| XXII . |
"Scarce o'er my cheeks the callow down had crept, With wondering awe I viewed the Trojan train, And gazed at Priam. But Anchises stepped The tallest. Boyish ardour made me fain To greet the hero, and his hand to strain. I ventured, and to Pheneus brought my guest. A Lycian case of arrows, bridles twain, All golden—Pallas holds them,—and a vest |
190 | |
| And scarf of broidered gold his parting thanks expressed. | |||
| XXIII . |
"Take then the hand thou seekest; be it thine, The plighted pact; and when to-morrow's ray Shall chase the shadows, and the dawn shall shine, Aid will I give you, and due stores purvey, And send you hence rejoicing on your way. Meanwhile, since Heaven forbids us to postpone These yearly rites, and we are friends, be gay And share with us the banquet. Sit ye down,— |
199 | |
| Behold, the boards are spread,—and make the feast your own." | |||
| XXIV . |
He spake, and back, at his command, they bring The food and wine. The chiefs, in order meet, Along the grass he ranges, and their king Leads to his throne; of maple was the seat; A lion's hide lay bristling at his feet. Youths and the altar's minister bring wine, And heap the bread, and serve the roasted meat. On lustral entrails and the bull's whole chine, |
208 | |
| Couched round the Trojan king, the Trojan warriors dine. | |||
| XXV . |
Then, when at last desire of food had ceased, Thus spake Evander: "Lo, this solemn show, This sacred altar, and this ordered feast, No idle witchwork are they. Well we know The ancient gods. Saved from a fearful foe, Each year the deed we celebrate. See there Yon nodding crag; behold the rocks below, Tost in huge ruin, and the lonely lair, |
217 | |
| Scooped from the mountain's side, how wild the waste and bare! | |||
| XXVI . |
"There yawned the cavern, in the rock's dark womb, Wherein the monster Cacus dwelt of yore, Half-human. Never sunlight pierced the gloom; But day by day the rank earth reeked with gore, And human faces, nailed above the door, Hung, foul and ghastly. From the loins he came Of Vulcan, and his huge mouth evermore Spewed forth a torrent of Vulcanian flame; |
226 | |
| Proudly he stalked the earth, and shook the world's fair frame. | |||
| XXVII . |
"But time, in answer to our prayers, one day Brought aid,—a God to help us in our need. Flushed with the death of Geryon, came this way Alcides, glorying in the victor's meed, And hither drove his mighty bulls to feed. These, pasturing in the valley, from his lair Fierce Cacus saw, and, scorning in his greed To leave undone what crime or craft could dare, |
235 | |
| Four beauteous heifers stole, four oxen sleek and fair. | |||
| XXVIII . |
"Then, lest their footprints should the track declare, Back by their tails he dragged the captured kine, With hoofs reversed, and shut them in his lair, And whoso sought the cavern found no sign. But when at last Amphitryon's son divine, His feasted herds, preparing to remove, Called from their pastures, and in long-drawn line, With plaintive lowing, the departing drove |
244 | |
| Trooped from the echoing hills, and clamours filled the grove, | |||
| XXIX . |
"One of the heifers from the cave again Lowed back, in answer to the sound, and broke The hopes of Cacus, and his theft was plain. Black choler in Alcides' breast awoke. Grasping his arms and club of knotted oak, Straight to the sky-capt Aventine he hies, And scales the steep. Then, not till then, our folk Saw Cacus tremble. To the cave he flies, |
253 | |
| Wing'd like the wind with fear, and terror in his eyes. | |||
| XXX . |
"Scarce in, the rock he loosened with a blow, Slung high in iron by his father's care, And with the barrier blocked the door; when lo, With heart aflame, great Hercules was there, And searched each way for access to his lair, Grinding his teeth. Thrice round the mount he threw His vengeful eyes, thrice strove from earth to tear The stone, and storm the threshold, thrice withdrew, |
262 | |
| And in the vale sat down, and nursed his wrath anew. | |||
| XXXI . |
"Sharp-pointed, sheer above the dungeon, stood A crag, fit home for evil birds to light. This, where it frowned to leftward o'er the flood, Alcides shook, and, heaving from the right, Tore from its roots, and headlong down the height Impelled it. With the impulse and the fall Heaven thunders; back the river in affright Shrinks to its source. Bank leaps from bank, and all |
271 | |
| The mountain, yawning, shows the monster's cave and hall. | |||
| XXXII . |
"Stript of their roof, the dark abodes far back Lie open to their inmost; e'en as though Earth, rent asunder with convulsive wrack, And opening to the centre, gaped to show Hell's regions, and the gloomy realms of woe, Abhorr'd of gods, and bare to mortals lay The vast abyss, while in the gulf below The pallid spectres, huddling in dismay, |
