Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- These words he gave, and summoned Maia's son,
- the herald Mercury, who earthward flying,
- should bid the Tyrian realms and new-built towers
- welcome the Trojan waifs; lest Dido, blind
- to Fate's decree, should thrust them from the land.
- He takes his flight, with rhythmic stroke of wing,
- across th' abyss of air, and soon draws near
- unto the Libyan mainland. He fulfils
- his heavenly task; the Punic hearts of stone
- grow soft beneath the effluence divine;
- and, most of all, the Queen, with heart at ease
- awaits benignantly her guests from Troy.
- But good Aeneas, pondering all night long
- his many cares, when first the cheerful dawn
- upon him broke, resolved to take survey
- of this strange country whither wind and wave
- had driven him,—for desert land it seemed,—
- to learn what tribes of man or beast possess
- a place so wild, and careful tidings bring
- back to his friends. His fleet of ships the while,
- where dense, dark groves o'er-arch a hollowed crag,
- he left encircled in far-branching shade.
- Then with no followers save his trusty friend
- Achates, he went forth upon his way,
- two broad-tipped javelins poising in his hand.
- Deep to the midmost wood he went, and there
- his Mother in his path uprose; she seemed
- in garb and countenance a maid, and bore,
- like Spartan maids, a weapon; in such guise
- Harpalyce the Thracian urges on
- her panting coursers and in wild career
- outstrips impetuous Hebrus as it flows.
- Over her lovely shoulders was a bow,
- slender and light, as fits a huntress fair;
- her golden tresses without wimple moved
- in every wind, and girded in a knot
- her undulant vesture bared her marble knees.
- She hailed them thus: “Ho, sirs, I pray you tell
- if haply ye have noted, as ye came,
- one of my sisters in this wood astray?
- She bore a quiver, and a lynx's hide
- her spotted mantle was; perchance she roused
- some foaming boar, and chased with loud halloo.”
- So Venus spoke, and Venus' son replied:
- “No voice or vision of thy sister fair
- has crossed my path, thou maid without a name!
- Thy beauty seems not of terrestrial mould,
- nor is thy music mortal! Tell me, goddess,
- art thou bright Phoebus' sister? Or some nymph,
- the daughter of a god? Whate'er thou art,
- thy favor we implore, and potent aid
- in our vast toil. Instruct us of what skies,
- or what world's end, our storm-swept lives have found!
- Strange are these lands and people where we rove,
- compelled by wind and wave. Lo, this right hand
- shall many a victim on thine altar slay!”