When
Asia
's power and Priam's race and throne,
1
though guiltless, were cast down by Heaven's decree,
in smouldering ash lay level with the ground,
to wandering exile then and regions wild
5
the gods by many an augury and sign
compelled us forth. We fashioned us a fleet
within Antander's haven, in the shade
of Phrygian Ida's peak (though knowing not
whither our fate would drive, or where afford
10
a resting-place at last), and my small band
of warriors I arrayed. As soon as smiled
the light of summer's prime, my reverend sire
Anchises bade us on the winds of Fate
to spread all sail. Through tears I saw recede
15
my native shore, the haven and the plains
where once was
Troy
. An exile on the seas,
with son and followers and household shrines,
and
Troy
's great guardian-gods, I took my way.
There is a far-off land where warriors breed,
20
where Thracians till the boundless plains, and where
the cruel-eyed Lycurgus once was king.
Troy's old ally it was, its deities
had brotherhood with ours before our fall.
Thither I fared, and on its winding shores
25
set my first walls, though partial Fate opposed
our entrance there. In memory of my name
I called its people the Aeneadae.
Unto Dione's daughter, and all gods
who blessed our young emprise, due gifts were paid;
30
and unto the supreme celestial King
I slew a fair white bull beside the sea.
But haply near my place of sacrifice
a mound was seen, and on the summit grew
a copse of corner and a myrtle tree,
35
with spear-like limbs outbranched on every side.
This I approached, and tried to rend away
from its deep roots that grove of gloomy green,
and dress my altars in its leafy boughs.
But, horrible to tell, a prodigy
40
smote my astonished eyes: for the first tree,
which from the earth with broken roots I drew,
dripped black with bloody drops, and gave the ground
dark stains of gore. Cold horror shook my frame,
and every vein within me froze for fear.
45
Once more I tried from yet another stock
the pliant stem to tear, and to explore
the mystery within,—but yet again
the foul bark oozed with clots of blackest gore!
From my deep-shaken soul I made a prayer
50
to all the woodland nymphs and to divine
Gradivus, patron of the Thracian plain,
to bless this sight, to lift its curse away.
But when at a third sheaf of myrtle spears
I fell upon my knees, and tugged amain
55
against the adverse ground (I dread to tell!),
a moaning and a wail from that deep grave
burst forth and murmured in my listening ear:
“Why wound me, great Aeneas, in my woe?
O, spare the dead, nor let thy holy hands
60
do sacrilege and sin! I, Trojan-born,
was kin of thine. This blood is not of trees.
Haste from this murderous shore, this land of greed.
O, I am Polydorus! Haste away!
Here was I pierced; a crop of iron spears
65
has grown up o'er my breast, and multiplied
to all these deadly javelins, keen and strong.”
Then stood I, burdened with dark doubt and fear
I quailed, my hair rose and my utterance choked.
For once this Polydorus, with much gold,
70
ill-fated Priam sent by stealth away
for nurture with the Thracian king, what time
Dardania's war Iooked hopeless, and her towers
were ringed about by unrelenting siege.
That king, when
Ilium
's cause was ebbing low,
75
and fortune frowned, gave o'er his plighted faith
to Agamemnon's might and victory;
he scorned all honor and did murder foul
on Polydorus, seizing lawlessly
on all the gold. O, whither at thy will,
80
curst greed of gold, may mortal hearts be driven?
Soon as my shuddering ceased, I told this tale
of prodigies before the people's chiefs,
who sat in conclave with my kingly sire,
and bade them speak their reverend counsel forth.
85
All found one voice; to leave that land of sin,
where foul abomination had profaned
a stranger's right; and once more to resign
our fleet unto the tempest and the wave.
But fit and solemn funeral rites were paid
90
to Polydorus. A high mound we reared
of heaped-up earth, and to his honored shade
built a perpetual altar, sadly dressed
in cypress dark and purple pall of woe.
Our Ilian women wailed with loosened hair;
95
new milk was sprinkled from a foaming cup,
and from the shallow bowl fresh blood out-poured
upon the sacred ground. So in its tomb
we laid his ghost to rest, and loudly sang,
with prayer for peace, the long, the last farewell.
100
After these things, when first the friendly sea
looked safe and fair, and o'er its tranquil plain
light-whispering breezes bade us launch away,
my men drew down our galleys to the brine,
thronging the shore. Soon out of port we ran,
105
and watched the hills and cities fading far.
There is a sacred island in mid-seas,
to fruitful Doris and to Neptune dear,
which grateful Phoebus, wielder of the bow,
the while it drifted loose from land to land,
110
chained firmly where the crags of Gyaros
and Myconos uptower, and bade it rest
immovable, in scorn of wind and wave.
Thither I sped; by this my weary ships
found undisturbed retreat and haven fair.
115
To land we came and saw with reverent eyes
Apollo's citadel. King Anius,
his people's king, and priest at Phoebus' fane,
came forth to meet us, wearing on his brow
the fillets and a holy laurel crown.
120
Unto Anchises he gave greeting kind,
claimed old acquaintance, grasped us by the hand,
and bade us both his roof and welcome share.