280 | |
| Looked up with dazzled eyes, at influx of the day. | |||
| XXXIII . |
"Caught in his den, the startled monster strove, With uncouth bellowing, to elude the light. With darts Alcides plies him from above, Huge trunks and millstones seizing for the fight, Hard pressed at length, and desperate for flight, Black smoke he vomits, wondrous to be told, That shrouds the cavern, and obscures the sight, And, denser than the night, around his hold |
289 | |
| Thick darkness, mixt with fire, and smothering fumes are rolled. | |||
| XXXIV . |
"Scorn filled Alcides, and his wrath outbroke, And through the fire, indignant, with a bound He dashes, where thickest rolled the cloud of smoke, And in black vapours all the cave was drowned. Here, vomiting his idle flames, he found Huge Cacus in the darkness. Like a thread He twists him—chokes him—pins him to the ground, The strangled eyeballs starting from his head; |
298 | |
| Blood leaves the blackened throat, the giant form lies dead. | |||
| XXXV . |
"Then suddenly, as back the doors are torn, The gloomy den stands open, and the prey, The stolen oxen, and the spoils forsworn, Are bared to heaven, and by the heels straightway He drags the grisly carcase to the day. All, thronging round, with hungry gaze admire The monster. Lost in wonder and dismay They mark the eyes, late terrible with ire, |
307 | |
| The face, the bristly breast, the jaw's extinguished fire. | |||
| XXXVI . |
"Henceforth they solemnise this day divine, Their glad posterity from year to year, Potitius first, and the Pinarian line, Preserve the praise of Hercules; and here This altar named 'the Greatest' did they rear. (Greatest 'twill be for ever). Come then, all, And give such worth due honour. Wreathe your hair, And pass the wine-bowl merrily, and call |
316 | |
| Each on our common God, the guardian of us all." | |||
| XXXVII . |
He spake; the God's own poplar, fleckt with white, Hung, twining o'er his brows. His right hand bore The sacred bowl. All, gladdening, hail the rite, And pour libations, and the Gods adore. 'Twas evening, and the Western star once more Sloped towards Olympus. Forth Potitius came, Leading the priests, girt roughly, as of yore, With skins of beasts, and bearing high the flame. |
325 | |
| Fresh, dainty gifts they bring, the second course to frame. | |||
| XXXVIII . |
Next came the Salians, dancing as they sung Around the blazing altars. Poplar crowned Their brows; a double chorus, old and young, Chant forth the glories and the deeds renowned Of Hercules; how, potent to confound His stepdame's hate, he crushed the serpents twain; What towns in war he levelled to the ground, Troy and OEchalia; how with infinite pain |
334 | |
| Eurystheus' tasks he sped, and Juno's fates were vain: | |||
| XXXIX . |
"Oh thou, unconquered, whose resistless hand Smote the twin giants of the cloud-born crew, Pholus, Hylæus; and the Cretan land Freed from its monster; and in Nemea slew The lion! Styx hath trembled at thy view, And Cerberus, when, smeared with gore, he lay On bones half-mumbled in his darksome mew. Thee not Typhoeus, when in armed array |
343 | |
| He towered erect, could daunt, nor grisly shapes dismay. | |||
| XL . |
"Prompt was thy wit, when, powerless to prevail, Around thee twined, the beast of Lerna's fen Hissed with the legion of its heads. O hail, True son of Jove, the praise of mortal men, And Heaven's new glory. Hither turn thy ken, And cheer thy votaries." So with heart and will They chant his praise, nor less the monster's den, And Cacus, breathing flames. The loud notes fill |
352 | |
| The sacred grove around, and echo to the hill. | |||
| XLI . |
The rites thus ended, to the town they fare. In front, the good Evander, old and grey, Moves 'twixt Æneas and his youthful heir, And oft with various converse, as they stray, Beguiles the lightened labour of the way. Now this, now that the Trojan chief admires, Filled with new pleasure, as his eyes survey Each place in turn. Oft, gladly he enquires |
361 | |
| The tokens, one by one, and tales of ancient sires. | |||
| XLII . |
Then he, who built the citadel of Rome, Spake thus—the good Evander: "Yonder view The forest; 'twas the Fauns' and Wood-nymphs' home. Their birth from trunks and rugged oaks they drew; No arts they had, nor settled life, nor knew To yoke the ox, or lay up stores, or spare What wealth they gathered; but their wants were few; The branches gave them sustenance, whate'er |
370 | |
| In toilsome chase they won, composed their scanty fare. | |||
| XLIII . |
