Aeneid

Virgil

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

Deep in the city's heart there was a grove
of beauteous shade, where once the Tyrians,
cast here by stormful waves, delved out of earth
that portent which Queen Juno bade them find,—
the head of a proud horse,—that ages long
their boast might be wealth, luxury and war.
Upon this spot Sidonian Dido raised
a spacious fane to Juno, which became
splendid with gifts, and hallowed far and wide
for potency divine. Its beams were bronze,
and on loud hinges swung the brazen doors.
A rare, new sight this sacred grove did show,
which calmed Aeneas' fears, and made him bold
to hope for safety, and with lifted heart
from his low-fallen fortunes re-aspire.
For while he waits the advent of the Queen,
he scans the mighty temple, and admires
the city's opulent pride, and all the skill
its rival craftsmen in their work approve.
Behold! he sees old Ilium's well-fought fields
in sequent picture, and those famous wars
now told upon men's lips the whole world round.
There Atreus' sons, there kingly Priam moved,
and fierce Pelides pitiless to both.
Aeneas paused, and, weeping, thus began:
“Alas, Achates, what far region now,
what land in all the world knows not our pain?
See, it is Priam! Virtue's wage is given—
O even here! Here also there be tears
for what men bear, and mortal creatures feel
each other's sorrow. Therefore, have no fear!
This story of our loss forbodes us well.”

So saying, he received into his heart
that visionary scene, profoundly sighed,
and let his plenteous tears unheeded flow.
There he beheld the citadel of Troy
girt with embattled foes; here, Greeks in flight
some Trojan onset 'scaped; there, Phrygian bands
before tall-plumed Achilles' chariot sped.
The snowy tents of Rhesus spread hard by
(he sees them through his tears), where Diomed
in night's first watch burst o'er them unawares
with bloody havoc and a host of deaths;
then drove his fiery coursers o'er the plain
before their thirst or hunger could be stayed
on Trojan corn or Xanthus' cooling stream.
Here too was princely Troilus, despoiled,
routed and weaponless, O wretched boy!
Ill-matched against Achilles! His wild steeds
bear him along, as from his chariot's rear
he falls far back, but clutches still the rein;
his hair and shoulders on the ground go trailing,
and his down-pointing spear-head scrawls the dust.
Elsewhere, to Pallas' ever-hostile shrine,
daughters of Ilium, with unsnooded hair,
and lifting all in vain her hallowed pall,
walked suppliant and sad, beating their breasts,
with outspread palms. But her unswerving eyes
the goddess fixed on earth, and would not see.
Achilles round the Trojan rampart thrice
had dragged the fallen Hector, and for gold
was making traffic of the lifeless clay.
Aeneas groaned aloud, with bursting heart,
to see the spoils, the car, the very corpse
of his lost friend,—while Priam for the dead
stretched forth in piteous prayer his helpless hands.
There too his own presentment he could see
surrounded by Greek kings; and there were shown
hordes from the East, and black-browed Memnon's arms;
her band of Amazons, with moon-shaped shields,
Penthesilea led; her martial eye
flamed on from troop to troop; a belt of gold
beneath one bare, protruded breast she bound—
a warrior-virgin braving mail-clad men.

While on such spectacle Aeneas' eyes
looked wondering, while mute and motionless
he stood at gaze, Queen Dido to the shrine
in lovely majesty drew near; a throng
of youthful followers pressed round her way.
So by the margin of Eurotas wide
or o'er the Cynthian steep, Diana leads
her bright processional; hither and yon
are visionary legions numberless
of Oreads; the regnant goddess bears
a quiver on her shoulders, and is seen
emerging tallest of her beauteous train;
while joy unutterable thrills the breast
of fond Latona: Dido not less fair
amid her subjects passed, and not less bright
her glow of gracious joy, while she approved
her future kingdom's pomp and vast emprise.
Then at the sacred portal and beneath
the temple's vaulted dome she took her place,
encompassed by armed men, and lifted high
upon a throne; her statutes and decrees
the people heard, and took what lot or toil
her sentence, or impartial urn, assigned.
But, lo! Aeneas sees among the throng
Antheus, Sergestus, and Cloanthus bold,
with other Teucrians, whom the black storm flung
far o'er the deep and drove on alien shores.
Struck dumb was he, and good Achates too,
half gladness and half fear. Fain would they fly
to friendship's fond embrace; but knowing not
what might befall, their hearts felt doubt and care.
Therefore they kept the secret, and remained
forth-peering from the hollow veil of cloud,
haply to learn what their friends' fate might be,
or where the fleet was landed, or what aim
had brought them hither; for a chosen few
from every ship had come to sue for grace,
and all the temple with their voices rang.