Then, kneeling at the shrine of time-worn stone:
“Thou who at Thymbra on the Trojan shore
125
hast often blessed my prayer, O, give to me
a hearth and home, and to this war-worn band
defensive towers and offspring multiplied
in an abiding city; give to
Troy
a second citadel, that shall survive
130
Achilles' wrath and all our
Argive
foe.
Whom shall we follow? Whither lies our way?
Where wilt thou grant us an abiding-place?
Send forth, O King, thy voice oracular,
and on our spirits move.”
90
Scarce had I spoke
135
when sudden trembling through the laurels ran
and smote the holy portals; far and wide
the mighty ridges of the mountain shook,
and from the opening shrine the tripod moaned.
Prostrate to earth we fall, as on our ears
140
this utterance breaks: “O breed of iron men,
ye sons of Dardanus! the self-same land
where bloomed at first your far-descended stem
shall to its bounteous bosom draw ye home.
Seek out your ancient Mother! There at last
145
Aeneas' race shall reign on every shore,
and his sons' sons, and all their house to be.”
So Phoebus spoke; and mighty joy uprose
from all my thronging people, who would know
where Phoebus' city lay, and whitherward
150
the god ordained the wandering tribe's return.
Then spake my father, pondering olden days
and sacred memories of heroes gone:
“Hear, chiefs and princes, what your hopes shall be!
The Isle of
Crete
, abode of lofty Jove,
155
rests in the middle sea. Thence Ida soars;
there is the cradle of our race. It boasts
a hundred cities, seats of fruitful power.
Thence our chief sire, if duly I recall
the olden tale, King Teucer sprung, who first
160
touched on the Trojan shore, and chose his seat
of kingly power. There was no
Ilium
then
nor towered Pergama; in lowly vales
their dwelling; hence the ancient worship given
to the Protectress of Mount Cybele,
165
mother of Gods, what time in Ida's grove
the brazen Corybantic cymbals clang,
or sacred silence guards her mystery,
and lions yoked her royal chariot draw.
Up, then, and follow the behests divine!
170
Pour offering to the winds, and point your keels
unto that realm of Minos. It is near.
if Jove but bless, the third day's dawn should see
our ships at Cretan land.” So, having said,
he slew the victims for each altar's praise.
175
A bull to Neptune, and a bull to thee,
o beauteous Apollo! A black lamb
unto the clouds and storms; but fleece of snow
to the mild zephyrs was our offering.
The tale was told us that Idomeneus,
180
from his hereditary kindgom driven,
had left his
Crete
abandoned, that no foe
now harbored there, but all its dwellings lay
untenanted of man. So forth we sailed
out of the port of
Delos
, and sped far
185
along the main. The maenad-haunted hills
of
Naxos
came in view; the ridges green
of fair Donysa, with Olearos,
scattered among the waves, as close we ran
190
where thick-strewn islands vex the channelled seas
with rival shout the sailors cheerly called:
“On, comrades! On, to
Crete
and to our sires!”
Freely behind us blew the friendly winds,
and gave smooth passage to that fabled shore,
195
the land of the Curetes, friends of Jove.
There eagerly I labored at the walls
of our long-prayed-for city; and its name
was Pergamea; to my Trojan band,
pleased with such name, I gave command to build
200
altar and hearth, and raise the lofty tower.
But scarce the ships were beached along the strand
(While o'er the isle my busy mariners
ploughed in new fields and took them wives once more, —
I giving homes and laws) when suddenly
205
a pestilence from some infectious sky
seized on man's flesh, and horribly exhaled
o'er trees and crops a fatal year of plague.
Some breathed their last, while others weak and worn
lived on; the dog-star parched the barren fields;
210
grass withered, and the sickly, mouldering corn
refused us life. My aged father then
bade us re-cross the waves and re-implore
Apollo's mercy at his island shrine;
if haply of our weariness and woe
215
he might vouchsafe the end, or bid us find
help for our task, or guidance o'er the sea.
'T was night, and sleep possessed all breathing things;
when, lo! the sacred effigies divine,
the Phrygian gods which through the flames I bore
220
from fallen
Troy
, seemed in a vision clear
to stand before me where I slumbering lay,
bathed in bright beams which from the moon at full
streamed through the latticed wall: and thus they spoke
to soothe my care away. “Apollo's word,
225
which in far
Delos
the god meant for thee,
is uttered here. Behold, he sends ourselves
to this thy house, before thy prayer is made.
We from
Troy
's ashes have companioned thee
in every fight; and we the swollen seas,
230
guided by thee, in thine own ships have crossed;
our power divine shall set among the stars
thy seed to be, and to thy city give
dominion evermore. For mighty men
go build its mighty walls! Seek not to shun
235
the hard, long labors of an exile's way.
Change this abode! Not thine this Cretan shore,
nor here would Delian Phoebus have thee bide.
There is a land the roving Greeks have named
Hesperia. It is a storied realm
240
made mighty by great wars and fruitful land.
Oenotrians had it, and their sons, 't is said,
have called it
Italy
, a chieftain's name
to a whole region given. That land alone
our true abode can be; for Dardanus
245
was cradled there, and old Iasius,
their blood the oldest of our ancient line.
Arise! go forth and cheer thy father gray
with the glad tidings! Bid him doubt no more!
Ausonia seek and Corythus; for Jove
250
denies this Cretan realm to thine and thee.”
