But when they first paused from the feast, lo! men set great bowls upon the table and filled them to the brim with wine. Then did the queen call for a great vessel of gold, with many jewels upon it, from which Belus, and all the kings from Belus, had drunk, and called for wine, and having filled it she cried, “O Jupiter, whom they call the god of hosts and guests, cause that this be a day of joy for the men of Troy and for them of Tyre, and that our children remember it for ever. Also, Bacchus, giver of joy, be present, and kindly Juno.” And when she had touched the wine with her lips, she handed the great cup to Prince Bitias, who drank thereout a mighty draught, and the other princes after him. Then the minstrel Iopas, whom Atlas himself had taught, sang to the harp, of the moon, how she goes on her way, and of the sun, how his light is darkened. He sang also of men, and of the beasts of the field, whence they come; and of the stars, Arcturus, and the Greater Bear and the Less, and the Hyades; and of the winter sun, why he hastens to dip himself in the ocean; and of the winter nights, why they tarry so long. The queen also talked much of the story of Troy, of Priam, and of Hector, asking many things, as of the arms of Memnon, and of the horses of Diomed, and of Achilles, how great he was. And at last she said to Æneas, “Tell us now thy story, how Troy was taken, and thy wanderings over land and sea.” And Æneas made answer, “Nay, O Queen, but thou biddest me renew a sorrow unspeakable. Yet, if thou art minded to hear these things, hearken.” And he told her all that had befallen him, even to the day when his father Anchises died.
CHAPTER IX.
THE LOVE AND DEATH OF DIDO.
Much was Queen Dido moved by the story, and much did she marvel at him that told it, and scarce could sleep for thinking of him. And the next day she spake to Anna, her sister, “O my sister, I have been troubled this night with ill dreams, and my heart is disquieted within me. What a man is this stranger that hath come to our shores! How noble of mien! How bold in war! Sure I am that he is of the sons of the Gods. What fortunes have been his! Of what wars he told us! Surely were I not steadfastly purposed that I would not yoke me again in marriage, this were the man to whom I might yield. Only he—for I will tell thee the truth, my sister—only he, since the day when Sichæus died by his brother’s hand, hath moved my heart. But may the earth swallow me up, or the almighty Father strike me with lightning, ere I stoop to such baseness. The husband of my youth hath carried with him my love, and he shall keep it in his grave.”
So she spake, with many tears. And her sister made answer, “Why wilt thou waste thy youth in sorrow, without child or husband? Thinkest thou that there is care or remembrance of such things in the grave? No suitors indeed have pleased thee here or in Tyre, but wilt thou also contend with a love that is after thine own heart? Think too of the nations among whom thou dwellest, how fierce they are, and of thy brother at Tyre, what he threatens against thee. Surely it was by the will of the Gods, and of Juno chiefly, that the ships of Troy came hither. And this city, which thou buildest, to what greatness will it grow if only thou wilt make for thyself such alliance! How great will be the glory of Carthage if the strength of Troy be joined unto her! Only do thou pray to the Gods and offer sacrifices; and, for the present, seeing that the time of sailing is now past, make excuse that these strangers tarry with thee awhile.”
Thus did Anna comfort her sister and encourage her. And first the two offered sacrifice to the Gods, chiefly to Juno, who careth for the bond of marriage. Also, examining the entrails of slain beasts, they sought to learn the things that should happen thereafter. And ever Dido would company with Æneas, leading him about the walls of the city which she builded. And often she would begin to speak and stay in the midst of her words. And when even was come, she would hear again and again at the banquet the tale of Troy, and while others slept would watch, and while he was far away would seem to see him and to hear him. Ascanius, too, she would embrace for love of his father, if so she might cheat her own heart. But the work of the city was stayed meanwhile; nor did the towers rise in their places, nor the youth practise themselves in arms.
Then Juno, seeing how it fared with the queen, spake to Venus, “Are ye satisfied with your victory, thou and thy son, that ye have vanquished the two of you one woman? Well I knew that thou fearedst lest this Carthage should harm thy favourite. But why should there be war between us? Thou hast what thou seekedst. Let us make alliance. Let Dido obey a Phrygian husband, and bring the men of Tyre as her dowry.”
But Venus knew that she spake with ill intent, to the end that the men of Troy should not reign in the land of Italy. Nevertheless she dissembled with her tongue, and spake, “Who would not rather have peace with thee than war? Only I doubt whether this thing shall be to the pleasure of Jupiter. This thou must learn, seeing that thou art his wife, and where thou leadest I will follow.”
So the two, taking counsel together, ordered things in this wise. The next day a great hunting was prepared. For as soon as ever the sun was risen upon the earth, the youth of the city assembled, with nets and hunting spears and dogs that ran by scent. And the princes of Carthage waited for the queen at the palace door, where her horse stood champing the bit, with trappings of purple and gold. And after a while she came forth, with many following her. And she had upon her a Sidonian mantle, with a border wrought with divers colours; of gold was her quiver, and of gold the knot of her hair, and of gold the clasp to her mantle. Æneas likewise came forth, beautiful as is Apollo when he leaveth Lydia and the stream of Xanthus, coming to Delos, and hath about his hair a wreath of bay-leaves and a circlet of gold. So fair was Æneas to see. And when the hunters came to the hills they found great store of goats and stags, which they chased. And of all the company Ascanius was the foremost, thinking scorn of such hunting, and wishing that a wild boar or a lion out of the hills should come forth to be his prey.
And now befell a great storm, with much thunder and hail, from which the hunters sought shelter. But Æneas and the queen, being left of all their company, came together to the same cave. And there they plighted their troth one to another. Nor did the queen after that make secret of her love, but called Æneas her husband.
Straightway went Rumour and told these things through the cities of Libya. Now Rumour, men say, is the youngest daughter of Earth, a marvellous creature, moving very swiftly with feet and wings, and having many feathers upon her, and under every feather an eye and a tongue and a mouth and an ear. In the night she flies between heaven and earth, and sleepeth not; and in the day she sits on some house-top or lofty tower, or spreads fear over mighty cities; and she loveth that which is false even as she loveth that which is true. So now she went telling through Libya how Æneas of Troy was come, and Dido was wedded to him, and how they lived careless and at ease, and thinking not of the work to which they were called.
