, and where the cradle of our race ; 
 
 A hundred mighty towns folk dwell in there, 
 
 A realm most fertile, whence our earliest sire 
 
 Teucer, if rightly I recall the tale. 
 
 Was wafted first to the Rhoetean shore, 
 
 And chose a site for sovereignty ; as yet 
 
 Nor Ilium nor the towers of Pergamus 
 
 Had stood : men dwelt in the low valleys ; hence 
 
 The mother, haunter of Mount Cybele, 
 
 The Corybantian cymbals, Ida's grove ; 
 
 Hence the close secret of her rites, and those 
 
 Yoked lions harnessed to her queenly car. 
 
 Up therefore ! hie we where Heaven's bidding leads, 
 
 Appease the winds, and seek the Gnosian realm : 
 
 Nor is 't a long run thither ; Jove to aid. 
 
 The third daw n lands us on the Cretan shore." 
 
 So saying, due offerings at the shrine he slays, 
 
 A bull for Neptune, a bull too for thee, 
 
 O fair Apollo, a lamb black for storm, 
 
 White for the favouring Zephyrs. 
 
 ' Rumour flies 
 That Prince Idomeneus, a banished man, 
 Hath quit his father's realm, the shores of Crete 
 Abandoned, that her hearths are void of foes, 
 Homes empty for our advent. Straight we leave 
 Ortygia's harbour, and o'er ocean fly. 
 Past Naxos with her Bacchant-haunted heights. 
 And green Donysa, past Olearos, 
 
126-150 THE yENElD,.BOOK in 77 
 
 And snowy Paros, and the Cyclades 
 
 Sprent o'er the main, and we thrid seas that race 
 
 By crowded islands : high the seamen's shout 
 
 Rises amid their changeful toil : tHe crews 
 
 Bid make for Crete and for our sires : a breeze 
 
 Springing astern conveys us, and at length 
 
 To the Curetes' ancient shores we glide. 
 
 So eagerly my chosen city's walls 
 
 I 'gin to build, Pergamea calling it, 
 
 And bid my people glorying in the name 
 
 Cleave to their hearths, and rear a roofed hold. 
 
 Scarce were the ships hauled dry ashore, the youth 
 
 Busied with marriage and new fields to till — 
 
 I laws and homes assigning — when there fell 
 
 Upon men's limbs from heaven's infected arch 
 
 A sudden wasting, and on trees and crops 
 
 Piteous contagion — a year fraught with death. 
 
 They left their pleasant lives, or dragged about 
 
 Sick bodies ; Sirius too baked bare the fields ; 
 
 Grass withered ; the sick crop denied her food. 
 
 Back to Ortygia's oracle my sire 
 
 Bids us retraverse Ocean, and implore 
 
 The grace of Phoebus ; to our weary plight 
 
 What end vouchsafes he, whence would have us seek 
 
 Aid for Our trouble, whither steer our course 1 
 
 ' 'Twas night : sleep held all creatures upon earth. 
 When lo ! the sacred emblems of the godi, 
 The Phrygian Penates, out of Troy 
 Borne with me from amidst the blazing town 
 
78 THE JSMEW, BOOK III 150-171 
 
 Seemed, as I lay in slumber, to stand forth 
 Before mine eyes, clear in a flood of light, 
 Where streamed the full moon through the casement- 
 shaft. 
 Then thus to address me, and allay my pain 
 With words like these : " What yonder should be told 
 
 thee 
 Arrived Ortygia, from Apollo's lips, 
 Lo ! here he utters, unsolicited 
 Sending us to thy very threshold, we. 
 Who from Dardania's burning have thyself 
 And thine arms followed, in the fleet thou leddcst 
 Crossing the swollen deep — even we no less 
 Will lift to heaven thy sons that shall be born, 
 Grant empire to thy city. But do thou 
 Found mighty ramparts for the mighty, nor 
 Shirk the long toil of flight. Shift hence thy home : 
 Not these the shores portended, nor in Crete 
 Doth Delian Apollo bid thee dwell. 
 There is a spot by Greeks Hesperia named, 
 A land of old, mighty in arms, in soil 
 Prolific, which the OEnotrian heroes tilled. 
 Now by a later race called Italy, 
 If rumour lie not, from their leader's name. 
 There is our sure home ; hence sprang Dardanus, 
 And sire lasius, founder of our race. 
 Arise, be glad, and to thy father old 
 Bear this no doubtful mandate, that he seek 
 Cory thus and Ausonia's land ; the fields 
 
171-194 THE ^NEJD, BOOK III 79 
 
 Of Dicte Jove denies thee ! " Sore amazed 
 
 By such a vision and the voice of gods — 
 
 Nor was that slumber : face to face I seemed 
 
 Their mien, their wreathed locks to recognise, 
 
 And their divine regard, while a chill sweat 
 
 Over my whole frame ran— from bed I hurl me. 
 
 And raising voice and upturned hands to heaven, 
 
 Pour unpolluted offerings on the hearth. 
 
 That homage paid, exulting I make known 
 
 All to Anchises, point by point revealed. 
 
 The twofold line, the double stock, himself 
 
 Fooled by a new confusion of old lands. 
 
 He owns, then cries aloud, " Son, long the sport 
 
 Of Ilium's fate, Cassandra erst alone 
 
 Chanted this hap to me : I now recall 
 
 She thus foretold our destiny, and oft 
 
 Invoked Hesperia, oft the Italian realm. 
 
 But that the Teucrians to Hesperia's shore 
 
 Should come indeed, who could have thought it .■' whom 
 
 Then would Cassandra's prophecies have swayed ? 
 
 Yield we to Phoebus' warning, and pursue 
 
 The wiser course." He spake, and all with joy 
 
 His word obey ; this second home we quit, 
 
 Leaving some few behind, and with, sails set 
 
 Scour the waste ocean in our hollow bark. 
 
 ' Soon as our galleys gained the open deep, 
 And now no longer land appeared, but lo ! 
 Ocean on all sides, and on all sides sky. 
 Then stood a dark-blue storm-cloud o'er my head 
 
8o THE ^NEID, BOOK III 195 219 
 
 Laden with night and tempest, and the wave 
 
 Shuddered beneath the gloom. At once the winds 
 
 Roll up the sea, and mighty billows rise : 
 
 Scattered, we toss upon the weltering waste : 
 
 Clouds wrapped the daylight, dank night stole the sky. 
 
 And fire burst through the welkin, flash on flash. 
 
 We are hurled out of our course, and wander on 
 
 O'er the blind waters. Palinurus even 
 
 Vows he discerns not day from night in heaven, 
 
 Nor in mid-wave can mind him of the track. 
 
 For three full days dim with blind mist we drift 
 
 Upon the deep, as many starless nights. 
 
 On the fourth day at length land first was seen 
 
 To crown the horizon, opening out afar 
 
 Mountains and wreathed smoke. Down drop the sails, 
 
 We rise upon our oars ; with eager strain 
 
 The seamen churn the foam, and sweep the blue. 
 
 ' Saved from the waves, me first the Strophad shores 
 Receive ; the Strophades — their Grecian name — 
 Lie in the great Ionian, island-haunts 
 Of fell Celffino and her Harpy crew. 
 Since Phineus' door closed on them, and they fled 
 Scared from their former board. More foul than they 
 No portent, and no fiercer plague or wrath 
 Of heaven e'er rose from out the Stygian wave. 
 Birds maiden-faced, their belly's excrement 
 Most noisome, and with hooked hands and cheeks 
 Blanched with eternal famine 
 
 Hither then 
 
219-243 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 8i 
 
 Borne safe, and entering harbour, lo ! we spy- 
 Rich herds of oxen scattered o'er the plain, 
 And flocks too of the goat-tribe on the grass 
 Untended ; we rush on them with the sword, 
 And call upon the gods and Jove himself 
 To share and spoil, then on the winding shore 
 Pile couches up, and feast on the rich fare. 
 But sudden from the hills with fearful swoop 
 The Harpies are upon us, and clap loud 
 Their hurtling wings, and snatch the food away, 
 Polluting all things with their filthy touch ; 
 Fearful at once their cry, and foul their smell. 
 In deep recess beneath a hollow rock, 
 Curtained with trees and bristling shade, once more 
 We lay the board, renew the altar-fires : 
 When from a diverse point of heaven once more 
 Out of some hidden lair the clamorous rout 
 Come winging roiind the prey with hooked feet. 
 And taint the food with tastin,g. Then I charge 
 My comrades seize their weapons and make war 
 On the fell brood. As bidden, they do, range swords 
 In the grass-covert, and hide shields from sight. 
 So when along the winding shore their swoop 
 Sounded, Misenus from his lofty watch 
 With hollow brass gives warning : to the assault 
 My comrades rush, and a strange warfare try — 
 To harry with the sword these ominous birds 
 Of ocean. But their feathers take no hurt, 
 Their flesh no wound, and, soaring swift on high, 
 
 G 
 
82 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 244-266 
 
 They leave behind them the half-eaten prey 
 
 And their foul traces. One, Celaeno, perched 
 
 On a tall crag, ill-boding prophetess, 
 
 Bursts into words like these : " So, is it war 
 
 For our kine slaughtered and our bullocks felled, 
 
 Sons of Laomedon — war, ye would wage 
 
 Against us, and the blameless Harpies drive 
 
 Forth from their father's realm ? Take then to heart 
 
 My words, and write them there : what prophecies 
 
 The Sire Omnipotent taught Phoebus once, 
 
 Phoebus Apollo me, I, mightiest 
 
 Of Furies, now make known to you : the goal 
 
 Ye seek is Italy ; to Italy, 
 
 The winds invoking, shall ye come, be free 
 
 Her ports to enter : but your destined town 
 
 With walls ye shall not gird, till famine dire 
 
 And your outrageous onslaught upon us 
 
 Drive you to gnaw your tables and devour." 
 
 She spake, and to the forest winged her way. 
 
 As for my comrades, a quick chill of fear 
 
 Curdled the blood within them ; their hearts fell ; 
 
 No more with arms, but vows and prayers they now 
 
 Bid sue for grace, or be they goddesses. 
 
 Or dread iil-omened birds : ay, and my sire 
 
 Anchises trom the shore with outspread hands 
 
 Calls on the mighty ones of heaven, proclaims 
 
 Due sacrifice : " Ye gods, avert their threats, 
 
 Such evil hap forfend, and with your peace 
 
 Preserve the good. ' Then bids he rend away 
 
2<%-290 THE ^NEID, BOOK III \ 
 
 The rope from shore, uncoil and ease the sheets. 
 
 The south winds stretch our canvas : fast we fly 
 
 Over the foaming waters, borne along 
 
 As wind and helmsman summoned. Now appears 
 
 In the sea's midst Zacynthus and her woods, 
 
 Dulichium, Same, and the towering cliffs 
 
 Of Neritos ; we hurry by the rocks 
 
 Of Ithaca, Laertes' realm, and curse 
 
 The land that gave to fell Ulysses birth. 
 
 Soon too Leucate's stormy peaks, and lo ! 
 
 Apollo, feared of seamen, heaves in sight : 
 
 Weary, for him we make, and enter so 
 
 The little town : our anchor from the prow 
 
 Is cast, the sterns stand ranged along the shore. 
 
 So beyond hope at length achieving land, 
 
 To Jove we purify us, with our vows 
 
 Kindling the altar, and crowd Actium's shore 
 
 With Ilian games : my comrades strip, and ply, 
 
 All smooth with oil, their native wrestling- bouts, 
 
 Glad to halve 'scaped so many Argive towns, 
 
 And through the midst of foes our flight pursued. 
 
 Meanwhile the sun rolls round the mighty year. 
 
 And winter's icy north winds fret the sea. 
 
 A shield of hollow brass, great Abas erst 
 
 Had wielded, on the portals' front I fix. 
 
 And with this line commemorate the deed :^— 
 
 " .(Eneas' spoil, from Danaan conquerors won," 
 
 Then bid them quit the harbour, man the thwarts. 
 
 With eager zeal my comrades lash the sea, 
 
 Q 2 
 
84 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 290 312 
 
 And sweep the watery floor. Anon we let 
 
 Fhaacia's airy summits drop from view, 
 
 And skirt Epirus' shore, till entering 
 
 The harbour of Chaonia, we draw nigh 
 
 Buthrotum's high-built city. Here a tale 
 
 Of things incredible assails our ears. 
 
 That Helenus, Priam's son, was reigning now 
 
 er Grecian cities, master of the bride 
 And crown of Pyrrhus, son of ^Eacus, 
 And that Andromache had thus once more 
 Passed to a lord of her own race. Amazed 
 
 1 stood, and my heart burned with strange desire 
 To accost the hero, from his lips to learn 
 Fortunes so strange. On from the port I fare, 
 Leave fleet and shore behind me, when it chanced 
 That nigh the city, in a grove, where flowed 
 
 A mimic Simois, Andromache 
 
 Her yearly feast was offering, gifts of grief. 
 
 Unto the ashes, summoning the shade 
 
 To Hector's tomb, which with green turf, though void, 
 
 She had hallowed, and twin altars, where to weep. 
 
 Soon as her wildered eyes beheld me coming. 
 
 With Trojan arms about me, scared at such 
 
 A portent, her limbs stiffen in mid gaze. 
 
 Warmth left her frame, she swoons, and scarce at length 
 
 Breaks the long silence : " Is 't thy very face 1 
 
 Com'st thou indeed with tidings, goddess-born, 
 
 A living man .' or if the genial light 
 
 Hath faded from thee, where is Hector ? " So 
 
3I2.-33S THE ^NEID, BOOK III 8; 
 
 With showers of tears she spake, and all the place 
 Filled with her shrieking. To that passionate cry- 
 Scarce can I frame brief answer, and, much moved, 
 Gasp out in faltering accents : " I indeed 
 Live, and my life through all extremes drag on : 
 Doubt not, thine eyes see truly : ah ! what chance 
 Hurled from that height of wedded love receives thee. 
 What fortune worthy of her past hath found 
 Hector's Andromache ? art still the wife 
 Of Pyrrhus ? " With downcast eyes and bated breath 
 She spake : " O blest beyond all women else 
 The maiden child of Priam, bidden to die 
 'Neath Troy's tall ramparts, at the foeman's tomb. 
 She who ne'er brooked the casting of the lot. 
 Nor, captive, touched a conquering master's bed ! 
 We, our home burnt, o'er distant oceans borne, 
 Have from Achilles' heir endured the pride 
 Of youthful insolence, borne him a son 
 In slavery : he, wooing afterward 
 Leda's Hermione, and nuptial ties 
 With Lacedsemon, me to Helenus, 
 Bondmaid to bondsman did consign. But him 
 Orestes, with fierce love for his stol'n bride 
 Fired, and still goaded by the fiends of crime, 
 At his ancestral altars unaware, 
 Waylaid and slaughtered. Neoptolemus 
 Thus dying, a portion of the realm he swayed 
 Passed o'er to Helenus, who called the fields 
 Chaonian, and Chaonia all the land, 
 
S6 THE jENEID, BOOK III 336-357 
 
 From Trojan Chaon, and topped the heights with this 
 
 New Pergamus and Ilian citadel. 
 
 But thou — what winds, what fates have shaped thy 
 
 course? 
 Or what god driven unwitting to our shores ? 
 How fares the boy Ascanius ? lives he yet 
 And drinks the air of heaven ? whom while in Troy — 
 But still to his lost mother doth he yearn 
 With boyish love ? ./Eneas for his sire, 
 Hector his uncle— do these kindle him 
 To antique prowess, and mettle of a man ? " 
 So poured she forth her sorrow, and long she wept 
 Idly, when lo ! advancing from the walls, 
 The hero-son of Priam, Helenus, 
 Comes with a mighty train, and his old friends 
 He knows, and leads them to his home with joy. 
 But all his utterance broke with bursting tears. 
 At every forward step I recognise 
 Troy, but in little, here a Pergamus 
 The model of the mighty, there, though parched, 
 A river that from Xanthus takes its name. 
 And clasp the portals of a Scsean gate. 
 Along with me the Teucrians too enjoy 
 The friendly city ; the king welcomed them 
 In spacious cloisters ; midmost of the court 
 They poured out cups of Bacchus, the meats set 
 On golden platters, goblets in their hand. 
 ' And now a day and yet another day 
 Has come and gone ; the breeze invites our sails ; 
 
^57-378 THE ^NEW, BOOK III 87 
 
 The south wind swells, and puffs the canvas out, 
 
 When, with these words approaching, I thus seek 
 
 An answer from the seer : " Thou son of Troy, 
 
 Interpreter of heaven, who dost the will 
 
 Of Phoebus know, the tripods, and the bays 
 
 Dear to the Clarian god, the stars, and tongues 
 
 Of birds, and omens of the flying wing. 
 
 Come tell me — for the favouring voice of heaven 
 
 Hath my whole course declared, and one and all 
 
 The gods with power divine urged me to make 
 
 For Italy, and distant lands explore ; 
 
 Only Celaeno with her Harpy voice 
 
 Chants a strange portent horrible to tell, 
 
 Boding fierce wrath and hideous famine— say 
 
 What perils first am I to shun, or by 
 
 What clue surmount such heights of suffering?" 
 
 Then with due sacrifice of slaughtered steers 
 
 First Helenus implores the grace of heaven, 
 
 Unbinds the fillets from his sacred brow. 
 
 And with his own hand to thy temple-gates, 
 
 O Phoebus, leads me wildered with excess 
 
 Of godhead, then at last with priestly lips 
 
 Chants this prophetic utterance : " Goddess-born — 
 
 For that thou journeyest over sea, led on 
 
 By mightier omens, plain the proof, so draws 
 
 The king of gods the destinies, and rolls 
 
 The shifting changes ; such their circling course — 
 
 Few things of many, that thou may'st safelier track 
 
 Strange se^as, and settle in Ausonia's port, 
 
88 THE yENEID, BOOK III 379-402 
 
 I will unfold thee : what remains to know 
 
 The sister-fates from Helenus withhold, 
 
 Saturnian Juno to his tongue denies. 
 
 P'irst, Italy, which e'en now thou deemest near, 
 
 Fain blindly to attempt the neighbouring ports, 
 
 Long tracts of country, a long pathless way. 
 
 Divide from thee : ay, in Trinacrian waves 
 
 First must thine oar be bent, and thy ships pass 
 
 The salt Ausonian main, the infernal lakes, 
 
 ^aean Circe's isle, ere thou may'st found 
 
 Upon safe shore thy city. And tokens I 
 
 Will give thee ; do thou keep them stored in mind. 
 
 When by the wave of a sequestered stream 
 
 Thine anxious eye lights on a monstrous sow, 
 
 Under the holm-oaks on the margin laid, 
 
 With thirty head of swine new-littered, white. 
 
 Stretched out along the ground, white too the young 
 
 About her udders, know that there shall be 
 
 Thy city's site, here a sure rest from toil. 
 
 And shudder not, though ye be doomed to gnaw 
 
 Your tables ; for the Fates will find a way, 
 
 Apollo hear and aid you ; but these shores, 
 
 The border of the Italian coast, that lies 
 
 Nearest, by waves of our own ocean washed. 
 
 Fly, for in all their towns dwell evil Greeks. 
 
 Here have the Locri from Narycia built 
 
 Cities, and Lyctian Idomeneus 
 
 Filled the Sallentine fields with soldiery. 
 
 Here stands Petelia, propped upon its wall. 
 
402-424 THE jENEID, book III 8c 
 
 The tiny town of Philoctetes, lord 
 
 Of Melibcea. Nay, when o'er the main 
 
 Wafted, thy fleet hath anchored, and ashore 
 
 On new-built altars thou shalt pay thy vows, 
 
 First with a purple robe veil-o'er thy locks, 
 
 Lest in mid worship, while the sacred fires 
 
 Yet burn, a foeman's face meet thine, and mar 
 
 The omens. And this ceremonial rite 
 
 So let thy comrades, as thyself, observe, 
 
 And in its holy use thy sons abide 
 
 Blameless. But when, departing thence, the wind 
 
 Nigh to Sicilia's coast shall waft thee, and 
 
 Pelorum's narrow bars asunder draw. 
 
 Cleave to the leftward land, the leftward sea. 
 
 Though long the circuit ; shun the right, both shore 
 
 And water. For this region once, 'tis said, 
 
 By violence and huge convulsion torn — 
 
 Such power of change is in long lapse of time — 
 
 Leapt into twain, that were one land before. 
 
 Continuous ; and amidst them broke the sea, 
 
 And with its waves cut off Hesperia's side 
 
 From Sicily's, and flowed, a narrow firth, 
 
 'Twixt fields and cities sundered, shore from shore. 
 
 The right side Scylla doth beset, the left 
 
 Implacable Charybdis, ay and thrice 
 
 In the deep whirl of her abyss sheer down 
 
 She sucks huge billows, and anon to heaven 
 
 Rears them in turn, and whips the ^tars with spray 
 
 But Scylla, penned in a blind cave's recess, 
 
go THE .-ENEID, BOOK III 425-448 
 
 Thrusts forth her mouth, drags vessels on the rocks, 
 
 Upward, of human visage, and a maid 
 
 Fair-breasted to the waist, beneath, a fish 
 
 Of bulk portentous, and with dolphin's tail 
 
 Joined to wolf's belly. Better to lag round 
 
 Trinacrian Pachynus as your goal. 
 
 The long slow circuit fetch, than once have seen 
 
 Deformed Scylla in her cavern vast. 
 
 And rocks that to her dark blue sea-dogs ring. 
 
 Ay, and if Helenus foreknoweth aught, 
 
 And as a seer win credence, if his soul 
 
 Brim with Apollo's truth, one prescient word 
 
 Ay, one for all, I'll give thee, goddess-born, 
 
 And urge the admonition o'er and o'er ; 
 
 Great Juno's godhead honour first with prayer ; 
 
 To Juno chant thy willing vows, and quell 
 
 With suppliant gifts the mighty queen : for so 
 
 Victor at last, Trinacria left behind, 
 
 Shalt thou to Italy's far bourne be sped. 
 
 Here landed, when to Cumae's town thou comest. 
 
 The holy lakes, Avernus' echoing groves, 
 
 Thou shalt the frenzied prophetess behold. 
 
 Who in a rock's deep hollow chants the Fates, 
 
 To leaves committing characters and names. 
 
 All prophecies upon the leaves impressed 
 
 The maid in order ranges, left to He 
 
 Shut up within the cavern : they remain 
 
 Unmoved in place, nor from their order stir. 
 
 But none the less, when with the turning hinge 
 
449-473 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 91 
 
 A draught of air strikes, and the open door 
 
 Unsettles the light leaves, ne'er heeds she then 
 
 To catch them, as they flutter round the cave. 
 
 Restore their places, or fit line to line : 
 
 Men go their ways uncounselled, and detest 
 
 The Sibyl's seat. There count no loss of time 
 
 Too dear, though comrades chide thee, though the 
 
 voyage 
 Press and provoke thy sails to sea, and thou 
 Might'st fill their favouring hollows, but approach 
 The prophetess, and with thy prayers implore 
 Herself to chant the oracles, and unlock 
 Her willing lips in speech. She will unfold 
 The tribes of Italy, and wars to be. 
 And how to shun or suffer every toil, 
 And to thy prayer vouchsafe a prosperous voyage 
 Thus far my voice may warn thee : up, away ! 
 And by thy deeds lift Troy in might to heaven." 
 
 ' So spake the seer with kindly word, then gifts 
 Heavy with gold and carven ivory 
 Bids to the ships be brought, stows massive silver 
 And Dodonean caldrons in our keels, ^ 
 
 A ring-wrought hauberk triple-twilled with gold, 
 And superb helmet, cone and flowing crest, 1 
 The arms of Neoptolemus. My sire 
 Has gifts too of his own : horses beside 
 And guides he sends with us, fills up the tale 
 Of oarsmen, and equips the crews with arms. 
 
 ' Meanwhile Anchises bids rig out the fleet 
 
92 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 473 -497 
 
 Nor longer dally with the wafting wind. 
 
 Him the interpreter of Phoebus then 
 
 With high regard addressed : " Anchises, deemed 
 
 Meet for the holy hand of Venus, loved 
 
 Of Heaven, twice rescued from Troy's falling towers, 
 
 There lies Ausonia's land : make sail and seize it ; 
 
 Yet hold the deep, pass by the nearer coast, 
 
 Needs must thou ; of Ausonia, see, the tract 
 
 Apollo doth reveal lies yonder far. 
 
 Go forth," said he, " in thy son's goodness blest ! 
 
 Why lengthen words, delaying while I speak 
 
 The rising gales f " Nor less Andromache, 
 
 Sad at the final parting, brings forth robes 
 
 With gold woof broidered, and a Phrygian scarf 
 
 For Ascanius, nor scants aught of courtesy, 
 
 But loads him with her loom-gifts, and thus speaks : 
 
 " These too, as tokens of my hand, receive. 
 
