Georgics
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- “Doubt not 'tis wrath divine that plagues thee thus,
- Nor light the debt thou payest; 'tis Orpheus' self,
- Orpheus unhappy by no fault of his,
- So fates prevent not, fans thy penal fires,
- Yet madly raging for his ravished bride.
- She in her haste to shun thy hot pursuit
- Along the stream, saw not the coming death,
- Where at her feet kept ward upon the bank
- In the tall grass a monstrous water-snake.
- But with their cries the Dryad-band her peers
- Filled up the mountains to their proudest peaks:
- Wailed for her fate the heights of Rhodope,
- And tall Pangaea, and, beloved of Mars,
- The land that bowed to Rhesus, Thrace no less
- With Hebrus' stream; and Orithyia wept,
- Daughter of Acte old. But Orpheus' self,
- Soothing his love-pain with the hollow shell,
- Thee his sweet wife on the lone shore alone,
- Thee when day dawned and when it died he sang.
- Nay to the jaws of Taenarus too he came,
- Of Dis the infernal palace, and the grove
- Grim with a horror of great darkness—came,
- Entered, and faced the Manes and the King
- Of terrors, the stone heart no prayer can tame.
- Then from the deepest deeps of Erebus,
- Wrung by his minstrelsy, the hollow shades
- Came trooping, ghostly semblances of forms
- Lost to the light, as birds by myriads hie
- To greenwood boughs for cover, when twilight-hour
- Or storms of winter chase them from the hills;
- Matrons and men, and great heroic frames
- Done with life's service, boys, unwedded girls,
- Youths placed on pyre before their fathers' eyes.
- Round them, with black slime choked and hideous weed,
- Cocytus winds; there lies the unlovely swamp
- Of dull dead water, and, to pen them fast,
- Styx with her ninefold barrier poured between.
- Nay, even the deep Tartarean Halls of death
- Stood lost in wonderment, and the Eumenides,
- Their brows with livid locks of serpents twined;
- Even Cerberus held his triple jaws agape,
- And, the wind hushed, Ixion's wheel stood still.
- And now with homeward footstep he had passed
- All perils scathless, and, at length restored,
- Eurydice to realms of upper air
- Had well-nigh won, behind him following—
- So Proserpine had ruled it—when his heart
- A sudden mad desire surprised and seized—
- Meet fault to be forgiven, might Hell forgive.
- For at the very threshold of the day,
- Heedless, alas! and vanquished of resolve,
- He stopped, turned, looked upon Eurydice
- His own once more. But even with the look,
- Poured out was all his labour, broken the bond
- Of that fell tyrant, and a crash was heard
- Three times like thunder in the meres of hell.