I marvelled at the heavenly presences
so vocal and so bright, for 't was not sleep;
but face to face I deemed I could discern
each countenance august and holy brow,
255
each mantled head; and from my body ran
cold sweat of awe. From my low couch I sprang,
lifting to heaven my suppliant hands and prayer,
and o'er my hearth poured forth libations free.
After th' auspicious offering, I told
260
Anchises the whole tale in order due.
He owned our stock two-branched, of our great sires
the twofold line, and that his thought had strayed,
in new confusion mingling ancient names;
then spoke: “O son, in
Ilium
's doom severe
265
afflicted ever! To my ears alone
this dark vicissitude Cassandra sang.
I mind me now that her wild tongue foretold
such destiny. For oft she called aloud
‘Hesperia!’ oft ‘
Italia
's kingdom!’ called.
270
But who had faith that Teucer's sons should come
to far Hesperia? What mortal ear
gave heed to sad Cassandra's voice divine?
Now Phoebus speaks. Obedient let us be,
and, warned by him, our happier Iot pursue!”
275
He spoke: with heart of hope we all obeyed;
again we changed abode; and, leaving there
a feeble few, again with spreading sails
we coursed in hollow ship the spacious sea.
When from the deep the shores had faded far,
280
and only sky and sea were round our way,
full in the zenith hung a purple cloud,
storm-laden, dark as night, and every wave
grew black and angry, while perpetual gales
came rolling o'er the main, and mountain-high
285
the wreckful surges rose; our ships were hurled
wide o'er the whirling waters; thunder-clouds
and misty murk of night made end of all
the light of heaven, save where the rifted storm
flashed with the oft-reiterate shaft of Jove.
290
Then went we drifting, beaten from our course,
upon a trackless sea. Not even the eyes
of Palinurus could tell night from noon
or ken our way. Three days of blinding dark,
three nights without a star, we roved the seas;
295
The fourth, land seemed to rise. Far distant hills
and rolling smoke we saw. Down came our sails,
out flew the oars, and with prompt stroke the crews
swept the dark waves and tossed the crested foam.
From such sea-peril safe, I made the shores
300
of Strophades,—a name the Grecians gave
to islands in the broad Ionic main, —
the Strophades, where dread Celaeno bides,
with other Harpies, who had quit the halls
of stricken Phineus, and for very fear
305
fled from the routed feast; no prodigy
more vile than these, nor plague more pitiless
ere rose by wrath divine from Stygian wave;
birds seem they, but with face like woman-kind;
foul-flowing bellies, hands with crooked claws,
310
and ghastly lips they have, with hunger pale.
Scarce had we made the haven, when, behold!
Fair herds of cattle roaming a wide plain,
and horned goats, untended, feeding free
in pastures green, surprised our happy eyes.
315
with eager blades we ran to take and slay,
asking of every god, and chicfly Jove,
to share the welcome prize: we ranged a feast,
with turf-built couches and a banquet-board
along the curving strand. But in a trice,
320
down from the high hills swooping horribly,
the Harpies loudly shrieking, flapped their wings,
snatched at our meats, and with infectious touch
polluted all; infernal was their cry,
the stench most vile. Once more in covert far
325
beneath a caverned rock, and close concealed
with trees and branching shade, we raised aloft
our tables, altars, and rekindled fires.
Once more from haunts unknown the clamorous flock
from every quarter flew, and seized its prey
330
with taloned feet and carrion lip most foul.
I called my mates to arms and opened war
on that accursed brood. My band obeyed;
and, hiding in deep grass their swords and shields,
in ambush lay. But presently the foe
335
swept o'er the winding shore with loud alarm :
then from a sentry-crag, Misenus blew
a signal on his hollow horn. My men
flew to the combat strange, and fain would wound
with martial steel those foul birds of the sea;
340
but on their sides no wounding blade could fall,
nor any plume be marred. In swiftest flight
to starry skies they soared, and left on earth
their half-gnawed, stolen feast, and footprints foul.
Celaeno only on a beetling crag
345
took lofty perch, and, prophetess of ill,
shrieked malediction from her vulture breast:
“Because of slaughtered kine and ravished herd,
sons of Laomedon, have ye made war?
And will ye from their rightful kingdom drive
350
the guiltless Harpies? Hear, O, hear my word
(Long in your bosoms may it rankle sore!)
which Jove omnipotent to Phoebus gave,
Phoebus to me: a word of doom, which I,
the Furies' elder sister, here unfold:
355
‘To
Italy
ye fare. The willing winds
your call have heard; and ye shall have your prayer
in some Italian haven safely moored.
But never shall ye rear the circling walls
of your own city, till for this our blood
360
by you unjustly spilt, your famished jaws
bite at your tables, aye,—and half devour.’”
She spoke: her pinions bore her to the grove,
and she was seen no more. But all my band
shuddered with shock of fear in each cold vein;
365
their drooping spirits trusted swords no more,
but turned to prayers and offerings, asking grace,
scarce knowing if those creatures were divine,
or but vast birds, ill-omened and unclean.
Father Anchises to the gods in heaven
370
uplifted suppliant hands, and on that shore
due ritual made, crying aloud; “Ye gods
avert this curse, this evil turn away!
Smile, Heaven, upon your faithful votaries.”
Then bade he launch away, the chain undo,
375
set every cable free and spread all sail.