The doors swung wide; and after access given
and leave to speak, revered Ilioneus
with soul serene these lowly words essayed:
“O Queen, who hast authority of Jove
to found this rising city, and subdue
with righteous governance its people proud,
we wretched Trojans, blown from sea to sea,
beseech thy mercy; keep the curse of fire
from our poor ships! We pray thee, do no wrong
unto a guiltless race. But heed our plea!
No Libyan hearth shall suffer by our sword,
nor spoil and plunder to our ships be borne;
such haughty violence fits not the souls
of vanquished men. We journey to a land
named, in Greek syllables, Hesperia:
a storied realm, made mighty by great wars
and wealth of fruitful land; in former days
Oenotrians had it, and their sons, 't is said,
have called it Italy, a chieftain's name
to a whole region given. Thitherward
our ships did fare; but with swift-rising flood
the stormful season of Orion's star
drove us on viewless shoals; and angry gales
dispersed us, smitten by the tumbling surge,
among innavigable rocks. Behold,
we few swam hither, waifs upon your shore!
What race of mortals this? What barbarous land,
that with inhospitable laws ye thrust
a stranger from your coasts, and fly to arms,
nor grant mere foothold on your kingdom's bound?
If man thou scornest and all mortal power,
forget not that the gods watch good and ill!

A king we had; Aeneas,—never man
in all the world more loyal, just and true,
nor mightier in arms! If Heaven decree
his present safety, if he now do breathe
the air of earth and is not buried low
among the dreadful shades, then fear not thou!
For thou wilt never rue that thou wert prompt
to do us the first kindness. O'er the sea
in the Sicilian land, are cities proud,
with martial power, and great Acestes there
is of our Trojan kin. So grant us here
to beach our shattered ships along thy shore,
and from thy forest bring us beam and spar
to mend our broken oars. Then, if perchance
we find once more our comrades and our king,
and forth to Italy once more set sail,
to Italy, our Latin hearth and home,
we will rejoicing go. But if our weal
is clean gone by, and thee, blest chief and sire,
these Libyan waters keep, and if no more
Iulus bids us hope,—then, at the least,
to yon Sicilian seas, to friendly lands
whence hither drifting with the winds we came,
let us retrace the journey and rejoin
good King Acestes.” So Ilioneus
ended his pleading; the Dardanidae
murmured assent.

Then Dido, briefly and with downcast eyes,
her answer made: “O Teucrians, have no fear!
Bid care begone! It was necessity,
and my young kingdom's weakness, which compelled
the policy of force, and made me keep
such vigilant sentry my wide co'ast along.
Aeneas and his people, that fair town
of Troy—who knows them not? The whole world knows
those valorous chiefs and huge, far-flaming wars.
Our Punic hearts are not of substance all
insensible and dull: the god of day
drives not his fire-breathing steeds so far
from this our Tyrian town. If ye would go
to great Hesperia, where Saturn reigned,
or if voluptuous Eryx and the throne
of good Acestes be your journey's end,
I send you safe; I speed you on your way.
But if in these my realms ye will abide,
associates of my power, behold, I build
this city for your own! Choose haven here
for your good ships. Beneath my royal sway
Trojan and Tyrian equal grace will find.
But O, that this same storm had brought your King.
Aeneas, hither! I will bid explore
our Libya's utmost bound, where haply he
in wilderness or hamlet wanders lost.”