And first of all she went to Prince Iarbas, who himself had sought Dido in marriage. And Iarbas was very wroth when he heard it, and, coming to the temple of Jupiter, spread his grief before the god, how that he had given a place on his coasts to this Dido, and would have taken her to wife, but that she had married a stranger from Phrygia, another Paris, whose dress and adornments were of a woman rather than of a man.
And Jupiter saw that this was so, and he said to Mercury, who was his messenger, “Go speak to Æneas these words: ‘Thus saith the King of Gods and men. Is this what thy mother promised of thee, twice saving thee from the spear of the Greeks? Art thou he that shall rule Italy and its mighty men of war, and spread thy dominion to the ends of the world? If thou thyself forgettest these things, dost thou grudge to thy son the citadels of Rome? What doest thou here? Why lookest thou not to Italy? Depart and tarry not.’”
Then Mercury fitted the winged sandals to his feet, and took the wand with which he driveth the spirits of the dead, and came right soon to Mount Atlas, which standeth bearing the heaven on his head, and having always clouds about his top, and snow upon his shoulders, and a beard that is stiff with ice. There Mercury stood awhile; then, as a bird which seeks its prey in the sea, shot headlong down, and came to Æneas where he stood, with a yellow jasper in his sword-hilt, and a cloak of purple shot with gold about his shoulders, and spake: “Buildest thou Carthage, forgetting thine own work? The almighty Father saith to thee, ‘What meanest thou? Why tarriest thou here? If thou carest not for thyself, yet think of thy son, and that the Fates have given to him Italy and Rome.’”
And Æneas saw him no more. And he stood stricken with fear and doubt. Fain would he obey the voice, and go as the Gods commanded. But how should he tell this purpose to the queen? But at the last it seemed good to him to call certain of the chiefs, as Mnestheus, and Sergestus, and Antheus, and bid them make ready the ships in silence, and gather together the people, but dissemble the cause, and he himself would watch a fitting time to speak and unfold the matter to the queen.
Yet was not Dido deceived, for love is keen of sight. Rumour also told her that they made ready the ships for sailing. Then, flying through the city, even as one on whom has come the frenzy of Bacchus flies by night over Mount Cithæron, she came upon Æneas, and spake: “Thoughtest thou to hide thy crime, and to depart in silence from this land? Carest thou not for her whom thou leavest to die? And hast thou no fear of winter storms that vex the sea? By all that I have done for thee and given thee, if there be yet any place for repentance, repent thee of this purpose. For thy sake I suffer the wrath of the princes of Libya and of my own people; and if thou leavest me, for what should I live?—till my brother overthrow my city, or Iarbas carry me away captive? If but I had a little Æneas to play in my halls I should not seem so altogether desolate.”
But Æneas, fearing the words of Jupiter, stood with eyes that relented not. At the last he spake: “I deny not, O Queen, the benefits that thou hast done unto me, nor ever, while I live, shall I forget Dido. I sought not to fly by stealth; yet did I never promise that I would abide in this place. Could I have chosen according to my will I had built again the city of Troy where it stood; but the Gods command that I should seek Italy. Thou hast thy Carthage: why dost thou grudge Italy to us? Nor may I tarry. Night after night have I seen my father Anchises warning me in dreams. Also even now the messenger of Jupiter came to me—with these ears I heard him—and bade me depart.”
Then, in great wrath, with eyes askance, did Dido break forth upon him: “Surely no goddess was thy mother, nor art thou come of the race of Dardanus. The rocks of Caucasus brought thee forth, and an Hyrcanian tigress gave thee suck. For why should I dissemble? Was he moved at all by tears? Did he pity my love? Nay, the very Gods are against me. This man I took to myself when he was shipwrecked and ready to perish. I brought back his ships, his companions from destruction. And now forsooth comes the messenger of Jupiter with dreadful commands from the Gods. As for thee, I keep thee not. Go, seek thy Italy across the seas: only, if there is any vengeance in heaven, thou wilt pay the penalty for this wrong, being wrecked on some rock in their midst. Then wilt thou call on Dido in vain. Aye, and wherever thou shalt go I will haunt thee, and rejoice in the dwellings below to hear thy doom.”
Then she turned, and hasted to go into the house. But her spirit left her, so that her maidens bare her to her chamber and laid her on her bed.
Then Æneas, though indeed he was much troubled in heart, and would fain have comforted the queen, was obedient to the heavenly word, and departed to his ships. And the men of Troy busied themselves in making them ready for the voyage. Even as the ants spoil a great heap of corn and store it in their dwellings against winter, moving in a black line across the field, and some carry the great grains, and some chide those that linger, even so did the Trojans swarm along the ways and labour at the work.
But when Dido saw it she called to Anna, her sister, and said, “Seest thou how they hasten the work along the shore? Even now the sails are ready for the winds, and the sailors have wreathed the ships with garlands, as if for departure. Go thou—the deceiver always trusted thee, and thou knowest how best to move him—go and entreat him. I harmed not him nor his people; let him then grant me this only. Let him wait for a fairer time for his journey. I ask not that he give up his purpose; only that he grant me a short breathing space, till I may learn how to bear this sorrow.”
And Anna hearkened to her sister, and took the message to Æneas, yet profited nothing, for the Gods shut his ears that he should not hear. Even as an oak stands firm when the north wind would root it up from the earth—its leaves are scattered all around, yet doth it remain firm, for its roots go down to the regions below, even as far as its branches reach to heaven—so stood Æneas firm, and, though he wept many tears, changed not his purpose.
Then did Dido grow weary of her life. For when she did sacrifice the pure water would grow black and the wine be changed into blood. Also from the shrine of her husband, which was in the midst of her palace, was heard a voice calling her, and the owl cried aloud from her house-top. And in her dreams the cruel Æneas seemed to drive her before him; or she seemed to be going a long way with none to bear her company, and be seeking her own people in a land that was desert. Therefore, hiding the thing that was in her heart, she spake to her sister, saying, “I have found a way, my sister, that shall bring him back to me or set me free from him. Near the shore of the Great Sea, where the Æthiopians dwell, is a priestess, who guards the temple of the daughters of Hesperus, being wont to feed the dragons that kept the apples of gold. She is able by her charms to loose the heart from care or to bind it, and to stay rivers also, and to turn the courses of the stars, and to call up the spirits of the dead. Do thou, therefore—for this is what the priestess commands—build a pile in the open court, and put thereon the sword which he left hanging in our chamber, and the garments he wore, and the couch on which he lay, even all that was his, so that they may perish together.”
