Georgics
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- So saying, an odour of ambrosial dew
- She sheds around, and all his frame therewith
- Steeps throughly; forth from his trim-combed locks
- Breathed effluence sweet, and a lithe vigour leapt
- Into his limbs. There is a cavern vast
- Scooped in the mountain-side, where wave on wave
- By the wind's stress is driven, and breaks far up
- Its inmost creeks—safe anchorage from of old
- For tempest-taken mariners: therewithin,
- Behind a rock's huge barrier, Proteus hides.
- Here in close covert out of the sun's eye
- The youth she places, and herself the while
- Swathed in a shadowy mist stands far aloof.
- And now the ravening dog-star that burns up
- The thirsty Indians blazed in heaven; his course
- The fiery sun had half devoured: the blades
- Were parched, and the void streams with droughty jaws
- Baked to their mud-beds by the scorching ray,
- When Proteus seeking his accustomed cave
- Strode from the billows: round him frolicking
- The watery folk that people the waste sea
- Sprinkled the bitter brine-dew far and wide.
- Along the shore in scattered groups to feed
- The sea-calves stretch them: while the seer himself,
- Like herdsman on the hills when evening bids
- The steers from pasture to their stall repair,
- And the lambs' bleating whets the listening wolves,
- Sits midmost on the rock and tells his tale.
- But Aristaeus, the foe within his clutch,
- Scarce suffering him compose his aged limbs,
- With a great cry leapt on him, and ere he rose
- Forestalled him with the fetters; he nathless,
- All unforgetful of his ancient craft,
- Transforms himself to every wondrous thing,
- Fire and a fearful beast, and flowing stream.
- But when no trickery found a path for flight,
- Baffled at length, to his own shape returned,
- With human lips he spake, “Who bade thee, then,
- So reckless in youth's hardihood, affront
- Our portals? or what wouldst thou hence?”—But he,
- “Proteus, thou knowest, of thine own heart thou knowest;
- For thee there is no cheating, but cease thou
- To practise upon me: at heaven's behest
- I for my fainting fortunes hither come
- An oracle to ask thee.” There he ceased.
- Whereat the seer, by stubborn force constrained,
- Shot forth the grey light of his gleaming eyes
- Upon him, and with fiercely gnashing teeth
- Unlocks his lips to spell the fates of heaven: