Aeneid

Virgil

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

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.

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.”