"Then first came Saturn from Olympus' height, Flying from Jove, his kingdom barred and banned, He taught the scattered hillsmen to unite, And gave them laws, and bade the name to stand Of Latium, he safe latent in the land. Then tranquilly the happy seasons rolled Year after year, and Peace, with plenteous hand, Smiled on his sceptre. 'Twas the Age of Gold, |
379 | |
| So well his placid sway the willing folk controlled. | |||
| XLIV . |
"Then waxed the times degenerate, and the stain With stealthy growth gave birth to deeds of shame, The rage of battle, and the lust of gain. Then came Ausonians, then Sicanians came, And oft the land of Saturn changed its name. Strange tyrants came, and ruled Italia's shore, Grim-visaged Thybris, of gigantic frame; His name henceforth the river Tiber bore, |
388 | |
| And Albula's old name was known, alas! no more. | |||
| XLV . |
"Me, from my country driven forth to roam The utmost deep, perforce the Fates' design And Fortune's power drove hitherward. This home My mother, Nymph Carmentis, warned was mine; A god, Apollo, did these shores assign." So saying, he shows the altar and the gate Long called Carmental, from the Nymph divine, First seer who sang, with faithful voice, how great |
397 | |
| Æneas' race should rise, and Pallanteum's fate. | |||
| XLVI . |
He shows the grove of Romulus, his famed Asylum; then, beneath the rock's cold crest Lupercal's cave, from Pan Lycæan named; Then, Argiletum's grove, whose shades attest The death of Argus, once the monarch's guest; Tarpeia's rock, the Capitolian height, Now golden—rugged 'twas of old, a nest Of tangled brakes, yet hallowed was the site |
406 | |
| E'en then, and wood and rock filled the rude hinds with fright. | |||
| XLVII . |
"These wooded steeps," he said, "this sacred grove What godhead haunts, we know not; legends say Arcadians here have seen the form of Jove, And seen his right hand, with resistless sway, Shake the dread Ægis, and the clouds array. See, yon two cities, once renowned by fame, Now ruined walls and crumbling to decay; This Janus built, those walls did Saturn frame; |
415 | |
| Janiculum was this, that bore Saturnia's name." | |||
| XLVIII . |
So talking, to Evander's lowly seat They journeyed. Herds were lowing on the plain, Where stand the Forum and Carinæ's street. "These gates," said he, "did great Alcides deign To pass; this palace did the god contain. Dare thou to quit thee like the god, nor dread To scorn mere wealth, nor humble cheer disdain." So saying, Æneas through the door he led, |
424 | |
| And skins of Libyan bears on garnered leaves outspread. | |||
| XLIX . |
Night, with dark wings descending, wrapt the world, When Venus, harassed, nor in vain, with fear, To see the menace at Laurentum hurled, To Vulcan, on his golden couch, drew near, Breathing immortal passion: "Husband dear, When Greeks the fated citadel of Troy With fire and sword were ravaging, or ere Her towers had fallen, I sought not to employ |
433 | |
| Arms, arts or aid of thine, their purpose to destroy. | |||
| L . |
"Ne'er taxed I then thy labours, dearest love, Large as my debt to Priam's sons, and sore My grief for poor Æneas. Now, since Jove Hath brought him here to the Rutulian shore, Thine arms I ask, thy deity implore, A mother for her son. Dread power divine, Whom Thetis, whom Tithonus' spouse of yore Could move with tears, behold, what hosts combine, |
442 | |
| What towns, with barr'd gates, arm to ruin me and mine." | |||
| LI . |
She spake, and both her snowy arms outflung Around him doubting, and embraced the Sire, And, softly fondling, kissed him as she clung. Through bones and veins her melting charms inspire The well-known heat, and reawake desire. So, riven by the thunder, through the pile Of storm-clouds runs the glittering cleft of fire. Proud of her beauty, with a conscious smile, |
451 | |
| The Goddess feels her power, and gladdens at the guile. | |||
| LII . |
Then Vulcan, mastered by immortal love, Answers his spouse, "Why, Goddess mine, invent Such far-fetched pleas? Dost thou thy faith remove, And cease to trust in Vulcan? Had thy bent So moved thee then, arms quickly had I lent To aid thy Trojans, and thy wish were gained, Nor envious Fate, nor Jove omnipotent Had crossed my purpose; then had Troy remained, |
460 | |
| And Priam ten years more the kingly line sustained. | |||
| LIII . |
"E'en now, if war thou seekest to prepare, And thither tends thy purpose, be it sped. Whate'er my craft can promise, whatso'er Is wrought with iron, ivory or lead, Fanned with the blast, or molten in the bed, Thine be it all; forbear a suppliant's quest, Nor wrong thy beauty's potency." He said, And gave the love she longed for; on her breast |
469 | |
| Outpoured at length he slept, and loosed his limbs with rest. | |||
| LIV . |