By these fair words to joy profoundly stirred,
Father Aeneas and Achates brave
to cast aside the cloud that wrapped them round
yearned greatly; and Achates to his King
spoke thus: “O goddess-born, in thy wise heart
what purpose rises now? Lo! All is well!
Thy fleet and followers are safe at land.
One only comes not, who before our eyes
sank in the soundless sea. All else fulfils
thy mother's prophecy.” Scarce had he spoke
when suddenly that overmantling cloud
was cloven, and dissolved in lucent air;
forth stood Aeneas. A clear sunbeam smote
his god-like head and shoulders. Venus' son
of his own heavenly mother now received
youth's glowing rose, an eye of joyful fire,
and tresses clustering fair. 'T is even so
the cunning craftsman unto ivory gives
new beauty, or with circlet of bright gold
encloses silver or the Parian stone.
Thus of the Queen he sued, while wonderment
fell on all hearts. “Behold the man ye seek,
for I am here! Aeneas, Trojan-born,
brought safely hither from yon Libyan seas!
O thou who first hast looked with pitying eye
on Troy's unutterable grief, who even to us
(escaped our Grecian victor, and outworn
by all the perils land and ocean know),
to us, bereft and ruined, dost extend
such welcome to thy kingdom and thy home!
I have no power, Dido, to give thanks
to match thine ample grace; nor is there power
in any remnant of our Dardan blood,
now fled in exile o'er the whole wide world.
May gods on high (if influence divine
bless faithful lives, or recompense be found
in justice and thy self-approving mind)
give thee thy due reward. What age was blest
by such a birth as thine? What parents proud
such offspring bore? O, while the rivers run
to mingle with the sea, while shadows pass
along yon rounded hills from vale to vale,
and while from heaven's unextinguished fire
the stars be fed—so Iong thy glorious name,
thy place illustrious and thy virtue's praise,
abide undimmed.—Yet I myself must go
to lands I know not where.” After this word
his right hand clasped his Ioved Ilioneus,
his left Serestus; then the comrades all,
brave Gyas, brave Cloanthus, and their peers.

Sidonian Dido felt her heart stand still
when first she looked on him; and thrilled again
to hear what vast adventure had befallen
so great a hero. Thus she welcomed him:
“What chance, O goddess-born, o'er danger's path
impels? What power to this wild coast has borne?
Art thou Aeneas, great Anchises' son,
whom lovely Venus by the Phrygian stream
of Simois brought forth unto the day?
Now I bethink me of when Teucer came
to Sidon, exiled, and of Belus' power
desired a second throne. For Belus then,
our worshipped sire, despoiled the teeming land
of Cyprus, as its conqueror and king.
And since that hour I oft have heard the tale
of fallen Troy, of thine own noble name,
and of Achaean kings. Teucer was wont,
although their foe, to praise the Teucrian race,
and boasted him of that proud lineage sprung.
Therefore, behold, our portals are swung wide
for all your company. I also bore
hard fate like thine. I too was driven of storms
and after long toil was allowed at last
to call this land my home. O, I am wise
in sorrow, and I help all suffering souls!”
So saying, she bade Aeneas welcome take
beneath her royal roof, and to the gods
made sacrifice in temples, while she sent
unto the thankful Trojans on the shore
a score of bulls, and of huge, bristling swine,
a herd of a whole hundred, and a flock
of goodly lambs, a hundred, who ran close
beside the mother-ewes: and all were given
in joyful feast to please the Heavenly Powers.
Her palace showed a monarch's fair array
all glittering and proud, and feasts were spread
within the ample court. Rich broideries
hung deep incarnadined with Tyrian skill;
the board had massy silver, gold-embossed,
where gleamed the mighty deeds of all her sires,
a graven chronicle of peace and war
prolonged, since first her ancient line began,
from royal sire to son.

Aeneas now
(for love in his paternal heart spoke loud
and gave no rest) bade swift Achates run
to tell Ascanius all, and from the ship
to guide him upward to the town,—for now
the father's whole heart for Ascanius yearned.
And gifts he bade them bring, which had been saved
in Ilium's fall: a richly broidered cloak
heavy with golden emblems; and a veil
by leaves of saffron lilies bordered round,
which Argive Helen o'er her beauty threw,
her mother Leda's gift most wonderful,
and which to Troy she bore, when flying far
in lawless wedlock from Mycenae's towers;
a sceptre, too, once fair Ilione's,
eldest of Priam's daughters; and round pearls
strung in a necklace, and a double crown
of jewels set in gold. These gifts to find,
Achates to the tall ships sped away.