And when these things were done—for Anna knew not of her purpose—and also an image of Æneas was laid upon the pile, the priestess, with her hair unbound, called upon all the gods that dwell below, sprinkling thereon water that was drawn, she said, from the lake of Avernus, and scattering evil herbs that had been cut at the full moon with a sickle of bronze. Dido also, with one foot bare and her garments loosened, threw meal upon the fire and called upon the Gods, if haply there be any, that look upon those that love and suffer wrong.
In the mean time Æneas lay asleep in the hind part of his ship, when there appeared to him in a dream the god Mercury, even as he had seen him when he brought the commandment of Jupiter. And Mercury spake, saying, “Son of Venus, canst thou sleep? seest thou not what perils surround thee, nor hearest how the favourable west wind calls? The queen purposes evil against thee. If thou lingerest till the morning come thou wilt see the shore covered with them that wish thee harm. Fly, then, and tarry not; for a woman is ever of many minds.”
Then did Æneas in great fear start from his sleep, and call his companions, saying, “Wake, and sit on the benches, and loose the sails. ’Tis a god thus bids us fly.” And even as he spake he cut the cable with his sword. And all hasted to follow him, and sped over the sea.
And now it was morning, and Queen Dido, from her watch-tower, saw the ships upon the sea. Then she smote upon her breast and tore her hair, and cried, “Shall this stranger mock us thus? Hasten to follow him. Bring down the ships from the docks, make ready sword and fire. And this was the man who bare upon his shoulders his aged father! Why did I not tear him to pieces, and slay his companions with the sword, and serve up the young Ascanius at his meal? And if I had perished, what then? for I die to-day. O Sun, that regardest all the earth, and Juno, that carest for marriage bonds, and Hecate, Queen of the dead, and ye Furies that take vengeance on evildoers, hear me. If it be ordered that he reach this land, yet grant that he suffer many things from his enemies, and be driven from his city, and beg for help from strangers, and see his people cruelly slain with the sword; and, when he shall have made peace on ill conditions, that he enjoy not long his kingdom, but die before his day, and lie unburied on the plain. And ye, men of Tyre, hate his children and his people for ever. Let there be no love or peace between you. And may some avenger arise from my grave who shall persecute the race of Dardanus with fire and sword. So shall there be war for ever between him and me.”
Then she spake to old Barcé, who had been nurse to her husband Sichæus, “Bid my sister bathe herself in water, and bring with her beasts for sacrifice. And do thou also put a garland about thy head, for I am minded to finish this sacrifice which I have begun, and to burn the image of the man of Troy.”
And when the old woman made haste to do her bidding, Queen Dido ran to the court where the pile was made for the burning, and mounted on the pile, and drew the sword of Æneas from the scabbard. Then did she throw herself upon the bed, and cry, “Now do I yield up my life. I have finished my course. I have built a mighty city. I have avenged my husband on him that slew him. Happy had I been, yea too happy! had the ships of Troy never come to this land.” Then she kissed the bed and cried, “Shall I die unavenged? Nevertheless let me die. The man of Troy shall see this fire from the sea whereon he journeys, and carry with him an augury of death.”
And when her maidens looked, lo! she had fallen upon the sword, and the blood was upon her hands. And a great cry went up through the palace, exceeding loud and bitter, even as if the enemy had taken Carthage or ancient Tyre, and the fire were mounting over the dwellings of men and of Gods. And Anna her sister heard it, and rushing through the midst called her by name, “O my sister, was this thy purpose? Were the pile and the sword and the fire for this? Why wouldst thou not suffer that I should die with thee? For surely, my sister, thou hast slain thyself, and me, and thy people, and thy city. But give me water, ye maidens, that I may wash her wounds, and if there be any breath left in her, we may yet stay it.”
Then she climbed on to the pile, and caught her sister in her arms, and sought to staunch the blood with her garments. Three times did Dido strive to raise her eyes; three times did her spirit leave her. Three times she would have raised herself upon her elbow; three times she fell back upon the bed, looking with wandering eyes for the light, and groaning that she yet beheld it.
Then Juno, looking down from heaven, saw that her pain was long, and pitied her, and sent down Iris, her messenger, that she might loose the soul that struggled to be free. For, seeing that she died not by nature, nor yet by the hand of man, but before her time and of her own madness, Queen Proserpine had not shred the ringlet from her head which she shreds from them that die. Wherefore Iris, flying down with dewy wings from heaven, with a thousand colours about her from the light of the sun, stood above her head and said, “I give thee to death, even as I am bidden, and loose thee from thy body.” Then she shred the lock, and Queen Dido gave up the ghost.
CHAPTER X.
THE FUNERAL GAMES OF ANCHISES.
Now were Æneas and the men of Troy far from land. And looking back they saw a great light, nor knew what it might be; only they feared some evil hap, knowing the rage that was in Dido’s heart, and what a woman in her madness may do. And indeed the people of the queen were burning her body on the pile which she had made.
But lo! the sky grew dark overhead, and there were signs as of a great storm. And Palinurus, the pilot, cried from the stern, where he stood with the rudder in his hand, “What mean these clouds? What doest thou, Father Neptune?” And he bade the men clear the decks and put out the oars to row, and shift the sails to the wind. Then he spake to Æneas, saying, “Italy we may not hope to reach with this weather. No, not though Jupiter himself promise it to us. But, if I remember me aright, the havens of Sicily are at hand, wherefore let us turn our course thither.”
And Æneas answered, “It is well: for I see that the winds are contrary to us. And, of a truth, there is no land whither I would more gladly go, seeing that my father Anchises is buried there.”
Then they shifted their course, and let their ships run before the wind, and so came with much speed to the land of Sicily. Now Acestes, who was king of the land, was the son of a woman of Troy, and, seeing them from a hilltop, he came to meet them, having the skin of a lion on his shoulders and a javelin in his hand, and refreshed them with food and drink.