 Dear boy, in witness of the lasting love 
 
 Of Hector's wife Andromache ; ay, take 
 
 The last gifts of thy kin, sole likeness thou 
 
 Still left me of my own Astyanax ! 
 
 Such eyes, such hands, such looks he wore ; his youth 
 
 Had now been ripening to like years with thine." 
 
 I, as I left them, spake with rising tears : 
 
 " Live, and be happy, ye, whose destined course 
 
 Is now accomplished ; we from fate to fate 
 
 Must still be summoned, but your rest is won : 
 
 No plain of ocean need ye plough, pursue 
 
 No still retreating far Ausonian fields. 
 
497-519 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 93 
 
 A copy here of Xanthus, and a Troy 
 Do ye behold which your own hands have made, 
 I trust with happier omen, and less apt 
 For Grecian inroad. But if ever I 
 To Tiber come, and Tiber's bordering fields, 
 And see the ramparts to my race assigned, 
 Our sister cities and their kindred folk, 
 Here in Epirus, in Hesperia there. 
 Who boast the self-same founder, Dardanus, 
 . The self-same fortunes, we will yet some day 
 Take, and of twain create one Troy in heart : 
 That task be left to our posterity." 
 
 ' On through the deep we speed, and skirt the near 
 Ceraunians, whence the way to Italy, 
 And shortest passage o'er the waves. Meanwhile, 
 The sun drops, and the hills are veiled in gloom. 
 On the earth's welcome bosom, meting out 
 The oars by lot, we stretch us by the wave. 
 And, on the dry beach scattered, court repose ; 
 Slumber bedews our weary limbs. Nor yet. 
 Driven by the Hours, was Night to her mid course 
 Attaining, when, no sluggard, from his couch 
 Springs Palinurus, every wind explores. 
 Catching the breeze with listening ears : he marks 
 All stars that swim the silent sky, surveys 
 Arcturus, and the showery Hyades, 
 The Twin Bears, and Orion armed in gold. 
 Seeing a set calm in a cloudless heaven, 
 Loudly he signals from the stern ; our camp 
 
94 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 520-543 
 
 Is broken up ; we venture on the voyage, 
 Spreading our sail wings. And Aurora now 
 Was reddening, and the stars were put to flight. 
 When in the distance we descry dim hills. 
 And Italy's low coast-line. " Italy " 
 First cries Achates ; Italy our crews 
 Hail with a shout of triumph. Then my sire 
 Anchises wreathed a mighty bowl with flowers, 
 And filled with wine, and called upon the gods. 
 Standing upon the lofty stern. " Ye gods. 
 Lords both of land and ocean with their storms. 
 Waft us a fair course^ and breathe favouring gales." 
 The wished-for breezes freshen, and the port 
 Widens with narrowing distance, and clear seen 
 The temple of Minerva tops the height. 
 My comrades furl the sails, and shoreward steer. 
 The harbour there by eastern waves is bent 
 Bow-wise ; with salt spray foam the barrier cliffs ; 
 The port itself lies hidden ; the towered rocks 
 Lower their arms, on either side a wall ; 
 The temple from the shore retires. Four steeds 
 Here on the grass, first omen, I beheld. 
 Grazing the plain at large, and white as snow. 
 Then Sire Anchises : " War it is thou bringest, 
 O stranger-country ! Steeds are armed for war. 
 And war these herds portend us. Yet at times 
 The same beasts use to bow them to the car. 
 And, yoked together, bear the friendly rein ; 
 Yea, there is hope of peace too." Then we pray 
 
543-567 THE JENEID, BOOK III qj 
 
 To sacred Pallas, queen of clanging arms. 
 
 Who first with joy received us, and with heads 
 
 Before the altar veiled in Phrygian robe, 
 
 As Helenus had so straitly charged us, offer 
 
 To Argive Juno the full rites prescribed. 
 
 Then without stay, each solemn vow performed, 
 
 Shifting the sail-yard horns, we quit the homes 
 
 Of Greek-born folk, and their suspected fields. 
 
 Next, known to Hercules, if true the tale, 
 
 Tarentum's gulf is sighted, while in front 
 
 Rises Lacinium's goddess, Caulon's heights, 
 
 Ship-wrecking Scylaceum. Then, far off 
 
 Out of the deep comes looming into sight 
 
 Trinacrian ^tna, and a mighty moan 
 
 Of ocean hear we, and rocks buffeted 
 
 Afar, and broken sounds upon the beach ; 
 
 The depths leap up, and sand and .surges mix. 
 
 Then Sire Anchises : " Doubtless this is that 
 
 Charybdis, these the crags and fearful rocks 
 
 That Helenus foretold. Rescue, my friends ! 
 
 Rise on your oars together." Nought they fail 
 
 To do his bidding, and Palinurus first 
 
 To the waves leftward turns her groaning prow ; 
 
 Leftward the whole fleet strain with oar and breeze. 
 
 On the arched billow we mount up to heaven, 
 
 And once more, as t*he floods fail under us. 
 
 Sink to the shades l~?low. Thrice roared the rocks . 
 
 Amid their craggy hollows, thrice we saw 
 
 The foam dashed up, and the stars raining spray. 
 
96 THE .-ENEID, BOOK III 568 590 
 
 JNIeanwhile, outwearied, wind and sun together 
 Failed us, and, all unwitting of the track. 
 To the Cyclopes' shores we drift. 
 
 ' There lies 
 A harbour sheltered from the wind's approach. 
 Spacious itself ; but ^tna hard at hand 
 With hideous ruin thunders, and anon 
 Shoots a dark cloud to heaven of whirling smoke 
 Pitch-black, with glowing ashes, and aloft 
 Heaves balls of fire, and licks the stars ; anon 
 Rocks and the uptorn entrails of the hill 
 Spews forth, and heaps the molten stones in air 
 Booming, and from his lowest depth upboils. 
 'Tis said the huge frame of Enceladus 
 Half-burnt by lightning, 'neatlj this mountain mass 
 Lies buried, while giant .lEtna, piled above. 
 Bursts into channels, and breathes forth the fire : 
 Oft as he shifts his side for weariness, 
 Trinacria's whole bulk with the rumbling quakes. 
 And curtains heaven with smoke. Screened by the 
 
 woods, 
 That night the monstrous portent we endure. 
 Yet cause of sound discern not : for no stars 
 Were burning, nor the vault was bright above 
 With constellations but a dark pall hid 
 The heavens, and dead night held the moon in cloud. 
 
 ' And now the next dawn in the utmost east 
 Was breaking, and Aurora had dispelled 
 Dank shadows from the sky, when suddenly 
 
590 6i3 THE ^NEW, BOOK III 97 
 
 Out of the woods, by extreme hunger worn, 
 
 Stalks the strange figure of an unknown man, 
 
 In piteous plight, and stretching suppliant hands 
 
 Toward the shore. We turn to gaze on him. 
 
 Ghastly his squalor, with a beard grown wild, 
 
 A garb thorn -fastened : in all else a Greek, 
 
 And in his country's arms once sent to Troy. 
 
 He when our Dardan guise, our Trojan arms, 
 
 Far off he saw, a little at the sight 
 
 Hung back afeard, and stayed his steps, but soon 
 
 With tears and prayers ran headlong to the shore : 
 
 " Now, by the stars, and by the gods above 
 
 Ay, and this light of heaven we breathe, take me. 
 
 Ye Teucrians, I conjure you ; bear me hence 
 
 To whatso land ye will ; it shall suffice^ 
 
 One of the Danaan fleet am I, I know it. 
 
 Own I assailed your Ilian hearths with war : 
 
 Wherefore, so heinous if my crime's offence. 
 
 Fling me piecemeal into the waves, or drown 
 
 In the vast ocean. If I die, 'twill be 
 
 Joy to have died by human hands.' So saying, 
 
 Hfe clasped our knees, to our knees, writhing, clung 
 
 We urge him say what, and from whence, he is, 
 
 Next, how by fortune bandied, to confess. 
 
 My sire Anchises, with no long delay, 
 
 Himself extends his right hand to the youth. 
 
 And with the ready pledge assures him ; he. 
 
 Fear banished, speaks at length : " An Ithacan 
 
 By birth am I, and comrade of ill-starred 
 
 H 
 
9S THE MNEID, BOOK III 613 636 
 
 Ulysses ; A chsemenides my name : 
 
 Since poor my sire Adrastus — would to heaven 
 
 That fortune still were mine ! — I came to Troy. 
 
 Here in their haste these cruel doors to quit, 
 
 My friends forgot, and in the monstrous cave 
 
 Of Cyclops left me. 'Tis a house of gore 
 
 And bloody banquetings, huge, dim within ; 
 
 Himself, uptowering, strikes the stars on high — 
 
 Ye gods, rid earth of such a plague — by none 
 
 To be eyed lightly, or in speech addressed. 
 
 On wretches' flesh and their dark blood he feeds. 
 
 1 myself saw of our own number twain, 
 
 In the cave's midst as he lay backward, clutched 
 
 By his huge hand, and dashed against the rock, 
 
 And the floor drenched and swimming with their blood : 
 
 Saw, when their limbs, all dripping with black gore, 
 
 He munched, the warm joints quivering 'twixt his 
 
 teeth ; 
 But not, I trow, unpunished : nor such things 
 Ulysses brooked, nor was the Ithacan 
 In that sore strait forgetful of himself 
 For when, with feasting gorged, and drowned in wine, 
 The monster dropped his lolling neck, and lay 
 Along the cave, disgorging as he slept, 
 Man's blood, and morsels mixed with gory wine, 
 We, the lots drawn, and the great powers implored. 
 Pour round him in one flood on every side, 
 And with a whetted brand bore out his eye. 
 Monstrous, hid sole beneath the scowling brow, 
 
637-662 THE ^NEID, BOOK III 
 
 99 
 
 Like Argive shield or lamp of Phcebus, glad 
 
 Thus to avenge at length our comrades' shades. 
 
 But fly, ye hapless, fly, rend rope from shore : 
 
 For such, so vast, as Polyphemus here 
 
 Penning in hollow cave his fleecy flocks, 
 
 Or wringing dry their udders, a hundred more 
 
 House them at large along this winding coast, 
 
 Fell Cyclops-crew, and roam the mountain-tops. 
 
 Thrice hath the moon now filled her horns with light, 
 
 While with the beasts, in the lone forest-lairs 
 
 They haunt, I drag my life on, from the rock 
 
 Peering the vast Cyclopes to behold. 
 
 Or trembling at their voices and their tread. 
 
 Berries and stony cornels from the boughs. 
 
 And uptorn herb-roots yield me sorry fare. 
 
 All quarters scanning I at last beheld 
 
 This fleet of yours stand shoreward, and to this. 
 
 Prove what it might, consigned me : 'tis enough 
 
 To have escaped the monster-broOd : do ye 
 
 Rather, by any death, cut short my days." 
 
 ' Scarce had he spoke, when on the mountain-top 
 Himself, in mighty bulk among his flocks 
 Moving, and making for the well-known shore, 
 The shepherd Polyphemus we descry — 
 Monster fell, shapeless, vast, of eyesight reft. 
 Lopped by his hand a pine tree guides his steps 
 And steadies ; his woolly sheep beside "him stray, 
 Sole pleasure, these, and solace of his ill. 
 Soon as he touched the deep waves, reached the main, 
 
loo THE jENEW, book III 663-686 
 
 He laves therewith the flow of gore from out 
 
 His eyeless socket, and gnashing with his teeth 
 
 Groans, and through ocean now at midmost wades ; 
 
 Nor wetted yet the flood his towering sides. 
 
 Trembling we speed our flight afar, take up — 
 
 Meed well deserved — our suppliant, silently 
 
 Cut loose the rope, and bending forward sweep 
 
 With emulous oars the ocean. He perceived, 
 
 And turned his steps toward the sound : but when 
 
 No power is his to reach us with his hand, 
 
 Nor can he match the Ionian waves in chase, 
 
 A boundless roar he raises, that the sea 
 
 And all its billows trembled, and, far in, 
 
 Affrighted was the land of Italy, 
 
 And ^tna bellowed through his winding caves. 
 
 Thereat the race of Cyclops, from the woods 
 
 And lofty mountains startled, to the port 
 
 Rushes, and throngs the shore. We see them stand, 
 
 Each with his eye grim-low'ring, but in vain, 
 
 That brotherhood of .^tna, lifting high 
 
 Their heads to heaven, a fearful conclave ; as 
 
 When skyey oaks, or cone-hung cypresses, 
 
 Jove's lofty forest, or Diana's grove. 
 
 Stand in a group. Keen terror headlong goads us, 
 
 Whithersoever to slack out the sheets. 
 
 And spread our canvas to the following breeze. 
 
 But Helenus' late warning bids them not 
 
 Twixt Scylla and Charybdis hold their course — 
 
 On this or that side but a step from death : 
 
686-708 THE MNEID, BOOK III loi 
 
 Backward to steer the purpose holds ; when lo ! 
 The north wind from Pelorum's narrow home 
 Is launched upon us : I am wafted by 
 Pantagia's mouth of living rock, the bay 
 Of Megara, and low-lying Thapsus. Such 
 The shores he showed, unthridding all the track 
 Of his past wanderings-^ Achsemenides, 
 Ill-starred Ulysses' comrade. 
 
 ' An isle lies" 
 Stretched full in front of the Sicanian bay, 
 Wave-washed Plemmyrium, called by men of old 
 Ortygia. Hither, the tale runs, Alpheus 
 River of Elis, worked his hidden way 
 Beneath the sea, now, issuing at thy mouth 
 Blends, Arethusa, with Sicilian waves. 
 The mighty guardians of the spot, as bidden. 
 We worship ; then the o'er-fertile soil I pass 
 Of marshy-banked Helorus. Hence we skirt 
 Pachynum's lofty cliffs and jutting crags ; 
 Far off shows Camarina, fate ordained 
 To be molested never, and Gela's fields, 
 And Gela, from its furious river named ; 
 Thence towering Acragas displays afar 
 Its mighty walls, once breeder of brave steeds : 
 Thee too I leave behind me, with sails spread, 
 Palmy Selinus, and I thrid the shoals 
 Of Lilybaium, with blind rocks beset. 
 Anon the harbour and the joyless shore 
 Of Drepahum receives me Here alas I 
 
02 THE yENEID, BOOK III 708-718 
 
 )0 many ocean-storms o'er-blown, I lose — 
 tightener of every chance and every care — 
 ly sire Anchises. Best of fathers, here 
 Thou leav'st me to my weariness, alas ! 
 inatched from those mighty perils all in vain. 
 Jor did the prophet Helenus, 'mid all 
 lis fearful bodings, of this grief foretell, 
 Jor dire Celaeno. My last trouble this, 
 ^nd this the goal of my long voyaging. 
 )eparting hence, heaven drave me to your shores.' 
 
 Thus sire ^neas, 'mid the hush of all, 
 ilone rehearsed the destinies of heaven, 
 i.nd taught them of his wanderings, then at length 
 leased, made an end of speaking, and was still. 
 
I-I5 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 
 
 103 
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 ^NEID IV 
 
 But stricken long since with anguish deep, the queen 
 Feeds at her veins the wound, whose hidden fire 
 Consumes her. To her heart comes surging back 
 FuH oft the manhood of the man, full oft 
 The lustre of his line : his looks, his words, 
 •Cling rooted fast within her bosom's core. 
 And anguish to her frame calm sleep denies. 
 Now, with the torch of Phoebus, next day's dawn 
 Was traversing the world, and had from heaven 
 The dewy shade dispelled, when, ill at ease, 
 Thus, heart to heart, her sister she bespeaks : 
 ' Anna, my sister, say what dreams are these 
 Perplex me and affright ? what wondrous guest 
 Hath entered 'neath our portals 1 what a mien 
 He bears ! what strength of breast and shoulder ! I 
 Deem him— no idle fancy -^-sprung from gods : 
 Fear proves the base-born spirit. Ah ! me, what shocks 
 Of fate he sang, what draughts of battle drained ! 
 Were not my heart's resolve set fiirm and fast, 
 
J04 THE jENEID, BOOK IV i6 39 
 
 With none to yoke in wedlock-bands, since he, 
 
 My first love, tricked me and betrayed by death, 
 
 Irked me not bridal torch and bridal bed. 
 
 To this one weakness I perchance had stooped. 
 
 Anna, for I will own it, since the doom 
 
 Of my poor lord Sychaeus, and the hearth 
 
 Stained by a brother's blood-guilt, only he 
 
 Hath swayed my sense, my tottering heart o'erthrown. 
 
 Traces of that old flame I recognise : 
 
 But first I would that earth yawn deep for me 
 
 Or that the Sire Almighty with his bolt 
 
 May to the shades, pale shades of Erebus 
 
 And night abysmal, hurl me, before thee, 
 
 O shame, I outrage, or thy laws relax. 
 
 He, who first joined me to himself, hath borne 
 
 My heart away with him ; his only be it 
 
 To hold and guard within the grave.' So sayir g, 
 
 She filled her bosom with o'er-brimming tears. 
 
 ' O dearer to thy sister than the light,' 
 Anna replies, ' wilt thou, till youth be done, 
 Still waste in lonely widowhood, nor e'er 
 The joy of children or love's guerdon know ? 
 Think'st thou that dust or buried shades to this 
 Give heed ? albeit no suitors heretofore 
 Have swayed thy pining heart in Libya, no. 
 Nor erst in Tyre — larbas thus was scorned, 
 And other lords to boot, whom Afric land 
 Rich in war's triumph rears — wilt brave no less 
 A love that likes thee .'' dost not call to mind 
 
39-62 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 105 
 
 Within whose borders thou art planted ? here 
 
 GEetuHan cities hem thee in, a race 
 
 In war untamable, and therewithal 
 
 Numidia's reinless riders, and the shoals 
 
 Of barbarous Syrtis : yonder lies a tract 
 
 Barren with drought, and the wide-raging sons 
 
 Of Barce. Wherefore tell of war's alarms 
 
 Rising from Tyre, and thine own brother's threats ? 
 
 With gods to guide, methinks, and Juno's aid, 
 
 This man sailed hither in his Ilian keels. 
 
 Think what a city, sister, hfere thou'lt see, 
 
 Ay, what a realm, arise, so husbanded ! 
 
 With Teucria's arms beside her, to what pitch 
 
 Will soar the Punic glory ! only thou 
 
 Sue grace of heaven, and, expiation made, 
 
 Be lavish of good cheer, and interweave 
 
 Fresh pleas for tarriance, while on sea the storm 
 
 Still blusters, and Orion's watery star, 
 
 'Mid shattered barks, and skies implacable.' 
 
 So saying, she set her love-lit heart ablaze, 
 Made bold her wavering mind, and banished shame. 
 First they approach the shrines, and pardon seek 
 Amid the altars, duly-chosen ewes 
 To Ceres, lawgiver, and Phoebus slaying, 
 And sire Lyaeus — Juno before all, 
 Mistress of wedlock-bands. Dido herself 
 In peerless beauty, with her right hand grasps 
 A cup, and pours it full betwixt the horns 
 Of a white-gleaming heifer, or moves on 
 
io6 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 62 84 
 
 Majestic, in tlie presence of the gods, 
 To the rich altars, and with sacrifice 
 Inaugurates the day, then, all agape. 
 Peering into the victims' cloven breasts. 
 Consults the quivering entrails. Ah ! how blind 
 The eyes of seers ! love-frenzied, what can vows 
 Or shrines avail her ? Ever the flame eats 
 Her tender heartstrings, and the wound is there 
 Silent, yet quick within her bosom's core. 
 So, all on fire, unhappy Dido roams 
 Raging throughout the city, as some hind 
 Shaft-stricken, at unawares 'mid Cretan groves, 
 Which from far off a shepherd, with his darts 
 Chasing, hath pierced, and left the winged barb 
 Not knowing ; through Dicte's woody glades in flight 
 She scours, the death-reed sticking in her side. 
 Now through the city's midst she with her leads 
 .(Eneas, displaying her Sidonian wealth 
 And town built ready : she essays to speak, 
 And in mid-utterance stops ; now, as day falls. 
 Seeking the selfsame board, poor fool ! she asks 
 Once more to hear the tale of Ilium's woe. 
 And hangs upon the speaker's lips once more. 
 Then, when the guests have parted, when in turn 
 The low moon hides her radiance, and the stars 
 Sinking invite to sleep, in the void hall' 
 With lonely grief, on his abandoned couch 
 She casts her, and, though sundered each from each, 
 Hears him and sees, or to her bosom clasps 
 
84-108 THE JZNEID, BOOK IV 107 
 
 Ascanius, ravished by his father's look, 
 Her tyrant passion haply to beguile. 
 The half-reared turrets rise not, the youth ply 
 No martial exercise, nor harbours build. 
 Nor bastions for defence in war ; the works 
 Break off suspended, the high-threatening bulk 
 Of walls, and engines that uptower to heaven. 
 
 Her when the well-loved spouse of Jove beheld 
 By such a plague possessed, and her good name 
 No bar to madness, thus to Venus then 
 Spake Saturn's daughter : ' Peerless is the praise, 
 Ample the booty ye bear off, I wot. 
 Thou and thy boy, a great and famous name — 
 One woman by two gods o'ermatched with guile ! 
 Me, soothly, it escapes not that thou fear'st 
 These walls of ours, tall Carthage and her homes 
 Eyeing askance ; but what shall be the end ? 
 Or whereto serves this mighty conflict now .'' 
 Why rather work we not a lasting, peace. 
 And plighted spousal-troth } that, thy whole heart 
 Desired, thou hast. Dido with love's ablaze. 
 And through her frame the tide of frenzy spreads. 
 Rule we as one then, and with equal powers, 
 This people ; let her own a Phrygian lord. 
 And yield her Tyrians to thy hand as dower.' 
 
 Perceiving that in guile of heart she spake, 
 To shift Rome's empire to the Libyan shore, 
 Venus in turn addressed her : ' Who so fond 
 As to reject such offers, or make choice 
 
io8 THE u£NEID, BOOK II 108-130 
 
 With thee to strive for mastery, so but fortune 
 
 Wait on thy word's accomplishment ? but I 
 
 Drift doubtful of the fates, if Jupiter 
 
 To Tyrian folk and travellers from Troy 
 
 Wills but one city, or would have them blent 
 
 Nation with nation, or firm league be joined. 
 
 Thou art his wife ; for thee 'tis meet to probe 
 
 His heart with supplication ; do thou lead, 
 
 I follow.' Then royal Juno took the word : 
 
 ' Leave me that task ; now, mark, I'll briefly teach 
 
 thee 
 How the main purpose may be compassed. 
 .iEneas, unhappy Dido at his side. 
 Goes forth to hunt amid the forest, when 
 Titan to-morrow's dawn shall first display. 
 And with his beams lay bare the world ; then I, 
 While huntsmen hurry, and hem the wood with snares 
 Will a black storm of mingled hail and rain 
 Pour down, with thunder the whole welkin wake. 
 Far will their train be sundered, by thick gloom 
 Enveloped ; Dido and the Trojan prince 
 To the same cave shall come. I will be there 
 To knit the twain, so stead me thy goodwill, 
 In wedlock sure, and seal her for his own. 
 Such shall their spousal be.' To her request 
 She of Cythera nodded, nothing loth, 
 And laughed at revelation of the guile. 
 
 Meanwhile Aurora rising left the sea. 
 With dayspring from the gates a chosen band 
 
I30-'S3 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 109 
 
 Go forth ; mesh-woven toils, nets, hunting-spears 
 Broad-tipped with iron, Massylian horsemen too 
 Rush onward, and the dogs' keen-scented might. 
 The queen still loiters in her bower, the while 
 Her Punic lords beside the portal wait ; 
 See, housed in gold and purple her steed stands, 
 And fiercely champs the foaming bit. At length, 
 Thronged with a mighty concourse, forth she comes, 
 Clad in Sidonian scarf with broidered hem — 
 Gold quiver, and locks up-knotted into gold, 
 Gold too the brooch that clasps her purple robe ! 
 Here 'mid the Phrygian train lulus rides 
 Exulting. Comelier than all else himself 
 iEneas moves to meet them, joins the troop. 
 As when Apollo quits his winter-home, 
 Lycia, and Xanthus' floods, his mother's isle 
 Delos to visit, and renews the dance, 
 . While round the altar in a motley throng V^ 
 Shout with one voice Cretans and Dryopes, 
 And painted Agathyrsi ; he himself 
 Walks over Cynthus' height, his flowing hair 
 Trimmed with a wreath's soft pressure, twined with 
 
 gold; 
 Clatter the shafts about his shoulders ; so. 
 Nor tardier-limbed than he, ^ncas strode ; 
 Such beauty from his peerless face outshone. 
 Now to the heights and pathless coverts come, 
 Mark, how the wild goats from the crag-top scared 
 Run down the ridges ! yonder see the stags 
 
iio THE jENEID, book IV 153-179 
 
 Scour through the open in close-huddling herds, 
 Dust in their wake, and leave the hills behind. 
 But in the glen's heart young Ascanius 
 Joys in his fiery steed, now these, now those 
 Out-galloping, and, 'mid the timorous game, 
 Prays heaven a foaming boar his vows may bless, 
 Or tawny lion from the height come down. 
 
