Aeneid

Virgil

Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.

Arms and the man I sing, who first made way,
predestined exile, from the Trojan shore
to Italy, the blest Lavinian strand.
Smitten of storms he was on land and sea
by violence of Heaven, to satisfy
stern Juno's sleepless wrath; and much in war
he suffered, seeking at the last to found
the city, and bring o'er his fathers' gods
to safe abode in Latium; whence arose
the Latin race, old Alba's reverend lords,
and from her hills wide-walled, imperial Rome.

O Muse, the causes tell! What sacrilege,
or vengeful sorrow, moved the heavenly Queen
to thrust on dangers dark and endless toil
a man whose largest honor in men's eyes
was serving Heaven? Can gods such anger feel?

In ages gone an ancient city stood—
Carthage, a Tyrian seat, which from afar
made front on Italy and on the mouths
of Tiber's stream; its wealth and revenues
were vast, and ruthless was its quest of war.
'T is said that Juno, of all lands she loved,
most cherished this,—not Samos' self so dear.
Here were her arms, her chariot; even then
a throne of power o'er nations near and far,
if Fate opposed not, 't was her darling hope
to 'stablish here; but anxiously she heard
that of the Trojan blood there was a breed
then rising, which upon the destined day
should utterly o'erwhelm her Tyrian towers,
a people of wide sway and conquest proud
should compass Libya's doom;—such was the web
the Fatal Sisters spun. Such was the fear
of Saturn's daughter, who remembered well
what long and unavailing strife she waged
for her loved Greeks at Troy. Nor did she fail
to meditate th' occasions of her rage,
and cherish deep within her bosom proud
its griefs and wrongs: the choice by Paris made;
her scorned and slighted beauty; a whole race
rebellious to her godhead; and Jove's smile
that beamed on eagle-ravished Ganymede.
With all these thoughts infuriate, her power
pursued with tempests o'er the boundless main
the Trojans, though by Grecian victor spared
and fierce Achilles; so she thrust them far
from Latium; and they drifted, Heaven-impelled,
year after year, o'er many an unknown sea—
O labor vast, to found the Roman line!

Below th' horizon the Sicilian isle
just sank from view, as for the open sea
with heart of hope they sailed, and every ship
clove with its brazen beak the salt, white waves.
But Juno of her everlasting wound
knew no surcease, but from her heart of pain
thus darkly mused: “Must I, defeated, fail
of what I will, nor turn the Teucrian King
from Italy away? Can Fate oppose?
Had Pallas power to lay waste in flame
the Argive fleet and sink its mariners,
revenging but the sacrilege obscene
by Ajax wrought, Oileus' desperate son?
She, from the clouds, herself Jove's lightning threw,
scattered the ships, and ploughed the sea with storms.
Her foe, from his pierced breast out-breathing fire,
in whirlwind on a deadly rock she flung.
But I, who move among the gods a queen,
Jove's sister and his spouse, with one weak tribe
make war so long! Who now on Juno calls?
What suppliant gifts henceforth her altars crown?”

So, in her fevered heart complaining still,
unto the storm-cloud land the goddess came,
a region with wild whirlwinds in its womb,
Aeolia named, where royal Aeolus
in a high-vaulted cavern keeps control
o'er warring winds and loud concourse of storms.
There closely pent in chains and bastions strong,
they, scornful, make the vacant mountain roar,
chafing against their bonds. But from a throne
of lofty crag, their king with sceptred hand
allays their fury and their rage confines.
Did he not so, our ocean, earth, and sky
were whirled before them through the vast inane.
But over-ruling Jove, of this in fear,
hid them in dungeon dark: then o'er them piled
huge mountains, and ordained a lawful king
to hold them in firm sway, or know what time,
with Jove's consent, to loose them o'er the world.
To him proud Juno thus made lowly plea:

“Thou in whose hands the Father of all gods
and Sovereign of mankind confides the power
to calm the waters or with winds upturn,
great Aeolus! a race with me at war
now sails the Tuscan main towards Italy,
bringing their Ilium and its vanquished powers.
Uprouse thy gales. Strike that proud navy down!
Hurl far and wide, and strew the waves with dead!
Twice seven nymphs are mine, of rarest mould;
of whom Deiopea, the most fair,
I give thee in true wedlock for thine own,
to mate thy noble worth; she at thy side
shall pass long, happy years, and fruitful bring
her beauteous offspring unto thee their sire.”

Then Aeolus: “'T is thy sole task, O Queen,
to weigh thy wish and will. My fealty
thy high behest obeys. This humble throne
is of thy gift. Thy smiles for me obtain
authority from Jove. Thy grace concedes
my station at your bright Olympian board,
and gives me lordship of the darkening storm.”