'Twas midnight; sleep had faded from its prime, The hour, when housewives, who a scanty fare Eke out with loom and distaff, rise in time To wake the embers, and the night outwear; Then call their handmaids, by the light to share The task, that keeps the husband's bed from shame, And earns a pittance for the babes. So there, Nor tardier, to his toil the Lord of Flame |
478 | |
| Springs from his couch of down, the workmen's task to frame. | |||
| LV . |
Hard by Æolian Lipare, before Sicania, looms an island from the deep, With smoking rocks. There Ætna's caverns roar, Hewn by the Cyclop's forges from the steep. There the steel hisses and the sparks upleap, And clanging anvils, smit with dexterous aim, Groan through the cavern, as their strokes they heap, And restless in the furnace pants the flame. |
487 | |
| 'Twas Vulcan's house, the land even yet bears Vulcan's name. | |||
| LVI . |
Down to this cavern came the Lord of Flame, And found Pyracmon, naked as he strove, Brontes and Steropes. Their hands still frame A thunderbolt unfinished, such as Jove Rains thickly from his armouries above, Tipt with twelve barbs and never known to fail. Part still remain unwrought; three rays they wove Of ruddy fire, three of the Southern gale, |
496 | |
| Three of the watery cloud, and three of twisted hail. | |||
| LVII . |
They blend the frightful flashes and the peals, Sound, fear, and fury with the flames behind. These forge the War-Gods' chariot and swift wheels, Which stir up cities, and arouse mankind. Here, burnished bright for wrathful Pallas, shined, With serpent scales, and golden links firm bound, Her dreadful Ægis, and the snakes entwined; And on her breast, with severed neck, still frowned |
505 | |
| Medusa's head, and rolled her dying eyes around. | |||
| LVIII . |
"Cease now," said Vulcan, "and these toils forbear, Cyclops of Ætna; hither turn your heed. Arms for a hero must the forge prepare. Now use your strength and nimble hands; ye need A master's cunning; to your tasks with speed." He spake; each quickly at the word once more Falls to his labour, as the lots decreed. Now flows the copper, now the golden ore; |
514 | |
| Now melts the deadly steel; the flames resume their roar. | |||
| LIX . |
A mighty shield they fashion, fit to meet Singly all arms of Latium. Layer on layer, Seven folds in circles on its face they beat. These from the windy bellows force the air, These hissing copper for the forge prepare, Dipt in the trough. The cavern floor below Groans with the anvils and the strokes they bear, As strong arms timed heap measured blow on blow, |
523 | |
| And, turned with griping tongs, the molten mass doth glow. | |||
| LX . |
While on Æolia's coast the Lemnian sire Wrought thus, the fair Dawn, mantling in the skies, Awakes Evander, and the lowly choir Of birds beneath the eaves invites to rise. The Tuscan sandals to his feet he ties, The kirtle dons, the Tegeæan sword Links to his side. A panther's skin supplies His scarf, hung leftward, and his watchful ward, |
532 | |
| Two dogs, the threshold leave, and 'company their lord. | |||
| LXI . |
So to the chamber of his Dardan guest The good Evander for his promise' sake Full early hastens pondering in his breast The tale he listened to, the words he spake. Nor less Æneas, with the dawn awake, Goes forth. Achates at his side attends, His son, young Pallas, doth Evander take. So meeting, each a willing hand extends, |
541 | |
| And host and guest sit down, and frankly talk as friends. | |||
| LXII . |
First spake the King: "Great Chief of Trojan fame, Who living, ne'er the Trojan state is lost. Small is our strength for war, though great our name. Here Tiber bounds us, there Rutulians boast To rend our walls, and thunder with their host. But mighty tribes and wealthy realms shall band Their arms with mine. Chance, where unlooked-for most, Points to this succour. By the Fate's command |
550 | |
| Thou comest; thee the gods have guided to our land. | |||
| LXIII . |
"Not far from here, upon an aged rock, There stands a town, Agylla is its name, Where on Etruscan ridges dwells the stock Of ancient Lydia, men of warlike fame. Long years it flourished, till Mezentius came And ruled it fiercely, with a tyrant's sway. Ah me! why tell the nameless deeds of shame, The savage murders wrought from day to day? |
559 | |
| May Heaven on him and his those cruelties repay! | |||
| LXIV . |
"Nay more, he joined the living to the dead, Hand linked to hand in torment, face to face. The rank flesh mouldered, and the limbs still bled, Till death, O misery, with lingering pace, Loosed the foul union and the long embrace. Worn out at last with all his crimes abhorred, Around the horrid madman swarmed apace The armed Agyllans. On his roof they poured |
568 | |
| The firebrands, seized his guards and slew them with the sword. | |||
| LXV . |