 Meanwhile with mutterings loud a mighty broil 
 Begins in heaven : rain follows, mixed with hail. 
 The Tyrian train and Trojan youth pell-mell, 
 With Venus' grandson, the Dardanian boy, 
 Dismayed, seek various shelter through the fields ; 
 Streams from the hillside race. The Trojan prince 
 And Dido to the self-same cavern come. . 
 Earth first, and bridal Juno, gave the sign ; 
 Flashed at the nuptials fire and conscious air. 
 And shouted from their topmost peak the nymphs. 
 First day of death was that, first cause of ill ; 
 Swayed nor by outward show, nor rumour's tongue. 
 Dido of secret passion dreams no more : 
 Marriage she calls it — name to mask her fall. 
 
 Anon flies fame through Libya's mighty towns, 
 Fame, whom no other evil can outrun ; 
 Motion her might, strength gains she as she goes. 
 Small first through fear, soon she mounts up to heaven 
 Plants foot on earth, and hides her head in cloud. 
 Her once, provoked to wrath against the gods, 
 Earth bare the latest of her brood, they say, 
 Sister to Coeus and Enceladus, 
 
i8o-202 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV ni 
 
 Swift-footed, fleet-winged, monster dreadful, vast. 
 
 Who, for each plume her body bears, beneath 
 
 Hath watchful eyes as many, strange to tell. 
 
 As many tongues, as many sounding mouths. 
 
 Pricks ears as many : by night 'twixt earth and heaven 
 
 She cleaves the darkness, hissing as she flies, 
 
 Nor ever droops her eyelids in sweet sleep : 
 
 By day she sits perched like a sentinel. 
 
 Or on high roof-top, or on lofty tower. 
 
 And scares great cities, prone to grip as fast 
 
 False tales and baseless, as bear tidings true. 
 
 She now with manifold discourse had joy 
 
 Folks' ears to fill, now fable and now fact 
 
 Rehearsing : that ^neas has arrived. 
 
 Sprung from the blood of Troy, with whom for lord 
 
 Fair Dido deigns to wed ; now, each with each. 
 
 They lap the livelong winter in soft ease, 
 
 Heedless of empire, by base love enthralled. 
 
 Such tidings the foul goddess far and wide 
 
 Scatters from mouth to mouth : then straightway 
 
 bends 
 Her course to king larbas, and inflames 
 His heart with rumour, and heaps high his wrath. 
 
 He, sprung from Ammon and his ravished bride 
 A Garymantian nymph, to Jove had reared 
 Through his broad realms a hundred mighty fanes, 
 A hundred altars, and had hallowed there 
 Fire, the gods' sleepless sentry, to keep watch 
 For ever, a floor fat with blood of beasts 
 
112 THE yENEID, BOOK IV 202 224 
 
 And portal with gay blossoms garlanded. 
 He, soul-distraught, fired with the bitter tale. 
 Is said, before the altars, and amidst 
 The majesties of heaven, to have outpoured 
 A flood of prayer with suppliant upturned hands 
 To Jove : ' Almighty Jupiter, to whom 
 The Moorish race, on broidered couches feasting. 
 Pour now the wine-god's offering, seest thou this ? 
 Or is't for nought we dread thee, sire, when thou 
 Hurlest thy thunderbolts, and do blind fires 
 Affright our spirit in the clouds, and brew 
 But empty rumblings ? lo ! a woman here. 
 Who wandering in our realm gat leave for gold 
 To found a paltry city, to whom we gave 
 Coastland to till, and laws of tenure — she 
 Hath our alliance spurned, and ta'en instead 
 yEneas to lord, and partner of her throne. 
 And now that Paris, with his emasculate train, 
 Chin and oiled hair with Lydian headgear propped. 
 Enjoys the spoil : we to thy fanes, ay thine. 
 Bring gifts forsooth, and nurse an empty tale.' 
 As thus he prayed and clasped the altar, lo ! 
 Him the almighty heard, and turned his eyes 
 Toward the queen's palace, and the lovers there 
 Of nobler fame forgetful, then with words 
 Like these addresses Mercury, and on such 
 An errand sends him : ' Hie thee forth, my son. 
 Invoke the Zephyrs, and glide upon the wing. 
 And to the Dardan chief who loiters now 
 
224-246 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 113 
 
 In Tyrian Carthage, and regards no whit 
 
 His fate-assigned city, speak, bear safe 
 
 Through the swift winds my word. Not such the 
 
 man 
 His beauteous mother to our hopes foretold, 
 Twice therefore rescued from the hosts of Greece, 
 But one to rule o'er Italy, a land 
 Teeming with empires, turbulent with war. 
 Hand on the race from Teucer's blood derived. 
 And to law's bidding make the whole world bow. 
 If by such high renown he be not fired, 
 Nor for his own fame brace him to the toil, 
 Yet to Ascanius can his sire begrudge 
 Rome's ramparts ? what designs he ? with what aim 
 Loiters amid no friendly folk, forgetting 
 Ausonia's race and the Lavinian fields } 
 Let him aboard ! this is the sum in brief; 
 Hereof be thou my herald.' 
 
 He had said : 
 Anon the other made ready to obey 
 His mighty sire's behest, and first he binds 
 About his feet the golden anklets, which 
 Wing-wafted bear him high o'er sea and land, 
 Swift as the hurrying breeze, then grasps his wand. 
 Wherewith from Orcus the pale ghosts he summons, 
 Sends others to gloomy Tartarus below. 
 Gives or bereaves of slumber, and unseals 
 The eyes in death : on this relying, he, drives 
 The winds along, and skims the weltering clouds. 
 
 I 
 
114 THE .ENEID, BOOK IV 246-270 
 
 And now amidst his flight he sees the crest 
 And towering sides of stubborn Atlas, who 
 Props heaven upon his peak, Atlas, whose head 
 Pine-clothed, and girt for ever with dark clouds, 
 By wind and rain is buffeted : shed snow 
 Mantles his shoulders, while from his hoar chin 
 Streams tumble, and a beard bristles stiff with ice. 
 Here, poised on level pinions, stayed him first 
 The god Cyllenian, to the waves from hence 
 Plunged with his whole frame headlong, like a bird 
 Which round the shores, round the fish-haunted rocks. 
 Flies low beside the sea-marge : thus he flew 
 'Twixt earth and heaven o'er Libya's sandy shore. 
 And clove the winds, leaving his mother's sire, 
 Cyllene's nursling. Soon as his wing'd feet 
 Had gained the huts, .^neas he discerns 
 Building new homes, and founding towers, and lo ! 
 A sword he wore, with yellow jasper starred. 
 And from his shoulders hung a cloak that burned 
 With Tyrian purple, wealthy Dido's gift. 
 Wrought by her hand, and tissued with fine gold. 
 Forthwith he thus assails him : ' Art thou now 
 Of lofty Caithage the foundations laying, 
 And rearing a fair city, wife-enthralled .' 
 Ah ! lost to thine own kingdom and its cares ! 
 The lord of heaven himself from bright Olympus, 
 Who with his deity sways earth and sky. 
 Sends down, and through the swift breeze bids me 
 bear 
 
270-295 THE jENEID, BOOK IV 115 
 
 This message : " What design'st thou ? with what aim 
 
 Squanderest in Libya's land the idle hours ? 
 
 If by such high renown thou be not stirred, 
 
 Nor for thine own fame brace thee to the toil, 
 
 Yet of Ascanius into manhood springing, 
 
 Thine heir lulus, and his hopes, bethink thee, 
 
 To whom are owed the realm of Italy, 
 
 The land of Rome." ' So saying, Cyllene's god 
 
 Passed, while yet speaking, from the eyes of men. 
 
 And into thin air vanished out of sight. 
 
 But at the vision stunned and speechless stood 
 .(Eneas : his hair with horror rose, the voice 
 Stuck in his throat : he burns to get him gone. 
 And quit the pleasant land, dazed by so dread 
 A warning, and the sovereign voice of heaven. 
 What can he do ? Ah ! with what words approach 
 The impassioned queen ? what opening prelude try ? 
 This way and that he, parting his quick mind, 
 Speeds it on divers tracks, all thoughts to scour, 
 Till, wavering long, this counsel pleased him best, 
 Mnestheus, Sergestus, and Serestus bold 
 He summons all silently to trim the fleet, 
 Gather the crews on shore, and muster arms, 
 And of his altered purpose hide the cause. 
 Meanwhile, since gracious Dido knows not, nor 
 Looks for so strong a passion to be snapped. 
 He will try access, and what hour for speech 
 Most tender, and what fashion fits the need. 
 Right swiftly one and all his sovereign word 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 THR JENEID, BOOK IV 295-316 
 
 With joy obey, and do his bidding. 
 
 But 
 The queen — for who can lover's heart beguile ? — 
 Divined it, caught at once the coming change. 
 Fearful where all was safety. Fame again, 
 Fiendish as ever, in her maddened ear 
 Cries that the fleet is rigging, ripe for sea. 
 Bankrupt at heart she rages, and on fire 
 Through all the town goes storming, like some 
 
 Maenad, 
 Roused by the shaken emblems, when with shout 
 Of Bacchus the triennial orgies goad. 
 And loud Cithaeron summons her by night. 
 At length she first with words like these accosts 
 ^neas : ' Deceiver, didst e'en think to hide 
 So- foul a wrong, and from my land depart 
 In silence ">. Can our love, and hand once joined 
 In hand, not keep thee, nor the cruel death 
 In store for Dido .'' Nay, beneath the sky 
 Of winter even dost thou fit out thy fleet. 
 And 'mid the north wind's blustering haste to go, 
 O heartless, over-sea ? Why, wert thou not 
 Bound for strange fields and unknown homes, and 
 
 were 
 Troy, as of old, still standing, would'st thou steer 
 Even for Troy across yon billowy deep ? 
 Is it from me thou fliest ? by these tears, 
 By thy right hand, since nought beside, alas ! 
 Myself have left me, by our love's embrace, 
 
316-337 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 117 
 
 And marriage-rites begun, if ever I 
 
 Did thee fair service, or if aught I am 
 
 Was dear to thee, pity a falling house, 
 
 And, if prayers yet have place, I thee conjure. 
 
 Cast the thought from thee. For thy sake the tribes 
 
 Of Libya, and the nomad chieftains, hate me. 
 
 And Tyrians turn to foes : for thy sake, too, 
 
 Quenched is my honour and good name of old, 
 
 By which alone I had access to heaven, 
 
 To whom dost thou abandon me to die, 
 
 O guest, since e'en to this has shrunk the name 
 
 Of husband ? Wherefore do I linger on ? 
 
 Is it that Pygmalion, my brother, may 
 
 Pull down, the while, my battlements, or me 
 
 Gastulian larbas make his thrall ? 
 
 If only, if before thy flight, my arms 
 
 Had clasped a child of thine, if in my hall 
 
 Some tiny-limbed ^neas played, to bring 
 
 Thee back at least in feature, I had then 
 Not seemed so wholly captive and forlorn.' 
 She had said : the other by command of Jove 
 
 Kept his eyes fixed, and, struggling deep at heart 
 
 To smother down the anguish, thus at length 
 
 Returns brief answer : ' Nought that thou canst plead 
 
 Of all thy countless benefits, O queen, 
 
 Shall e'er by me be gainsaid, nor shall I 
 
 Tire of Elissa's memory, while of self 
 
 Still mindful, while the life-breath guides my limbs. 
 
 Brief be my words to meet the need : I neither 
 
ii8 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 
 
 337 358 
 
 Took thought — suppose it not— to veil my flight 
 
 In secrecy, nor held before thee ever 
 
 The bridegroom's torch, or to such compact came. 
 
 Had fate vouchsafed me at mine own free will 
 
 Life's course to shape, and, as my own heart prompts, 
 
 Make truce with trouble, my first fond care had been 
 
 Troy's city, and the dear ashes of my friends ; 
 
 Priam's tall roof were standing, and this hand 
 
 Had, for her vanquished children, from the dust 
 
 Requickened Pergamus. But now Apollo, 
 
 The lord of Grynium, to great Italy, 
 
 To Italy the Lycian oracles. 
 
 Rid me repair : this is my love, and this 
 
 My country. If, Phcenician as thou art. 
 
 The towers of Carthage and a Libyan town 
 
 Hold thine eyes gazing, wherefore grudge, I ask, 
 
 To Teucrian settlers an Ausonian home ? 
 
 We too may quest for outland kingdoms : me, 
 
 Oft as the night with dewy shade enfolds 
 
 The world, oft as the starry fires arise, 
 
 My sire Anchises' spirit warns in sleep. 
 
 And with its troubled look affrights, me too 
 
 The thought of young Ascanius, and the wrong 
 
 To that dear head, from whom my fault withholds 
 
 Hesperia's empire and predestined fields. 
 
 Now too the interpreter of heaven, by Jove 
 
 Himself sent down — thy head and mine I call 
 
 To witness — through the flying air has brought 
 
 A mandate : I myself beheld the god 
 
358-179 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 119 
 
 Entering the city in clear light of day, 
 And with these ears drank in his accents. Cease 
 With thy complaints to fire thy soul and mine ; 
 Not self-impelled steer I for Italy.' 
 
 On him, thus speaking, she was all the while 
 Glaring askance, and rolling to and fro 
 Her eyes, surveying with their silent looks 
 The whole man through, then thus blazed out in 
 
 words : 
 ' No goddess was thy mother, nor Dardanus 
 The founder of thy line, false-hearted, but 
 Jagged with hard rocks, Caucasus begat thee. 
 And to thy lips Hyrcanian tigresses 
 Their udders set, since, why should I dissemble ? 
 For what worse ills restrain me ? Did he moan 
 Over my weeping ? did he bend his eyes. 
 Pay toll of tears, show pity for his love .'' 
 What first, what next to say .'' Now, now no 'more 
 Juno, great queen, nor the Saturnian sire 
 Looks on these things with equal eyes. Nowhere 
 Can faith be trusted. Cast upon my shore 
 A beggar, I welcomed him, and, mad the while. 
 Set on my throne to share it ; his lost fleet. 
 His crews 1 rescued from destruction. Ah 1 
 The fires of frenzy toss me ! Now Apollo 
 Soothsayer, now the Lycian oracles. 
 Yea, the gods' mouthpiece, sent by Jove himself. 
 Now through the breezes his grim bidding bears. 
 Such doubtless is the task of gods above. 
 
I20 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 379 400 
 
 Such care disturbs their rest. I neither keep thee, 
 
 Nor would rebut thy words ; go, with the winds 
 
 Chase Italy, seek realms beyond the wave. 
 
 I hope indeed that on the mid-sea rocks, 
 
 I f aught the good powers can, thy lips will drain 
 
 The cup of suffering, and oft cry aloud 
 
 On Dido's name : with murky firebrands I 
 
 Will follow thee, though far, and, when cold death 
 
 Has severed soul and limbs, in every place 
 
 My shade shall haunt thee. O graceless, thou shalt 
 
 rue it. 
 And I shall hear thereof, yea, for the tale 
 Will reach me, even among the nether dead.' 
 
 So saying, her speech broke off ; she, sick at heart. 
 Flies from the light, and, turning from his glance. 
 Flings forth and leaves him with fear-palsied tongue, 
 Though words throng thick for utterance. Her the 
 
 slaves 
 Uplift, and to a marble chamber bear, 
 And lay her fainting limbs upon the bed. 
 
 But good. /Eneas, though he yearns to assuage 
 And soothe the sufferer, with his words ward off 
 Her sorrow, deeply groaning and with heart 
 That tottered 'neath the bulk of love, nathless, 
 Obeys heaven's bidding, to his fleet repairs. 
 Then fall the Teucrians to, and all along 
 The shore drag down their lofty ships : row floats 
 The well-pitched keel, and leafy oars they bring. 
 And timber from the woods unwrought, for flight 
 
400-422 THE .-ENEID, BOOK IV 121 
 
 So eager : you may mark them on the move, 
 At every outlet hurrying from the town ! 
 As when ants plunder a huge heap of corn, 
 Of winter ware, and house it in their store ; 
 Moves a black column o'er the plain, the spoil 
 In narrow path along the grass convoying ; 
 Some set their shoulders to the ponderous grains. 
 And push them, some drive up the rearward ranks. 
 Chiding delay ; the whole track seethes with toil. 
 At such a sight what feelings then were thine, 
 Dido, or what groans uttered'st thou, beholding 
 From loTty tower the wide beach boil with men, 
 And the whole sea beneath thy gazing eyes 
 Maddened with their loud shouting ? Tyrant love. 
 To what dost thou not drive the hearts of men ? , 
 Needs must she now to tears once more betake her. 
 Once more with prayer assail him, and bow down 
 Her pride, a suppliant at the throne of love, 
 Lest she die vainly, leaving aught untried. 
 
 ' Anna, this hurrying over the whole shore 
 Thou seest.; from all sides they are met ; the sail 
 Now courts the breeze, the seamen in their joy 
 Have crowned the .'^terns with flowers. If strength 
 
 was mine 
 Such grief to anticipate, I shall no less 
 Have strength to bear it, sister. This one boon, 
 Anna, nathiess perform for wretched me. 
 For thee alone yon traitor made his friend. 
 To thee would e'en his secret moods confide ; 
 
122 THE MNEID, BOOK IV 423 445 
 
 Thou only knewest the tender ways and hours 
 
 Of access to the man : go, sister mine, 
 
 And suppliant-wise entreat our haughty foe : 
 
 I never with the Danaan host conspired 
 
 At Aulis to cut off the race of Troy, 
 
 Nor sent a fleet to Pergamus, nor uptore 
 
 His sire Anchises' buried dust or shade. 
 
 That to those obdurate ears he should debar 
 
 My words from entrance. Whither hastes he so ? 
 
 This last boon let him grant his wretched love, 
 
 And wait for a kind voyage and carrying winds. 
 
 For our old marriage-bond, by him betrayed, 
 
 I ask no more, no, nor that he should lack 
 
 Fair Latium, or resign his realm ; I seek 
 
 An empty hour of time, respite and room 
 
 For madness to have play, till fortune tame 
 
 And school me unto grief. 'Tis the last grace 
 
 I ask — pity thy sister ; grant but this. 
 
 In death I will requite it o'er and o'er.' 
 
 Such was her prayer, and such the tearful tale. 
 
 Her dolorous sister bears and bears again. 
 
 But by no tearful tale will he be swayed. 
 
 Nor any words heed, to be bent thereby ; 
 
 Fate hinders, heaven shuts fast his willing ears. 
 
 Even as a sturdy and time-timbered oak. 
 
 Which Alpine north winds with their fitful blasts 
 
 Strive emulous to o'erthrow ; a creaking rises. 
 
 The stem rocks, and the leaves strew deep the ground ; ; ; ; 
 
 Itself clings to the crag, and, howso' far 
 
445-467 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 123 
 
 The summit soars toward the airs of heaven 
 
 So deep strikes root into the vaults of hell. 
 
 E'en thus, with ceaseless, ever-shifting cries 
 
 The hero's heart is buffeted ; he feels 
 
 The deep grief through his mighty bosom thrill ; 
 
 The mind stands firm, and tears are showered in vain. 
 
 Then hapless Dido by her fate dismayed 
 Cries upon death : it irks her to behold 
 The arch of heaven. The more to goad her on 
 Her purpose to fulfil, and quit the light. 
 She saw — fearful to tell ! — while offering gifts 
 Upon the incense-kindled altars — saw 
 The sacred juice darken, the outpoured wine 
 To loathsome gore transmuted : but to none. 
 Not even her sister, spake she of the sight. 
 Moreover in the palace was a shrine 
 Of marble to her former lord, which she 
 With wondrous honour tended, wreathed about 
 With snow-white fleeces and with festal boughs. 
 Hence fell upon her ears accents and words 
 As of her husband calling her, when night 
 Held the world darkling, and the owl alone 
 On roof-top uttered with funereal note, 
 Moan upon moan, her long-drawn wailing cry ; 
 And many a presage of the seers of old 
 With omen dire affrights her. Then in sleep 
 Himself .^neas fiercely goads her on 
 To frenzy ; and ever being left alone 
 She seems, and evermore companionless 
 
124 THE JENEID, BOOK IV 468-491 
 
 Pacing a weary journey, while she seeks 
 
 Her Tyrians in a land untenanted. 
 
 As maddened Pentheus sees the Furies' troop, 
 
 A double sun, a twofold Thebes appear ; 
 
 Or, on the stage, as Agamemnon's child, 
 
 Orestes, hunted, flies his mother armed 
 
 With firebrands and black serpents ; at the door. 
 
 Vassals of vengeance, the grim sisters sit. 
 
 So when, by grief o'erpowered, she had conceived 
 The frenzy, and resolved to die, alone 
 She weighs with her own heart the hour, the means. 
 And her sad sister thus bespeaks, with face 
 That masks her purpose, and hope-brightened brow : 
 ' Child of my sire, I have found out a way — 
 Give thou thy sister joy— to win him back. 
 Or loose me from his love. Near ocean's bound 
 And sunset is the far-off .^Ethiop land. 
 Where mightiest Atlas on his shoulder turns 
 The pole, with fiery stars bestudded : thence 
 Was shown me a priestess of Massylian race, 
 And temple-warder of the Hesperides, 
 Who erst with dainties to the dragon given, 
 Kept safe the sacred boughs upon the tree. 
 Sprinkling moist honey and slumberous poppy-seed. 
 She with her spells takes on her to unbind 
 What hearts she will, launch cruel pangs on others. 
 Stop rivers in their flow, turn back the stars : 
 She summons ghosts at midnight ; thou shalt see 
 Earth bellowing 'neath thy feet, and from the heights 
 
491-512 THE ^NEID, BOOK JV 125 
 
 Ash-trees descending. But I call the gods, 
 
 Thee, sister dear, and thy beloved head, 
 
 To witness, that unwillingly I gird 
 
 The magic arts upon me. Do thou rear 
 
 In the inner court, all secretly, a pyre 
 
 To heaven, and let the hero's arms, which he, 
 
 Godless, left hanging in the chamber, all 
 
 His empty raiment, and the bridal bed. 
 
 That was my bane— let these be piled above : 
 
 To wipe out every record of the wretch. 
 
 Such is my pleasure, and thus the priestess bids.' 
 
 So spake she, and was silent ; therewithal 
 Paleness o'erspreads her face. Anna nathless 
 By these new rites suspects not that her sister 
 Weaves but a cloak for death, nor can her heart 
 Conceive such frenzy, nor aught worse she fears 
 Than when Sychaeus died ; so sets about 
 Her errand. 
 
 But the queen, when now the pyre 
 Rose huge to heaven amid her hall's recess, 
 Of pine and cloven holm-oak, hangs the place 
 With garlands, and festoons with funeral boughs. 
 High over all upon the couch she lays 
 His empty raiment, and the sword he left. 
 Ay, and his image, knowing what should come. 
 Altars stand round, and with dishevelled hair 
 The priestess thunders forth three hundred gods, 
 Erebus, Chaos, and triple Hecate — 
 The three-faced niaid Diana. Water too 
 
126 THE MNEID, BOOK IV 512-536 
 
 She had sprinkled, from Avcrnus' fountain feigned ; 
 And downy herbs with brazen sickles shorn 
 By moonlight, milky with black bane, are sought, 
 Sought too a love-charm torn from brow of colt. 
 Newborn, ere dam could snatch it. She herself 
 With salt cake and pure hands, the altar nigh, 
 One foot unsandalled, and with garb ungirt. 
 Calls on the gods, and stars that wot of doom. 
 Or ere she die ; ay, and if any powers 
 Righteous and unforgetful have in charge 
 Lovers ill-mated, unto these she prays. 
 
 'Twas night, and weary limbs o'er all the earth 
 Quaffed quiet slumber ; forest and wild waves 
 Had sunk to rest ; when stars with gliding orbs 
 Wheel midway, and when all the field is still. 
 Cattle, and painted birds, that haunt the breadth 
 Of limpid lakes, or the rough bosky wold — 
 Beneath night's silence laid to sleep, their cares 
 Awhile were lulled, their hearts forgot to ache. 
 Not so the spirit-vexed Phoenician queen, 
 Nor ever does she sink dissolved in sleep. 
 Nor take the night into her heart or eyes : 
 Her pangs redouble, and raging love once more 
 Surges and swells with the high tide of wrath. 
 Thus then begins she, thus with her own heart 
 Revolves : ' Lo ! what have I to do ? once more 
 Make trial of former suitors to my scorn ? 
 Beg on my knees with nomad lords to mate. 
 Whose proffered nuptials I have spurned so oft ? 
 