O'er the white waves we flew, and took our way
where'er the helmsman or the winds could guide.
Now forest-clad
Zacynthus
met our gaze,
engirdled by the waves; Dulichium,
380
same, and Neritos, a rocky steep,
uprose. We passed the cliffs of
Ithaca
that called
Laertes
king, and flung our curse
on fierce Ulysses' hearth and native land.
nigh hoar Leucate's clouded crest we drew,
385
where Phoebus' temple, feared by mariners,
loomed o'er us; thitherward we steered and reached
the little port and town. Our weary fleet
dropped anchor, and lay beached along the strand.
So, safe at land, our hopeless peril past,
390
we offered thanks to Jove, and kindled high
his altars with our feast and sacrifice;
then, gathering on
Actium
's holy shore,
made fair solemnities of pomp and game.
My youth, anointing their smooth, naked limbs,
395
wrestled our wonted way. For glad were we,
who past so many isles of
Greece
had sped
and 'scaped our circling foes. Now had the sun
rolled through the year's full circle, and the waves
were rough with icy winter's northern gales.
400
I hung for trophy on that temple door
a swelling shield of brass (which once was worn
by mighty Abas) graven with this line:
SPOIL OF AENEAS FROM TRIUMPHANT FOES.
Then from that haven I command them forth;
405
my good crews take the thwarts, smiting the sea
with rival strokes, and skim the level main.
Soon sank Phaeacia's wind-swept citadels
out of our view; we skirted the bold shores
of proud
Epirus
, in Chaonian land,
410
and made
Buthrotum
's port and towering town.
Here wondrous tidings met us, that the son
of Priam, Helenus, held kingly sway
o'er many
Argive
cities, having wed
the Queen of Pyrrhus, great Achilles' son,
415
and gained his throne; and that Andromache
once more was wife unto a kindred lord.
Amazement held me; all my bosom burned
to see the hero's face and hear this tale
of strange vicissitude. So up I climbed,
420
leaving the haven, fleet, and friendly shore.
That self-same hour outside the city walls,
within a grove where flowed the mimic stream
of a new Simois, Andromache,
with offerings to the dead, and gifts of woe,
425
poured forth libation, and invoked the shade
of Hector, at a tomb which her fond grief
had consecrated to perpetual tears,
though void; a mound of fair green turf it stood,
and near it rose twin altars to his name.
430
She saw me drawing near; our Trojan helms
met her bewildered eyes, and, terror-struck
at the portentous sight, she swooning fell
and lay cold, rigid, lifeless, till at last,
scarce finding voice, her lips addressed me thus :
435
“Have I true vision? Bringest thou the word
Of truth, O goddess-born? Art still in flesh?
Or if sweet light be fled, my Hector, where?”
With flood of tears she spoke, and all the grove
reechoed to her cry. Scarce could I frame
440
brief answer to her passion, but replied
with broken voice and accents faltering:
“I live, 't is true. I lengthen out my days
through many a desperate strait. But O, believe
that what thine eyes behold is vision true.
445
Alas! what lot is thine, that wert unthroned
from such a husband's side? What after-fate
could give thee honor due? Andromache,
once Hector's wife, is Pyrrhus still thy lord?”
With drooping brows and lowly voice she cried :
450
“O, happy only was that virgin blest,
daughter of Priam, summoned forth to die
in sight of
Ilium
, on a foeman's tomb!
No casting of the lot her doom decreed,
nor came she to her conqueror's couch a slave.
455
Myself from burning
Ilium
carried far
o'er seas and seas, endured the swollen pride
of that young scion of Achilles' race,
and bore him as his slave a son. When he
sued for Hermione, of Leda's line,
460
and nuptial-bond with Lacedaemon's Iords,
I, the slave-wife, to Helenus was given,
and slave was wed with slave. But afterward
Orestes, crazed by loss of her he loved,
and ever fury-driven from crime to crime,
465
crept upon Pyrrhus in a careless hour
and murdered him upon his own hearth-stone.
Part of the realm of Neoptolemus
fell thus to Helenus, who called his lands
Chaonian, and in Trojan Chaon's name
470
his kingdom is Chaonia. Yonder height
is
Pergamus
, our Ilian citadel.
What power divine did waft thee to our shore,
not knowing whither? Tell me of the boy
Ascanius! Still breathes he earthly air?
475
In
Troy
she bore him—is he mourning still
that mother ravished from his childhood's eyes?
what ancient valor stirs the manly soul
of thine own son, of Hector's sister's child?”
Thus poured she forth full many a doleful word
480
with unavailing tears. But as she ceased,
out of the city gates appeared the son
of Priam, Helenus, with princely train.
He welcomed us as kin, and glad at heart
gave guidance to his house, though oft his words
485
fell faltering and few, with many a tear.
Soon to a humbler
Troy
I lift my eyes,
and of a mightier
Pergamus
discern
the towering semblance; there a scanty stream
runs on in
Xanthus
' name, and my glad arms
490
the pillars of a Scaean gate embrace.
My Teucrian mariners with welcome free
enjoyed the friendly town; his ample halls
our royal host threw wide; full wine-cups flowed
within the palace; golden feast was spread,
495
and many a goblet quaffed.
356
Day followed day,
while favoring breezes beckoned us to sea,
and swelled the waiting canvas as they blew.