"He safely through the carnage slunk away To fields Rutulian, where with sheltering hand Great Turnus shields the tyrant. So to-day, Stirred with just fury, all Etruria's land Springs to the war, prompt vengeance to demand. Thine be these all, for thousands can I boast, Æneas, thine to captain and command. Mark now their shouts; already roars the host, |
577 | |
| 'Arm, bring the banners forth'; their vessels crowd the coast. | |||
| LXVI . |
"An aged seer thus warns them to refrain, Expounding Fate: 'Choice youths, the flower and show Of ancient warriors of Meonian strain, Whom just resentment arms against the foe, Whose souls with hatred of Mezentius glow, No man of Italy is fit to lead So vast a multitude, the Fates say "No; Seek ye a foreign captain."' Awed, they heed |
586 | |
| The warning words divine, and camp upon the mead. | |||
| LXVII . |
"Lo, Tarchon sends ambassadors; they bring The crown, and sceptre, and the signs of state, And bid me join the Tuscans as their king. But frosty years have dulled me; life is late, And envious Age forbids an Empire's weight. Fit were my son, but half Italian he, His mother born a Sabine. Thee hath Fate Endowed with years and proper birth; for thee |
595 | |
| The Gods this throne have willed, and, what they will, decree. | |||
| LXVIII . |
"Advance, brave Chief of Italy and Troy! Advance; young Pallas at thy side shall fare, My hope, my solace, and my heart's best joy. With thee to teach him, he shall learn to share The war's grim work, the warrior's toil to bear; From earliest youth to marvel at thy deeds, And try to match them. Horsemen shall be there, Ten score, the choicest that Arcadia breeds; |
604 | |
| Two hundred more, his own, the gallant stripling leads." | |||
| LXIX . |
He spake: Æneas and Achates stood With down-fixt eyes, musing the strange event. Dark thoughts were theirs, and sorrowful their mood; When lo, to leftward Cytherea sent A sign amid the open firmament. A flash of lightning swift from ether sprang With thunder. Turmoil universal blent Earth, sea and sky; the empyrean rang |
613 | |
| With arms, and loudly pealed the Tuscan trumpet's clang. | |||
| LXX . |
Upward they look: again and yet again Comes the loud crash of thunder, and between A cloud that frets the firmamental plain, With bright, red flash amid the sky serene, The glitter of resounding arms is seen. All tremble; but Æneas hails the sign Long-promised. "Ask not," he exclaims, "what mean These prodigies and portents; they are mine. |
622 | |
| Me great Olympus calls; I hear the voice divine. | |||
| LXXI . |
"This sign my Goddess-mother vowed to send, If war should threaten; thus in armed array From heaven with aid she promised to descend. Ah, woe for thee, Laurentum, soon the prey Of foeman! What a reckoning shalt thou pay To me, ill-fated Turnus! How thy wave Shall redden, Tiber, as it rolls away Helmets, and shields and bodies of the brave! |
631 | |
| Ay, let them break the league, and bid the War-god rave." | |||
| LXXII . |
He spake, and, rising from his seat, renews The slumbering fires of Hercules, and tends The hearth-god's shrine of yesterday. Choice ewes They slay—Evander and his Trojan friends. Then to his comrades and the shore he wends, Arrays the crews, and takes the bravest there To follow him in fight. The rest he sends To young Ascanius down the stream, to bear |
640 | |
| News of his absent sire, and how the cause doth fare. | |||
| LXXIII . |
With steeds, to aid the Tuscans, they provide The Teucrians. For Æneas forth is led The choicest, with a tawny lion's hide, All glittering with gilded claws, bespread. Now rumour through the little town hath sped, Of horsemen for the Tuscan king, with spear And shield for battle. Mothers, pale with dread, Heap vows on vows. The War-god, drawing near, |
649 | |
| Looms larger, and more close to danger draws the fear. | |||
| LXXIV . |
Then cries Evander, clinging, and with tears Insatiate, loth to see his Pallas go, "Ah! would but Jove bring back the bygone years, As when beneath Præneste long ago I strowed the van, and laid their mightiest low, And burned their shields, and with this hand to Hell Hurled down King Erulus, the monstrous foe, To whom Feronia, terrible to tell, |
658 | |
| Three lives had given, and thrice to battle ere he fell. | |||
| LXXV . |
"Twice up he rose, but thrice I slew the slain, Thrice of his life I robbed him, till he died, Thrice stripped his arms. O, were I such again, Danger, nor death, nor aught of ill beside, Sweet son, should ever tear me from thy side. Ne'er had Mezentius then, the neighbouring lord, Dared thus to flout me, nor this arm defied. Nor wrought such havoc and such crimes abhorred, |
667 | |
| Nor made a weeping town thus widowed by the sword. | |||
| LXXVI . |