537-55S THE-'iENEID, BOOI^ IV 127 
 
 Well, shall T follow, therefore, Ilium's fleet, 
 The Teucrians' utmost bidding ? Because they 
 Are fain of my past succour, and the grace 
 Of former kindness in their hearts lives on ? 
 Nay, if I would, who'll suffer me, or take 
 The hated woman to their haughty ships ? 
 Ah ! lost one, know'st not, nor perceivest yet 
 The perjured race of false Laomedon ? 
 What then ? in lonely flight shall I attend 
 The triumph of their seamen ? or, girt round 
 With Tyrians, and the host of all my friends 
 Rush forth, and these, from their Sidonian town. 
 Whom hardly I uptore, drive back to sea. 
 And bid spread canvas to the gale ? Nay die. 
 As thou deservest ; end sorrow with the sword. 
 Thou, sister, vanquished by my tears, thou first 
 Didst load my frantic spirit with these ills. 
 And thrust me on the foe. Why could I not, 
 Like a wild creature, free from wedlock, live 
 Blameless, and meddle not with woes like these ? 
 Broken is my honour, and ill-kept the faith 
 Vowed to the ashes of Sychaeus ! ' Such 
 Bitter complaints kept bursting from her heart.. 
 
 On the high stern .(Eneas, now fixed to go, 
 Quaffed slumber deep, his gear in order trim. 
 When the god's phantom with the self-same face 
 Returning, brake upon his sleep, and thus 
 Seemed to admonish him once more, in all 
 Like unto Mercury, both voice and hue. 
 
128 THE JENEID, BOOK IV 559-581 
 
 And yellow locks, and youthful grace of limb : 
 ' O goddess-born, at such a time canst thou 
 Sleep on ? what perils compass thee about 
 Perceiv'st not, madman, nor canst hear the breath 
 Of favouring Zephyrs ? In her bosom she 
 Craft and dire crime revolving, fixed on death, 
 Lashes to storm the fitful tides of wrath. 
 Why fliest not headlong hence, while headlong flight 
 Is in thy power? Anon the main thou'lt see 
 Crowded with craft, and with fierce brands aglow, 
 Anon the shore one fiery blaze, if dawn 
 Still find thee on these shores a loiterer. Up ! 
 Break off delay ! a shifting, changeful thing 
 Was woman ever.' So he spake, and passed 
 Into the blackness of the night. 
 
 Forthwith 
 yEneas, by the sudden phantom scared, 
 Upleaps from slumber, and plies hard his crew ; 
 ' Wake in hot haste, my friends, and man the thwarts ; 
 Trim the sails quickly ! sent from heaven on high, 
 A god, see ! once again comes goading me 
 To speed our flight, and cut the twisted ropes. 
 Hail, holy among gods, we follow thee, 
 Who'er thou art, and once again obey 
 Thy bidding gladly. O be near with grace 
 To aid, and bring propitious stars in heaven.' 
 He spake, and from the scabbard plucked his sword 
 Flashing, and cut the cable with bare blade. 
 All, in one moment, the same ardour seized ; 
 
581-603 THE JENETD, BOOK IV ,29 
 
 They hale, they hurry ; deserted stands the shore, 
 The deep Hes hid beneath their galleys ; see ! 
 Straining they churn the foam, and sweep the blue. 
 Now with new ray young Dawn the world was 
 sprinkling, 
 Leaving Tithonus' saffron couch. The queen. 
 When first from her high tower she saw the light 
 Whiten, and all the ships with sails arow 
 Stand out to sea, and shore and harbour void. 
 With ne'er an oarsman, thrice and four times o'er 
 Smote with her hand the lovely breast, and rent 
 The yellow locks : ' O Jupiter,' she cries, 
 ' Shall he then go, my kingdom put to scorn, 
 This stranger ? will they not bring arms apace. 
 Pursue from all the city, and some tear loose 
 The ships from dock ? away with speed, fetch fire. 
 Deal weapons out, ply oars ! — what do I say ? 
 Where am I ? or what madness warps my wit ? 
 Unhappy Dido ! do thine impious deeds 
 Now touch thee home ? it had been seemlier then. 
 When thou wast offering him thy sceptre. Lo ! 
 His hand and word of honour, who, they say, 
 Carries his country's home-gods where he goes, 
 And bowed the shoulder to his age-worn sire. 
 Ah ! might I not have seized and rent and cast 
 His body piecemeal upon the wave, cut down 
 His friends — his own Ascanius, and served up 
 The son for banquet at his father's board 1 
 But doubtful would have proved the chance of war ; 
 
 K 
 
130 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 603-626 
 
 Be it so : whom had I to fear, death-doomed ? 
 
 I to their camp should have borne firebrands, filled 
 
 Their decks with flame, and, child and sire and race 
 
 Wiped out together, myself have crowned the pile. 
 
 O Sun, that with thy torch encompassest 
 
 All earthly deeds, and Juno, messenger 
 
 And witness of my woes, and Hecate, 
 
 Name in the city crossways yelled by night, 
 
 And dread avenging sisterhood, and gods 
 
 Of dying Elissa, heed ye this, and turn 
 
 Your power to ills that earn it, and give ear 
 
 Unto my prayers. If that accursM life 
 
 Must reach the harbour, and float safe to shore. 
 
 If thus Jove's doom require, here stand the goal. 
 
 Yet by the sword of a brave race beset, 
 
 Outcast from home, and ff'om lulus' arms 
 
 Torn, let him sue for succour, and behold 
 
 His friends slain miserably, and when to terms 
 
 Of wrongful peace he yields him, let him not 
 
 His kingdom or the pleasant light enjoy. 
 
 But in the bare mid-plain, before his hour 
 
 Fall and unburied lie. For this I pray. 
 
 And this last utterance with my life-blood pour. 
 
 And ye, O Tyrians, the whole stock and race 
 
 Dog with your hate for ever ; to my dust 
 
 This boon bequeath ye. Let there be no love. 
 
 No league between the nations. O arise. 
 
 Unknown avenger, from my tomb, to chase 
 
 With fire and sword the Dardan settlers, now, 
 
627-649 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 13! 
 
 Hereafter, whensoe'er the strength is given. 
 Betwixt them, shore with shore, billow with wave, 
 And host with host, I call down enmity ; 
 Be they themselves, and their sons' sons at war ! ' 
 
 So saying, on every side she turned her thought, 
 Seeking how soonest to break off the life 
 She loathed, then briefly unto Barce spake, 
 Nurse of Sychaeus, for the grave's black dust 
 In the old country held her own : ' Dear nurse. 
 Fetch me my sister hither, bid her haste 
 With water from the stream her limbs to lave, 
 And beasts, and expiating rites prescribed 
 Bring with her, and so come ; and thou thyself 
 With a pure fillet veil thy brows. 'Tis in 
 My heart this sacrifice to Stygian Jove, 
 Which duly I have ordered and begun, 
 To consummate, and put an end to grief, 
 And give to flame the Dardan's funeral pyre.' 
 She spake : the other with an old wife's zeal. 
 Hurried her footstep. But, in trembling haste 
 And fierce with her wild purpose. Dido now. 
 Rolling a bloodshot eye, her quivering cheeks 
 Flecked with bright spots, and blanched with coming 
 
 death. 
 Bursts through to the inner court, and madly mounts 
 The death-pyre, and unsheathes the Dardan's sword — 
 Boon never asked for such a need as this. 
 Here, when the Trojan garments she beheld, 
 And the familiar bed, a little while 
 
 R2 
 
133 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 649-672 
 
 Pausing for lears and thought, she cast herself 
 
 Upon the couch, and spake her latest words : 
 
 ' Relics once dear, while fate and heaven allowed, 
 
 Take this my spirit, and from these woes release me. 
 
 My life is lived ; the course by fortune given 
 
 I have fulfilled, and now the shade of me 
 
 Passes majestic to the world below. 
 
 I have built a noble city, mine own walls 
 
 Beheld, avenged my husband, and therewith 
 
 Wreaked on my brother the reward of hate ; 
 
 Happy, ah ! all too happy, if alone 
 
 The Dardan keels had never touched our shore ! ' 
 
 She spake, and burying in the couch her face : 
 
 ' I shall die unavenged, but let me die,' 
 
 She said : ' thus, thus with joy I take the road 
 
 To darkness. Let the cruel Dardan's eyes 
 
 Drink in the conflagration from the deep. 
 
 And my death-tokens haunt him on his way.' 
 
 She had said ; and, in the midst of words like these 
 
 Her folk beheld her sunk upon the sword, 
 
 And the blade reeking, and blood-dabbled hands. 
 
 Shrieks to the roof-top rise. Fame revels high 
 
 Through the stunned city. With laments and groans 
 
 And women's wail the palace rings, the sky 
 
 Resounds with their loud mourning. . Even as if 
 
 With in-poured foes, all Carthage or old Tyre 
 
 Fell headlong, while the flames roll fiercely on 
 
 O'er towers of men and temples of the gods. 
 
 Half-dead to hear it and scared at breathless speed 
 
673-696 THE ^NEID, BOOK IV 1J3 
 
 With nail-torn features and fist-smitten breast. 
 
 Darts through the midst her sister, and calls aloud 
 
 The dying one by name, ' Was it then this, 
 
 Child of my sire ? would'st thou put fraud upon me ? 
 
 This that yon pyre, these flames and altars meant ? 
 
 What shall I weep for first, left desolate ! 
 
 Dying, didst thou spurn to have thy sister near ? 
 
 Thou should'st have bid me share thy doom, the same 
 
 Sword-pang, the self-same hour had found us both 
 
 Nay, did I rear it with these hands, and call 
 
 Loud on our father's gods, ah 1 cruel, to be 
 
 Far off, and thou- laid here ? Thou hast destroyed 
 
 Sister, thyself and me, the folk, and sires 
 
 Of Sidon, and thy city. Let me lave 
 
 Her wounds with water, the last hovering breath 
 
 Catch haply on my lips.' As thus she spake. 
 
 The lofty steps surmounted, she had clasped 
 
 Her dying sister to her bosom's warmth, 
 
 With groans, the dark blood stanching with her robe. 
 
 She, trying to lift her heavy eyes, sinks back 
 
 Swooning, the sword grides fixed within her breast. 
 
 Thrice, struggling, she uprose on elbow propped. 
 
 And thrice rolled backward on the couch, and sought 
 
 Light in the vault of heaven, with wandering eyeS, 
 
 And groaned to find it. Then almighty Juno, 
 
 Pitying her long pain, and hard-fought-for death, 
 
 Sent Iris from Olympus down to loose 
 
 Her struggling spirit and writhen limbs ; for since 
 
 Neither by fate, nor as the wage of sin, 
 
134 THE AlNEID, BOOK IV 696-705 
 
 She dying lay, but woe-struck, ere her hour, 
 And fired with sudden frenzy, Proserpine 
 Not yet had reft her of the yellow lock, 
 Nor to the Stygian Orcus doomed her head. 
 So Iris, on her saffron wings through heaven, 
 Glides dewy down, trailing a thousand tints. 
 That shift against the sun, and, o'er her head 
 Standing : ' This offering unto Dis I bear. 
 As bidden, and from thy body set thee free.' 
 So spake she, and with right hand sheared the lock : 
 At once the warmth ebbed wholly, and therewith 
 Her life into the breezes sped away, 
 
.i-i6 135 
 
 BOOK V 
 
 MNEID V 
 
 Meanwhile ^neas upon the mid sea-way 
 Held stedfast with his fleet, and cut through waves 
 That scowled beneath the north wind, glancing oft 
 [Back to the city walls, now all aglow 
 With poor Elissa's funeral-flames. What cause- 
 Has lit so fierce a fire, is hid from sight ; 
 But outraged love's fierce anguish, and the thsaught 
 Of what a frantic woman can, lead on 
 The Teucrians' hearts to presages of woe. 
 
 Soon as their galleys gained the open deepj 
 And now no longer land appeared, but lo ! 
 Ocean on all sides, and on all sides sky. 
 There stood a dark-blue storm-cloud o'er his head, 
 Laden with night and tempest, and the wave 
 Shuddered beneath the gloom. From the high poop 
 The very helmsman, Palinurus, cries : 
 'Alas ! why have such clouds, encircled heaven ? 
 What next, O Father Neptune ? ' Having said. 
 Straightway he bids them trim the rigging taut, 
 And bend to their stout oars, and to the wind 
 
136 THE JENEID, BOOK V 16-38 
 
 He slants the sail, and speaks : ' High-souled ^Eneas, 
 
 Though Jupiter should pledge me on his word, 
 
 Hope could I never to reach Italy 
 
 In such a sky. The winds veer round, and roar 
 
 Athwart, upgathering from the murky west, 
 
 And all the air is thickening into cloud. 
 
 Make head against it, or strive hard enow 
 
 We cannot. Since fortune betters us, be ours 
 
 To follow, and at her bidding shape our way. 
 
 Nor far thy brother Eryx' friendly shores 
 
 And ports Sicanian deem I, if the stars. 
 
 Erst noted, with due memory I retrace.' 
 
 Then answered good ./Eneas : ' For my part I 
 
 Have long since seen the winds will have it so, 
 
 And that all vainly thou withstand'st them : turn 
 
 The vessels' course. Could there be any land 
 
 To me more welcome, or where gladlier I 
 
 Would beach the weary ships, than that which holds' 
 
 My Dardan friend, Acestes, and laps round 
 
 In its embrace my sire, Anchises' dust V 
 
 This said, they make for harbour ; and the gales, 
 
 Now favouring, stretch the canvas ; swiftly rides 
 
 Their fleet upon the flood ; and glad of heart 
 
 At length they steer into the well-known shore. 
 
 But from a high far hill-top, marvelling 
 At their arrival, and the friendly barks, 
 Acestes speeds to meet them, bristling o'er 
 With javelins and a Libyan she-bear's fell. 
 Him to the river-god Crimisus erst 
 
38-60 THE MNEID, BOOK V 137 
 
 A Trojan mother bare : nor heedless now 
 Of his old lineage, their return he greets, 
 Gives them glad welcome of his rustic wealth. 
 And soothes their weariness with friendly cheer. 
 When the next day-beam in the utmost east 
 Had put the stars to rout, from the whole shore 
 ^neas calls a gathering of his friends, 
 And from a niounded hillock speaks : ' Great sons 
 Of Dardanus, from heaven's high race derived, 
 A year's course, with its months accomplished. 
 Is rounding to a close, since we in earth 
 My divine father's bones and relics hid. 
 And mourning altars consecrated. Now, 
 Or I misdeem, the day is here, which I 
 Shall ever hold, for so ye gods have willed. 
 Sacred to grief and honour without end. 
 This were I passing 'mid Gaetulian shoals 
 An outcast, ay, or ta'en at unawares 
 In Argive waters, or Mycenae's town. 
 Still had. I quit my yearly vows, and pomp 
 Of solemn ordinance, and with their gifts 
 Heaped high the altars. Now, beyond all hope^ 
 Not undesigned nor all unwilled of heaven, 
 I take it, by my sire's own dust and bones 
 We stand, safe-wafted to the friendly port. 
 Up, then, and all, glad homage let us pay ! 
 Sue we for winds, and may he grant that I 
 May build a city, and offer year by year 
 These rites in temples hallowed to his name ! 
 
138 THE jENEID, BOOK V 61-83 
 
 Two head of steers Acestes, sprung from Troy, 
 
 Gives every ship by tale : bid to the feast 
 
 The hearth-gods, not your sires' alone, but those 
 
 Our host Acestes worships. Furthermore, 
 
 If the ninth dawn bring kindly day to men, 
 
 And with her beams disclose the world, theh I 
 
 Will contests for the Phrygian folk ordain. 
 
 First of the swift fleet ; then — whoe'er excels 
 
 In speed of foot, or, dauntless in his strength. 
 
 Steps forth, a champion in the javelin-bout, 
 
 And light-winged arrows, or with raw-hide gloves 
 
 Bold to do battle — let them all appear. 
 
 And look for palms to be the victor's prize. 
 
 Now hush ye, all : with garlands bind the brow.' 
 
 Thus spake he, and about his temples twined 
 
 His mother's myrtle. .So does Helymus, 
 
 So, ripe of age, Acestes, so the lad 
 
 Ascanius, and the rest thereafter. He 
 
 Strode from the council to the tomb, thronged round 
 
 With many thousands, 'midst of a vast train. 
 
 Here, meet libation, on the ground he pours 
 
 Two goblets of pure wine, of fresh milk two. 
 
 Two of the blood of victims ; and he flings 
 
 Bright flowers, and cries : ' Hail, sacred sire, once 
 
 more ! 
 Hail, dust of him once rescued, but in vain, 
 And shade and spirit of my father ! not 
 With thee was it vouchsafed to seek the bounds 
 And destined fields of Italy, nor yet 
 
83-105 THE jENEID, book V 139 
 
 Ausonian Tiber, whatsoe'er it be.' 
 He spake, and ceased, when from the shrine's recess 
 A slippery serpent trailed seven monstrous coils, 
 Plied seven times, fold on fold, and quietly- 
 Twined round the tomb, and o'er the altars slid. 
 Whose back with dark blue spots was pied, his scales 
 Lit with the gleam of dappled gold ; as when 
 The cloud-bow flings a thousand shifting tints 
 In the sun's eye. .^neas at the sight 
 Stood wonder-struck : at last, with lengthy train 
 Gliding among the bowls and polished cups, 
 It tasted of the viands, and once more, 
 All harmless, sought the shelter of the tomb, 
 Leaving the altars it had lipped. Hereat 
 He to his father all the more renews 
 The interrupted rites, doubtful the while 
 Or genius of the spot to deem it, or 
 His sire's attendant spirit : two young sheep 
 He duly slaughters, and as many swine, 
 As many black -backed heifers, and poured forth 
 The wine-bowl, and on great Anchises' shade 
 Called, and the ghost let loose from Acheron. 
 His friends withal, as each had substance, bring 
 Glad gifts, and heap the altars, and slay steers. 
 Others in turn set caldrons on, and, stretched 
 Along the greensward, lay live coals beneath 
 The spits, and roast the flesh. 
 
 The expected day 
 Was come, the ninth dawn in a cloudless sky. 
 
140 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 105-128 
 
 Drawn by the steeds of Phaethon : report 
 And great Acestes' name the neighbouring folk 
 Had summoned ; in blithe groups they thronged the 
 
 shore, 
 To see the children of ^neas, some too 
 Prepared to join the contest. Full in sight, 
 And midmost of the ring, are first disposed 
 The prizes, sacred tripods, and green wreaths. 
 And palms to crown the victors, arms, and robes 
 Broidered with purple, and talent-weights of gold 
 And silver : and from a hillock in the midst 
 The trumpet's note proclaims the sports begun. 
 For the first contest, matched with heavy oars. 
 Enter four vessels picked from all the fleet. 
 Mnestheus with keen crew drives swift Pristis on — 
 Mnestheus-of-Italy to be, from whom 
 Takes name the race of Memmius — and Gyas 
 The huge Chimaera of huge bulk, in mass 
 A city, which the Dardan youth propel 
 With triple sweep, a threefold tier of oars 
 Rising together : on the Centaur's might 
 Sergestus, whence the Sergian house is named, 
 Cloanthus upon dark blue Scylla rides, 
 From whom thy race, Cluentius of Rome. 
 
 Far seaward fronts the foaming shores a rock 
 Oft drowned and beaten by the billowy swell. 
 What time the wild north-westers hide the stars ; 
 In calm it sleeps, reared on still waves, a plain, 
 And standing-ground to sunny seagulls dear. 
 
129-153 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 141 
 
 Here a green ilex-goal their sire ^neas • 
 Sets up for signal, that the crews might know 
 Whence to return and their long circuit bend. 
 Then lots they cast for places ; and the chiefs 
 Themselves upon the poop shine forth afar, 
 Glorious in gold and purple ; for the rest. 
 The crews are crowned with wreaths of poplar-spray, 
 And steeped in oil their naked shoulders shine. 
 They man the thwarts, arms stretched to oars, full 
 
 stretch 
 Await the signal : drains each bounding heart 
 Quick-knocking fear, and the wild thirst for praise. 
 Then, when the shrill trump sounded, in a trice 
 All from their bounds leapt forward ; a sea-shout 
 Strikes heaven ; the floods foam, churned with in- 
 drawn arms. 
 Abreast they cleave the furrows ; the whole main 
 
 yawns 
 Convulsed with oars and triple-pointed beaks. 
 Not in such heady race the two-horsed cars, 
 Poured from the bounds, grip course and go, nor shake 
 Their billowy reins above such scouring teams 
 The drivers, hanging forward to the lash. 
 Then with applause of men, shouts, favouring cheers, 
 The whole grove rings : the pent shore rolls along, 
 And the hills, smitten, buffet back the din. 
 Outspeeds the rest, and skims the forward wave, 
 'Mid crowd and tumult, Gyas ; follows him 
 Cloanthus^ lustier-oared, but the. pines' weight 
 
142 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 154-17S 
 
 Retards him : next, and at like interval, 
 Pristis and Centaur strive for foremost place. 
 Now Pristis has it, and now the Centaur huge 
 Outstrips and overhauls her ; and now both 
 Ride, beak and beak, together, and with long keel 
 Cleave the salt billows : by this they neared the rock, 
 And had the goal in grasp, when Gyas, now first. 
 And of the half-course victor, loudly hails 
 Menoetes, his ship's pilot : ' Whither away 
 So far to starboard ? hither steer, hug shore ; 
 Let the oar graze the larboard cliff, and leave 
 The deep for others 1 ' He said, but still Menoetes, 
 Fearing blind rocks, steers off toward open sea : 
 ' Whither away so wide ? Make for the rocks, 
 MencEtes ! ' Gyas shouts and calls again ; 
 And, glancing back, Cloanthus he beholds. 
 Now hard astern, holding the nearer course. 
 'Twixt Gyas ' vessel and the roaring rocks 
 He to the left skims inward, in a moment 
 Passes his leader, leaves the goal behind. 
 And gains the safe smooth water. Then indeed 
 Grief in the young man's frame blazed fierce and high, 
 Nor did his cheeks lack tears, and heedless both 
 Of his own honour and his comrades' lives. 
 Laggard Menoetes sheer from the high poop 
 Into the sea he flings : himself instead 
 The tiller takes, pilot and captain too, 
 Cheers on his men, and shoreward turns the helm. 
 But from the sea-floor scarce at length cast up. 
 
178-201 THE /ENEID, BOOK V 
 
 HI 
 
 Mencetes, heavy now with age, and soaked 
 In his wet garments, to the cliff- top climbs. 
 And ori the dry rock sat. The Teucrian folk. 
 Laughed at him falling, swimming, and laugh now 
 To see the salt waves from his chest disgorged. 
 Here the two last, Sergestus, Mnestheus, feel 
 Kindle glad hope within them to outstrip 
 The lagging Gyas. Sergestus gains the lead 
 And nears the crag, yet overlaps he not 
 A whole keel's length, but part alone, and part 
 The jealous Pristis presses with her beak. 
 Then, through his vessel striding, 'midst the crew, 
 Mnestheus exhorts them : ' Rise to the oar, now, now, 
 Comrades of Hector, whom in Troy's last hour 
 I chose to be my fellows ; now put forth 
 That strength, that spirit, which erst ye showed amidst 
 Gaetulian quicksands, on the Ionian Sea, 
 And Malea's chasing waves. No more seek I, 
 Mnestheus, the foremost place, nor strive to win ; 
 Yet oh ! — but let them conquer, to whom thou, 
 Neptune, hast granted it. Count we it shame 
 Last to arrive ! thus far, my countymen, 
 Prevail ye, and ward off disgrace ! ' They bend 
 Forward, and strive their utmost : the brass poop 
 Quivers beneath their mighty strokes : the floor 
 Runs from beneath them : then quick panting shakefe 
 Limbs and dry lips : the sweat flows out in streams. 
 A mere chance brought them the much-wished-for 
 place ; 
 
144 THE ^ENEID, BOOK V 202-228 
 
 For while Sergestus, mad at heart, drives close 
 In toward the rocks, and draws to dangerous ground, 
 Hapless, upon projecting reefs he stuck. 
 The cliffs were jarred ; on a sharp crag the oars 
 Smote with a crash, and the prow struck and hung. 
 Upleap the crew loud-shouting, fast aground. 
 Bring iron-shod boat-hooks and sharp-pointed poles. 
 And from the billows pluck their broken oars. 
 Mnesthus exults, and, keener by success. 
 Scuds with swift oar-sweep, and a prayer to the winds, 
 Down the slope seas, and scours the open main. 
 As, from her cave roused suddenly, a dove. 
 Whose home and sweet brood lie in the crannied rock. 
 Flies iieldward borne, with clamorous pinion- clap 
 Scared from her cell : soon, gliding in calm air, 
 She skims the sky-way swift on moveless wing. 
 So Mnestheus, Pristis so, of her own will. 
 Cleaves the last water, so mere speed of way 
 Carries her flying. And first he leaves behind 
 Sergestus, struggling on the lofty rock. 
 And in the shoals, calling in vain for aid. 
 And learning to make way with broken oars. 
 Then Gyas and his Chimaera vast of bulk 
 He overtakes : she yields, of helmsman reft. 
 And now, and close upon the goal, remains 
 Alone Cloanthus : him he makes for, him. 
 Striving with utmost strength, pursues. Ah ! then 
 The shouts redouble ; all goad him to the chase 
 With eager cheers : heaven echoes to their din. 
 