The next day at dawn Æneas called the men of Troy together, and spake, saying, “It is a full year since we buried my father in this land, and this, if I err not, is the very day: which I will that we keep holy with festival; for such, indeed, would I do were I wandering in the wilderness of Africa or shut up in Mycenæ itself. Now, therefore, seeing that we are in a land that is friendly to us, let us keep it with solemnity. And let us vow also that we will keep it year by year in the land of Italy, if so be that, having prosperous winds, we shall come thereunto. Likewise, King Acestes gives to us oxen, for every ship two: wherefore make merry and rejoice. And if the ninth day from this be fair, I will that there be games of running in a race, and of throwing the javelin, and of shooting with the bow, and of boxing, and the like. And now make ready for the sacrifice.”
Then he put upon his head a wreath of his mother’s myrtle. And old Acestes did the like, and the boy Ascanius, and the others. Then he came near to the tomb of his father, and poured out two cups of wine and two of new milk, and scattered flowers, and said, “Hail to thee, my father, whom the Gods suffered not to enter with me into the land of Italy.”
And even as he spake there came forth a great snake from the depth of the tomb. Seven coils he had, and on his body were spots of blue and gold, and as many colours as are the colours of the rainbow in the clouds. And when Æneas stood astonied, lo! the snake passed between the altars and tasted of the sacrifice and of that which had been poured out. And Æneas, doubting what this might be, made fresh offerings, two sheep, and two swine, and two black oxen, calling on the spirit of Anchises. And the men of Troy also brought gifts, and slew oxen for sacrifice, and feasted on the flesh, roasting it with fire.
And now the ninth day was come, and the sky was fair. Great was the concourse of people, for the name of King Acestes was famous in the land. Also many came to see the men of Troy, and some to strive in the games. First were the prizes put in the midst, three-footed tables for sacrifices, and crowns, and palms, and weapons, and purple garments, and talents of gold and silver; and then the trumpet sounded and called the people together.
And first of all was the race of ships. Four were they that strove together, Mnestheus with the Sea-Horse, and Gyas with the Chimæra, and Sergestus with the Centaur, and Cloanthus with the Scylla. Now far out in the sea was a rock, which is covered by the waves when the sea is rough, but stands above them if it be calm, and upon it the cormorants love to bask. Here did Æneas set a great branch of holm-oak as a goal, that the ships should round it and so return. First they cast lots for places, and the captains stood upon the sterns, in purple and gold, and the rowers had garlands of honour about their heads and were anointed with oil. Thus they sat upon the benches, holding the oars for a stroke, and their hearts beat high with hope. And when the trumpet sounded each ship leapt from its place, and the sea foamed with the strokes of many oars. And all the people shouted aloud, having favour for this or for that of the captains. And first of all came Gyas with the Chimæra, and next to him Cloanthus with the Scylla, for his men were indeed the stronger, but the ship more heavy. And after the Scylla came the Sea-Horse and the Centaur at equal speed, now this one being foremost and now that. But when they were now come near the rock, Gyas, being in the first place, cried to his helmsman Menœtes, “Why goest thou overmuch to the right? Keep thou close to the rock. Let others choose the sea if they will.” But Menœtes, fearing the hidden rocks, turned ever the prow to the sea. Then a second time cried Gyas, “Make for the rock, Menœtes.” And as he spake, the Scylla now came near, taking the inner course between the rock and his ship, and passed him by. Then was he greatly wroth and wept for rage; and laying hold of Menœtes he cast him into the sea, and himself put his hand to the helm and turned it to the rock. But Menœtes, being an old man and weighed down with his garments, hardly climbed upon the rock, and sat thereon. Loud laughed the men to see him fall, and swim, and vomit the salt water from his mouth. But when Mnestheus with the Sea-Horse, and Sergestus with the Centaur, saw what had befallen, they hoped to pass the Chimæra in the race. Eagerly strove the two together, and Mnestheus, seeing that the Centaur was yet before him in the race, ran among his men as they rowed, crying, “O my friends whom I chose to be my comrades, quit ye like men, even as ye did in the seas of Africa and the Ionian waves. The first place I seek not, but last I would not return.” And the men strove with all their might, bending forward to the stroke. And even then chance gave them that which they desired. For the Centaur, being steered too close, struck on a jutting piece of the rock, and the oars were broken, and the prow stuck fast. And while the men, with poles and the like, were thrusting her forth, Mnestheus with the Sea-Horse had gained the open sea. And first he overtakes Gyas in the Chimæra, and vanquishes it, seeing that it had lost its helmsman. And now only Cloanthus with the Scylla remains, and upon him also he presses hard. Then did all the people cry aloud, bidding Mnestheus make good speed that he might take the first place. And the one were loath to lose that which they had gained, and the others having done much would do yet more, and would give their lives so that they might prevail. And now, perchance, had the two been equal for the first prize, but Cloanthus stretched forth his hands to the sea and prayed to the Gods that have power therein. “Gods of the sea, wherein I hold my course, help me now, so will I slay a milk-white bull at your altars, and cast the entrails into the waves, and pour clear wine therewith.” And all the band of the Nereïds heard him, and the virgin Panopeä; and Portumnus himself with mighty hand drave the vessel forward swifter than the south wind or an arrow from the bow, so that it first touched the shore. Then a herald cried aloud that Cloanthus with the Scylla had won the mastery in the race, and bound a garland of bay about his head. Then to the rowers Æneas gave three oxen, and jars of wine, and a talent of silver; and to the captains gifts for themselves; to the first a scarf broidered with gold with a double border of purple, and on it was wrought the royal boy Ganymede, as he hunted on Mount Ida. Eager was he, and as one that panted in the chase; but on the other side the eagle bare him away, and the old men that had charge of him stretched out their hands and the dogs barked fiercely to the sky. And to the second Æneas gave a hauberk of chain-mail with rings of gold, which he had himself taken from Demoleon by the river of Simoïs. Scarce could his two servants carry it, so heavy was it; yet Demoleon had worn it, and chased the men of Troy, running at full speed. And the third prize was two cauldrons of bronze and cups of silver embossed. But when all had departed rejoicing with their gifts, lo! Sergestus came creeping home with his ship, which he had scarce won from the rocks, disabled, with one tier of rowers, even as a serpent which a wheel has maimed upon the road, which with his fore part lifts himself up and threatens, but his hind part trails upon the ground. So came Sergestus back to the haven, and to him Æneas gave also his reward, seeing that he had brought back ship and crew, even a woman of Crete, Pholoé by name, very skilful in the work of the loom.
