Aeneid

Virgil

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

Then sovereign Juno, flushed with solemn scorn,
made answer. “Dost thou bid me here profane
the silence of my heart, and gossip forth
of secret griefs? What will of god or man
impelled Aeneas on his path of war,
or made him foeman of the Latin King?
Fate brought him to Italia? Be it so!
Cassandra's frenzy he obeyed. What voice —
say, was it mine?—urged him to quit his camp,
risk life in storms, or trust his war, his walls,
to a boy-captain, or stir up to strife
Etruria's faithful, unoffending sons?
What god, what pitiless behest of mine,
impelled him to such harm? Who traces here
the hand of Juno, or of Iris sped
from heaven? Is it an ignoble stroke
that Italy around the new-born Troy
makes circling fire, and Turnus plants his heel
on his hereditary earth, the son
of old Pilumnus and the nymph divine,
Venilia? For what offence would Troy
bring sword and fire on Latium, or enslave
lands of an alien name, and bear away
plunder and spoil? Why seek they marriages,
and snatch from arms of love the plighted maids?
An olive-branch is in their hands; their ships
make menace of grim steel. Thy power one day
ravished Aeneas from his Argive foes,
and gave them shape of cloud and fleeting air
to strike at for a man. Thou hast transformed
his ships to daughters of the sea. What wrong
if I, not less, have lent the Rutuli
something of strength in war? Aeneas, then,
is far away and knows not! Far away
let him remain, not knowing! If thou sway'st
Cythera, Paphos, and Idalium,
why rouse a city pregnant with loud wars,
and fiery hearts provoke? That fading power
of Phrygia, do I, forsooth, essay
to ruin utterly? O, was it I
exposed ill-fated Troy to Argive foe?
For what offence in vast array of arms
did Europe rise and Asia, for a rape
their peace dissolving? Was it at my word
th' adulterous Dardan shepherd came to storm
the Spartan city? Did my hand supply
his armament, or instigate a war
for Cupid's sake? Then was thy decent hour
to tremble for thy children; now too late
the folly of thy long lament to Heaven,
and objurgation vain.” Such Juno's plea;
the throng of gods with voices loud or low
gave various reply: as gathering winds
sing through the tree-tops in dark syllables,
and fling faint murmur on the far-off sea,
to tell some pilot of to-morrow's storm.
Then Jupiter omnipotent, whose hands
have governance supreme, began reply;
deep silence at his word Olympus knew,
Earth's utmost cavern shook; the realms of light
were silent; the mild zephyrs breathed no more,
and perfect calm o'erspread the levelled sea.
“Give ear, ye gods, and in your hearts record
my mandate and decree. Fate yet allows
no peace 'twixt Troy and Italy, nor bids
your quarrel end. Therefore, what Chance this day
to either foe shall bring, whatever hope
either may cherish,—the Rutulian cause
and Trojan have like favor in my eyes.
The destinies of Italy constrain
the siege; which for the fault of Troy fulfills
an oracle of woe. Yon Rutule host
I scatter not. But of his own attempt
let each the triumph and the burden bear;
for Jove is over all an equal King.
The Fates will find the way.” The god confirmed
his sentence by his Stygian brother's wave,
the shadowy flood and black, abysmal shore.
He nodded; at the bending of his brow
Olympus shook. It is the council's end.
Now from the golden throne uprises Jove;
the train of gods attend him to the doors.