229-251 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 
 
 145 
 
 These deem it shame, except they hold their own — 
 The glory they have won — would barter life 
 Itself for fame : those thrive upon success ; 
 Thinking they can, the thought begets the power. 
 Ay, and belike they would have ta'en the prize, 
 Prow matched with prow, had not Cloanthus stretched 
 Clasped hands across the deep, and poured forth 
 
 prayers, 
 Calling the gods to hear his vows. ' Ye gods 
 That sway the main, over whose waves I run. 
 Gladly before your altars on this shore, 
 I, vow- beholden, will a white bull set, 
 Into the salt flood fling his entrails far. 
 And pour clear-flowing wine.' He spake, and him 
 Under the deep waves all the Nereid-band 
 Heard, and the choir of Fhorcus, and with thera 
 The maiden Panopea ; and himself 
 The sire Portunus with his mighty hand 
 Pushed him upon his way. To shore she flies 
 Swifter than south wind or a winged shaft, 
 And has found shelter in the port's recess. 
 Then, duly summoning all, Anchises' son 
 Proclaims Cloanthus victor by loud voice 
 Of herald, and with green bay-leaf binds his brow ; 
 And to the crews three bullocks of their choice 
 He gives, and wine, and a great talent-weight 
 Of silver, to bear off, and to the chiefs 
 Themselves adds special honours, for the first 
 A gold-wrought scarf, and twice around it ran 
 
146 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 251-275 
 
 Broad Melibcean purple, in winding wave. 
 
 Therein embroidered is the royal boy 
 
 Gn leafy Ida, as he tires the stag 
 
 With javelin and the chase, keen, like to one 
 
 Panting, whom Jove's swift armour-bearer snatched 
 
 Aloft from Ida with crook'd talons : see ! 
 
 His aged guardians stretch vain hands on high, 
 
 And the hounds' baying goes fiercely up to heaven. 
 
 But to the hero who gat second place 
 
 In prowess, a corslet linked with polished hooks 
 
 Of gold twilled triple, which his own conquering hand 
 
 Had from Demoleos on swift Simois' bank 
 
 Torn beneath lofty Troy, he gives to bear, 
 
 A glory and defence in battle. It 
 
 Scarce could the carls Phegeus and Sagaris, 
 
 Shoulder to shoulder, heave with all its folds ; 
 
 But clad in it of yore Demoleos drave 
 
 Full speed the flying Trojans. The third prize 
 
 He makes twin brazen caldrons, and cups wrought 
 
 Of cunning silver, rough with tracery-work. 
 
 And now, thus dowered, and glorying in their gifts, 
 
 Brow-bound with purple fillets, all went forth. 
 
 When, from the. cruel rock with much ado 
 
 'Scaped hardly, oars lost, crippled of one tier, 
 
 'Mid laughter urging his inglorious bark, 
 
 Sergestus came. As oft at unawares 
 
 A serpent, caught upon the heaped highway. 
 
 Which or a brazen wheel hath crossed aslant. 
 
 Or heavy smiting traveller left half dead 
 
275-300 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 147 
 
 And mangled with a stone, now trying to flee 
 Twists his long body into coils, in vain, 
 Part still defiant, and, with fiery eyes. 
 Rearing aloft the hissing throat ; but part 
 Maimed by the wound retards him, as he wreaths 
 Joint upon joint, self-knotted and convolved. 
 So oared, the ship came slowly labouring on. 
 Yet she spreads sail, and, full sail, enters port. 
 jEneas with promised boon Sergestus dowers. 
 Glad for ship saved and rescued crew : to him 
 Is given a slave, skilled in Minerva's craft. 
 The Cretan Pholoe, twin boys at her breast. 
 
 Then good .^neas, the race despatched, moves on 
 Into a grassy plain, by sloping hills 
 Girdled with forest ; and amidst the vale 
 There was an amphitheatre, whereto 
 The prince with many thousands strode, and sat 
 On a high mound, the centre of the throng. 
 Here in fleet foot-race whoso list to strive* 
 He lures with prizes, sets the guerdon forth. 
 Teucrians, Sicanians, mixed, from all sides flock : 
 See ! foremost Nisus and Euryalus ! 
 Euryalus famed for beauty and fresh youth, 
 Nisus for the fair love he bore the boy. 
 Next followed, reared from Priam's noble stem. 
 Princely Diores : after him, together, 
 Salius and Patron, Acarnanian one. 
 One of Arcadia's blood, a Tegean born. 
 Then two Trinacrian comers, Helymus 
 
143 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 300-326 
 
 And Panopes, to forest-life inured, 
 
 Comrades of old Acestes ; many more 
 
 To boot, whom rumour doth in darkness hide. 
 
 Then in their midst ^neas spake : ' My words 
 
 Take now to heart, and give me cheerful heed. 
 
 None of all here will I let giftless go. 
 
 Two Gnosian javelins bright with burnished steel, 
 
 And an axe silver-chased, I'll give to bear; 
 
 Be this one meed to all. The foremost three 
 
 Shall receive prizes, and be bound about 
 
 The head with pale green olive. Let the first. 
 
 As victor, have a horse with trappings proud ; 
 
 The next an Amazonian quiver, and filled 
 
 With Thracian arrows, which a broad gold belt 
 
 Circles, a smooth-gemmed buckle clasps ; the third 
 
 Depart contented with this Argive helm.' 
 
 This said, they take their stand, and suddenly, 
 
 The signal heard, catch at the course, and leave 
 
 The barriei% like a cloud poured forth, their eyes 
 
 Fixed on the finish. First draws ahead, darts far 
 
 Beyond all rivals Nisus, swifter he 
 
 Than wind or wings of lightning ; next to him, 
 
 But next at a long distance, on his track 
 
 Comes Salius ; then, some space between them left. 
 
 The third, Euryalus ; Euryalus 
 
 Has Helymus behind him, close on whom 
 
 Flies see ! Diores, heel now grazing heel. 
 
 And shoulders jostling ; and, were more space left, 
 
 He would slip past him, and leave doubt behind. 
 
327-35° THE ^NEID, BOOK V 149 
 
 And now, the course nigh finished, with breath spent. 
 They neared the goal, when Nisus by ill luck 
 Slips in some blood chance-spilt upon the ground 
 From slaughtered steers, that soaked the greensward. 
 
 Here 
 Just flushed with triumph, he could not keep his feet. 
 Tripped by the ground they trod on, but fell prone 
 Right in the foul dung and slain victims' gore. 
 Yet of Euryalus, yet of his heart's love 
 Not he forgetful ! for in Salius' path 
 He casts him,. rising' through the slush, who, rolled 
 Over and over, on the thick soil lay. 
 Forth darts Euryalus, and the first place holds, 
 Winner by his friend's gift, and speeds him on 
 'Mid favouring shouts and tumult. Next to him 
 Comes Helymus, and, now third prize, Diores. 
 Here with vociferous uproar Salius 
 Fills the whole concourse of the mighty ring, 
 Arid gazing sires in front, reclaims the prize 
 Snatched from his hand by craft. Euryalus 
 Is strong in favour, and the grace of tears, 
 And worth, seen comelier in a lovely form. 
 Backs him Diores too with loud appeal. 
 Who, to a prize succeeding, has for nought 
 Gained the last guerdon, if the foremost place 
 To Salius be restored. Then Sire ^neas : 
 ' Your gifts, my lads, remain assured, and none 
 Changes the order of the prize : let me 
 Pity my friend's unmerited mishap.' 
 
ISO THE ^NETD, BOOK V 351-374 
 
 So saying, he gives to Salius the vast fell 
 
 Of a Gaetulian lion, with rough hair 
 
 Heavy, and claws of gold. Then Nisus : ' If 
 
 Such be defeat's reward, and those that fell 
 
 Win pity of thee, what worthy recompense 
 
 Hast left for Nisus ? The first crown was mine 
 
 By merit and exploit, had not the luck, 
 
 That frowned on Salius, fallen alike on me.' 
 
 And with the word he shows his face and limbs 
 
 Smeared with wet filth. At him the gracious sire 
 
 Laughed, and a shield bade bring, the workmanship 
 
 Of Didymaon, by the Danai once 
 
 From Neptune's sacred portal torn. With this 
 
 He dowers the noble youth, a princely prize. 
 
 Then, the race ended, and the gifts dispensed, 
 ' Come now,' he cries, ' if in the breast of any 
 Be courage and prompt heart, let him approach. 
 Bind on the gloves, and lift his arms.' So saying, 
 He names a twofold guerdon for the fray, 
 A steer for the winner, garlanded with gold. 
 Sword and proud helm, to soothe the vanquished. 
 No pause : at once in all his giant strength 
 Uplifts him Dares, and stands forth to view 
 'Mid murmurs of the crowd, he who alone 
 Was wont to match with Paris, and, at the tomb 
 Where mightiest Hector lies, smote conquering Butes — 
 Who with his vast bulk bore him to the field, 
 Of the Bebrycian house of Amycus — 
 And stretched hitn dying upon the tawny sand. 
 
375-398 THE ^NEID BOOK V 151 
 
 Such was this Dares, who lifts high his head ■ 
 First for the fray, displays his shoulders broad. 
 Launches his arms out, and spars right and left, 
 Lashing the air with buffets. Him to match 
 They seek another ; but out of all that throng 
 No one durst face the champion, don the gloves. 
 So, deeming all men from the prize withdrew. 
 Promptly he plants him- at Eneas' feet, 
 Tarrying no more, then by the left horn grasps 
 The bull, and speaks : ' O goddess-born, if none 
 Durst risk the fight, what end to waiting, say, 
 How long befits it I stand loitering here ? 
 Bid me lead off the prize.' The Dardans all, 
 Shouting with one voice, bade the promised boon 
 Be rendered to their champion. Hereupon 
 Acestes with stern words rebukes Entellus, 
 As he sat next him on the grassy couch : 
 'Entellus, of heroes bravest once, in vain, 
 Wilt thou such gifts see tamely borne away, 
 And strike no blow ? Where now, we ask, that god, 
 Thy master, Eryx, so idly vaunted ? Where 
 The fame that filled Trinacria, and those spoils 
 Still hanging from thy roof-tree ? ' He replied : 
 ' It is not that the love of fame is sped, 
 Nor fear hath cast out honour ; but indeed 
 Chilled is my blood and dulled by sluggish eld. 
 And all my body's strength numbed and outworn. 
 If, which erst was, wherein yon braggart still 
 Boldly exults, if now that youth were mine, • 
 
152 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 399-424 
 
 I had not stayed for prize or noble steer 
 To lure me forward, nor heed I the gifts. 
 So saying, twin gauntlets of vast weight he hurls 
 Into the midst, wherewith keen Eryx wont 
 Advance his hand to battle, and bind his arms 
 With the tough hide. Astonied were all hearts ; 
 So vast the seven huge ox-hides that lay stiff 
 With in-sewed lead and iron. More than all. 
 Dares himself stands dazed, and far recoils : 
 This way and that high-souled Anchises' son 
 Poises and turns the thongs' enormous folds. 
 Then the old man with deep-drawn accents spake : 
 ' What then if one had seen the gloves and arms 
 Of Hercules himself, and the grim fight 
 Upon this very strand ? Those weapons once 
 Thy brother Eryx wore : thou seest them yet 
 Blood-stained and brain-bespattered : he with these 
 Stood against great Alcides ; to these I 
 Myself was used, while sounder blood gave strength, 
 Ere snowy age had sprinkled both my brows. 
 But if the Trojan Dares shun these arms 
 Of ours, and good .^neas be set thereon, 
 Backed by Acestes' sanction, fight we fair. 
 I waive the hides of Eryx, see, calm thy dread, 
 And do thou doff the Trojan gloves.' So saying. 
 He from his shoulder flings the twofold robe. 
 Bares his huge limb-joints, mighty bones and thews, 
 And stands gigantic in the arena's midst. 
 Then equal gloves the sire, Anchises' son, 
 
424-449 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 153 
 
 Brought, and with like arms bound the hands of both. 
 
 Straining on tip-toe, each at once took stand. 
 
 And raised his arms undaunted high toward heaven. 
 
 Their towering heads far from the blow withdrawn, 
 
 Fist with mist mingling, they provoke the fray. 
 
 One nimbler-footed, and relying on youth. 
 
 One strong in bulk of body ; but his slow knees 
 
 Totter and quake, and all his mighty frame 
 
 Heaves witha painful panting. Many a blow 
 
 The champions idly bandy, each with each, 
 
 Many they rain on hollow flank, and make 
 
 Loud music on their chests ; round ear and brow 
 
 The quick fist plays, jaws crackle with hard blows. 
 
 Ponderous in the selfsame posture stands 
 
 Unmoved Entellus, with his body alone 
 
 And watchful eye shunning the strokes. The other — 
 
 As who with engines batters a tall town, 
 
 Or sits down armed before some mountain-hold — 
 
 Tries this approach and that, and, hovering round 
 
 Artful at every point, plies him in vain 
 
 With manifold assault. Entellus then, 
 
 With right hand threatening and uplifted high. 
 
 Rose to the blow : the other with quick glance 
 
 Foresaw descending, and with nimble frame 
 
 Slipped out of reach and foiled it. All his strength 
 
 Entellus spent on air, and, self-impelled. 
 
 By his own heaviness heavily to the earth 
 
 Fell with prodigious weight ; so falls at times 
 
 On Ery man thus or on Ida's height 
 
154 THE yENEID, BOOK V 449-473 
 
 A hollow pine-tree by the roots uptorn. 
 Teucrians, Trinacrians, by one impulse urged, 
 Leap from their seats ; a shout goes up to heaven j 
 And first Acestes hastes, and pityingly 
 Lifts from the earth his age-mate and his friend. 
 But he, nor checked nor daunted by the fall. 
 Returns yet keenlier to the fray ; wrath goads 
 To violence : shame and conscious valour, too, 
 Kindle his strength ; and all on fire he drives 
 Dares at headlong speed the whole course through, 
 Raining his buffets now with right, now left : 
 No stop, no respite : thick as hail, when clouds 
 Fall rattling on the roof, so pelt the blows 
 He showers, on Dares, and with either hand 
 Pounds him and whirls along. Then Sire jEneas 
 -Brooks not that wrath go further, nor Entellus 
 Rage on in bitterness of heart, but bade 
 The battle end, and rescued the spent strength 
 Of Dares, and thus speaks with soothing words : 
 ' Unhappy man 1 what craze hath caught thy soul ? 
 Dost not perceive that here is alien strength, 
 Gods turned against thee 1 yield to heaven 1 ' He spake. 
 And with the word broke off the fight ; but him 
 Dragging faint knees, his head to either side 
 Lolling, and spitting from his mouth thick gore 
 And blood-commingled teeth, his trusty friends 
 Lead to the ships : the helmet and the sword. 
 When summoned, they receive, the palm and bull 
 Leave to Entellus.. Then the victor speaks, 
 
473-497 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 155 
 
 Elate with pride, and glorying in the bull : 
 ' O goddess-born, and you, ye Teucrians, mark 
 Both what was once my body's youthful might, 
 And Dares from what death your rescue saves.' 
 He spake, and fronting the steer's forehead full, 
 Which stood there, prize of battle, drew aback 
 His right hand, levelled the tough gloves, and swung 
 Straight betwixt both horns, towering to the blow, " 
 Crushed the skull inward, and dashed out the brain ; 
 On earth stretched lifeless, quivering, the bull falls. 
 Then with deep utterance he spake over it : 
 ' This better life, for death of Dares due, 
 Eryx, I pay thee, with this triumph crowned. 
 The gauntlets and the boxer's art lay by.' 
 
 Forthwith .iEneas to the swift arrow-match 
 Invites who will, and sets the prizes forth ; 
 Then from Serestus' ship with mighty hand 
 The mast uprears, and by a rope passed round 
 Suspends a fluttering dove from the tall top. 
 As target for their points. The men are met ; 
 The lot thrown lies within a brazen helm. 
 And for first place outleaps, with favouring cheer, 
 The son of Hyrtacus, Hippocoon, next. 
 Late victor in the ship -race, Mnestheus comes, • 
 Mnesthe^s now garlanded with olive green. 
 Eurytion was the third, brpther to thee, 
 O most renowned Pandarus, who of old. 
 Bidden thq treaty to confound, wert first 
 To hurl thy, dart, amid the. Achaean .ranks. 
 
iS6 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 498-524 
 
 Last in the helmet's depth Acestes lay, 
 Still bold of hand the tasks of youth to try. 
 Then, each for self, with sinewy might they bend 
 Their curving bows, pluck shaft from quiver ; and first 
 The bolt of the son of Hyrtacus through heaven 
 Cleaves the fleet breezes from the whizzing string. 
 Arrives, and sticks in the mast-tree fair and full. 
 The mast quivered, the bird clapped wings in fear, 
 And all the region rang w'th loud applause. 
 Next took his stand keen Mnestheus, bow drawn home. 
 High-pointing, with one level of shaft and eye ; 
 He, luckless, the bird's self with bolt to strike 
 Skilled not, and cut the noose and hempen cord. 
 Foot-bound whereby to the tall mast she hung : 
 Into the south winds and black clouds she flew. 
 Then, bow long since held ready, and bolt on string. 
 With a quick prayer to his brother to hear his vows, 
 Eurytion marked the dove, now triumphing 
 In the free sky, and, as she clapped her wings 
 Under a dark cloud, pierced her. Dead she fell, 
 And left her life among the stars of heaven, 
 Down-trailing with the arrow in her side. 
 Acestes, the prize lost, alone remained, 
 Yet upward aimed his bolt into the air, 
 Showing an old sire's skill and sounding bow. 
 Here on their eyes a sudden portent falls, 
 To prove of mighty presage ; the event 
 Taught them its vastness in the after-time, 
 And awful seers their omen sang too late 
 
525-549 THE MNEID, BOOK V 157 
 
 For, on its flight amid the floating clouds, 
 
 The reed took fire, and traced a path in flame. 
 
 And into thin air burnt itself away ; 
 
 As oft from heaven unfixed shoot flying stars. 
 
 And trail their locks behind them. All, aghast. 
 
 Stood rooted, and implored the gods of heaven, 
 
 Trinacrian folk and Teucrian : nor did great 
 
 .£neas reject the omen, but his arms 
 
 Cast about glad Acestes, whom he loads 
 
 With mighty gifts, thus speaking : ' Take them, sire ; 
 
 For by such tokens great Olympus' king 
 
 To thee no lot-drawn honour hath decreed. 
 
 From old Anchi-ses' self this gift be thine, 
 
 A bowl embossed with figures, which of yore 
 
 Cisseus the Thracian as a noble gift 
 
 Gave to my sire Anchises, of his love 
 
 The record and the pledge to bear.' So saying, 
 
 He wreathes his temples with green bay, and hails 
 
 First, before all, Acestes victor, nor 
 
 Did kind Eurytion grudge the rank preferred. 
 
 Albeit but he struck down the bird from heaven. 
 
 Next for the prize comes in who cut the cord. 
 
 Last with fleet arrow he that pierced the pine. 
 
 But Sire .(Eneas, ere the sports were sped, 
 Calls to his side Epytides, the squire 
 Who watched o'er young lulus, and thus speaks 
 Into his faithful ear : ' Hie thee, and bid 
 Ascanius, if his boyish band he now 
 Have ready, and his manoeuvring troop arrayed. 
 
IS8 THE ^NEW, BOOK V 550-574 
 
 Lead forth the squadron in his grandsire's name, 
 
 And show himself in arms.' He spake, and with 
 
 His own voice orders all the crowd withdraw, 
 
 Flooding the long course, and the field be cleared. 
 
 The boys ride in, before their fathers' eyes 
 
 Glittering on bridled horses in array, 
 
 By all Trinacria's chivalry and Troy's 
 
 Hailed with admiring murmurs, as they go. 
 
 The locks of all a trim wreath duly binds, 
 
 Each bears two cornel spear-shafts tipped with steel, 
 
 Some polished quivers upon the shoulder ; high 
 
 On breast, along the throat there runs a hoop 
 
 Pliant of twisted gold. The companies 
 
 Of horse are three ; three chiefs ride to and fro, 
 
 And, following each, a band of twice six boys. 
 
 The troop trisected, with like leaders, shine. 
 
 One youthful squadron a child-Priam leads 
 
 To victory, and recalls his grandsire's name, 
 
 Thy glorious seed, Polites, soon to swell 
 
 The tribes of Italy ; a Thracian steed 
 
 Bears him, with white spots dappled, that displays 
 
 White-stepping pasterns, and white-towering brow. 
 
 The next is Atys, from whom trace their line 
 
 The Latin Atii ; the child Atys, loved 
 
 Of his boy-friend lulus. Last of all. 
 
 And before all in beauty, lulus' self 
 
 On a Sidonian horse, fair Dido's gift, 
 
 Of her heart's love the record and the pledge. 
 
 The rest are mounted on Trinacrian steeds 
 
574-598 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 159 
 
 Of old Acestes. With a cheer the Dardans 
 Welcome the timid lads, and gaze with joy, 
 Tracing the features of their sires of old. 
 When the gay cavalcade had ridden the round 
 Of the whole concourse under their friends' eyes, 
 And all were ready, Epytides from far 
 Shouted the signal and cracked loud his whip. 
 They rushed apart symmetric, in three troops 
 With open ranks dividing, and once more 
 Wheel at the order, and charge point to point. 
 Then other onsets and retreats they try 
 In quarters opposite, and interweave 
 Circle with circle, each with each, and wake 
 The semblance of armed warfare, now expose 
 Their backs in flight, now point their levelled spears, 
 Now with. peace plighted, as close comrades ride. 
 As erst the labyrinth in lofty Crete 
 Had, as folk tell, a way with blind walls woven, 
 And a dark trap with thousand paths perplexed. 
 Whose maze unsearched and irretraceable 
 Might baulk all clues for following, such the course, 
 WJierein the Trojan boys their steps involve. 
 Weaving the sportive web of flight and fray ; 
 As dolphins, swimming through the watery seas, 
 Carpathian cleave or Libyan, and make sport 
 Amid the billows. Such use of horsemanship, 
 Such games as these, Ascanius, as he girt 
 With walls his Alba Longa, first revived, 
 And trained the ancient Latins to the mode 
 
i6o THE ACNEID, BOOK V 599-623 
 
 Of his own boyhood with the youth of Troy ; 
 
 The Albans taught their sons ; from whom bequeathed 
 
 Majestic Rome received and kept alive 
 
 The ancestral rite : now, named from Troy, the lads 
 
 Are called the Trojan troop. Thus far were held 
 
 The games in honour of the sacred sire. 
 
 Here Fortune changing first revoked her faith. 
 Whilst they with various pastime to the tomb 
 Render its solemn dues, Saturnian Juno 
 Sends Iris from on high to Ilium's fleet, 
 And breathes fair winds to waft her, rife with schemes, 
 Still of her ancient smart insatiate. She, 
 Speeding along her myriad-tinted bow. 
 Shoots down the swift track, maid beheld of none. 
 She views the mighty throng, and scans the shore 
 And sees the harbour void, the fleet forsook. 
 But far withdrawn upon a lonely beach 
 The Trojan dames wept for Anchises' loss. 
 And, weeping, gazed on the deep main together. 
 Ah, what vast floods, what weary length of sea 
 Was still before them, with one voice they cry. 
 They crave a city, the travail of the main 
 Sick of enduring. So into their midst. 
 Well versed in harm, she flings her, doffs the face 
 And garb of goddess, becomes Beroe, 
 The aged wife of Tmarian Doryclus, 
 Who once had lineage, and a name, and sons ; 
 So 'mid the Dardan mothers makes her way. 
 ' O hapless women, whom no Greek hand in war 
 
624-646 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 161 
 
 Dragged 'neath your native walls to death,' she cries, 
 
 ' race ill-starred, for what destruction, say. 
 