"O Gods, and thou, who rulest earth and air, Great Jove, their mightiest, pity, I implore, Arcadia's King, and hear a father's prayer. If Fate this happiness reserve in store, To gaze upon my Pallas' face once more, If living means to meet my son again, Then let me live; how hard soe'er and sore My trials, gladly will I count them gain. |
676 | |
| Sweet will the suffering seem, and light the load of pain. | |||
| LXXVII . |
"But O, if Fortune, with malignant spite, Some blow past utterance for my life prepare, Now, now this moment rid me of the light, While fears are vague, nor hoping breeds despair, While, dearest boy, my late and only care, Thus—thus I fold thee in my arms to-day. Nor wound with news too sorrowful to bear A father's ears!" He spake, and swooned away; |
685 | |
| Back to his home the slaves their fainting lord convey. | |||
| LXXVIII . |
Forth troop the horsemen from the gates. First ride Æneas and Achates; in the rear Troy's nobles, led by Pallas, in the pride Of broidered scarf and figured arms, appear. As when bright Lucifer, to Venus dear Beyond all planets and each starry beam, High up in heaven his sacred head doth rear, Bathed in the freshness of the Ocean stream, |
694 | |
| And melts the dark, so fair the gallant youth doth seem. | |||
| LXXIX . |
The matrons stand upon the walls, distraught, And mark the dust-cloud and the mail-clad train. These through the brushwood, where the road lies short, Move on in arms. The war-shout peals again, The hard hoofs clattering shake the crumbling plain. And now, where, cold with crystal waves, is found Fair Cære's stream, a spreading grove they gain. Ages have spread its sanctity, and, crowned |
703 | |
| With pine-woods dark as night, the hollow hills stand round. | |||
| LXXX . |
This grove, 'tis said, the tribes Pelasgian—they, Who first in Latin marches dwelt of old— Kept sacred to Silvanus, and the day Vowed to the guardian of the field and fold. Hard by, brave Tarchon and his Tuscans bold Lay camped. His legions, stretching o'er the meads, The Trojans from a rising ground behold. Æneas here his toil-worn warriors leads; |
712 | |
| Food for themselves they bring, and forage for their steeds. | |||
| LXXXI . |
Meanwhile fair Venus through the clouds came down, Bearing her gifts. Couched in a secret glade, By a cool river, she espies her son, And hails him: "See the promised gifts displayed, Wrought by my husband's cunning for thine aid. Thy prowess now let proud Laurentum taste, Nor fear with Turnus to contend." So said Cythera's goddess, and her child embraced, |
721 | |
| And on an oak in front the radiant arms she placed. | |||
| LXXXII . |
Joy fills Æneas; with insatiate gaze He views the gifts, and marvels at the sight. In turn he handles, and in turn surveys The helmet tall with fiery crest bedight, The fateful sword, the breastplate's brazen might, Blood-red, and huge, and glorious to behold As some dark cloud, far-blazing with the light Of sunset; then the polished greaves of gold, |
730 | |
| The spear, the mystic shield, too wondrous to be told. | |||
| LXXXIII . |
There did the Fire-king, who the future cons, The tale of ancient Italy portray, Rome's triumphs, and Ascanius' distant sons, Their wars in order, and each hard-fought fray. There, in the cave of Mars all verdurous, lay The fostering she-wolf with the twins; they hung About her teats, and licked in careless play Their mother. She, with slim neck backward flung, |
739 | |
| In turn caressed them both, and shaped them with her tongue. | |||
| LXXXIV . |
There, later Rome, and there, the Sabine dames Amid the crowded theatre he viewed, Raped by the Romans at the Circus games; The sudden war, that from the deed ensued, With aged Tatius and his Cures rude. There stand the kings, still armed, but foes no more, Beside Jove's altar, and abjure the feud. Goblet in hand, the sacred wine they pour, |
748 | |
| And o'er the slaughtered swine the plighted peace restore. | |||
| LXXXV . |
Next, Mettus, by the four-horsed chariot torn. ('Twere better, perjured Alban, to be true!) Fierce Tullus dragged the traitor's limbs in scorn Through brambles, dripping with the crimson dew. Porsenna there around the city drew His 'leaguering host. But freedom fired the blood Of Romans. Idle was his rage, to view How Cocles on the battered bridge withstood, |
757 | |
| And Cloelia burst her bonds, and singly stemmed the flood. | |||
| LXXXVI . |
Next, Manlius guards the Capitol; see here The straw-thatched palace. Silvered in the gold, The fluttering goose proclaims the Gauls are near. They, screened by darkness, thread the woods, and hold With arms the slumbering citadel. Behold Their beards all golden, and their golden hair, Their white necks gleaming with the twisted gold, Their chequered plaids. Each hand an Alpine spear |
766 | |
