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