 Doth fate reserve ye ? Since Troy's overthrow, 
 
 Now the seventh summer wheels her course, the while, 
 
 Borne over seas and traversing all lands, 
 
 So many inhospitable rocks and climes, 
 
 We chase the still receding Italy 
 
 On the vast ocean, by its billows tossed. 
 
 Here are our brother Eryx' bounds, our host 
 
 Acestes : who forbids to cast up walls. 
 
 And give a city to our countrymen ? 
 
 fatherland, and household gods in vain 
 
 Snatched from the foeman, shall no city bear 
 
 Troy's name for ever ? Nowhere shall I see 
 
 A Simois or a Xanthus, Hector's streams ? 
 
 Nay up, and help me burn the ill-omened ships ! 
 
 For in my sleep the seer Cassandra's shade 
 
 Appeared, methought, and offered blazing brands. 
 
 Here look for Troy ; here is your home,' quoth shct 
 
 ' The hour is ripe for action ; prodigies 
 
 So mighty brook no tarriance. Lo ye, four 
 
 Altars to Neptune 1 and the god himself 
 
 Supplies the firebrand and the will.' So saying, 
 
 She snatching first the deadly flame, upreared 
 
 Aloft her right hand, brandished with main strength. 
 
 And threw it. Brain-wildered were the Trojan dames, 
 
 And heart-astonied. Then, of many, one 
 
 In years their eldest, Pyrgo, royal nurse 
 
 Of all those sons of Priam, cries, ' See you not, 
 
 M 
 
I62 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 646 670 
 
 This is no Beroe, no Rhoeteitan wife 
 
 Of Doryclus, good mothers ! Mark the signs 
 
 Of heavenly beauty, and the glowing eyes : 
 
 What breath about her ! what a glance she hath ! 
 
 What tone of voice, and stateliness of step ! 
 
 Nay, I myself left Beroe but e'en now 
 
 Sick, chafing that she only in such rite 
 
 Should lack a part, nor to Anchises pay 
 
 The honours due to him.' So spake she. But 
 
 The matrons, wavering at the first, 'gan eye 
 
 The ships with looks malign, halting between 
 
 Infatuate passion for their present land 
 
 And realms that called them with the voice of fate. 
 
 But on poised wings the goddess borne through heaven 
 
 Cut, flying, a mighty bow beneath the clouds. 
 
 Then, by the portent crazed, and frenzy-spurred. 
 
 All from their hearths' recesses, with one shout, 
 
 Snatch fire ; some strip the altars, and fling on 
 
 Leaf, brushwood, bough. Vulcan with loose rein riots 
 
 O'er thwarts and oars and sterns of painted pine. 
 
 To Anchises' barrow and the circus-seats 
 
 Brings word Eumelus of the fleet on fire. 
 
 Themselves glance back, and see the pitchy reek 
 
 Float in a cloud. And first Ascanius, 
 
 Then gaily leading his manoeuvring troop, 
 
 Rode at full speed to the disordered camp, 
 
 E'en as he was, nor can his breathless guards 
 
 Detain him. ' What new frenzy is this ? ' he cries, 
 
 ' Or whither now, say whither are ye bound, 
 
671-692 THE ^A'EID, BOOK V 163 
 
 My wretched countrywomen ? 'Tis no foe, 
 
 No hostile camp of Argives, that ye burn, 
 
 But your own hopes. See, it is I, your own 
 
 Asdanius ! ' and before his feet he flung 
 
 The empty helmet, wherewith armed but now 
 
 He woke in sport the counterfeit of war. 
 
 At once .^neas, at once the Teucrian train 
 
 Speed to the spot. But scattering o'er the beach, 
 
 This way and that the affrighted women fly, 
 
 Make for the woods by stealth, and wheresoe'er 
 
 The rocks are caverned : now they loathe the deed. 
 
 And daylight, know their own with altered eye. 
 
 And Juno's power is shaken from their soul. 
 
 But not for that the conflagration's blaze 
 
 Slacks its resistless fury : the tow glows 
 
 Beneath the wet wood, spewing forth slow smoke ; 
 
 The creeping heat devours the keels, a plague 
 
 That sinks through all the vessel's hull, nor strength 
 
 Of men, nor showers of water can avail. 
 
 Then good ^neas from off his shoulders rent 
 
 The raiment, and besought the gods for aid. 
 
 With outstretched hands : ' Almighty Jupiter, 
 
 If all the Trojans, to a man, not yet 
 
 Thou hatest, if thy goodness of old time 
 
 Recks aught of human woes, grant that the flames 
 
 May 'scape our fleet, O father, and pluck thou 
 
 The Teucrians' shrunken power from ruin. Else 
 
 Level thy thunderbolt, and what remains 
 
 Hurl down to death, if such be my desert. 
 
i64 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 692-714 
 
 And overwhelm us here with thy right hand.' 
 Scarce had he spoken, when from outpoured clouds 
 A black storm rages, incontrollable ; 
 Earth trembles to the thunder, hill and plain ; 
 From the whole welkin a wild water-flood 
 Comes rushing, pitch-black from the thickening 
 
 south ; 
 The ships are filled, and over ; the half-burnt 
 Timbers are soaked ; till all the heat is quenched, 
 And all the keels, four lost, escape the plague. 
 But Sire .(Eneas, stunned by the bitter chance, 
 Shuffled and turned the mighty load of care 
 Within his breast, now this way, and now that, 
 Whether to settle in Sicilian fields. 
 Heedless of fate, or grasp Italia's shore. 
 Then aged Nautes, whom Tritonian Pallas 
 Taught before all, and with surpassing lore 
 Made famous — she it was declared to him 
 That which or heaven's high wrath portended, or 
 Fate's course required — he thus bespake Mne&s 
 With comfortable words : ' O goddess-born. 
 Pull or repel they, follow we the fates ; 
 Betide what will, fortune in every phase 
 Is conquered but by bearing. Here thou hast 
 Acestes of the Dardan stock divine : 
 Him take, a willing yoke-fellow, to share 
 Thy counsels ; unto him deliver those 
 Who are left shipless, or have weary grown 
 Both of thy fortunes and the great emprise. 
 
7IS-738 THE JENEID, BOOK V 165 
 
 Men full of years, and mothers wearied out 
 With ocean, and whate'er of weak thou hast, 
 Fearful of danger, choose, and in this land 
 Give ramparts to the weary ones. Their town, 
 Grant thou the name, Acesta shall be called.' 
 
 Fired by such words from his friend's aged lips. 
 Then was his soul with care on care distraught. 
 And black night, chariot-lifted, held the sky, 
 When sudden lo ! the likeness of his sire 
 Anchises seemed to glide from heaven, and speak 
 With such-like utterance : ' Son, than life to me 
 Dearer, while life was mine, son, sorely tasked 
 By Ilium's destinies, hither I come 
 At Jove's command, who from thy fleet drave off 
 The fire, and hath at length ta'en pity on thee 
 Out of high heaven. Obey the goodly rede 
 Now given by aged Nautes ; men of choice, 
 The bravest hearts, lead on to Italy ; 
 Hardy the race, and rude of life, which thou 
 In Latium must war-under. First nathless 
 Approach the infernal halls of Dis, and through 
 Avernus' depth seek colloquy with me. 
 My son. . For guilty Tartarus holds me not, 
 Nor the sad ghosts, but in Elysium, 
 'Mid fair assemblies of the blest I dwell. 
 Thither with plenteous bloodshed of black kine 
 The Sibyl pure shall lead thee. Then shalt thou 
 Learn all thy kindred, and what walls are given. 
 And now farewell ! dank night her midway course 
 
i66 THE ^NEW, BOOK V 738-762 
 
 Is wheeling, and the Orient's panting steeds 
 Breathe pitiless upon me.' He had said, 
 And passed, like vapour, into empty air. 
 ' Ah ! whither hurrying, whither whirled away?' 
 Exclaims .(Eneas, ' whom fliest thou, or who 
 Bars thee from my embraces ? ' With that word 
 He wakes the embers and the slumbering fire, 
 And with pure meal and brimming censer pays 
 Honour to Troy's Lar and hoar Vesta's shrine. 
 Forthwith his friends he summons, Acestes first. 
 Of Jove's command and his dear sire's behest 
 Instructs them, and what purpose now stands fixed 
 Within his soul. No hindering the design. 
 Nor thwarts his word Acestes. They transfer 
 The matrons to their city, and set on shore 
 Who would, such souls as crave not high renown. 
 Themselves repair the thwarts, and shape afresh 
 The fire-gnawed ship-beams, and fit oars and ropes, 
 Few, but a pulse of manhood quick for war. 
 ./Eneas meanwhile is marking with a plough 
 The city-boundaries, and assigning homes. 
 Bids here an Ilium, here a Troy to be. 
 Trojan Acestes, glorying in his realm, 
 Proclaims a court, summons the senators. 
 And gives them laws. Then to Idalian Venus, 
 Nigh to the stars, on Eryx' top, they found 
 A dwelling, and Anchises' tomb endow 
 With priest and grove of widespread sanctity. 
 Now the whole race nine days have wassail held4 
 
762-786 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 167 
 
 And to the altars is due honour done : 
 Calm winds have laid the ocean, and once more 
 Auster with quickening breath invites to sea. 
 Uprises hark ! along the winding shore 
 A mighty wail : clasped in each other's arms 
 They linger out the hours of night and day. 
 Now e'en the matrons, e'en the men, who late 
 Shuddered at ocean's face, scarce brooked its name. 
 Fain would set forth, bear all the toil of flight. 
 Them kind .^neas soothes with friendly words, 
 And, weeping, to Acestes' care consigns 
 His kinsman. Then to Eryx he bids slay 
 Three heifers, and a ewe lamb to the storms , 
 And duly loose the moorings. He himself, 
 Bound with trim olive-leaves about his head. 
 Stands high upon the prow, and holds a bowl. 
 Into the salt waves flings the entrails far. 
 And pours clear-flowing wine. Rising astern, 
 A breeze escorts them on their way. The crews 
 With emulous oar-strokes sweep the ocean-plain. 
 Venus meanwhile, to cares a prey, thus pleads 
 With Neptune, and pours out her heart's complaint r 
 'Juno's fell wrath and heart insatiable 
 Constrain me, Neptune, stoop to every prayer. 
 No lapse of time, no goodness can assuage, 
 Nor Jove's command, nor fate itself, avail 
 To break and tame her. With outrageous hate 
 'Twas not enough from 'midst the Phrygian folk 
 To eat away their city, and drag them on 
 
i68 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 786-809 
 
 Through every retribution : what remains, 
 The very dust and bones of perished Troy, 
 She persecutes. Let her own heart resolve 
 The causes of such madness. Thou thyself 
 Art witness, on the Libyan waves but now 
 What sudden coil she raised ; all seas she mixed 
 With heaven, upon the storms of .(Eolus 
 Vainly relying, and dared it in thy realm. 
 See, too, Troy's matrons goading into crime. 
 Their ships she hath burnt foully, forcing them, 
 With minished fleet, upon an unknown shore 
 To leave their comrades. Those that yet remain — 
 Let them, I pray thee of thy goodness, spread 
 Safe sail across the billows ; let them reach 
 Laurentian Tiber, lawful if my suit. 
 If there the walls by destiny assigned.' 
 
 Then Saturn's son, the lord of the deep sea, 
 Made answer : ' Cytherea, 'tis full meet 
 Thou trust this realm of mine, that gave thee birth ; 
 And I have earned it : often have I quelled 
 Such wrath and fury both of sea and sky. 
 Nor less on land, Xanthus and Simois 
 Attest, hath thine .^Eneas been my care. 
 What time Achilles, the disheartened hosts 
 Of Troy pursuing, dashed them on their walls, 
 And many thousands did to death, till groaned 
 The choked-up rivers, nor could Xanthus find 
 A passage, and roll out to sea, then I 
 jEneas, confronted with brave Peleus' son, 
 
809-831 THE yENEID, BOOK V 169 
 
 IH-matched alike in strength and aid from heaven, 
 Caught in a hollow cloud, albeit full fain 
 From their foundation to cast down the walls 
 Of perjured Troy, that mine own hands had built. 
 Now too within me the same purpose holds ; 
 Away with fear ! unscathed he shall arrive 
 The Avernian havens, goal of thy desire ; 
 Qne only shall there be, whom thou wilt seek 
 Upon the flood, one life be given for many.' 
 So soothing with his words the goddess' heart 
 To gladness, the sire yokes his steeds with gold. 
 Fastens to their wild mouths the foaming bit, 
 And, through his hands out-slackening all the reins,' 
 Skims light the sea-top in his azure car. 
 Down sink the waves ; the swelling water-floor 
 Beneath his thunderous wheel is levelled smooth j 
 The clouds fly routed through the vast of air. 
 Then to attend him came shapes manifold. 
 Monsters enormous, Glaucus' aged choir, 
 Palaemon son of Ino, and the swift 
 Tritons, and Phorcus with his whole array ; 
 Thetis upon the left, and Melite, 
 And maiden Panopea, and Nissee, 
 Spio, Thalia, and Cymodoce. 
 Then through the tortured soul of Sire .^Eneas 
 Thrills the sweet solace of returning joy ; 
 Quickly he bids each mast be reared, each sail 
 Stretched on the yardarms. All made taut the sheet 
 Together, with one accord, now left, now right. 
 
I70 THE ^NEID, BOOK V 831-853 
 
 Slackening the canvas; all together turn 
 
 And turn again the lofty sail-yard horns ; 
 
 The winds, they wait for, bear the fleet along. 
 
 First, before all, leading the dense array, 
 
 Was Palinurus, others after him 
 
 Bidden to shape their course. Now dewy night 
 
 Had well-nigh reached the mid-way goal of heaven ; 
 
 In slumber calm the crews relaxed their limbs 
 
 Beneath the oars, on the hard benches stretched, 
 
 When sleep slid lightly from the stars on high. 
 
 Parted the dusky air, and cleft the gloom. 
 
 Thee, Palinurus, seeking, and for thee 
 
 Fraught with a fatal dream, though innocent. 
 
 There on the high stern sat the god, and, like 
 
 To Phorbas, pours this utterance from his lips : 
 
 ' O Palinurus, son of lasus. 
 
 See, of its own will ocean wafts the fleet ; 
 
 The gales breathe equably ; the hour is given 
 
 To slumber. Bow the head, and steal from toil 
 
 The weary eyes. Myself awhile will take 
 
 Thy task upon me.' With scarce lifted look. 
 
 To him speaks Palinurus : ' Bid'st thou me 
 
 Mark not the sea's smooth face and tranquil waves .' 
 
 Put faith in such a monster } Wherefore trust 
 
 ^neas to the false breezes, tempt again 
 
 The oft-rued treachery of a smiling sky .' ' 
 
 Such words he spake, and clutched and clung, nor 
 
 aught 
 Let go the tiller, and held his upward eyes 
 
853-871 THE ^NEII), BOOK V 171 
 
 Still fixed upon the stars : when lo 1 the god 
 
 O'er either temple shakes a bough besprent 
 
 With Lethe-dew, and drugged with Stygian power, 
 
 That loosed his swimming eyes, reluctant. Scarce 
 
 Had the first stealth of unexpected sleep 
 
 Slackened his limbs, when, bending from above, 
 
 Headlong it hurled him, half the stern torn off, 
 
 Rudder and all, into the weltering waves, 
 
 With many a cry to friends that could not aid. 
 
 Bub into empty air the vision's self 
 
 Soared on the wing. Nathless the fleet unscathed 
 
 Speeds on its journey, and rides undismayed 
 
 In Father Neptune's promise. And now it neared 
 
 The Siren-crags, found perilous of old. 
 
 Whitened with bones of many, while the rocks 
 
 With ceaseless surge were booming hoarse. afar. 
 
 Soon as the sire perceived his vessel drift 
 
 Aimless for lack of helmsman, he hirnself 
 
 Over the midnight wave, with many a groan. 
 
 Steered her, sore shaken by his friend's mischance : 
 
 ' O all too trustful of the smiling face 
 
 Of sky and ocean, on an unknown shore, 
 
 And naked, Palinurus, thou wilt lie.' 
 
172 i-i8 
 
 BOOK VI 
 
 jENEW VI 
 
 Weeping he spake, and gave his fleet the rein, 
 And to Euboean Cumae's shore at length 
 Glides smoothly in. They turn prows seaward ; then 
 The anchors' tooth 'gan grip the vessels fast ; 
 The round sterns rim the beach. Outleaps amain 
 The war-host on Hesperia's strand ; some search 
 For seeds of fire hid deep in veins of flint ; 
 Some scour the wild beasts' tangled forest-lairs, 
 Or point to new-found streams. But good .^neas 
 Makes for the hill-top, where aloft sits throned 
 Apollo, and a cavern vast, the far 
 Lone haunt of the dread Sibyl, into whom 
 The'Delian bard his mighty mind and soul 
 Breathes, and unlocks the future. Even now 
 'J*Ieath Trivia's grove and golden roof they come. 
 
 Daedalus , flying from Minos' real m, 'tis said. 
 Dared on swift wings to trust him to the sky, 
 Upon his uncouth journey floated forth 
 Toward the chill Bears, and stood light-poised at last 
 On the Chalcidian hill. Here first to earth 
 
i8-4o THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 173 
 
 Restored, he dedicated to thy name, 
 
 PhcEbus, the oarage of his wings, and built 
 
 A giant temple. On the doors behold ! 
 
 The murder of Androgeos ; therewithal 
 
 The sons of Cecrops, bidden, alas ! to pay 
 
 For yearly ransom, seven of their sons' lives : 
 
 The urn stands, and the lots are drawn. Uptowers 
 
 From Ocean, fronting it, the Gnosian land : 
 
 Here her fell love of the bull, Pasiphae 
 
 Mated by cunning, and, that mongrel-birth, 
 
 The Miac ^ur, a twy-formed offspring, stands. 
 
 Record of monstrous passion ; here was that 
 
 Laborious dwelling with the wandering maze, 
 
 Inextricable, but that Daedalus, 
 
 Pitying the princess' mighty passion, solved 
 
 Himself the riddle of its winding paths, 
 
 Guiding blind footsteps with a thread. Thou too 
 
 In such a work hadst borne a mighty part. 
 
 Had grief allowed, O Icarus. Thy fall 
 
 Twice had he sought in gold to fashion, twice 
 
 The fathers' hands dropped. Ay, and still their eyes 
 
 Had to the end perused it, were not now 
 
 Come from his quest Achates, and with him, 
 
 Priestess of Phoebus and of Trivia, 
 
 Deiphobe, the child of Glaucus, who 
 
 Thus hails the king : ' Such shows a time like this 
 
 Demands not : better were it now to slay 
 
 Seven bullocks from the unbroken herd, and ewes 
 
 Picked duly of like number.' Having thus 
 
174 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 40 61 
 
 Addressed ^neas — nor were the heroes slack 
 To do her sacred bidding — the priestess 
 Summons the Teucrians into the high fane. 
 
 The mighty face of the Eubcean rock 
 Is scooped into a cavern, whither lead 
 A hundred wide ways, and a hundred gates ; 
 Ay, and therefrom as many voices rush. 
 The answers of the Sibyl. They had gained 
 The threshold, when the maid exclaims : ' 'Tis time 
 To ask the oracles ; lo 1 the god, the god ! ' 
 Before the doors thus speaking, suddenly 
 Nor countenance, nor hue, nor braided locks 
 Stayed in one fashion : but her bosom heaves. 
 Her heart swells wild with frenzy ; and more vast 
 She seems, nor mortal rings her voice, when now 
 Touched by the nearer breath of deity. 
 ' So slack to vows and prayers,' she cries, ' so slack, 
 Trojan .(Eneas ? for the mighty mouths 
 Of the awed temple will not ope till then.' 
 So spake she, and was mute. A shudder chill 
 Ran through the Teucrians' hardy frames, the while 
 Their king from his heart's deepest pours forth prayer. 
 ' O Phoebus, who the heavy woes of Troy 
 Hast alway pitied, who erst the Dardan shaft 
 And hand of Paris didst guide against the bulk 
 Of the son of ^Eacus, at thy bidding I 
 Pierced all those seas that roam round mighty shores. 
 The far-withdrawn Massylian tribes, and fields 
 That skirt their quicksands, till at length we grasp 
 
61-83 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 175 
 
 The flying shores of Italy : thus far 
 
 Let Troy's ill fate have followed her. Ye too 
 
 May justly spare the race of Pergamus, 
 
 Gods all and goddesses, to whom Ilium 
 
 And the vast Dardan fame was an offence. 
 
 And thou most holy seer, who dost foreknow 
 
 The future, grant — I do but ask the realm 
 
 Owed to my destiny — that Teucria's sons 
 
 May rest in Latium with their wandering gods, 
 
 And storm-tossed deities of Troy. Then I 
 
 To Phoebus and to Trivia will set up 
 
 A shrine of solid marble, and holy days 
 
 In name of Phoebus. And thee too awaits 
 
 In our new realm a mighty sanctuary. 
 
 For there thine oracles and mystic dooms. 
 
 Spoke to my people, will I set, and choose 
 
 Men, and ordain them thine, gracious one. 
 
 Only to leaves commit not thou thy strains. 
 
 Lest they fly scattered, the sport of whirling v/inds ; 
 
 Chant them with thine own lips, I pray.' He made 
 
 An end of speaking. But the seer, not yet 
 
 Patient of Phoebus, in the cavern storms 
 
 Immeasurably, if haply from her breast 
 
 She may shake off the mighty god ; but he 
 
 So much the rather plies her raving mouth, 
 
 Tames her wild heart, and moulds her to his might. 
 
 And now the temple's hundred monster-gates 
 
 Ope of themselves, and through the air convey 
 
 The answers of the Sibyl : ' O thou that hast 
 
176 THE .^NEID, BOOK VI 83-106 
 
 Outborne at length the sea's vast perils, know 
 Yet worse on shore await thee. True, the sons 
 Of Dardanus to Lavinium's realm shall come ; 
 Of this care ease thy bosom ; yet shall it not 
 Rejoice them of their coming. War, grim war, 
 And Tiber foaming high with blood, I see. 
 Simois and Xanthus, and a Dorian camp 
 There shalt thou lack not ; yea, for Latium 
 E'en now a new Achilles hath been found, 
 Himself too goddess-born. Nowhere shall Juno 
 Leave haunting of the Teuci'ians, whilst by thee, 
 A suppliant in thy need through Italy, 
 What race, what city, shall be left unsued .' 
 Once more is cause of all the Teucrians' woe 
 An alien bride, once more a foreign bed. 
 Yield not to troubles, thou, but boldlier face them, 
 E'en as thy fortune suffers thee. The first 
 Pathway to safety, little as thou deemest. 
 Shall from a Grecian town appear.' In such 
 Words from the shrine doth Cumae's Sibyl chant 
 Her awful riddles, and echo through the cave. 
 In darkness shrouding truth ; so shakes the reins 
 Apollo in her raving mouth, and plies 
 Deep in her breast the goad. Soon as had ebbed 
 Her frenzy, and the frantic lips were still. 
 The hero speaks— .^Eneas : ' No phase of toil 
 To me, O maid, strange or unlooked for comes. 
 All things have I forecast, and in my mind 
 Traversed ere seen. One boon I beg : since this 
 
IO7-I30 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI lyf : 
 
 Is called the portal of the infernal king, 
 
 And the dark pool of Acheron's o verflow, 
 
 Let me to my dear sire's own presence pass ; 
 
 Teach thou the way, and ope the sacred gates. 
 
 Him I through flames and thousand following darts 
 
 Rescued upon these shoulders, and bore safe 
 
 From midst the foemen : he, my wayfellow. 
 
 Endured with me all seas, all threats of sky 
 
 And ocean, weak of body, beyond. the lot 
 
 And strength of age. Moreover he it was 
 
 Charged and implored me with this suppliant suit 
 
 Thy threshold to approach. Both son and sire 
 
 Pity, I pray thee, of thy grace ; for thou 
 
 Canst all things, nor for naught hath Hecatp 
 
 Made thee the mistress of Avernian groves. 
 
 If Orpheus could recall his loved one's shade, 
 
 Armed but with Thracian harp, and tuneful strings. 
 
 If Pollux, dying in turn, redeemed his brother. 
 
 Trod and retrod the way so oft — why speak 
 
 Of mighty Theseus, of Alcides, why .■' 
 
 My lineage also is from Jove in heaven.' 
 