| Waves, and an oblong shield their stalwart arms upbear. | |||
| LXXXVII . |
There danced the Salians, the Luperci reeled Half-naked. See them sculptured in array, With caps wool-tufted, and the sky-dropt shield. Chaste dames, in cushioned chariots, lead the way Through the glad city. Elsewhere, far away, Loom Dis and Tartarus, where the guilty pine, And Catiline, upon a rock for aye Hangs, shuddering at the Furies. Distant shine |
775 | |
| The just, where Cato stands, dealing the law divine. | |||
| LXXXVIII . |
The swelling ocean in the midst is seen, All golden, but the billow's hoary spray Foams o'er the blue. Dolphins of silvery sheen Lash the white eddies with their tails in play, Cleaving the surges. In the centre lay The brazen fleets, all panoplied for war, 'Tis Actium's fight; Leucate's headland grey Boils with the tumult of the distant jar, |
784 | |
| And golden glow the waves, effulgent from afar. | |||
| LXXXIX . |
Augustus his Italians leads from home, High on the stern. The Senators stand round, The people, and the guardian gods of Rome. With double flame his joyous brows are crowned; The constellation of his sire renowned Beams o'er his head. There too, his ships in line, With winds and gods to prosper him, is found Agrippa. Radiant on his head doth shine |
793 | |
| The crown of golden beaks, the battle's glorious sign. | |||
| XC . |
Here, late from Parthia and the Red-sea coast, With motley legions and barbaric pride, Comes Anthony. From Egypt swarms his host, From India and far Bactra. At his side Stands—shame to tell it—an Egyptian bride. See now the fight; prows churn and oar-blades lash The foam. 'Twould seem the Cyclads swim the tide, Torn from his moorings, or the mountains clash, |
802 | |
| So huge the tower-crowned ships, so terrible the crash. | |||
| XCI . |
Winged darts are hurled, and flaming tow; the leas Of Neptune redden. There the queen stands by, And sounds the timbrel for the fray, nor sees The asps behind. All monsters of the sky With Neptune, Venus, and Minerva vie. In vain Anubis barks; Mars raves among The combatants; the Furies frown on high. With mantle rent, glad Discord joins the throng; |
811 | |
| Behind, with bloody scourge, Bellona stalks along. | |||
| XCII . |
There Actian Phoebus, gazing on the scene, Bent his dread bow. Egypt, Arabia fled, And India turned in terror. There, the queen Calls to the winds; behold, the sails are spread. Her, pale with thoughts of dying, through the dead The waves and zephyrs—so the gold expressed— Bear onward. Yonder, to his sheltering bed Nile, sorrowing, calls the fugitives to rest, |
820 | |
| Unfolds his winding robes, and bares his azure breast. | |||
| XCIII . |
There, Cæsar sacred to his gods proclaims Three hundred temples, each a stately fane. Behold his triple triumph. Shouts and games Gladden the streets; glad matrons chant the strain At every altar, and the steers are slain. He takes the offerings, and reviews the throng, Throned in the portal of Apollo's fane. Below, the captive nations march along, |
829 | |
| Diverse in arms and garb, and each of different tongue. | |||
| XCIV . |
Wild Nomads, Africans uncinctured came, Carians, Gelonian bowmen, and behind The Leleges, the Dahæ, hard to tame, The Morini, extreme of human-kind. Last, proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind, Euphrates humbled, and the horned Rhine. All this, by Vulcan on the shield designed, He sees, and, gladdening at the gift divine, |
838 | |
| Upbears aloft the fame and fortunes of his line. | |||
ARGUMENT
Certified by Juno of the absence of Æneas, Turnus leads his forces against the Trojans. When they entrench themselves within their lines, he attempts to burn their ships, which are thereupon changed by Cybele into nymphs, and float away (1-144). Turnus undaunted harangues his men and beleaguers the camp (145-198). Nisus and Euryalus scheme, and petition, to sally forth to find Æneas and a rescue. Setting out with promise of rich rewards if successful, they surprise the Latin Camp but are themselves in turn surprised and slain (199-513). Their victims are buried; their heads are paraded on pikes before the Trojan Camp, to the agony of the mother of Euryalus (514-576). The allies assault the camp. Virgil invokes Calliope to describe the fray (577-603). The collapse of a tower and losses on both sides prelude Ascanius' baptism of fire. He kills his man (604-765). The brothers Pandarus and Bitias open the camp-gates in defiance. Bitias falls, and Pandarus, retreating, shuts Turnus within the camp, who kills him, but failing to let in his friends is eventually hard pressed (766-882). The Trojans rally round Mnestheus and Serestus. Turnus plunges into the river and with difficulty escapes by swimming (883-927).
