Aeneid

Virgil

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

  1. Hither Aeneas of his scattered fleet
  2. saving but seven, into harbor sailed;
  3. with passionate longing for the touch of land,
  4. forth leap the Trojans to the welcome shore,
  5. and fling their dripping limbs along the ground.
  6. Then good Achates smote a flinty stone,
  7. secured a flashing spark, heaped on light leaves,
  8. and with dry branches nursed the mounting flame.
  9. Then Ceres' gift from the corrupting sea
  10. they bring away; and wearied utterly
  11. ply Ceres' cunning on the rescued corn,
  12. and parch in flames, and mill 'twixt two smooth stones.
  13. Aeneas meanwhile climbed the cliffs, and searched
  14. the wide sea-prospect; haply Antheus there,
  15. storm-buffeted, might sail within his ken,
  16. with biremes, and his Phrygian mariners,
  17. or Capys or Caicus armor-clad,
  18. upon a towering deck. No ship is seen;
  19. but while he looks, three stags along the shore
  20. come straying by, and close behind them comes
  21. the whole herd, browsing through the lowland vale
  22. in one long line. Aeneas stopped and seized
  23. his bow and swift-winged arrows, which his friend,
  24. trusty Achates, close beside him bore.
  25. His first shafts brought to earth the lordly heads
  26. of the high-antlered chiefs; his next assailed
  27. the general herd, and drove them one and all
  28. in panic through the leafy wood, nor ceased
  29. the victory of his bow, till on the ground
  30. lay seven huge forms, one gift for every ship.
  31. Then back to shore he sped, and to his friends
  32. distributed the spoil, with that rare wine
  33. which good Acestes while in Sicily
  34. had stored in jars, and prince-like sent away
  35. with his Ioved guest;—this too Aeneas gave;
  36. and with these words their mournful mood consoled.
  1. “Companions mine, we have not failed to feel
  2. calamity till now. O, ye have borne
  3. far heavier sorrow: Jove will make an end
  4. also of this. Ye sailed a course hard by
  5. infuriate Scylla's howling cliffs and caves.
  6. Ye knew the Cyclops' crags. Lift up your hearts!
  7. No more complaint and fear! It well may be
  8. some happier hour will find this memory fair.
  9. Through chance and change and hazard without end,
  10. our goal is Latium; where our destinies
  11. beckon to blest abodes, and have ordained
  12. that Troy shall rise new-born! Have patience all!
  13. And bide expectantly that golden day.”
  1. Such was his word, but vexed with grief and care,
  2. feigned hopes upon his forehead firm he wore,
  3. and locked within his heart a hero's pain.
  4. Now round the welcome trophies of his chase
  5. they gather for a feast. Some flay the ribs
  6. and bare the flesh below; some slice with knives,
  7. and on keen prongs the quivering strips impale,
  8. place cauldrons on the shore, and fan the fires.
  9. Then, stretched at ease on couch of simple green,
  10. they rally their lost powers, and feast them well
  11. on seasoned wine and succulent haunch of game.
  12. But hunger banished and the banquet done,
  13. in long discourse of their lost mates they tell,
  14. 'twixt hopes and fears divided; for who knows
  15. whether the lost ones live, or strive with death,
  16. or heed no more whatever voice may call?
  17. Chiefly Aeneas now bewails his friends,
  18. Orontes brave and fallen Amycus,
  19. or mourns with grief untold the untimely doom
  20. of bold young Gyas and Cloanthus bold.