 So spake he praying, and clasped the altar ; then 
 
 The seer brake silence : ' Sprung from blood of gods, 
 
 Trojan Anchises' son, easy the road 
 
 Down to Avernus : night and day the door 
 
 Of gloomy Dis stands open ; but thy steps 
 
 Back to retrace, emerge to upper air. 
 
 This is the task, the labour this. Some few. 
 
 Favoured and loved of Jupiter, or borne 
 
 N 
 
178 THE ^AEID, BOOK VI 130-153 
 
 By their own glowing virtue to the sky, 
 Sons of the gods, attained it. All between 
 Is forest-clothed, and with black-gliding coil 
 Cocytus winds about it. But if thou 
 So yearn'st at heart, if such thy longing, twice 
 Tn citpp tVip cjty^i'an pnol twice view the gloom 
 Of Tartarus ; and it please thee to give play 
 To a mad quest, hear what must first be done. 
 Hid in a tree's dark shade there lurks a bough. 
 Gold both in leaf and limber twig, and called 
 Sacred to nether Juno. All the grove 
 Hides it, by obscure valleys closed in gloom. 
 But none may probe the vaults of earth, or ere 
 He pluck the gold-tressed sapling from the tree. 
 This to be brought as her peculiar gift 
 Fair Proserpine ordained. The first torn off. 
 Fails not a second, gold no less, whose spray 
 Sprouts of the selfsame ore. So with thine eyes 
 Search deep, and, duly finding, with thy hand 
 Pluck it, for freely at a touch 'twill yield, 
 If thou art called of fate : not, otherwise, 
 By any force wilt thou prevail to win. 
 Or with hard steel to tear it. Furthermore 
 The breathless corse of one that was thy friend 
 Still lies — alas ! thou know'st not — and with death 
 Taints the whole fleet, while on our threshold here 
 Thou hoverest, seeking counsel. Him first bear 
 To his own place, and hide in tomb, and bring 
 Black cattle in expiation, before all : 
 
154-176 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 179 
 
 So shalt thou see at last the groves of Styx, v-^' 
 And realms unfooted by the living.' She 
 Spake, and was silent with closed lips. 
 
 iEneas 
 With downcast eyes and gloomy brow strides on. 
 Quitting the cave, alone with his own heart 
 Revolving hidden issues. At his side 
 Goes true Achates, with like load of care 
 Planting his footsteps. Many a thought they wove 
 In varying converse — of what lifeless friend 
 The priestess spake, what corse for burial. So 
 At length arrived, on the dry beach they see 
 Misenus, snatched by an untimely death, 
 Misenus, son of .^olus, than whom 
 None more renowned with clarion's clang to rouse 
 Heroes, and fire the war-god with his blast. 
 Great Hector he had served, at Hector's side, 
 Famous alike for trumpet and for spear. 
 Would join the fray : whom when Achilles quelled 
 And robbed of life, he, bravest of the brave* 
 Had ta'en .^neas the Dardan for his lord, 
 Following no meaner destiny. But then. 
 While with his hollow shell he thrills the main, 
 Madman, and challenges the gods to match 
 His music, Triton, if the tale be true. 
 Seized him, in jealousy, and under-sea 
 Plunged in a moment amid foaming rocks. 
 So all, around him, clamoured with loud cries, 
 And, foremost, good JEntdis. Then speedily 
 
i8o THE a: NEW, BOOK VI 176-200 
 
 The Sibyl's bidding they despatch with tears, 
 
 A funeral-altar toiling to upbuild 
 
 Of heaped boughs, and rear it to the sky. 
 
 Into an ancient forest forth they fare. 
 
 The wild beasts' lofty covert. Down go the pines, 
 
 Loud rings the ilex to the smiting axe. 
 
 And ash-trees and the splintering heart of oak 
 
 Are cleft with wedges : from the hills they roll 
 
 Huge mountain-ashes down, .^neas, no less 
 
 Foremost amid such toil, cheers on his friends. 
 
 And girds him with like weapons. Then alone 
 
 With his sad heart he ponders, gazing on 
 
 The boundless forest, and thus prays aloud : 
 
 ' If now that golden branch upon the tree 
 
 Might to our eyes in this vast grove appear ! 
 
 Since all too truly spake the prophetess 
 
 Of thee, alas ! Misenus.' Scarce had he 
 
 Uttered the word, when, as it happed, twin doves 
 
 Under his very eyes from heaven came flying. 
 
 And light on the green sod. The mighty chief. 
 
 His mother's birds discerning, prays with joy : 
 
 ' Oh ! be my guides, if any path there be, 
 
 And steer your airy course into the grove, 
 
 Where the rich bough o'ershades the fertile ground. 
 
 And our perplexity forsake not thou, 
 
 O goddess-mother.' So saying, he checked his steps, 
 
 Watching what signs they bring, their course bend 
 
 whither. 
 They, feeding, still fly forward just so far 
 
200-224 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI i8i 
 
 As the pursuer's eye might bear in sight. 
 Then, having gained Avernus' poisonous jaws, 
 Swiftly they mount, and, gliding through clear air. 
 Perch both, and settle upon the wished-for tree. 
 Flashed through whose boughs the gold's contrasting 
 
 gleam. 
 As mistletoe, when winter chills the woods, 
 Bursts into new leaf, sown on alien tree. 
 And, saffron-berried, clips the tapering trunk. 
 Such was. the seeming of that leafy gold 
 On the dark ilex ; so in the light breeze 
 Rustled the foil. .^Eneas instantly 
 Seizes and rives it from its lingering hold 
 With hungry clutch, and bears it 'neath the roof 
 Of the prophetic Sibyl. 
 
 Nor less meanwhile 
 The Teucrians on the shore bewailed Misenus, 
 Paying the last dues to the thankless dust. 
 First, rich with pine-brands, of hewn timber vast, 
 A pyre they raise, with dark leaves wreathe the sides. 
 Plant funeral-cypresses in front, above 
 Deck it with gleaming arms. Some set to heat 
 Water, and caldrons heaving on the flame, 
 And wash the death-cold body, and anoint, 
 And make loud moaning. Then the wept-for limbs 
 Upon the couch they lay, and over them 
 Cast purple robes, the well-known raiment : some, 
 Sad service, bowed them to the heavy bier, 
 And, eyes averted, their ancestral wont, 
 
1 82 THE ^NEW, BOOK VI 224-249 
 
 Applied the torch and held. The heap'd gifts blaze — 
 Frankincense, viands, and bowls of streaming oil. 
 When sank the embers, and the flame was stilled, 
 The remnant of the thirsty dust they drench 
 With wine, and Corynaeus gathered up. 
 And in a brazen casket hid, the bones. 
 He with pure water too thrice paced the round 
 Of comrades, with the light dew sprinkling them 
 From bough of fruitful olive, and purified 
 The heroes, and spake out the latest words. 
 But good .iEneas, for tomb, a mighty mound 
 Heaps o'er the hero, and his own arms, both oar 
 And trumpet, 'neath a skyey mount, which now 
 From him is called Misenus, and preserves 
 From age to age his everlasting name. 
 
 This done, with speed he girds him to fulfil 
 The Sibyl's bidding : a deep cave there was 
 With huge gape monstrous, jagged, and hemmed in 
 By the dark mere and forest's gloom, o'er which 
 Nothing that flies could wing a scathless way, 
 Such breath from the black jaws outpouring sped 
 Into the vault of heaven (from whence the Greeks 
 Have called the place Avernus). And here first 
 The priestess ranges four black-bodied bulls. 
 Pours wine upon their brows, and 'twixt the horns 
 Plucking the topmost tuft, as firstfruit, throws it 
 Into the sacred flames, calling aloud 
 On Hecate, queen both in heaven and hell. 
 Others set knives beneath them, and in bowls 
 
249-272 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 183 
 
 Catch the warm blood, .^neas a black-fleeced lamb 
 
 Unto the mother of the Eumenides 
 
 And her great sister with his own sword strikes, 
 
 A barren heifer, O Proserpine, to thee, 
 
 Then to the Stygian king in auguratgs^ 
 
 Altars by night, and casts upon the fire 
 
 Whole carcasses of bulls, pouring fat oil 
 
 Upon the blazing entrails. But behold ! 
 
 Hard upon dawn and sunrise, 'neath their feet 
 
 The ground 'gan rumble, and a-quaking fell 
 
 The forest-ridges, and through the gloom there seemed 
 
 Dogs howling, as the goddess drew anigh. 
 
 ' Hence, hence, unhallowed ones ! ' the priestess shrieks ; 
 
 ' From the whole grove avaunt ye I and do thou 
 
 Rush on the road, pluck sword from sheath, .(Eneas ; 
 
 Now need'st thou all thy courage and a stout heart.' 
 
 Thus far she spake, and like a fury plunged 
 
 Into the cave's mouth : he, no falterer, keeps 
 
 Pace with the steps of his advancing guide. 
 
 Gods of the spirit-realm, and voiceless shades. 
 And Chaos and Phlegethon, vast tracts of night 
 And silence, grant me, what mine ear hath heard, 
 To utter, and, with your fiat, to unfold 
 Things whelmed in darkness and the under-world. 
 
 On strode they blindly through the gloom, beneath 
 The solitar}'- night, through the void halls 
 And ghostly realms of Dis : as men may walk 
 The wood-way 'neath a coy moon's grudging light, 
 When Jupiter with shade had curtained heaven, 
 
i84 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 272-294 
 
 And black night of her colour robs the world. 
 
 Frontinsj the portal, even in Orcus' jaws, 
 
 Grief and avenging Cares have made their bed ; 
 
 And pale Diseases house, and dolorous Eld, 
 
 An d Fe_ar and Famine, counsellor of crime, 
 
 A nd loathly Want, shapes terrible to vi ew. 
 
 Ari d Death and Travail, and, Death's own brot her, 
 
 Sleep, 
 And the soul's guilty joys, and murderous War, 
 Full on the threshold, and the iron cells 
 Of the Eume nides, and mad Discord, who 
 With blood-stained fillet wreathes her snaky locks. 
 Spreads in the midst her boughs and aged arms 
 An elm, huge, shadowy, where vain dreams, 'tis 
 
 said. 
 Are wont to roost them, under every leaf 
 Close -clinging : and many a monster-form beside 
 Of various beasts — Centaurs against the door 
 Are stalled, and twy-formed Scyllas, and Briareus, 
 He of the hundred hands, and Lerna's brute 
 _Horribly hissing, Chimaera armed with flames, 
 Gorgons and Hji;pies,,and the shadowy shape 
 Three-bodied. Here, in a tremor of sudden fear, 
 Grasped at his sword .(Eneas, and with bare edge 
 Opposed their coming, and, but for warning word 
 From his wise comrade that they were but thin 
 Unbodied lives, flitting 'neath hollow shows 
 Of form, he would rush on them, and be cleaving 
 Shadows in twain with ineffectual sword. 
 
295-320 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 185 
 
 Hence runs a road to the Tartarean waves 
 Of Acheron leading, where his eddying gulf, 
 Seething with mud and a wild whirlpool, boils. 
 Into Gocytus belching all his sand. 
 T hese floods a nd waters a grim ferryman guards. 
 Of hideous sgualo rj^ Charonj_on whose chin 
 Lies a thick grizzle, all untrimmed ; his eyes 
 Are orbs of staring fire, and by a knot 
 Hangs from his shoulders a soil'd garb. Himself 
 Plies with ajgoleJiis_craft, and tends the sails, 
 Freighting with dead the dusky barge ; now old. 
 But with the age of godhead: hale and green. 
 Toward, him the whole crowd ru.shingjbods the bank ; 
 Matrons and men, and great heroic frames 
 Done with life's service, boys, unwedded girls. 
 Youths placed on pyre before their fathers' eyes : 
 As many as forest-leaves that fluttering fall 
 In the first chill of autumn, or as many 
 As birds flock shoreward from the weltering deep, 
 When the chill year, now chasing over-sea. 
 Drives them to sunny lands. T here stood they pra ying 
 Each to be first o'erferried. and st retched forth 
 Thei r hands wit h-yeaming-fof-t-h&jurther shore. 
 But the sour boatman takes now these, now those. 
 And others from the strand thrusts far aloof 
 iEneas, sore startled by the tumult, cries : 
 ' Say, maid, what means this thronging to the stream > 
 What seek the spirits ? or by what law quit these 
 The brink, skim those the leaden oar-swept tide ? ' 
 
i86 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 3^1-345 
 
 Briefly to him the aged priestess spake : 
 ' Anchises' son, sure offspring of the gods, ' 
 Cocytus' deep pools and the Stygian marsh 
 Here thou beholdest, by whose power the gods 
 Fear to swear falsely ; helpless, tombless all 
 This crowd, thou seest ; yon ferryman is Charon : 
 Those, whom the billow bears, have found a grave. 
 But o'er the dread banks and hoarse-sounding flood 
 Waft them he may not, till their bones have rest. 
 A hundred years about these shores they flit 
 And wander, then at length, their ban removed. 
 The longed-for pools revisit' Anchises' son 
 Halted, and stayed his steps, revolving much, 
 And pitying from his heart their cruel fate. 
 There — woful forms, and lacking death's last due — 
 Leucaspis he descries, and there Orontes, 
 Chief of the Lycian fleet, whom both, from Troy 
 Borne over squally seas, the South o'erwhelmed, 
 Winding in watery shroud both graft and crew. 
 
 Lo ! there the pilot Palinurus went. 
 Who late, star-gazing on their Libyan voyage, 
 Pitched from the stern had fallen amid the sea. 
 Him, when at length the sorrowing face he knew 
 Through the thick gloom, he first addressed : ' What 
 
 god, 
 O Palinurus, snatched thee from our sight, 
 And in mid ocean plunged thee ? Tell me who : 
 P'or, ne'er till then found faithless, in this one 
 Presage Apollo fooled my mind, who sang 
 
346-369 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI la; 
 
 That scathless over sea thou shouldst arrive 
 
 Ausonia's bounds. Is this his promised word ? ' 
 
 But the other : ' Nor thee did PhcEbus' tripod fail, 
 
 My chief, Anchises' son, nor any god 
 
 Plunged me in ocean : for behold ! while I 
 
 Clave to the tiller, as my charge was, and steered, 
 
 Hurled headlong, 1 tore off", with mighty force, 
 
 And dragged it with me. By the rough waves I swear 
 
 No terror seized me for myself so much 
 
 As for thy ship, lest now, of tackle shorn, 
 
 Dashed from beneath her master, she should fail 
 
 Amid such mounting billows. Three wintry nights 
 
 Over the boundless ocean-plains the South 
 
 With fury drave me : scarce, the fourth dawn, high 
 
 On a wave's crest I sighted Italy. 
 
 By inches I swam shoreward ; safety now 
 
 Was in my grasp ; had not the savage folk. 
 
 As heavy with soaked weed my, fingers' clutch 
 
 Caught at the rugged mountain-heads, with sword 
 
 Assailed, and for a prize misdeemed, me. Now 
 
 The wave holds, and. winds toss me on the beach. 
 
 But by the pleasant light and air of heaven. 
 
 And by thy sire, I pray thee, by thy hopes 
 
 In young lulus, pluck me from these ills, 
 
 O thou unconquered ! Either, for thou canst. 
 
 Cast earth on me, reseeking Velia's port. 
 
 Or, if there be a way, if any way 
 
 Thy goddess-mother show thee — for not all 
 
 Unwarranted of heaven, methinks, wouldst thou 
 
i88 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 369-392 
 
 Stem these vast waters, and the Stygian mere — 
 
 Grant to my tears thy hand, and bear me o'er 
 
 The billows with thee, that at least in death 
 
 I may' find quiet resting.' Thus he spake. 
 
 And thus the prophetess began : ' From whence, 
 
 O Palinurus, sprang this wild desire ? 
 
 Shalt thou unburied view the Stygian waves, 
 
 And the stern river of the Eumenides, 
 
 Or tread the bank unbidden ? Cease thou to hope 
 
 That heaven's fix'd doom can be unbent by prayer : 
 
 But, thy hard lot to solace, hear and heed : 
 
 For lo ! the border townsfolk far and near. 
 
 Goaded by heavenly portents, shall appease 
 
 Thy dust, and build a tomb, and to the tomb 
 
 Pay yearly offerings ; and the place shall bear 
 
 The name of Palinurus evermore.' 
 
 These words allayed his pain, and drove the grief 
 
 Awhile from his sad bosom ; and he takes 
 
 Joy in the land that is to bear his name. 
 
 So they pursue the path, and near the stream. 
 But. at that point, when from the Stygian wave 
 The boatman saw them through the silent wood 
 Moving, and striding toward the bank, he thus 
 Accosts them, and upbraids withal : ' Whoe'er 
 Thou art, that to our river comest in arms, 
 Stand, and say why thou comest, and check thy step. 
 This is the place of shades, sleep, slumberous Night ; 
 The quick on Stygian barge I may not bear. 
 Nor was it to my joy that erst I took 
 
395-415 THE ^KEID, BOOK VI 189 
 
 And sped Alcides on the watery way, 
 
 Nor Theseus and Peirithous, albeit 
 
 Both god-begotten and of unconquered strength. 
 
 He the Tartarean warder sought to enchain 
 
 Before the king's own throne, and cowering dragged 
 
 him ; 
 These from the bride-chamber of Pis es sayed 
 His queen to ravish.' Whereunto replied 
 Briefly the priestess of Amphrysus : ' Here 
 Is no such trickery : cease to storm : these arms 
 Mean not offence : let the huge gatekeeper 
 With ceaseless baying affright the bloodless ghosts ; 
 Guard Proserpine her uncle's doors from stain : 
 Lo ! here, renowned for goodness as for arms, ' , 
 Trojan ^Eneas to the nether shades 
 Of Erebus descends, to seek his sire. 
 If thee such goodness moves not to behold. 
 At least this bough — the bough which lay within 
 Her robe disclosing — canst thou not ignore.' 
 Then ebbed the swelling tide of his heart's wrath, 
 Nor further spake he. At the awful gift 
 Wondering, the doom-warld, hid from sight so long, 
 He turns the dark-blue barge, and nears the shore. 
 Then other spirits, which on the long thwarts sat. 
 Thrust forth, he clears the benches, and therewith 
 Takes vast ./Eneas on board ; groaned 'neath his 
 
 weight 
 The seamy craft, and through its chinks let in 
 The marsh- wave freely. Safe across the stream 
 
igo THE MNEID, BOOK VI 415-438 
 
 Both prince and priestess he unships at last 
 On grey-green sedges and unsightly mire ! 
 
 These are the realms huge Cerberus makes ring 
 With his three-throated baying — a monstrous bulk 
 Stretched in the cave's mouth fronting them. To him, 
 Seeing his neck now bristling with its snakes, 
 A bait the priestess throws, with honey drugged 
 And medicated meal. His triple maw 
 With ravenous hunger opening, from her hand 
 ^e caught it, and, his monster-length relaxed, 
 Lies prone, spread huge o'er all the cavern-floor. 
 The warder sunk in sleep, ^neas takes 
 The entrance, and swift quits the water's rim, 
 Renavigable never. 
 
 Forthwith are heard 
 Voices of mighty wailing, and the cry 
 Of infant souls upon the threshold's brink, 
 Whom, dowerless of sweet life, torn from the breast, 
 A dark day quelled, and plunged in bitter death. 
 Next them were those by false charge doomed to die : 
 Not that their places without lot or judge 
 Are dealt them : MinoSj^asjnquisitor, 
 Handles the urn, the silent council calls, 
 And learns the story of their lives and crimes. 
 And next have place the unhappy souls, who wrought 
 Their own end, guiltless, and flung life away. 
 Loathing the sunlight. Ah ! how fain were these 
 Now in the upper air to bide both want 
 And hardship 1 Fate forbids : the unlovely swamp 
 
439-462 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 191 
 
 Binds with its sullen wave, and pens them fast 
 
 S tyx, with her ninefold barrier poured between. 
 
 ^t far from hence, on every side outstretched, 
 
 Are shown the Mourning Fields : such name they bear. 
 
 Here, whom fell love with cruel wasting gnawed, 
 
 Close walks conceal, and myrtle-groves embower : 
 
 Their pangs e'en death removes not. There he sees 
 
 Phaedra, and Procris, Eriphyle sad, 
 
 Showing the wounds her ruthless son had dealt, 
 
 Evadne, and Pasiphae, and with these 
 
 Laodamia, and once man, now maid, 
 
 Cseneus, by fate to his old shape restored. 
 
 And, among these, Phoenician Dido roamed, 
 
 Fresh from her wound, within the mighty grove : 
 
 Whom when the Trojan hero stood anigh, 
 
 And knew, though dim through darkness- — as a man 
 
 Sees when the month is young, or thinks he sees. 
 
 The moon through clouds arising — the tears fell, 
 
 And with sweet words of love he greeted her : 
 
 ' Unhappy Dido, was the tale then true. 
 
 Brought to mine ears, that thou wert quenched in 
 
 death, 
 And with the sword hadst sought the end of all ? 
 Alas ! was I thy doomsman 1 By the stars 
 I swear, and by the gods above, and by 
 Whate'er is sacred in the under-world, 
 Right loth, O queen, was I to quit thy shore. 
 But heaven's decrees, which now to walk the shades; 
 Tracts rough, with squalor, and abysmal night, 
 
192 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 46#-4S- 
 
 Compel, then drave me with their high behests : 
 Nor could I think that I should bring thee dole 
 So deep by my departure : stay thy step : 
 Withdraw not from my gaze : whom fliest thou ? — 
 
 this 
 Of all my greetings doomed to be the last ! ' 
 E'en with such words, 'mid rising tears, ^neas 
 Her fiery soul, fierce-glancing, sought to soothe. 
 She held her looks aloof, eyes fixed on earth. 
 And at his proffered speech changed face no more, 
 Than hard flint stood she, or Marpesian rock. 
 At length she whirled away, and, still estranged. 
 Sought the green gloom, where her first lord Sychaeus 
 Echoes her grief, and gives her love for love, 
 ^neas, nathless, stunned by her cruel fate, 
 Follows with pitying tears her steps afar . 
 
 From thence he girds him to the appointed path. 
 And now the utmost fields they gain, where those 
 War-famous dwell apart. Here Tydeus meets him, 
 Parthenopaeus here, renowned in arms, 
 And the pale spectre of Adrastus ; here. 
 Much wept by those on earth, and fallen in war, 
 The Dardan chiefs, whom all in long array 
 He groaned beholding. There were Glaucus, Medon, 
 Thersilochus, Antenor's children three. 
 And Polyphetes, Ceres' priest, and, yet 
 Grasping the chariot, yet his arms, Idaeus. 
 Thronging, the souls press round him, right and left ; 
 Nor does one look suffice them : still they love 
 
4§7-5io THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 193 
 
 To linger, pace beside him, and inquire 
 His cause of coming. But the Danaan lords. 
 And Agamemnon's cohorts, when they spied 
 The hero's armour gleaming through the shade, 
 Quake with vast terror : some, turning, fled, as erst 
 They sought the ships ; some lift a meagre voice : 
 The would-be war-cry mocks their gaping mouths. 
 
 Ay, and the son of Priam here he saw, 
 Deiphobus — sore mangled all his frame. 
 Face and both hands rent cruelly, his ears 
 From the maimed temples shorn, and nostrils lopped 
 With shameful butchery. Scarce indeed he knew him. 
 Cowering and cloaking his rough chastisement. 
 Then in the oft-heard accents hailed him first : 
 ' Deiphobus, thou warrior dread, and sprung 
 From Teucer's lofty line, who listed, say, 
 To wreak such cruel vengeance, or who thus 
 Had power upon thee } To mine ears it came 
 On that last night of all, that, wearied out 
 With endless slaughter of Pelasgians, thou 
 Hadst on an heap of mingled carnage fallen. 
 Then I myself on the Rhoetean shore 
 Upreared an empty tomb, and with loud voice 
 Thrice called upon thy spirit : thy name and arms 
 Still mark the spot : thee, friend, I could not see 
 Nor lay, ere parting, in our native earth.' 
 Whereto the son of Priam : ' In naught hast thou 
 Failed me, O friend, but to Deiphobus 
 And to the dead man's shade hast quitted all 
 
 O 
 
194 THE jENEID, BOOK VI 511-533 
 
 But fate and the pernicious guilt of that 
 
 Laconian woman plunged me in this woe : 
 
 These tokens are by her bequeathed. For how 
 
 That latest night in treacherous joys we spent 
 
 Thou knowest, must e'en remember all too well. 
 
 When o'er the lofty citadel of Troy 
 
 Leapt at a bound the doom-fraught horse, and bare 
 
 Armed soldiery within its labouring womb, 
 
 She feigned a solemn dance, and, leading round 
 
 The Phrygian dames with Bacchic revelling-cries. 
 
 Held in their midst herself a mighty torch, 
 
 And called the Danai from the fortress-height. 
 