After this Æneas chose him out a level space, with woods about it, and having sat down in the midst upon a throne, caused it to be proclaimed that all should come who would contend together in running. And many came, both men of Troy and Sicilians. First of all Euryalus, a comely youth, and Nisus with him (now between these two was great love); next, Diores, of the house of Priam, then Salius and Patron, Greeks both of them; and two young hunters, Helymus and Panopes, who were of Sicily and of the court of Acestes, and many others also. Then said Æneas, “To each will I give two javelins of Crete and an axe ornamented with silver, so that none may depart without a gift. And the first three shall have crowns of olive. Also to the first will I give a horse with his furniture, and to the second a quiver after the fashion of the Amazons, with arrows of Thrace, and to fasten it a belt embossed with gold, and a jewel for a clasp thereon. And let the third take this helmet of Greece, and be content.”
Then, when they had ranged them in a line, and the sign was given, they ran. And for a while all were near together. Then Nisus outran the rest; and next to him was Salius, but with a great space between, and the third Euryalus; and after him Helymus, and Diores pressing close upon him, even leaning over his shoulder and ready to outrun him had the course been longer. And now were they at the very end, when Nisus slipped in the blood of an ox which chanced to have been slain in the place, and kept not his feet, but fell, fouling himself with blood and mire. Yet did he not forget Euryalus whom he loved, but lifted himself from the ground and tripped Salius, so that he also rolled upon the earth. So came Euryalus first to the post, and Helymus next, and Diores the third. But Salius made loud complaint to all the assembly, great and small, that he had been vanquished by fraud; yet the people favoured Euryalus, for he was fair to look upon, and fairness ever commendeth virtue. Also Diores was urgent, who else had not won the third prize. Then said Father Æneas, “I change not the order; as each reached the goal so shall each take his prize. Yet may I pity him who suffered wrongfully.” And he gave to Salius the great skin of an African lion, with shaggy hair and claws covered with gold. Then said Nisus, “Yet, if thou givest such prizes to the vanquished and hast such pity on them that fall, what hast thou for me? For surely I had won the first reward but for the ill fortune which Salius also accuseth.” And he showed his face and body foul with mire. And the kindly prince laughed, and gave him a shield, the work of Didymaon.
CHAPTER XI.
THE FUNERAL GAMES (CONTINUED).
Then did Æneas offer rewards for boxers: for the conqueror an ox with gilded horns; for the vanquished a sword and helmet. Straightway rose up the huge Dares, who only had dared to stand in the lists against Prince Paris, and also at the funeral games of Hector had vanquished Butes, hurting him so sore that he died. (This Butes was of the race of Amycus, the great boxer whom Pollux slew, and no man had stood before him.) But when they saw the broad shoulders of the man and his might there was not found one to contend with him. Therefore Dares came near to Æneas, and, laying his left hand on the horns of the ox, spake, saying, “If there be no man to stand against me, why do I tarry? Bid them bring the prize.” Thereupon Acestes rebuked Entellus, who sat near him upon the grass: “Sufferest thou such gifts to be taken without contest? What of Eryx, thy master? What of thy fame, which hath gone through all the land of Sicily, and the spoils that hang in thy house?”
Then said Entellus, “Think not, Acestes, that I am fearful, or careless of honour. But I am old: my strength is gone from me. Were I young, as that boaster yonder, I had not waited for gifts that I should go forth to the battle.”
Then cast he into the midst two gauntlets which Eryx, the great boxer, had been wont to wear. And all men marvelled to see them, so huge were they, and heavy with bull’s hide and lead and iron. And Dares stood astonied, nor would stand against such arms. And when Æneas regarded them and tried their weight, Entellus spake, saying, “What had the man of Troy said had he seen the gauntlets of Hercules himself, and the dreadful battle that befell on this very shore? These gauntlets Eryx, who was my mother’s son, was wont to wear: thou seest them stained yet with blood and brains, and I also was wont to wear them in the days of my youth. But if Dares liketh them not, be it so; I put them away, and he shall do the like with his.”
Then he threw his garment from his shoulders, showing his mighty arms and sinews. And Æneas gave the two equal gauntlets, and they stood with heads thrown back, and began the battle. Dares indeed was swifter to move, and vigorous, and young; and Entellus was huge of stature, but slow and scant of breath. Many blows they aimed at each other: many times one smote the other on his breast or his cheek, but struck not home. And ever Entellus abode in the same place, swaying himself hither and thither with watchful eyes. But Dares was as one who besieges a city or a fort on the hills, and tries now this approach, now that, and searches out all the place, and assails it in many ways. But at the last Entellus lifted his right hand and dealt a mighty blow, which the other, foreseeing it as it fell, avoided; so that the old man wasted his strength in air, and fell with a great crash to the earth, even as falls a pine torn up by the roots on Mount Erymanthus or Mount Ida. Then the men of Troy and the men of Sicily rose up from their places to see the thing; Acestes also ran forward and lifted up the old man from the earth and would have comforted him. But he went back in great wrath to the battle, anger and shame stirring him up. And Dares fled before him over the plain, and he followed him, smiting him now with the right hand, now with the left, and his blows were as the hail that rattles upon the roof. But Æneas bade him stay his anger, and spake kindly to Dares, bidding him cease from the battle. “Seest thou not that this day the victory is another’s, and that the Gods are against thee? Fight not against the Gods.” Then he commanded that the battle should cease. And the companions of Dares led him to the ships, scarcely dragging his legs, and vomiting thick blood from his mouth, and teeth in the blood. Also they took the shield and helmet which were his reward, but the palm-branch and the ox they left to Entellus. Then said the conqueror, “See, son of the goddess, and ye men of Troy, what strength dwelt in this body while I was yet young, and from what a death ye have saved this Dares.” Then stood he over against the ox and smote it with his gauntlet between the horns. And it fell dead upon the earth. And Entellus cried aloud, “O Eryx, I offer thee this life for the life of Dares, being indeed the better for the worse. And I lay aside these gauntlets and this art.”