But Cytherea in her heart revolved
new wiles, new schemes: how Cupid should transform
his countenance, and, coming in the guise
of sweet Ascanius, still more inflame
the amorous Queen with gifts, and deeply fuse
through all her yielding frame his fatal fire.
Sooth, Venus feared the many-languaged guile
which Tyrians use; fierce Juno's hate she feared,
and falling night renewed her sleepless care.
Therefore to Love, the light-winged god, she said:
“Sweet son, of whom my sovereignty and power
alone are given! O son, whose smile may scorn
the shafts of Jove whereby the Titans fell,
to thee I fly, and humbly here implore
thy help divine. Behold, from land to land
Aeneas, thine own brother, voyages on
storm-driven, by Juno's causeless enmity.
Thou knowest it well, and oft hast sighed to see
my sighs and tears. Dido the Tyrian now
detains him with soft speeches; and I fear
such courtesy from Juno means us ill;
she is not one who, when the hour is ripe,
bids action pause. I therefore now intend
the Tyrian Queen to snare, and siege her breast
with our invading fire, before some god
shall change her mood. But let her bosom burn
with love of my Aeneas not less than mine.
This thou canst bring to pass. I pray thee hear
the plan I counsel. At his father's call
Ascanius, heir of kings, makes haste to climb
to yon Sidonian citadel; my grace
protects him, and he bears gifts which were saved
from hazard of the sea and burning Troy.
Him lapped in slumber on Cythera's hill,
or in Idalia's deep and hallowing shade,
myself will hide, lest haply he should learn
our stratagem, and burst in, foiling all.
Wear thou his shape for one brief night thyself,
and let thy boyhood feign another boy's
familiar countenance; when Dido there,
beside the royal feast and flowing wine,
all smiles and joy, shall clasp thee to her breast
while she caresses thee, and her sweet lips
touch close with thine, then let thy secret fire
breathe o'er her heart, to poison and betray.”
The love-god to his mother's dear behest
gave prompt assent. He put his pinions by
and tripped it like Iulus, light of heart.
But Venus o'er Ascanius' body poured
a perfect sleep, and, to her heavenly breast
enfolding him, far, far away upbore
to fair Idalia's grove, where fragrant buds
of softly-petalled marjoram embower
in pleasurable shade.

Cupid straightway
obeyed his mother's word and bore the gifts,
each worthy of a king, as offerings
to greet the Tyrian throne; and as he went
he clasped Achates' friendly hand, and smiled.
Father Aeneas now, and all his band
of Trojan chivalry, at social feast,
on lofty purple-pillowed couches lie;
deft slaves fresh water on their fingers pour,
and from reed-woven basketry renew
the plenteous bread, or bring smooth napery
of softest weave; fifty handmaidens serve,
whose task it is to range in order fair
the varied banquet, or at altars bright
throw balm and incense on the sacred fires.
A hundred more serve with an equal band
of beauteous pages, whose obedient skill
piles high the generous board and fills the bowl.
The Tyrians also to the festal hall
come thronging, and receive their honor due,
each on his painted couch; with wondering eyes
Aeneas' gifts they view, and wondering more,
mark young Iulus' radiant brows divine,
his guileful words, the golden pall he bears,
and broidered veil with saffron lilies bound.
The Tyrian Queen ill-starred, already doomed
to her approaching woe, scanned ardently,
with kindling cheek and never-sated eyes,
the precious gifts and wonder-gifted boy.
He round Aeneas' neck his arms entwined,
fed the deep yearning of his seeming sire,
then sought the Queen's embrace; her eyes, her soul
clave to him as she strained him to her breast.
For Dido knew not in that fateful hour
how great a god betrayed her. He began,
remembering his mother (she who bore
the lovely Acidalian Graces three),
to make the dear name of Sichaeus fade,
and with new life, new love, to re-possess
her Iong-since slumbering bosom's Iost desire.