Then to the prophet-priest I made this prayer:
“Offspring of
Troy
, interpreter of Heaven!
500
Who knowest Phoebus' power, and readest well
the tripod, stars, and vocal laurel leaves
to Phoebus dear, who know'st of every bird
the ominous swift wing or boding song,
o, speak! For all my course good omens showed,
505
and every god admonished me to sail
in quest of
Italy
's far-distant shores;
but lone Celaeno, heralding strange woe,
foretold prodigious horror, vengeance dark,
and vile, unnatural hunger. How elude
510
such perils? Or by what hard duty done
may such huge host of evils vanquished be?”
Then Helenus, with sacrifice of kine
in order due, implored the grace of Heaven,
unloosed the fillets from his sacred brow,
515
and led me, Phoebus, to thy temple's door,
awed by th' o'er-brooding godhead, whose true priest,
with lips inspired, made this prophetic song:
“O goddess-born, indubitably shines
the blessing of great gods upon thy path
520
across the sea; the heavenly King supreme
thy destiny ordains; 't is he unfolds
the grand vicissitude, which now pursues
a course immutable. I will declare
of thy large fate a certain bounded part;
525
that fearless thou may'st view the friendly sea,
and in Ausonia's haven at the last
find thee a fixed abode. Than this no more
the Sister Fates to Helenus unveil,
and Juno, Saturn's daughter, grants no more.
530
First, that
Italia
(which nigh at hand
thou deemest, and wouldst fondly enter in
by yonder neighboring bays) lies distant far
o'er trackless course and long, with interval
of far-extended lands. Thine oars must ply
535
the waves of
Sicily
; thy fleet must cleave
the large expanse of that Ausonian brine;
the waters of Avernus thou shalt see,
and that enchanted island where abides
Aeaean Circe, ere on tranquil shore
540
thou mayest plant thy nation. Lo! a sign
I tell thee; hide this wonder in thy heart:
Beside a certain stream's sequestered wave,
thy troubled eyes, in shadowy flex grove
that fringes on the river, shall descry
545
a milk-white, monstrous sow, with teeming brood
of thirty young, new littered, white like her,
all clustering at her teats, as prone she lies.
There is thy city's safe, predestined ground,
and there thy labors' end. Vex not thy heart
550
about those ‘tables bitten’, for kind fate
thy path will show, and Phoebus bless thy prayer.
But from these lands and yon Italian shore,
where from this sea of ours the tide sweeps in,
escape and flee, for all its cities hold
555
pernicious Greeks, thy foes: the
Locri
there
have builded walls; the wide Sallentine fields
are filled with soldiers of Idomeneus;
there Meliboean Philoctetes' town,
petilia, towers above its little wall.
560
Yea, even when thy fleet has crossed the main,
and from new altars built along the shore
thy vows to Heaven are paid, throw o'er thy head
a purple mantle, veiling well thy brows,
lest, while the sacrificial fire ascends
565
in offering to the gods, thine eye behold
some face of foe, and every omen fail.
Let all thy people keep this custom due,
and thou thyself be faithful; let thy seed
forever thus th' immaculate rite maintain.
570
After departing hence, thou shalt be blown
toward
Sicily
, and strait Pelorus' bounds
will open wide. Then take the leftward way:
those leftward waters in long circuit sweep,
far from that billowy coast, the opposing side.
575
These regions, so they tell, in ages gone
by huge and violent convulsion riven
(Such mutability is wrought by time),
sprang wide asunder; where the doubled strand
sole and continuous lay, the sea's vast power
580
burst in between, and bade its waves divide
Hesperia's bosom from fair
Sicily
,
while with a straitened firth it interflowed
their fields and cities sundered shore from shore.
The right side Scylla keeps; the left is given
585
to pitiless Charybdis, who draws down
to the wild whirling of her steep abyss
the monster waves, and ever and anon
flings them at heaven, to lash the tranquil stars.
But Scylla, prisoned in her eyeless cave,
590
thrusts forth her face, and pulls upon the rocks
ship after ship; the parts that first be seen
are human; a fair-breasted virgin she,
down to the womb; but all that lurks below
is a huge-membered fish, where strangely join
595
the flukes of dolphins and the paunch of wolves.
Better by far to round the distant goal
of the Trinacrian headlands, veering wide
from thy true course, than ever thou shouldst see
that shapeless Scylla in her vaulted cave,
600
where grim rocks echo her dark sea-dogs' roar.
Yea, more, if aught of prescience be bestowed
on Helenus, if trusted prophet he,
and Phoebus to his heart true voice have given,
o goddess-born, one counsel chief of all
605
I tell thee oft, and urge it o'er and o'er.
To Juno's godhead lift thy Ioudest prayer;
to Juno chant a fervent votive song,
and with obedient offering persuade
that potent Queen. So shalt thou, triumphing,
610
to
Italy
be sped, and leave behind
Trinacria
.
441
When wafted to that shore,
repair to
Cumae
's hill, and to the Lake
Avernus with its whispering grove divine.