Next Æneas called for those who would shoot with the bow, setting up a mast from the ship of Sergestus, and fastening thereto a dove by a cord, at which mast were all to shoot. Then came the men together and cast lots, drawing them from the helmet. And first came Hippocoön, son of Hyrtacus; and next to him Mnestheus; and third Eurytion, brother of Pandarus, who broke the treaty between the men of Troy and the Greeks, shooting his arrow at Menelaüs; but the lot of Acestes lingered in the helmet and leapt not forth. Then first Hippocoön drew his bow and smote the mast, so that it shook, and the bird fluttered his wings in fear; and next Mnestheus shot his arrow, and the bird he touched not, but the string which bound it he cut; and Eurytion let fly, calling the while on his brother Pandarus, the mighty archer, to help him, and smote the dove as she flew rejoicing through the air, so that she fell to the earth and the arrow in her body. And only Acestes was left, not having whereat he should aim; yet shot he into the air, for he would show his skill and the might of his bow. Then lo! a marvel befell, whereof in after days men knew the fulfilment; for the arrow burned as it sped through the air, leaving a line of fire, till it was altogether consumed, even as a star that shoots across the sky by night. And men marvelled to see it, and prayed to the Gods that it might be well. Then great Æneas refused not the omen, but embraced Acestes and gave him many gifts, saying, “Take these gifts, my father, for Jupiter willeth that thou shouldst have especial honour in this thing. I give thee, therefore, this bowl, embossed with figures of men. Old Anchises had it, and to him Cisseus, who was the father of Queen Hecuba, gave it.” Also he put a crown of bay upon his head. Nor did the good Eurytion murmur, though he had slain the bird; the others also had their gifts and were content.
Not even now was the assembly dismissed, there remaining yet another sight to behold. For Ascanius and the youths that were his companions came riding on horses, and each had a wreath about his head. Each also had two javelins of cornel wood, and some had quivers on their shoulders, and each a collar of gold that lay on the top of his breast. Three companies there were, and to each a leader and twelve that followed. And one of the leaders was Priamus, son of Polites, called by the name of his grandfather, on a horse that was black, with pasterns of white and forehead of white; and another Atys, whom Ascanius loved; and third, fairest of all to behold, Ascanius, on a horse of Sidon, which Queen Dido had given him; but to the rest Acestes had given horses of Sicily.
And when these came forth there was much shouting and clapping of hands, and the men of Troy rejoiced to see the lads, so like were they to the famous men their fathers. Then, a signal being given, the companies were divided into bands, and these made as if they fought a battle. For sometimes they would fly, and sometimes would pursue, and sometimes would ride altogether this way or that. Many were their ways and movements, even as are the paths of the Labyrinth in Crete. Swift also were they and nimble, even as dolphins which sport among the waves in the Carpathian Sea or African. This custom did Ascanius teach to his people when he built the city of Alba, and the men of Alba taught it to their children after them, and mighty Rome learnt it also, and kept it in the time to come.
CHAPTER XII.
THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS—THE VOYAGE
TO ITALY.
But while the men of Troy were busy with the games, Juno prepared mischief against them in her heart, and sent down Iris, her messenger, to accomplish it. Now the women sat apart on the shore, and lifted up their voices and bewailed the old man Anchises. But when they looked upon the sea they lamented for themselves that they had so much travel to accomplish, for they were weary of the sea, and would fain have a city to dwell in. Which when Iris perceived, laying aside the semblance of a goddess, she took upon herself the form of Beroé, the wife of Doryclus, and went among the women of Troy and spake, saying, “O unhappy, that ye were not dragged to death by the hands of the Greeks! For now the seventh summer is come, and yet we journey over many lands and seas, and seek this Italy which ever flies before us. Here we have friends and kindred. What forbids that we build here a city? Shall I never see the walls of another Troy, nor find Xanthus and Simoïs, rivers of Troy, in a strange land? Why burn we not these accursed ships that carry us hither and thither. I saw in a dream the seeress Cassandra, and she seemed to put a torch in my hand, and to say, ‘Here seek ye for Troy: here is your home.’ And lo! here are altars and fire.”
Then she caught a brand from an altar, and cast it far from her at the ships. Then cried out Pyrgo, who had been nurse to the sons of Priam, “O mothers of Troy, this is not Beroé whom ye see. Mark ye her shining eyes, and her voice, and her gait. But as for Beroé I left her long since, sick and sore vexed that she was absent this day from our solemnity.”
And for a while the women stood in doubt regarding the ships, loving indeed the land whereon they stood, yet knowing that the Fates called them to another. But when the goddess rose on her wings, and passed up by the path of the rainbow into the heavens, then a great fury fell upon them, so that they caught brands from the altars and set fire to the ships. And straightway the flames ran over the benches and the oars and the stems of painted pine. Then ran Eumelus to the men of Troy where they sat at the games, and told them how that the ships were burning; also they themselves saw the black cloud of smoke rolling before the wind. And Ascanius, in the midst of his horsemanship, heard the matter and sped to the camp. And being come he cried aloud, “What madness is this? Ye burn not the camp of the Greeks, ye burn our own hopes. Lo! I am your Ascanius.” And he threw his helmet on the ground, that they should know him. Also Æneas and the men of Troy made haste to come up. Then were the women ashamed of that which they had done, and would have hidden themselves, their fury being past. But not the more did the flame cease to devour the ships; and they who would have quenched the fire availed nothing. Then the pious Æneas rent his garments and prayed to the Gods, saying, “O Jupiter, if thou dost not altogether hate us, save our ships from the fire, and suffer us not to perish utterly; but if thou art angry, and so it seem good to thee, slay me with thy thunderbolt.”
And even as he spake there came up a great storm from the south, with thunder and lightning and a great rain, and the fire was quenched, but of the ships four were burnt altogether.
Now Æneas was sore troubled at these things, and doubted much whether he should still abide in the land of Sicily nor heed the Fates, or should yet follow after Italy. Then the old man, Nautes, the priest of Pallas, in whom more than in all men besides dwelt the wisdom of the goddess, spake to him, saying, “Son of the goddess, it must needs be that we go whither the Gods call us. Yet mayest thou devise something for this present necessity, taking counsel with King Acestes, seeing that he also is a son of Troy. For now, four ships being burned, the people are over many for such as are left to us; some also faint at this thing that we purpose; also there are old men and women, wearied of the sea, and the weak and the fearful. Suffer, then, that he take these to himself to be his people, and build a city for them, and call it Acesta, after his own name.”
