Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- 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?”
- Smiling reply, the Sire of gods and men,
- with such a look as clears the skies of storm
- chastely his daughter kissed, and thus spake on:
- “Let Cytherea cast her fears away!
- Irrevocably blest the fortunes be
- of thee and thine. Nor shalt thou fail to see
- that City, and the proud predestined wall
- encompassing Lavinium. Thyself
- shall starward to the heights of heaven bear
- Aeneas the great-hearted. Nothing swerves
- my will once uttered. Since such carking cares
- consume thee, I this hour speak freely forth,
- and leaf by leaf the book of fate unfold.
- Thy son in Italy shall wage vast war
- and, quell its nations wild; his city-wall
- and sacred laws shall be a mighty bond
- about his gathered people. Summers three
- shall Latium call him king; and three times pass
- the winter o'er Rutulia's vanquished hills.
- His heir, Ascanius, now Iulus called
- (Ilus it was while Ilium's kingdom stood),
- full thirty months shall reign, then move the throne
- from the Lavinian citadel, and build
- for Alba Longa its well-bastioned wall.
- Here three full centuries shall Hector's race
- have kingly power; till a priestess queen,
- by Mars conceiving, her twin offspring bear;
- then Romulus, wolf-nursed and proudly clad
- in tawny wolf-skin mantle, shall receive
- the sceptre of his race. He shall uprear
- and on his Romans his own name bestow.
- To these I give no bounded times or power,
- but empire without end. Yea, even my Queen,
- Juno, who now chastiseth land and sea
- with her dread frown, will find a wiser way,
- and at my sovereign side protect and bless
- the Romans, masters of the whole round world,
- who, clad in peaceful toga, judge mankind.
- Such my decree! In lapse of seasons due,
- the heirs of Ilium's kings shall bind in chains
- Mycenae's glory and Achilles' towers,
- and over prostrate Argos sit supreme.
- Of Trojan stock illustriously sprung,
- lo, Caesar comes! whose power the ocean bounds,
- whose fame, the skies. He shall receive the name
- Iulus nobly bore, great Julius, he.
- Him to the skies, in Orient trophies dress,
- thou shalt with smiles receive; and he, like us,
- shall hear at his own shrines the suppliant vow.
- Then will the world grow mild; the battle-sound
- will be forgot; for olden Honor then,
- with spotless Vesta, and the brothers twain,
- Remus and Romulus, at strife no more,
- will publish sacred laws. The dreadful gates
- whence issueth war, shall with close-jointed steel
- be barred impregnably; and prisoned there
- the heaven-offending Fury, throned on swords,
- and fettered by a hundred brazen chains,
- shall belch vain curses from his lips of gore.”