Meanwhile at every gate the Rutule foe
urges the slaughter on, and closes round
the battlements with ring of flame. The host
of Trojans, prisoned in the palisades,
lies in strict siege and has no hope to fly.
In wretched plight they man the turrets tall,
to no avail, and with scant garrison
the ramparts crown. In foremost line of guard
are Asius Imbrasides, the twin
Assaraci, and Hicetaon's son
Thymoetes, and with Castor at his side
the veteran Thymbris; then the brothers both
of slain Sarpedon, and from Lycian steep
Clarus and Themon. With full-straining thews
lifting a rock, which was of some huge hill
no fragment small, Lyrnesian Acmon stood;
nor less than Clytius his sire he seemed,
nor Mnestheus his great brother. Some defend
the wall with javelins; some hurl down stones
or firebrands, or to the sounding string
fit arrows keen. But lo! amid the throng,
well worth to Venus her protecting care,
the Dardan boy, whose princely head shone forth
without a helm, like radiant jewel set
in burnished gold for necklace or for crown;
or like immaculate ivory inclosed
in boxwood or Orician terebinth;
his tresses o'er his white neck rippled down,
confined in circlet of soft twisted gold.
Thee, too, the warrior nations gaze upon,
high-nurtured Ismarus, inflicting wounds
with shafts of venomed reed: Maeonia's vale
thy cradle was, where o'er the fruitful fields
well-tilled and rich, Pactolus pours his gold.
Mnestheus was there, who, for his late repulse
of Turnus from the rampart, towered forth
in glory eminent; there Capys stood,
whose name the Capuan citadel shall bear.

While these in many a shock of grievous war
hotly contend, Aeneas cleaves his way
at midnight through the waters. He had fared
from old Evander to th' Etruscan folk,
addressed their King, and to him told the tale
of his own race and name, his suit, his powers;
of what allies Mezentius had embraced,
and Turnus' lawless rage. He bids him know
how mutable is man, and warning gives,
with supplication joined. Without delay
Tarchon made amity and sacred league,
uniting with his cause. The Lydian tribe,
now destined from its tyrant to be free,
embarked, obedient to the gods, and gave
allegiance to the foreign King. The ship
Aeneas rode moved foremost in the line:
its beak a pair of Phrygian lions bore;
above them Ida rose, an emblem dear
to exiled Trojans. On his Iofty seat
was great Aeneas, pondering the events
of changeful war; and clinging to his side
the youthful Pallas fain would learn the lore
of stars, the highway of dark night, and asks
the story of his toils on land and sea.

Now open Helicon and move my song,
ye goddesses, to tell what host in arms
followed Aeneas from the Tuscan shore,
and manned his ships and traveiled o'er the sea!

First Massicus his brazen Tigress rode,
cleaving the brine; a thousand warriors
were with him out of Clusium's walls, or from
the citadel of Coste, who for arms
had arrows, quivers from the shoulder slung,
and deadly bows. Grim Abas near him sailed;
his whole band wore well-blazoned mail; his ship
displayed the form of Phoebus, all of gold:
to him had Populonia consigned
(His mother-city, she) six hundred youth
well-proven in war; three hundred Elba gave,
an island rich in unexhausted ores
of iron, like the Chalybes. Next came
Asilas, who betwixt the gods and men
interprets messages and reads clear signs
in victims' entrails, or the stars of heaven,
or bird-talk, or the monitory flames
of lightning: he commands a thousand men
close lined, with bristling spears, of Pisa all,
that Tuscan city of Alpheus sprung.
Then Astur followed, a bold horseman he,
Astur in gorgeous arms, himself most fair:
three hundred are his men, one martial mind
uniting all: in Caere they were bred
and Minio's plain, and by the ancient towers
of Pyrgo or Gravisca's storm-swept hill.