And while Æneas thought on these things he slept. And lo! in his dream there came to him his father, Anchises, and spake, saying, “I come, my son, at the bidding of Jupiter. Take thou heed to the counsel which Nautes giveth thee, for it is good. Let the chosen youth of thy people go with thee, for thou hast a mighty people and a fierce in Latium with whom to do battle. But first must thou seek the dwellings of the dead and hold converse with me. For indeed I dwell not in Tartarus, with the evildoers, but in Elysium, with the companies of the blessed. And thither shall the Sibyl guide thee, and thou shalt learn all that shall befall thee and thy people after this. And now farewell, for the morning cometh, and I must depart.”
And the spirit of Anchises vanished out of his sight, even as smoke into the air, nor heeded him when he would have stayed it; and Æneas arose and did sacrifice to the household gods and to Vesta. Then he took counsel with his companions and with Acestes. And Acestes hearkened to his words. And they separated such as would tarry in the place, both men and women; but the others, few in number indeed, but strong and of a good courage, made ready the ships to depart. And in the mean time Æneas marked the boundaries of the city with a ploughshare, and Acestes set it in order with laws and government. Also on the mountain of Eryx they built a temple to Venus, and they consecrated a grove and a priest at the tomb of Anchises.
Then for nine days they feasted; and after, for it was fine weather, and the south wind blew softly, they made ready to sail. There was then a great weeping and embracing on the shore; and now were all fain to go, willing not to be parted from kindred and friends. But Æneas comforted them, and, having sacrificed three calves to Eryx and a lamb to the Storms, so departed.
And Venus spake to Neptune, saying, “It troubleth me sore that Juno will not lay aside her wrath. For the city of Troy she overthrew, and, it being overthrown, she pursueth them that are left with hatred that cannot be appeased; and now I fear me much what she may do, for she stirred up Æolus that he loosed all the winds against them; and even now she put into the hearts of the women this great madness that they should burn the ships. Wherefore I pray thee that thou shouldest give them now a safe voyage to Italy.” And the King of the sea made answer, “Thou doest well to put thy trust in my realms and me. For both have I stilled the madness of the sea and also on the land have I taken thought for thy Æneas. Mindest thou not the day when Achilles pursued the men of Troy to their city, and filled the rivers with dead bodies, so that Xanthus could not make his way to the sea, and how Æneas would have met him in battle, being weaker, and I snatched him away in a cloud, yea though I desired from my heart to overthrow the city of Troy, even the works of my own hands? Fear not, therefore: he shall come safe to the haven of Avernus. One only of his company must perish, even one life for many.”
Then did he pass over the sea in his chariot, and there was a great calm as he went, and the clouds flew from the sky, and the great beasts of the sea went with him; also the gods and goddesses of the sea, as Glaucus and Palæmon, and the company of the Tritons and Thetis and the virgin Panopeä.
And the men of Troy loosed the sheets, and spread all the sails to the wind; and the foremost of the fleet was the ship of Æneas, Palinurus being the helmsman. And in the night Sleep came down from the sky, and taking the shape of Phorbas, spake to Palinurus, saying, “All things are quiet; rest awhile: it is the hour of rest. I will take thy office for thee.” But Palinurus, scarce lifting his eyes, made answer: “Dost thou bid me trust calm seas and gentle winds? Not so. Too often have I been deceived.” Nor did he loose his hold upon the rudder, or take his eyes from the stars. Then did Sleep wave over him a bough that had been dipped in the water of Lethe; and when he slept, as he must needs do, thrust him into the sea and a portion of the rudder with him; and he fell, calling vainly for help.
And when the ships were close to the rocks of the Sirens, which in old time were white with bones of men, but now with spray and broken waves, Æneas perceived that the ship strayed from its course. For indeed, seeing that the helmsman had perished, the winds and the waves had their will of it. Then did he lay hold on the rudder himself, but it grieved him much that such mischance had befallen his friend.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SIBYL.
So Æneas came to the land of Italy, nigh unto Cumæ, which was the dwelling-place of the Sibyl. And the men turned the forepart of the ships to the sea, and made them fast with anchors. Then they leapt forth upon the shore, and kindled a fire; and some cut wood in the forest, or fetched water from the stream. But Æneas went up to the great cave of the Sibyl, where, by the inspiration of Apollo, she foretelleth things to come.
Now the temple was a marvellous place to look upon. For Dædalus, when he fled from Minos, King of Crete, flying through the air upon wings, came northwards to the land of Cumæ, and tarried there. Also he dedicated his wings in the temple. On the doors thereof was set forth, graven in stone, the death of Androgeos, and the men of Attica choosing by lot seven of their children who should be given as a ransom yearly; and, rising from the sea upon the other side, the land of Crete. Likewise the Labyrinth was there and its winding ways; but Icarus they saw not, for when his father would have wrought the manner of his death in gold his hands failed him: twice he strove and twice they failed. And when Æneas would have looked further, the priestess said, “Linger not with these things, but slay forthwith seven bullocks from the herd, and seven sheep duly chosen out of the flock.” And when they came to the cave—now there are a hundred doors, and a voice cometh forth from each—the Sibyl cried, “It is time. Lo! the god, the god!” And even as she spake her look was changed and the colour of her face; also her hair was loosened, and her breast panted, and she waxed greater than is the stature of a man. Then she cried, “Delayest thou to pray, Æneas of Troy? delayest thou? for the doors open not but to prayer.” Nor said she more. Then Æneas prayed, saying, “O Phœbus, who didst always pity the sorrows of Troy, and didst guide the arrow of Paris that it slew the great Achilles, I have followed thy bidding, journeying over many lands, and now I lay hold on this shore of Italy, which ever seemed to fly before me. Grant thou that our ill fortune follow us no more. And all ye Gods and Goddesses who loved not Troy, be merciful to us. And thou, O Prophetess, give, if it may be, such answer as I would hear. So will I and my people honour thee for ever. And write it not, I pray thee, upon leaves, lest the winds carry them away, but speak with thy voice.”
And for awhile the prophetess strove against the spirit; but at the last it mastered her, and the doors flew open, and she spake, saying, “The perils of the sea thou hast escaped, but there await thee yet worse perils upon the land. The men of Troy shall come to the kingdom of Lavinium. Fear not for that; yet will they fain not have come. I see battles, and the Tiber foaming with blood, and a new Xanthus and Simoïs, and another Achilles, himself also goddess-born. Juno also shall be ever against thee. And thou shalt be a suppliant to many cities. And the cause of all these woes shall be again a woman. Only yield not thou, but go ever more boldly when occasion shall serve. Little thinkest thou that thy first succour shall be from a city of the Greeks.”