 Then I with trouble spent, weighed down with sleep, 
 
 Was holden of our ill-starred bridal bower. 
 
 Lying with deep sweet slumber overwhelmed, 
 
 Deep as the calm of death. My peerless wife 
 
 Meanwhile all arms from out the palace moves — 
 
 The true sword first from 'neath my pillow filched — 
 
 Calls Menelaus in, throws wide the door. 
 
 Hoping forsooth that to her lover this 
 
 Would prove a mighty boon, and so be quenched 
 
 The fame of old offences. Why delay ? 
 
 They burst into my chamber : joins their crew, 
 
 Prompter of crimes, the son of .^Eolus. 
 
 Ye gods, like measure to the Greeks repay. 
 
 If with pure lips I ask for vengeance. But 
 
 Come, tell in turn what chance brings hither thee, 
 
 A living man : by ocean-wanderings led, 
 
 Or at the hest of heaven ? What fortune, say. 
 
33-558 THE JLNEID, BOOK VI 195 
 
 Ipurs thee to seek the said, unsunned abodes, 
 Legions of Chaos ? ' In this interchange 
 )f talk, Aurora in her rosy car 
 
 lad crossed the mid pole on her path through heaven ; 
 Lnd haply all the allotted time they thus 
 lad wasted, but the Sibyl at his side 
 Ipake a brief warning word : ' Night comes apace,, 
 Eneas, and we with weeping wear the hours, 
 'his is the spot where splits the road in twain : 
 'he right leads to the giant walls of Dis, 
 )ur way to Elysium : but the left wreaks wroth 
 )n sinners, and to guilty Tartarus sends.' 
 )eiphobus made answer : ' Be not wroth, 
 rreat priestess ; I will hence, fill up the tale, 
 ind get me back to darkness. Go, our glory ; 
 ro, entertain a happier fate.' Thus far 
 le spake, and, speaking, turned his steps away, 
 .^neas looks swiftly back, and 'neath a rock 
 ees leftward a wide fort, with triple wall 
 ■irded : and round it a fierce torrent goes 
 If billowy fire, Tartarean Phlegethon, 
 /ho hurls the rocks in thunder : full in front 
 L vast gate, columns of solid adamant ! 
 o that no might of man, nay, not the hosts 
 If heaven avail to shatter it in war. 
 .n iron tower stands skyward, where enthroned, 
 irt with a gory robe, Tisiphone 
 uards sleeplessly the threshold, night and day. 
 [ence groans are heard,, and sound of cruel stripes 
 
196 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 558-581 
 
 And clank of iron, and trailing chains. .^Eneas 
 Stopped, and stood rooted, by the din dismayed. 
 ' What shapes of crime are here, O maiden, say ; 
 With what pains visited ? What cry so swells 
 To heaven t ' Then thus the prophetess began : 
 ' Famed Teucrian leader, no pure foot may tread 
 The accursed floor : but Hecate herself, 
 What time she set me o'er the Avernian groves. 
 Taught me the punishments of heaven, and led 
 Through all its precincts. Here — a reign of iron — 
 Rules Gnosian Rhadamanthus, of dark crimes 
 Both punisher and judge, from guilty lips 
 Extorting whatso any upon earth. 
 Exulting in the empty cheat, hath left 
 Of sins inexpiate till the hour of death. 
 Straightway Tisiphone, armed with vengeful scourge, 
 Swinges and spurns the guilty, in her left 
 Brandishing snakes, and summoning the ranks 
 Of her fell sisters. Then the awful gates 
 Open at last upon harsh-griding hinge. 
 Seest thou what warder sits before the door ? 
 
 What grim s happ crnards the thresh n1ri ? But within, 
 
 lo nster of fifty throats black-yawnin g, keeps 
 Ward a yet fiercer Hydra. Therewithal 
 Lo ! Tartarus self, that opes sheerdown, and strikes 
 Into the nether darkness, twice so far 
 As to Olympus' skyey top, and heaven, 
 The eye scans upward. Here that ancient brood 
 Of earth, the Titan children, where the bolt 
 
581-605 THE JENEID, BOOK VI 197 
 
 Felled them, lie wallowing in the deep abyss. 
 
 Here too beheld I, bodies of vast bulk, 
 
 The twin sons of Aloeus, who essayed 
 
 With rude hands to tear ope the mighty heaven. 
 
 And hurl Jove downward from his throne on high. 
 
 Ay, and I saw Salmoneus suffering still 
 
 The cruel doom that fell while aping yet 
 
 Jove's fire and thunders of Olympus : he. 
 
 Drawn by four horses, and with waving torch. 
 
 Through the Greek tribes and 'mid the streets of Elis, 
 
 Rode on in triumph and claimed the rank of gods. 
 
 Madman ! the clouds' incomparable bolt 
 
 With brass to mock and tramp of hoofed steeds ! 
 
 But through thick clouds the Sire Omnipotent 
 
 Let loose a shaft — no brand or smoky glare 
 
 Of pine-torch he — that with its mighty wind 
 
 Down drave him headlong : there too Tityos, 
 
 Nursling of Earth, all-mother, might be seen, 
 
 Whose bulk o'er nine whole acres stretched, the while 
 
 A crook-beak'd monstrous vulture, gnawing still 
 
 The imperishable liver and entrails rife 
 
 With anguish, digs for dainties, housing deep 
 
 Within his bosom, and no respite gives 
 
 To the requickened fibres. Why tell o'er 
 
 The Lapithae, Ixion, Peirithous, 
 
 On whom a black crag, ever like to slip, 
 
 Frowns and seems falling } the high festal couch 
 
 Shines golden-propped ; the feast before their eyes 
 
 Is spread with royal splendour ; hard at hand 
 
198 THE jENEID, BOOK VI 605 629 
 
 The eldest of the Furies, couched, forbids 
 
 Their fingers touch the board, and up she starts 
 
 With torch high-Hfted and loud-thundering mouth. 
 
 Those who their brethren loathed while life endured 
 
 Or smote a parent, or for client knit 
 
 The mesh of fraud, or over treasures found 
 
 Brooded alone, nor meted to their kin — 
 
 The mightiest number these — or who were slain 
 
 For loves adulterous, or to rebel arms 
 
 Clave, and feared not with masters to break faith. 
 
 Prisoned, await their doom. Seek not to learn 
 
 What doom, what phase or fate, hath whelmed them. 
 
 Some 
 Roll a vast stone, or racked on wheel-spokes hang ; 
 Sits and for aye will sit unhappy Theseus ; 
 An3~Ptrtegyas, wretchedest of men, warns all. 
 And with loud voice bears witness through the shades ; 
 " Be taught, learn justice, and spurn not the gods." 
 One sold for gold his country, on her neck 
 Planted a mighty tyrant, for a bribe 
 Made laws and unmade ; one his daughter's bed 
 Assailed, banned nuptials ; all some monstrous guilt 
 Have dared, and of their daring reaped the joy. 
 Not though a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths 
 Were mine, a voice of iron, would these avail me 
 To sum in gross and single all the crimes, 
 No, nor their penalties rehearse by name.' 
 
 So Phoebus' ag^d priestess, and anon : 
 ' Up ! seize the path, fulfil the attempted task. 
 
630-653 THE jENEID, book VI 199 
 
 Speed we our steps,' she cried ; ' I see the walls 
 
 Reared by the Cyclops' forges, and the gate, 
 
 With arch confronting, where they bid us lay 
 
 The appointed tribute.' She had said, and through 
 
 Dim ways they, striding side by side, snatch up 
 
 The intervening space, and near the doors. 
 
 jEneas then takes the entrance, on his limbs 
 
 Sprinkles fresh water, and makes fast the bough 
 
 Full in the gateway. This at last performed, 
 
 The goddess' dues accomplished, they arrived 
 
 The happy region ajid green pleasaunces 
 
 Of the blest woodlands, the abode of joy. 
 
 An ampler ether with purpureal light 
 
 Clothes here the plain ; another sun than ours. 
 
 And other stars they know. Some ply their limbs 
 
 Upon the grassy wrestling-ground, and strive 
 
 In sport, and grapple on the tawny sand ; 
 
 Some, footing, beat the dance, and chaunt the lay. 
 
 Here too the Thracian priest, with trailing robe. 
 
 Makes eloquent the seven divided notes 
 
 To match their measures, and, with fingers now, 
 
 And now with comb of ivory, strikes them. Here 
 
 Are Teucer's ancient stock, a glorious line. 
 
 The high-soulcd heroes born in happier years, 
 
 Ilus, Assaracus, and Dardanus, 
 
 Founder of Troy. He marvels to behold 
 
 Their arms and ghostly chariots from afar. 
 
 The spears stand fixed in earth ; their steeds, unyoked. 
 
 Roam grazing o'er the plain. What pride had each, 
 
200 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 654-677 
 
 Alive, in arms and chariot, or what pains 
 To pasture his sleek steeds, the same no less 
 Attends them still, now hid beneath the earth. 
 Lo ! some he sees to right hand and to left 
 Feasting along the greensward, or in choir 
 Chaunting a joyous paean, 'mid a grove 
 Of perfumed bay, whence risen Eridanus 
 Rolls wide through forests of the upper world. 
 Here is the band of those who suffered wounds, 
 Fighting for country, or, while life remained. 
 Were priests and pure, or holy bards that spake 
 Things worthy Phoebus, or who sweetened life 
 With new-found arts, earning by service wrought 
 Of some to be remembered — these are all 
 With snow-white fillet bound about the brow. 
 Whom, pouring round, the Sibyl thus addressed, 
 Musaeus before all, for midmost he ' 
 
 Of that vast multitude their upward gaze 
 O'ertops with towering shoulders : ' Happy shades. 
 And thou, of bards the best, what region, say. 
 What haunt, now holds Anchises ? for his sake 
 Have we come hither, and crossed the mighty floods 
 Of Erebus.' To her the hero thus 
 Brief answer made : ' No fixed abode is here ; 
 In shadowy groves we dwell, and make our home 
 The slope of banks, or freshet-quickened mead ; 
 But, tends your heart's wish thither, mount this ridge : 
 Soon will I set you on an easy track.' 
 He spake and strode before, and from the height 
 
677-700 THE MNEID, BOOK VI 201 
 
 Shows them the shining levels ; thereupon 
 The mountain-tops they quit. 
 
 But Sire Anchises 
 Deep in a verdant dell with busy thought 
 Surveyed the souls there prisoned, thence to pass 
 Up to the light of heaven, and, as it chanced, 
 Was telling o'er the tale of all his kin, 
 The well-loved offspring of his seed to be. 
 Their fates, their fortunes, characters, and deeds. 
 But when advancing towards him o'er the sward 
 He saw ^neas, both eager palms he stretched, 
 And his cheeks ran with tears, and from his lips 
 This utterance fell : ' And art thou come at last, 
 And has the love long looked for by thy sire 
 Conquered the toilsome road ? May I behold 
 Thy face, my son, and hear the well-known voice 
 And answer .■' So indeed with pondering heart 
 I deemed that it would be, counting the days ; 
 Nor did my longing cheat me. O'er what lands 
 And what vast seas art borne to my embrace. 
 Tossed by what perils, O my son ! What fears 
 Had I lest Libya's realm should prove thy bane ! ' 
 But he : 'It was thy mournful shade, my sire, 
 Ay thine, so oft appearing, drave me toward 
 These portals. Our ships ride the Tuscan main. 
 Give, father, give me thy fight hand to clasp, 
 Nor from my arms withdraw thee.' Thus he spake. 
 Bathing his face, the while, with floods of tears. 
 Thrice, as he stood, his arms he sought to cast 
 
202 THE ^NEID, BOOK VT 700 725 
 
 About his neck ; and thrice the baffled hands 
 Closed upon nothing, and a form that fled, 
 Like to light breezes, one with wingM sleep. 
 
 Meanwhile ^neas within the vale's recess 
 Spies a sequestered grove, wood-whispering brakes, 
 And therewith Lethe-river, that flows by 
 The dwellings of repose. Here, round about. 
 Nations and peoples without number flew ; 
 Even as in cloudless summer, when the bees 
 Settling on meadow-flowers, now this, now that, 
 Stream o'er the milk-white lilies, all the plain 
 Hums with their buzzing. At the sudden sight 
 .(Eneas starts, and witless asks the cause. 
 And what those floods afar, and who be they 
 That throng the banks in multitude so vast. 
 Then Sire Anchises : ' Souls, to whom are owed 
 By fate new bodies, there by Lethe's stream 
 Drink heedless draughts of long forgetfulness. 
 These to tell o'er and show thee face to face 
 Long have I yearned, and count my seed to be, 
 That thou the rather may'st my joy partake 
 In Italy new-found.' ' And must we deem. 
 Father, some spirits, borne heavenward hence aloft, 
 Turn back to their dull bodies, so fondly crave 
 The light, poor souls ? ' 'I will e'en tell thee, son. 
 Ay, nor prolong thy doubt' Anchises then 
 Takes up the tale, and point by point reveals. 
 
 ' Know first that heaven, the earth, the watery plains, 
 The moon's bright orb, and Titan's starry sphere — 
 
726 751 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 203 
 
 These doth a spirit inly feed ; a mind, 
 
 Its limbs pervading, stirs the whole mass through 
 
 And with the vast frame mingles. Hence arise 
 
 Mankind, and beastkind, wingM life, and what 
 
 The sea bears monstrous 'neath his marble floor. 
 
 Of fiery vigour, heavenly source those gernis. 
 
 Save as impaired by flesh corruptible, 
 
 Dulled with frames earthy, and limbs prone to death. 
 
 Hence they desire, and fear, and grieve, and joy. 
 
 Nor light of heaven can they discern,, shut fast 
 
 In the blind darkness of their prison-house. 
 
 Nay, nor when life with its last beam departs, 
 
 Doth every ill, or all the body's plagues. 
 
 Ah ! hapless, leave them wholly ; many a blot 
 
 Must, long ingrained there, cling in wondrous wise. 
 
 Therefore, by sorrow schooled, of their old ills 
 
 They pay the punishment : some hang exposed 
 
 To the void winds ; some have the dye of guilt 
 
 Purged in vast whirlpool, or burnt out with fire. 
 
 Each his own shade we suffer — and then are sent 
 
 To range Elysium, and, some few, possess 
 
 Those happy fields — suffer, till lapse of time. 
 
 Now run full circle, shall eradicate 
 
 Each inbred blemish, and leave naught behind 
 
 But sense setherikl and pure spirit-fire. 
 
 These, having whirled a thousand years away, 
 
 Are in a vast throng summoned all by God 
 
 To Lethe's stream, that, memory lost, they may 
 
 Heaven's vault revisit, and a wish beget 
 
204 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI 7Si~774 
 
 Into the body to return once more.' 
 
 Anchises ceased, and drawing thence his son 
 And eke the Sibyl into the mid press 
 And murmuring throng, takes stand upon a mound 
 Whence in long line he might peruse them all, 
 Full face, and learn their features, as they came. 
 
 ' Come now, the Dardan offspring, and their fame 
 Hereafter following, from Italian stock 
 What seed awaits thee, spirits of renown. 
 Heirs of our name, I will unfold in words, 
 Thy fortunes teach thee. Yonder, whom thou seest, 
 A youth, and leaning on a headless spear, 
 Nearest to light hath drawn a place ; he first 
 From the mixed strain of Italy shall rise 
 Into the air of heaven, an Alban name, 
 Silvius, thy youngest offspring, whom, late-born, 
 Child of old age, thy wife Lavinia 
 Shall in the forest rear to be a king 
 And sire of kings, from whom our race shall rule 
 In Alba Longa. Procas next to him. 
 Glory of Trojan race, and Capys too. 
 And Numitor, and, second of thy name, 
 Silvius .i^neas, excellent alike 
 In goodness and in arms, if ever he 
 Come to his Alban kingdom. Lo ! what men ! 
 What might, see, in their bearing ! and their brows 
 With civic oak o'ershadowed ! These for thee 
 Nomentum, Gabii, and Fidenae's town. 
 These towered Collatium on the hills shall rear, 
 
775-796 THE ^NEID, BOOK VI. 205, 
 
 Pometia, and the fort of Inuus, 
 
 Bola, and Cora. Those shall then be names, 
 
 Now nameless lands. Ay, and the son of Mars 
 
 Shall join him to his grandsire — Romulus, 
 
 Reared by his mother Ilia from thy blood, 
 
 Assaracus. Seest how the twin plumes stand 
 
 Upon his crest, and how his sire e'en now 
 
 By his own token marks him for a god .'' 
 
 Lo! 'neath his auspices yon glorious Rome 
 
 Shall bound, my son, her empire with the world, 
 
 Her pride with heaven, and with encircling wall 
 
 Clasp to her single heart the sevenfold hills, 
 
 Blest in a breed of heroes : even as when 
 
 The Berecyntian mother in her car 
 
 Rides through the Phrygian cities, turret-crowned, 
 
 Glad in her brood of godhead, as she clasps 
 
 A hundred children's children, dwellers all 
 
 In heaven, and tenants of the heights above. 
 
 Both eyes turn hither now, this race behold. 
 
 Thine own, the Romans. Here is Caesar, here 
 
 The whole line of lulus, that shall pass 
 
 One day beneath the mighty pole of heaven. 
 
 This, this the man so oft foretold to thee, 
 
 Csesar Augustus, a god's son, who shall 
 
 The golden age rebuild through Latian fields 
 
 Once ruled by Saturn, and push far his sway 
 
 O'er Garamantians and the tribes of Ind, 
 
 A land that lies beyond the stars, beyond 
 
 The year's path and the sun's, where, prop of heaven. 
 
2o6 THE JENEJD, BOOK VI 796-819 
 
 Atlas upon his shoulder turns the pole, 
 
 Studded with burning constellations. See ! 
 
 Even now, against his coming, Caspian realms 
 
 At the gods' omens shudder ; ay, and plains 
 
 MjEotic and the mouths of sevenfold Nile 
 
 Quake and are troubled. Not Alcides even 
 
 Traversed so much of earth, I trow, albeit 
 
 The brazen-footed hind he pierced, and stilled 
 
 The Erymanthian groves, and with his bow 
 
 Affrighted Lerna ; nay, nor he, who drives 
 
 His car with reins of vine-leaf, Liber, guiding 
 
 From Nysa's lofty crest his tiger-team. 
 
 And still by prowess to spread wide our power 
 
 Doubt we, and doth fear hinder us to tread 
 
 Ausonia's land .' But who is he afar 
 
 With olive-boughs conspicuous, in his hand 
 
 Vessels of sacrifice } I recognise 
 
 The locks and hoar beard of the Roman king, 
 
 Who shall the rising city base on law, 
 
 From lowly Cures and a land of need 
 
 Launched on a mighty empire. Next in turn 
 
 Comes Tullus, who shall break his country's peace. 
 
 And stir ease-sunken warriors to the fray. 
 
 And ranks disused to triumphs ; and hard on him 
 
 Ancus, o'erboastful, and too much e'en now 
 
 Caught by the breath of the vain multitude. 
 
 Wouldst see the Tarquin kings too, the proud soul 
 
 Of Brutus the avenger, and the rods 
 
 Of power retrieved .? He first, with consul's sway. 
 
819-840 THE yENEID, BOOK VI 207 
 
 Shall the stern axes wield, and his own sons,. 
 
 New strife upstirring, for fair freedom's sake, 
 
 Bid to their doom, unhappy one !, Howe'er 
 
 Censured in after time, his country's love 
 
 And boundless thirst for honour shall prevail. 
 
 The Decii and the Drusi too behold 
 
 Far off, Torquatus cruel with his axe, 
 
 Camillus bringing home the standards. Those 
 
 Whom yonder glittering in like arms thou seest, 
 
 Of one heart now and while in darkness penned, 
 
 Let but their eyes attain the light, alas ! 
 
 Each against each, what wars will they provoke, 
 
 What stricken fields and carnage 1 From the Alps 
 
 Heaped barriers and Monoecus' citadel 
 
 The sire descending, while his daughter's lord 
 
 Confronts him with the armies of the East ! 
 
 Make not a home within your hearts, my sons. 
 
 For strifes so cruel, nor the broad thews, she bred. 
 
 Bend at your country's bosom. And thou first 
 
 Forbear, who from Olympus dost derive. 
 
 Fling from thine hand the weapons, O my blood ! 
 
 He yonder to the Capitol on high 
 
 Shall drive his victor chariot, triumphing 
 
 O'er Corinth, for Achaean slaughter fanied. 
 
 He Argos and Mycenae shall uproot. 
 
 City of Agamemnon, and the heir 
 
 Of .iEacus himself, from war-renowned 
 
 Achilles sprung, his ancestors of Troy 
 
 Avenging and Minerva's outraged shrine 
 
2o8 THE JENEID, BOOK VI 841 863 
 
 Who thee, great Cato, would to silence leave, 
 Or thee, O Cossus ? who the Gracchan clan, 
 ^ Or the two Scipios, thunderbolts of war, 
 The bane of Libya, or Fabricius 
 Puissant in poverty, or thee, Serranus, 
 Sowing amid the furrow ? I am spent. 
 And whither whirl ye me, O Fabii ? 
 Thou art that Maximus, our mightiest, who 
 Alone by loitering dost the State restore. 
 Others the breathing brass shall softlier mould, 
 I doubt not, draw the lineaments of life 
 From ,marble, at the bar plead better, trace 
 With rod the courses of the sky, or tell 
 The rise of stars : remember, Roman, thou 
 To rule the nations as their master : these 
 Thine arts shall be, to engraft the la v of peace, 
 Forbear the conquered, and war down the proud.' 
 
 So Sire Anchises in their wondering ears 
 Spake, and yet further : ' How Marcellus strides, 
 Look you, conspicuous with the splendid spoils, 
 Triumphant, and o'ertowering all men ! he 
 Shall stay Rome's empire, when invasion's storm 
 Beats fiercely, ride the Carthaginian down, 
 Ay, and the rebel Gaul, and dedicate 
 To Sire Quirinus the thrice-taken spoils.' 
 And here JE,r\eas, for at his side he saw 
 A youth of peerless form in radiant arms 
 Pacing, but with unjoyful brow, and glance 
 Dejected : ' Who is he, my sire, who thus 
 
863-88; THE ^NEID, BOOK VI ■2cx) 
 
 Attends the hero as he steps ? A son, 
 
 Or later offspring of his mighty race ? 
 
 What buzzing crowds about them ! his own mould 
 
 How mighty ! but black night around his head 
 
 Hovers with gloortiy shade.' Then Sire Anchises 
 
 With starting tears began : ' Seek not, my son, 
 
 To know thy kin's vast sorrow ; him to earth 
 
 Fate shall but show, nor grant a longer stay. 
 
 Too potent in your eyes, O gods, had seemed 
 
 The Roman stock, were such gifts given to keep. 
 
 What wail of heroes shall that field of Mars 
 
 Waft to his mighty city! what funeral-train 
 
 Shalt thou behold, O Tiber, as thy stream 
 
 Flows by the new-made tomb ! No boy e'er bred 
 
 Of Ilian race shall to such height of hope 
 
 Uplift his Lati"n sires, nor e'er the soil 
 
 Of Romulus so boast her of a son. 
 
 Mourn for his goodness, for his old-world faith, 
 
 His hand in war unconquered ! Man to man. 
 
 None could have grappled him unscathed, on foot 
 
 Strode he against the foeman, or with spur 
 
 Goaded the red flanks of his foaming steed. 
 
 O boy, our sorrow, if any way thou couldst 
 
 Burst the harsh bonds that doom thee, thou shalt be 
 
 Marcellus. Bring me lilies with full hands, 
 
 The bright flowers let me strew, these gifts at least 
 
 Heap o'er his shade, and the vain tribute pay.' 
 
 So here and there, through the whole realm of mist, 
 In its broad fields they roam, sui'veying all. 
 
 P 
 
210 THE ACNEID, BOOK VI 888-901 
 
 And when Anchises had from end to end 
 
 Guided his son, and fired his soul with love 
 
 Of future fame, thereafter he makes known 
 
 What wars must next be waged, and teaches him 
 
 Of tribes Laurentian, and Latinus' town. 
 
 And how to shun or suffer every toil. 
 
 There are twin gates of Sleep, whereof the one 
 
 Of horn is rumoured, and real spirits thereby 
 
 Win easy outlet ; the other finished fair 
 
 Of gleaming ivory, but false dreams are thence 
 
 Sent by the Manes to the world above. 
 
 There with these words Anchises, following forth 
 
 His son and eke the Sibyl, sees them pass 
 
 Out at the ivory gate : the hero speeds 
 
 Fleetward, returning to his friends, then steers 
 
 Straight for Caieta's port along the shore : 
 
 The prows drop anchor ; the sterns press the beach. 
 
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