There shalt thou see a frenzied prophetess,
615
who from beneath the hollow scarped crag
sings oracles, or characters on leaves
mysterious names. Whate'er the virgin writes,
on leaves inscribing the portentous song,
she sets in order, and conceals them well
620
in her deep cave, where they abide unchanged
in due array. Yet not a care has she,
if with some swinging hinge a breeze sweeps in,
to catch them as they whirl: if open door
disperse them flutterlig through the hollow rock,
625
she will not link their shifted sense anew,
nor re-invent her fragmentary song.
Oft her unanswered votaries depart,
scorning the Sibyl's shrine. But deem not thou
thy tarrying too Iong, whate'er thy stay.
630
Though thy companions chide, though winds of power
invite thy ship to sea, and well would speed
the swelling sail, yet to that Sibyl go.
Pray that her own lips may sing forth for thee
the oracles, uplifting her dread voice
635
in willing prophecy. Her rede shall tell
of
Italy
, its wars and tribes to be,
and of what way each burden and each woe
may be escaped, or borne. Her favoring aid
will grant swift, happy voyages to thy prayer.
640
Such counsels Heaven to my lips allows.
arise, begone! and by thy glorious deeds
set
Troy
among the stars! “
So spake the prophet with benignant voice.
Then gifts he bade be brought of heavy gold
645
and graven ivory, which to our ships
he bade us bear; each bark was Ioaded full
with messy silver and
Dodona
's pride
of brazen cauldrons; a cuirass he gave
of linked gold enwrought and triple chain;
650
a noble helmet, too, with flaming crest
and lofty cone, th' accoutrement erewhile
of Neoptolemus. My father too
had fit gifts from the King; whose bounty then
gave steeds and riders; and new gear was sent
655
to every sea-worn ship, while he supplied
seafarers, kit to all my loyal crews.
Anchises bade us speedily set sail,
nor lose a wind so fair; and answering him,
Apollo's priest made reverent adieu:
660
“Anchises, honored by the love sublime
of Venus, self and twice in safety borne
from falling
Troy
, chief care of kindly Heaven,
th' Ausonian shore is thine. Sail thitherward!
For thou art pre-ordained to travel far
665
o'er yonder seas; far in the distance lies
that region of Ausonia, Phoebus' voice
to thee made promise of. Onward, I say,
o blest in the exceeding loyal love
of thy dear son! Why keep thee longer now?
670
Why should my words yon gathering winds detain?”
Likewise Andromache in mournful guise
took last farewell, bringing embroidered robes
of golden woof; a princely Phrygian cloak
she gave Ascanius, vying with the King
675
in gifts of honor; and threw o'er the boy
the labors of her loom, with words like these:
“Accept these gifts, sweet youth, memorials
of me and my poor handicraft, to prove
th' undying friendship of Andromache,
680
once Hector's wife. Take these last offerings
of those who are thy kin—O thou that art
of my Astyanax in all this world
the only image! His thy lovely eyes!
Thy hands, thy lips, are even what he bore,
685
and like thy own his youthful bloom would be.”
Thus I made answer, turning to depart
with rising tears: “Live on, and be ye blessed,
whose greatness is accomplished! As for me,
from change to change Fate summons, and I go;
690
but ye have won repose. No leagues of sea
await your cleaving keel. Not yours the quest
of fading
Italy
's delusive shore.
your labor fashioned and your eyes may see—
695
more blest, I trust, less tempting to our foes!
If e'er on
Tiber
and its bordering vales
I safely enter, and these eyes behold
our destined walls, then in fraternal bond
let our two nations live, whose mutual boast
700
is one Dardanian blood, one common story.
Epirus
with Hesperia shall be
one
Troy
in heart and soul. But this remains
for our sons' sons the happy task and care.”
Forth o'er the seas we sped and kept our course
705
nigh the Ceraunian headland, where begins
the short sea-passage unto
Italy
.
Soon sank the sun, while down the shadowed hills
stole deeper gloom; then making shore, we flung
our bodies on a dry, sea-bordering sand,
710
couched on earth's welcome breast; the oars were ranged
in order due; the tides of slumber dark
o'erflowed our lives. But scarce the chariot
of Night, on wings of swift, obedient Hours,
had touched the middle sky, when wakeful sprang
715
good Palinurus from his pillowed stone:
with hand at ear he caught each airy gust
and questioned of the winds; the gliding stars
he called by name, as onward they advanced
through the still heaven; Arcturus he beheld,
720
the Hyades, rain-bringers, the twin Bears,
and vast Orion girt in golden arms.
He blew a trumpet from his ship; our camp
stirred to the signal for embarking; soon
we rode the seas once more with swelling sail.
725
Scarce had Aurora's purple from the sky
warned off the stars, when Iying very low
along th' horizon, the dimmed hills we saw
of
Italy
; Achates first gave cry
“
Italia
!” with answering shouts of joy,
730
my comrades' voices cried, “
Italia
, hail!”
Anchises, then, wreathed a great bowl with flowers
and filled with wine, invoking Heaven to bless,
and thus he prayed from our ship's lofty stern:
“O Iords of land and sea and every storm!
735
Breathe favoring breezes for our onward way!”
Fresh blew the prayed-for winds. A haven fair
soon widened near us; and its heights were crowned
by a Greek fane to Pallas. Yet my men
furled sail and shoreward veered the pointing prow.
740
the port receding from the orient wave
is curved into a bow; on either side
the jutting headlands toss the salt sea-foam
and hide the bay itself. Like double wall
the towered crags send down protecting arms,
745
while distant from the shore the temple stands.