And when she had ended these words, Æneas made answer: “O Lady, no toil or peril shall take me unawares; for I have thought over all things in my heart. But one thing I ask of thee. Here is the door of the dwellings of the dead. Fain would I pass thereby, that I may visit my father. I carried him on my shoulders out of the fires of Troy, and with me he endured many things by land and sea, more than befitted his old age. Likewise he bade me ask this boon of thee. Do thou therefore pity both father and son, for thou hast the power, if only thou wilt. Did not Orpheus bring back his wife from the dead, having his harp only? Also Pollux goeth many times this same path, redeeming his brother from death. And why should I tell of Theseus and Hercules? And I also am of the lineage of Jupiter.”
Then the Sibyl spake, saying, “Son of Anchises, it is easy to go down to hell. The door is open day and night. But to return, and struggle to the upper air, that is the labour. Few only have done it, and these of the lineage of the Gods and dear to Jupiter. Yet if thou wilt attempt it, hearken unto me. There lieth hid in the forest a bough of gold which is sacred to the Queen of hell. Nor may any man go on this journey till he have plucked it, for the Queen will have it as a gift for herself. And when the bough is plucked, there ever groweth another; and if it be the pleasure of the Gods that thou go, it will yield to thy hand. But know that one of thy companions lieth dead upon the shore. First must thou bury him, and after offer due sacrifice, even black sheep. So shalt thou approach the dwellings of the dead.”
Then Æneas departed from the cave, and Achates went with him, and much they wondered who it might be that was dead. And when they came to the shore, lo! Misenus lay there, than whom no man was more skilful to call men to battle with the voice of the trumpet. Hector’s companion he had been in old time, and then followed Æneas. And now, blowing his trumpet on the shore, he had challenged the gods of the sea to compare with him; wherefore a Triton caught him and plunged him into the sea, so that he died. Then did Æneas and his companions prepare for the burial, cutting ilex and oak and mountain-ash from the wood. But when Æneas beheld the forest, how vast it was, he said, “Now may the Gods grant that in this great forest the bough of gold discover itself.” And as he spake, lo! two doves flew before his face, and settled on the grass, and he knew them to be the birds of his mother, and cried, saying, “Guide me now to the bough of gold, and thou, my mother, help me as before.” Then the birds flew so that he could still see them with his eyes, and he followed after them. But when they came to the mouth of Avernus, they sat both of them on the tree. And lo! the bough of gold glittered among the branches and rustled in the wind. Right gladly did Æneas break it off, and carry it to the dwelling of the Sibyl.
In the mean time the men of Troy made a great burial for Misenus on the shore, building a pile of wood, and washing and anointing the body. Also they laid the body on a bier, and on it the garments which he had worn being yet alive. Then others, with faces turned away, held a torch to the wood, whereon also were burned incense and offerings of oil. And when the burning was ended they quenched the ashes with wine. And Corynæus gathered the bones into an urn of bronze, and purified the people, sprinkling them with water with a bough of an olive-tree. Then Æneas made a great mound, and put thereon the trumpet of the man and his bow; and the mountain is called Misenus, after him, to this day.
But when the burial was ended he did as the Sibyl had commanded. A great cavern there is, from which cometh so evil a stench that no bird may fly across. There they brought four black oxen, and the priestess poured wine upon their heads and cut hairs from between the horns. And when they had burned these they slew the oxen, holding dishes for the blood. And Æneas offered a black lamb to the Furies and a barren heifer to the Queen of hell, smiting them with his sword. Then they burned the entrails with fire, pouring oil upon them. Then did the ground give a hollow sound beneath them, and the dogs howled, for the goddess was at hand. And the priestess cried, “Go ye who may not take part in this matter. And thou, Æneas, draw thy sword from its sheath and follow. Now hast thou need of all thy strength and courage.” Then she plunged into the cave, and Æneas went with her.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE DWELLINGS OF THE DEAD.
So they went together through the land of shadows, like unto men who walk through a wood in a doubtful light, when the moon indeed hath risen, but there are clouds over the sky. And first they came to where, in front of the gates of hell, dwell Sorrow and Remorse, and pale Disease and Fear, and Hunger that tempteth men to sin, and Want, and Death, and Toil, and Slumber, that is Death’s kinsman, and deadly War; also they saw the chambers of the Furies, and Discord, whose hair is of snakes that drip with blood. And in this region there is an ancient elm, in the boughs whereof dwell all manner of dreams, and shapes of evil monsters, as many as have been, such as were the Centaurs, half man half horse, and Briareus with the hundred hands, and others also. These Æneas, when he saw them, sought to slay, rushing upon them with the sword, but his guide warned him that they were shadows only.
After this they came to the river of hell, whereon plies the Boatman Charon. A long white beard hath he and unkempt; and his eyes are fixed in a fiery stare, and a scarf is knotted upon his shoulder, as is a pilot’s wont. An old man he seemeth to be, but hale and ruddy. Now there was ever rushing to the bank a great crowd, wives and mothers, and valiant men of war, boys, and girls dead before they were given in marriage, and young men laid on the funeral pile before their parents’ eyes. Thick they were as the leaves that fall to the earth at the first frost of autumn, or as the swallows, when they gather themselves together, making ready to fly across the sea to the lands of the sun. And of these Charon would take some into his boat; but others he would forbid, and drive from the shore. This when Æneas saw, he marvelled, and said, “O Lady, what meaneth this concourse at the river? What seek these souls? Why be some driven from the bank and some ferried across?”
And the Sibyl made answer: “This river that thou seest is the Styx, by which the Gods in heaven swear, and fear to break their oath. Those whom thou seest to be driven from the bank are such as have lacked burial, but those who are ferried across have been buried duly; for none pass this stream till their bodies have been laid in the grave, otherwise they wander for a hundred years, and so at last may cross over.”
Much did Æneas pity their ill fortune, and the more when he beheld Orontes and his Lycians, whom the sea had swallowed up alive before his eyes. Here likewise there met him his pilot Palinurus, to whom, when he knew him, for indeed he scarce could see him in the darkness, he said, “What god took thee from us and drowned thee in the sea? Surely, in this one matter, Apollo hath deceived me, saying that thou shouldst escape the sea and come to the land of Italy.”