Nor thy renown may I forget, brave chief
of the Ligurians, Cinyrus; nor thine,
Cupavo, with few followers, thy crest
the tall swan-wings, of love unblest the sign
and of a father fair: for legends tell
that Cycnus, for his Phaethon so dear
lamenting loud beneath the poplar shade
of the changed sisters, made a mournful song
to soothe his grief and passion: but erewhile,
in his old age, there clothed him as he sang
soft snow-white plumes, and spurning earth he soared
on high, and sped in music through the stars.
His son with bands of youthful peers urged on
a galley with a Centaur for its prow,
which loomed high o'er the waves, and seemed to hurl
a huge stone at the water, as the keel
ploughed through the deep. Next Ocnus summoned forth
a war-host from his native shores, the son
of Tiber, Tuscan river, and the nymph
Manto, a prophetess: he gave good walls,
O Mantua, and his mother's name, to thee,—
to Mantua so rich in noble sires,
but of a blood diverse, a triple breed,
four stems in each; and over all enthroned
she rules her tribes: her strength is Tuscan born.
Hate of Mezentius armed against his name
five hundred men: upon their hostile prow
was Mincius in a cloak of silvery sedge,—
Lake Benacus the river's source and sire.
Last good Aulestes smites the depths below,
with forest of a hundred oars: the flood
like flowing marble foams; his Triton prow
threatens the blue waves with a trumpet-shell;
far as the hairy flanks its form is man,
but ends in fish below—the parting waves
beneath the half-brute bosom break in foam.
Such chosen chiefs in thirty galleys ploughed
the salt-wave, bringing help to Trojan arms.

Day now had left the sky. The moon benign
had driven her night-wandering chariot
to the mid-arch of heaven. Aeneas sate,
for thought and care allowed him no repose,
holding the helm and tending his own sails.
but, as he sped, behold, the beauteous train,
lately his own, of nymphs, anon transformed
by kind Cybebe to sea-ruling powers.
In even ranks they swam the cloven wave,—
nymphs now, but once as brazen galleys moored
along the sandy shore. With joy they knew
their King from far, and with attending train
around him drew. Cymodocea then,
best skilled in mortal speech, sped close behind,
with her right hand upon the stern, uprose
breast-high, and with her left hand deeply plied
the silent stream, as to the wondering King
she called: “So late on watch, O son of Heaven,
Aeneas? Slack thy sail, but still watch on!
We were the pine-trees on the holy top
of Ida's mountain. Sea-nymphs now are we,
and thine own fleet. When, as we fled, the flames
rained o'er us from the false Rutulian's hand
't was all unwillingly we cast away
thy serviceable chains: and now once more
we follow thee across the sea. These forms
our pitying mother bade us take, with power
to haunt immortally the moving sea.
Lo, thy Ascanius lies close besieged
in moated walls, assailed by threatening arms
and Latium's front of war. Arcadia,
her horsemen with the bold Etruscan joined,
stands at the place appointed. Turnus means,
with troop opposing, their advance to bar
and hold them from the camp. Arouse thee, then,
and with the rising beams of dawn call forth
thy captains and their followers. Take that shield
victorious, which for thee the Lord of Fire
forged for a gift and rimmed about with gold.
To-morrow's light—deem not my words be vain!—
shall shine on huge heaps of Rutulia's dead.”
So saying, she pushed with her right hand the stern
with skilful thrust, and vanished. The ship sped
swift as a spear, or as an arrow flies
no whit behind the wind: and all the fleet
quickened its course. Anchises' princely son,
dumb and bewildered stood, but took good heart
at such an omen fair. Then in few words
with eyes upturned to heaven he made his prayer:
“Mother of gods, O Ida's Queen benign,
who Iovest Dindymus and towns with towers,
and lion-yokes obedient to thy rein,
be thou my guide in battle, and fulfil
thine augury divine. In Phrygia's cause
be present evermore with favoring power!”
He spoke no more. For now the wheels of day
had sped full circle into perfect light,
the dark expelling. Then, for his first care,
he bade his captains heed the signal given,
equip their souls for war, and wait in arms
the coming fray. Now holds he full in view
his Trojans and their fortress, as he stands
upon his towering ship. With his left hand
he lifts his radiant shield; then from the wall
the Dardan warriors send a battle-cry
that echoes to the stars, as kindling hope
their rage renews. A flight of spears they hurl:
't was like the cranes of Strymon, through dark clouds
each other calling, when they cleave the skies
vociferous, outwinging as they fly
the swift south winds—Ioud music them pursues.
Amazement on Ausonia's captains fell
and Turnus, as they gazed. But soon they saw
ships pointing shoreward and the watery plain
all stirring with a fleet. Aeneas' helm
uplifted its bright peak,—like streaming flame
the crimson crest; his shield of orbed gold
poured forth prodigious fire: it seemed as when
in cloudless night a comet's blood-red beam
makes mournful splendor, or the Dog-star glows,
which rises to bring drought and pestilence
to hapless men, and with ill-omened ray
saddens the sky. But Turnus, undismayed,
trusted not less to hurl th' invaders back
and hold the shore against them. “Look!” he cried,
your prayer is come to pass,—that sword in hand
ye now may shatter them. The might of Mars
is in a true man's blow. Remember well
each man his home and wife! Now call to mind
the glory and great deeds of all your sires!
Charge to yon river-bank, while yet they take
with weak and fearful steps their shoreward way!
Fortune will help the brave.” With words like these,
he chose, well-weighing, who should lead the charge,
who at the leaguered walls the fight sustain.