Here on a green sward, the first omen given,
I saw four horses grazing through the field,
each white as snow. Father Anchises cried:
“Is war thy gift, O new and alien land?
750
Horses make war; of war these creatures bode.
Yet oft before the chariot of peace
their swift hoofs go, and on their necks they bear
th' obedient yoke and rein. Therefore a hope
of peace is also ours.” Then we implored
755
Minerva's mercy, at her sacred shrine,
the mail-clad goddess who gave welcome there;
and at an altar, mantling well our brows
the Phrygian way, as Helenus ordained,
we paid the honors his chief counsel urged,
760
with blameless rite, to Juno, Argive Queen.
No tarrying now, but after sacrifice
we twirled the sailyards and shook out all sail,
leaving the cities of the sons of
Greece
and that distrusted land.
Tarentum
's bay
765
soon smiled before us, town of Hercules,
if fame be true; opposing it uptowers
Lacinia's headland unto Juno dear,
the heights of Caulon, and that sailors' bane,
ship-shattering Scylaceum. Thence half seen,
770
trinacrian
Aetna
cleaves th' horizon line;
we hear from far the crash of shouting seas,
where lifted billows leap the tide-swept sand.
Father Anchises cried: “'T is none but she—
Charybdis! Helenus this reef foretold,
775
and rocks of dreadful name. O, fly, my men!
Rise like one man with long, strong sweep of oars!”
Not unobedient they! First Palinure
veered to the leftward wave the willing keel,
and sails and oars together leftward strove.
780
We shot to skyward on the arching surge,
then, as she sank, dropped deeper than the grave;
thrice bellowed the vast cliffs from vaulted wall;
thrice saw we spouted foam and showers of stars.
After these things both wind and sun did fail;
785
and weary, worn, not witting of our way,
we drifted shoreward to the Cyclops' land.
A spreading bay is there, impregnable
to all invading storms; and
Aetna
's throat
with roar of frightful ruin thunders nigh.
790
Now to the realm of light it lifts a cloud
of pitch-black, whirling smoke, and fiery dust,
shooting out globes of flame, with monster tongues
that lick the stars; now huge crags of itself,
out of the bowels of the mountain torn,
795
its maw disgorges, while the molten rock
rolls screaming skyward; from the nether deep
the fathomless abyss makes ebb and flow.
Enceladus, his body lightning-scarred,
lies prisoned under all, so runs the tale:
800
o'er him gigantic
Aetna
breathes in fire
from crack and seam; and if he haply turn
to change his wearied side,
Trinacria
's isle
trembles and moans, and thick fumes mantle heaven.
That night in screen and covert of a grove
805
we bore the dire convulsion, unaware
whence the loud horror came. For not a star
its lamp allowed, nor burned in upper sky
the constellated fires, but all was gloom,
and frowning night confined the moon in cloud.
810
When from the eastern waves the light of morn
began to peer, and from the upper sky
Aurora flamed away the dark and dew,
out of the forest sprang a startling shape
of hunger-wasted misery; a man
815
in wretched guise, who shoreward came with hands
outstretched in supplication. We turned back
and scanned him well. All grime and foulness he,
with long and tangled beard, his savage garb
fastened with thorns; but in all else he seemed
820
a Greek, and in his country's league of arms
sent to the seige of
Troy
. Then he beheld
the Dardan habit, and our Trojan steel,
he somewhat paused, as if in dread dismay
such sight to see, and falteringly moved;
825
but soon with headlong steps he sought the shore,
ejaculating broken sobs and prayers:
“By stars above! By gods on high! O, hear!
By this bright heavenly air we mortals breathe,
save me, sweet Trojans! Carry me away
830
unto what land ye will! I ask no more.
I came, I know it, in the ships of
Greece
;
and I did war, 't is true, with
Ilium
's gods.
O, if the crime deserve it, fling my corse
on yonder waves, and in the boundless brine
835
sink me forever! Give me in my death
the comfort that by human hands I die.”
He clasped our knees, and writhing on his own
clung fast. We bid him tell his race and name,
and by what fate pursued. Anchises gave
840
his own right hand in swift and generous aid,
and by prompt token cheered the exile's heart,
who, banishing his fears, poured forth this tale :—
“My home was
Ithaca
, and I partook
the fortunes of Ulysses evil-starred.
845
My name is Achemenides, my sire
was Adamastus, and I sailed for
Troy
,
being so poor,—O, that I ne'er had change
the lot I bore! In yon vast Cyclops' cave
my comrades, flying from its gruesome door,
850
left me behind, forgotten. 'T is a house
of gory feasts of flesh, 't is deep and dark,
and vaulted high. He looms as high as heaven;
I pray the blessed gods to rid the earth
of the vile monster! None can look on him,
855
none speak with him. He feeds on clotted gore
of disembowelled men. These very eyes
saw him seize two of our own company,
and, as he lolled back in the cave, he clutched
and dashed them on the stones, fouling the floor
860
with torrent of their blood; myself I saw him
crunch with his teeth the dripping, bloody limbs
still hot and pulsing on his hungry jaw.
But not without reward! For such a sight
Ulysses would not brook, and
Ithaca
865
forgot not in such strait the name he bore.