Replying thus, he smote with spear reversed
the hollow mountain's wall; then rush the winds
through that wide breach in long, embattled line,
and sweep tumultuous from land to land:
with brooding pinions o'er the waters spread,
east wind and south, and boisterous Afric gale
upturn the sea; vast billows shoreward roll;
the shout of mariners, the creak of cordage,
follow the shock; low-hanging clouds conceal
from Trojan eyes all sight of heaven and day;
night o'er the ocean broods; from sky to sky
the thunders roll, the ceaseless lightnings glare;
and all things mean swift death for mortal man.
Straightway Aeneas, shuddering with amaze,
groaned loud, upraised both holy hands to Heaven,
and thus did plead: “O thrice and four times blest,
ye whom your sires and whom the walls of Troy
looked on in your last hour! O bravest son
Greece ever bore, Tydides! O that I
had fallen on Ilian fields, and given this life
struck down by thy strong hand! where by the spear
of great Achilles, fiery Hector fell,
and huge Sarpedon; where the Simois
in furious flood engulfed and whirled away
so many helms and shields and heroes slain!”

While thus he cried to Heaven, a shrieking blast
smote full upon the sail. Up surged the waves
to strike the very stars; in fragments flew
the shattered oars; the helpless vessel veered
and gave her broadside to the roaring flood,
where watery mountains rose and burst and fell.
Now high in air she hangs, then yawning gulfs
lay bare the shoals and sands o'er which she drives.
Three ships a whirling south wind snatched and flung
on hidden rocks,—altars of sacrifice
Italians call them, which lie far from shore
a vast ridge in the sea; three ships beside
an east wind, blowing landward from the deep,
drove on the shallows,—pitiable sight,—
and girdled them in walls of drifting sand.
That ship, which, with his friend Orontes, bore
the Lycian mariners, a great, plunging wave
struck straight astern, before Aeneas' eyes.
Forward the steersman rolled and o'er the side
fell headlong, while three times the circling flood
spun the light bark through swift engulfing seas.
Look, how the lonely swimmers breast the wave!
And on the waste of waters wide are seen
weapons of war, spars, planks, and treasures rare,
once Ilium's boast, all mingled with the storm.
Now o'er Achates and Ilioneus,
now o'er the ship of Abas or Aletes,
bursts the tempestuous shock; their loosened seams
yawn wide and yield the angry wave its will.

Meanwhile how all his smitten ocean moaned,
and how the tempest's turbulent assault
had vexed the stillness of his deepest cave,
great Neptune knew; and with indignant mien
uplifted o'er the sea his sovereign brow.
He saw the Teucrian navy scattered far
along the waters; and Aeneas' men
o'erwhelmed in mingling shock of wave and sky.
Saturnian Juno's vengeful stratagem
her brother's royal glance failed not to see;
and loud to eastward and to westward calling,
he voiced this word:“What pride of birth or power
is yours, ye winds, that, reckless of my will,
audacious thus, ye ride through earth and heaven,
and stir these mountain waves? Such rebels I—
nay, first I calm this tumult! But yourselves
by heavier chastisement shall expiate
hereafter your bold trespass. Haste away
and bear your king this word! Not unto him
dominion o'er the seas and trident dread,
but unto me, Fate gives. Let him possess
wild mountain crags, thy favored haunt and home,
O Eurus! In his barbarous mansion there,
let Aeolus look proud, and play the king
in yon close-bounded prison-house of storms!”

He spoke, and swiftlier than his word subdued
the swelling of the floods; dispersed afar
th' assembled clouds, and brought back light to heaven.
Cymothoe then and Triton, with huge toil,
thrust down the vessels from the sharp-edged reef;
while, with the trident, the great god's own hand
assists the task; then, from the sand-strewn shore
out-ebbing far, he calms the whole wide sea,
and glides light-wheeled along the crested foam.
As when, with not unwonted tumult, roars
in some vast city a rebellious mob,
and base-born passions in its bosom burn,
till rocks and blazing torches fill the air
(rage never lacks for arms)—if haply then
some wise man comes, whose reverend looks attest
a life to duty given, swift silence falls;
all ears are turned attentive; and he sways
with clear and soothing speech the people's will.
So ceased the sea's uproar, when its grave Sire
looked o'er th' expanse, and, riding on in light,
flung free rein to his winged obedient car.

Aeneas' wave-worn crew now landward made,
and took the nearest passage, whither lay
the coast of Libya. A haven there
walled in by bold sides of a rocky isle,
offers a spacious and secure retreat,
where every billow from the distant main
breaks, and in many a rippling curve retires.
Huge crags and two confronted promontories
frown heaven-high, beneath whose brows outspread
the silent, sheltered waters; on the heights
the bright and glimmering foliage seems to show
a woodland amphitheatre; and yet higher
rises a straight-stemmed grove of dense, dark shade.
Fronting on these a grotto may be seen,
o'erhung by steep cliffs; from its inmost wall
clear springs gush out; and shelving seats it has
of unhewn stone, a place the wood-nymphs love.
In such a port, a weary ship rides free
of weight of firm-fluked anchor or strong chain.