When the main feast is over, they replace
the banquet with huge bowls, and crown the wine
with ivy-leaf and rose. Loud rings the roof
with echoing voices; from the gilded vault
far-blazing cressets swing, or torches bright
drive the dark night away. The Queen herself
called for her golden chalice studded round
with jewels, and o'er-brimming it with wine
as Belus and his proud successors use,
commanded silence, and this utterance made:
“Great Jove, of whom are hospitable laws
for stranger-guest, may this auspicious day
bless both our Tyrians and the wanderers
from Trojan shore. May our posterity
keep this remembrance! Let kind Juno smile,
and Bacchus, Iord of mirth, attend us here!
And, O ye Tyrians, come one and all,
and with well-omened words our welcome share!”
So saying, she outpoured the sacred drop
due to the gods, and lightly from the rim
sipped the first taste, then unto Bitias gave
with urgent cheer; he seized it, nothing loth,
quaffed deep and long the foaming, golden bowl,
then passed to others. On a gilded Iyre
the flowing-haired Iopas woke a song
taught him by famous Atlas: of the moon
he sang, the wanderer, and what the sun's
vast labors be; then would his music tell
whence man and beast were born, and whence were bred
clouds, lightnings, and Arcturus' stormful sign,
the Hyades, rain-stars, and nigh the Pole
the great and lesser Wain; for well he knew
why colder suns make haste to quench their orb
in ocean-stream, and wintry nights be slow.
Loudly the Tyrians their minstrel praised,
and Troy gave prompt applause. Dido the while
with varying talk prolonged the fateful night,
and drank both long and deep of love and wine.
Now many a tale of Priam would she crave,
of Hector many; or what radiant arms
Aurora's son did wear; what were those steeds
of Diomed, or what the stature seemed
of great Achilles. “Come, illustrious guest,
begin the tale,” she said, “begin and tell
the perfidy of Greece, thy people's fall,
and all thy wanderings. For now,—Ah, me!
Seven times the summer's burning stars have seen
thee wandering far o'er alien lands and seas.”

A general silence fell; and all gave ear,
while, from his lofty station at the feast,
Father Aeneas with these words began :—
A grief unspeakable thy gracious word,
o sovereign lady, bids my heart live o'er:
how Asia's glory and afflicted throne
the Greek flung down; which woeful scene I saw,
and bore great part in each event I tell.
But O! in telling, what Dolopian churl,
or Myrmidon, or gory follower
of grim Ulysses could the tears restrain?
'T is evening; lo! the dews of night begin
to fall from heaven, and yonder sinking stars
invite to slumber. But if thy heart yearn
to hear in brief of all our evil days
and Troy's last throes, although the memory
makes my soul shudder and recoil in pain,
I will essay it. Wearied of the war,
and by ill-fortune crushed, year after year,
the kings of Greece, by Pallas' skill divine,
build a huge horse, a thing of mountain size,
with timbered ribs of fir. They falsely say
it has been vowed to Heaven for safe return,
and spread this lie abroad. Then they conceal
choice bands of warriors in the deep, dark side,
and fill the caverns of that monstrous womb
with arms and soldiery. In sight of Troy
lies Tenedos, an island widely famed
and opulent, ere Priam's kingdom fell,
but a poor haven now, with anchorage
not half secure; 't was thitherward they sailed,
and lurked unseen by that abandoned shore.
We deemed them launched away and sailing far,
bound homeward for Mycenae. Teucria then
threw off her grief inveterate; all her gates
swung wide; exultant went we forth, and saw
the Dorian camp untenanted, the siege
abandoned, and the shore without a keel.
“Here!” cried we, “the Dolopian pitched; the host
of fierce Achilles here; here lay the fleet;
and here the battling lines to conflict ran.”
Others, all wonder, scan the gift of doom
by virgin Pallas given, and view with awe
that horse which loomed so large. Thymoetes then
bade lead it through the gates, and set on high
within our citadel,—or traitor he,
or tool of fate in Troy's predestined fall.
But Capys, as did all of wiser heart,
bade hurl into the sea the false Greek gift,
or underneath it thrust a kindling flame
or pierce the hollow ambush of its womb
with probing spear. Yet did the multitude
veer round from voice to voice and doubt of all.