For soon as, gorged with feasting and o'ercome
with drunken slumber, the foul giant lay
sprawled through the cave, his head dropped helpless down,
disgorging as he slept thick drool of gore
870
and gobbets drenched with bloody wine; then we,
calling on Heaven and taking place by lot,
drew round him like one man, and with a beam
sharpened at end bored out that monster eye,
which, huge and sole, lay under the grim brow,
875
round as an
Argive
shield or Phoebus' star.
Thus took we joyful vengeance for the shades
of our lost mates. But, O ill-fated men!
Fly, I implore, and cut the cables free
along the beach! For in the land abide,
880
like Polyphemus, who in hollow cave
kept fleecy sheep, and milked his fruitful ewes,
a hundred other, huge as he, who rove
wide o'er this winding shore and mountains fair:
Cyclops accursed, bestial! Thrice the moon
885
has filled her horns with light, while here I dwell
in lonely woods and lairs of creatures wild;
or from tall cliffs out-peering I discern
the Cyclops, and shrink shuddering from the sound
of their vast step and cry. My sorry fare
890
is berries and hard corners dropped from trees,
or herb-roots torn out from the niggard ground.
Though watching the whole sea, only today
Have I had sight of ships. To you I fled.
Whate'er ye be, it was my only prayer
895
to 'scape that monster brood. I ask no more.
O, set me free by any death ye will!”
He scarce had said, when moving o'er the crest
of a high hill a giant shape we saw:
that shepherd Polyphemus, with his flocks
900
down-wending to the well-known water-side;
huge, shapeless, horrible, with blinded eye,
bearing a lopped pine for a staff, he made
his footing sure, while the white, fleecy sheep,
sole pleasure now, and solace of his woes,
905
ran huddling at his side.
Soon to the vast flood of the level brine
he came, and washed the flowing gore away
from that out-hollowed eye; he gnashed his teeth,
groaning, and deep into the watery way
910
stalked on, his tall bulk wet by scarce a wave.
We fled in haste, though far, and with us bore
the truthful suppliant; cut silently
the anchor-ropes, and, bending to the oar,
swept on with eager strokes clean out to sea.
915
Aware he was, and toward our loud halloo
whirled sudden round; but when no power had he
to seize or harm, nor could his fierce pursuit
o'ertake the Ionian surges as they rolled,
he raised a cry incredible; the sea
920
with all its billows trembled; the wide shore
of
Italy
from glens and gorges moaned,
and
Aetna
roared from every vaulted cave.
Then rallied from the grove-clad, Iofty isle
the Cyclops' clan, and lined the beach and bay.
925
We saw each lonely eyeball glare in vain,
as side by side those brothers Aetna-born
stood towering high, a conclave dark and dire:
as when, far up some mountain's famous crest,
wind-fronting oaks or cone-clad cypresses
930
have made assembling in the solemn hills,
Jove's giant wood or Dian's sacred grove.
We, terror-struck, would fly we knew not where,
with loosened sheet and canvas swelling strong
before a welcome wind; but Helenus
935
bade us both Scylla and Charybdis fear,
where 'twixt the twain death straitly hems the way;
and so the counsel was to veer our bark
the course it came. But lo! a northern gale
burst o'er us from Pelorus' narrowed side,
940
and on we rode far past Pantagia's bay
of unhewn rock, and past the haven strong
of
Megara
, and Thapsus Iying low.
Such were the names retold, and such the shores
shown us by Achemenides, whose fate
945
made him familiar there, for he had sailed
with evil-starred Ulysses o'er that sea.
Off the Sicilian shore an island lies,
wave-washed Plemmyrium, called in olden days
Ortygia; here Alpheus, river-god,
950
from
Elis
flowed by secret sluice, they say,
beneath the sea, and mingles at thy mouth,
fair Arethusa! with Sicilian waves.
Our voices hailed the great gods of the land
with reverent prayer; then skirted we the shore,
955
where smooth Helorus floods the fruitful plain.
Under Pachynus' beetling precipice
we kept our course; then Camarina rose
in distant view, firm-seated evermore
by Fate's decree; and that far-spreading vale
960
of
Gela
, with the name of power it takes
from its wide river; and, uptowering far,
the ramparts of proud
Acragas
appeared,
where fiery steeds were bred in days of old.
Borne by the winds, along thy coast I fled,
965
Selinus
, green with palm! and past the shore
of
Lilybaeum
with its treacherous reef;
till at the last the port of
Drepanum
received me to its melancholy strand.
Here, woe is me I outworn by stormful seas,
970
my sire, sole comfort of my grievous doom,
Anchises ceased to be. O best of sires!
Here didst thou leave me in the weary way;
through all our perils—O the bitter loss! —
borne safely, but in vain. King Helenus,
975
whose prophet-tongue of dark events foretold,
spoke not this woe; nor did Celeno's curse
of this forebode. Such my last loss and pain;
such, of my weary way, the destined goal.
From thence departing, the divine behest
980
impelled me to thy shores, O listening queen!
Such was, while all gave ear, the tale sublime
father Aeneas, none but he, set forth
of wanderings and of dark decrees divine:
silent at last, he ceased, and took repose.
985
Aeneid. P. Vergilius Maro. Theodore C. Williams (Translator). Boston. 1910.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
Funding provided by The National Endowment for the Humanities.