Hither Aeneas of his scattered fleet
saving but seven, into harbor sailed;
with passionate longing for the touch of land,
forth leap the Trojans to the welcome shore,
and fling their dripping limbs along the ground.
Then good Achates smote a flinty stone,
secured a flashing spark, heaped on light leaves,
and with dry branches nursed the mounting flame.
Then Ceres' gift from the corrupting sea
they bring away; and wearied utterly
ply Ceres' cunning on the rescued corn,
and parch in flames, and mill 'twixt two smooth stones.
Aeneas meanwhile climbed the cliffs, and searched
the wide sea-prospect; haply Antheus there,
storm-buffeted, might sail within his ken,
with biremes, and his Phrygian mariners,
or Capys or Caicus armor-clad,
upon a towering deck. No ship is seen;
but while he looks, three stags along the shore
come straying by, and close behind them comes
the whole herd, browsing through the lowland vale
in one long line. Aeneas stopped and seized
his bow and swift-winged arrows, which his friend,
trusty Achates, close beside him bore.
His first shafts brought to earth the lordly heads
of the high-antlered chiefs; his next assailed
the general herd, and drove them one and all
in panic through the leafy wood, nor ceased
the victory of his bow, till on the ground
lay seven huge forms, one gift for every ship.
Then back to shore he sped, and to his friends
distributed the spoil, with that rare wine
which good Acestes while in Sicily
had stored in jars, and prince-like sent away
with his Ioved guest;—this too Aeneas gave;
and with these words their mournful mood consoled.

“Companions mine, we have not failed to feel
calamity till now. O, ye have borne
far heavier sorrow: Jove will make an end
also of this. Ye sailed a course hard by
infuriate Scylla's howling cliffs and caves.
Ye knew the Cyclops' crags. Lift up your hearts!
No more complaint and fear! It well may be
some happier hour will find this memory fair.
Through chance and change and hazard without end,
our goal is Latium; where our destinies
beckon to blest abodes, and have ordained
that Troy shall rise new-born! Have patience all!
And bide expectantly that golden day.”

Such was his word, but vexed with grief and care,
feigned hopes upon his forehead firm he wore,
and locked within his heart a hero's pain.
Now round the welcome trophies of his chase
they gather for a feast. Some flay the ribs
and bare the flesh below; some slice with knives,
and on keen prongs the quivering strips impale,
place cauldrons on the shore, and fan the fires.
Then, stretched at ease on couch of simple green,
they rally their lost powers, and feast them well
on seasoned wine and succulent haunch of game.
But hunger banished and the banquet done,
in long discourse of their lost mates they tell,
'twixt hopes and fears divided; for who knows
whether the lost ones live, or strive with death,
or heed no more whatever voice may call?
Chiefly Aeneas now bewails his friends,
Orontes brave and fallen Amycus,
or mourns with grief untold the untimely doom
of bold young Gyas and Cloanthus bold.

After these things were past, exalted Jove,
from his ethereal sky surveying clear
the seas all winged with sails, lands widely spread,
and nations populous from shore to shore,
paused on the peak of heaven, and fixed his gaze
on Libya. But while he anxious mused,
near him, her radiant eyes all dim with tears,
nor smiling any more, Venus approached,
and thus complained: “O thou who dost control
things human and divine by changeless laws,
enthroned in awful thunder! What huge wrong
could my Aeneas and his Trojans few
achieve against thy power? For they have borne
unnumbered deaths, and, failing Italy,
the gates of all the world against them close.
Hast thou not given us thy covenant
that hence the Romans when the rolling years
have come full cycle, shall arise to power
from Troy's regenerate seed, and rule supreme
the unresisted lords of land and sea?
O Sire, what swerves thy will? How oft have I
in Troy's most lamentable wreck and woe
consoled my heart with this, and balanced oft
our destined good against our destined ill!
But the same stormful fortune still pursues
my band of heroes on their perilous way.
When shall these labors cease, O glorious King?
Antenor, though th' Achaeans pressed him sore,
found his way forth, and entered unassailed
Illyria's haven, and the guarded land
of the Liburni. Straight up stream he sailed
where like a swollen sea Timavus pours
a nine-fold flood from roaring mountain gorge,
and whelms with voiceful wave the fields below.
He built Patavium there, and fixed abodes
for Troy's far-exiled sons; he gave a name
to a new land and race; the Trojan arms
were hung on temple walls; and, to this day,
lying in perfect peace, the hero sleeps.
But we of thine own seed, to whom thou dost
a station in the arch of heaven assign,
behold our navy vilely wrecked, because
a single god is angry; we endure
this treachery and violence, whereby
wide seas divide us from th' Hesperian shore.
Is this what piety receives? Or thus
doth Heaven's decree restore our fallen thrones?”