| I . |
While thus in distant quarter moves the scene, Down to the daring Turnus from the skies Comes Iris, sent by the Saturnian queen. Him seated in a hallowed vale, where lies His father's grove, Pilumnus', she espies. There straight with rosy lips the daughter fair Of Thaumas hails the hero: "Turnus, rise. Behold what none of all the Gods would dare |
1 | |
| To promise, rolling Time hath proffered without prayer. | |||
| II . |
"Fleet left and friends, Æneas to the court Of Palatine Evander speeds his way, Nay, the far towns of Corythus hath sought, And arms the Lydian swains to meet the fray! Now call for steel and chariot. Why delay? Surprise the camp and capture it."—She said, And straight on balanced pinions soared away, Cleaving the bow. The warrior marked, and spread |
10 | |
| His hands, and thus with prayer pursued her as she fled: | |||
| III . |
"O Iris, Heaven's fair glory, who hath sent Thee hither? whence this sudden light so clear? I see the firmament asunder rent, And planets wandering in the polar sphere. Blest omens, hail! I follow thee, whoe'er Thou art, that call'st to battle." He arose With joy, and stepping to the streamlet near, Scoops up the water in his palms, and bows |
19 | |
| In suppliance to the Gods, and burdens Heaven with vows. | |||
| IV . |
Now all the host were marching on the meads, Well-horsed, and panoplied in golden gear, With broidered raiment. Brave Messapus leads The van, the sons of Tyrrheus close the rear, And Turnus in mid column shakes his spear. Slow moves the host, as when his seven-fold head Great Ganges lifts in silence, calm and clear, Or Nile, whose flood the fruitful soil hath fed, |
28 | |
| Ebbs from the fattened fields, and hides him in his bed. | |||
| V . |
Far off, the Teucrians from their camp descried The gathering dust-cloud on the plains appear. Then brave Caïcus from a bastion cried, "What dark mass, rolling towards us, have we here? Arm, townsmen, arm! Bring quick the sword and spear, And mount the battlements, and man the wall. The foemen, ho!" And with a mighty cheer The Teucrians, hurrying at the warning call, |
37 | |
| Pour in through all the gates, and muster on the wall. | |||
| VI . |
So, parting, wise Æneas gave command, Should chance surprise them, with their chief away, To shun the field, nor battle hand to hand, But safe behind their sheltering earthworks stay, And, guarding wall and rampart, stand at bay. So now, though passion and indignant hate Prompt to engage, his mandate they obey, And bar each inlet, and secure each gate, |
46 | |
| And, armed, in sheltering towers their enemies await. | |||
| VII . |
Turnus, with twenty horsemen, left the rest To lag behind, and near the town-gate drew All unforeseen. A Thracian steed he pressed, Dappled with white; a crest of scarlet hue High o'er his golden helmet flamed in view. Loudly he shrills in anger to his train, "Who first with me will at the foemen—who? See there!" and, rising hurls his spear amain, |
55 | |
| Sign of the fight begun, and pricks along the plain. | |||
| VIII . |
With shouts his comrades welcome the attack, And clamouring fiercely follow in his train. They marvel at the Teucrian hearts so slack, That none will dare to trust the open plain, And fight like men, but in the camp remain, And safe behind their sheltering rampart stay. Now here, now there, fierce Turnus in disdain Rides round the walls, and, searching for a way, |
64 | |
| Where way is none, still strives an entrance to essay. | |||
| IX . |
As wolf, in ambush by the fold, sore beat With winds, at midnight howls amid the rain. The lambs beneath their mothers safely bleat. He, mad with rage, and faint with famine's pain, Thirsts for their blood, and ramps at them in vain; So raves fierce Turnus, as his eyes survey The walls and camp. Grief burns in every vein, As round he looks for access and a way |
73 | |
| To shake the Teucrians out, and strew them forth to slay. | |||
| X . |
The fleet, as by the flanking camp it lies, Fenced by the river and the mounded sand, He marks, then loudly to the burning cries, And with a flaming pinestock fills his hand, Himself aflame. His presence cheers the band. All set to work, and strip the watchfires bare: Each warrior arms him with a murky brand: The smoking torch shoots up a pitchy glare, |
82 | |
| And clouds of mingled soot the Fire-god flings in air. | |||
| XI . |
Say, Muse, what god from Teucrians turned the flame, Such fiery havoc. O, the tale declare; Old is its faith, but deathless is its fame. When first Æneas did his fleet prepare 'Neath Phrygian Ida, through the seas to fare, To Jove the Berecynthian queen divine Spake thus, 'tis said, urging a suppliant's prayer: "O Lord Olympian, hearken and incline. |
91 | |
| Grant what thy mother asks, who made Olympus thine. | |||
| XII . |
"A wood, beloved for many a year, was mine, A grove of sacrifice, on Ida's height, Darksome with maple and the swart pitch-pine. This wood, these trees, my ever-dear delight, Gladly I gave to speed the Dardan's flight. But doubts and fears my troubled mind assail. O calm them; may a parent's prayer have might, And this their birth upon our hills avail |
100 | |
| To guide their voyage safe, and shield them from the gale." | |||