Aeneas straightway from his lofty ships
lets down his troop by bridges. Some await
the ebbing of slack seas, and boldly leap
into the shallows; others ply the oar.
Tarchon a beach discovers, where the sands
sing not, nor waves with broken murmur fall,
but full and silent swells the gentle sea.
Steering in haste that way, he called his crews:
“Now bend to your stout oars, my chosen brave.
Lift each ship forward, till her beak shall cleave
yon hostile shore; and let her keel's full weight
the furrow drive. I care not if we break
our ship's side in so sure an anchorage,
if once we land.” While Tarchon urged them thus,
the crews bent all together to their blades
and sped their foaming barks to Latium's plain,
till each beak gripped the sand and every keel
lay on dry land unscathed:—all save thine own,
O Tarchon! dashed upon a sand-bar, she!
Long poised upon the cruel ridge she hung,
tilted this way or that and beat the waves,
then split, and emptied forth upon the tide
her warriors; and now the drifting wreck
of shattered oars and thwarts entangles them,
or ebb of swirling waters sucks them down.

Turnus no lingering knows, but fiercely hurls
his whole line on the Teucrians, and makes stand
along the shore. Now peals the trumpet's call.
Aeneas in the van led on his troop
against the rustic foe, bright augury
for opening war, and laid the Latins low,
slaughtering Theron, a huge chief who dared
offer Aeneas battle; through the scales
of brazen mail and corselet stiff with gold
the sword drove deep, and gored the gaping side.
Then smote he Lichas, from his mother's womb
ripped in her dying hour, and unto thee,
O Phoebus, vowed, because his infant days
escaped the fatal steel. Hard by him fell
stout Cisseus and gigantic Gyas; these
to death were hurled, while with their knotted clubs
they slew opposing hosts; but naught availed
Herculean weapons, nor their mighty hands,
or that Melampus was their sire, a peer
of Hercules, what time in heavy toils
through earth he roved. See next how Pharon boasts!
But while he vainly raves, the whirling spear
smites full on his loud mouth. And also thou,
Cydon, wast by the Trojan stroke o'erthrown,
while following in ill-omened haste the steps
of Clytius, thy last joy, whose round cheek wore
its youthful golden down: soon hadst thou lain
in death, unheeding of thy fancies fond
which ever turned to youth;—but now arose
the troop of all thy brothers, Phorcus' sons,
a close array of seven, and seven spears
they hurled: some from Aeneas' helm or shield
glanced off in vain; some Venus' kindly power,
just as they touched his body, turned away.
Aeneas then to true Achates cried:
“Bring on my spears: not one shall fruitless fly
against yon Rutules, even as they pierced
the breasts of Greeks upon the Ilian plain.”
Then one great shaft he seized and threw; it sped
straight into Maeon's brazen shield, and clove
his mail-clad heart. Impetuous to his aid
brother Alcanor came, and lifted up
with strong right hand his brother as he fell:
but through his arm a second skilful shaft
made bloody way, and by the sinews held
the lifeless right hand from the shoulder swung.
Then from his brother's body Numitor
the weapon plucked and hurled it, furious,
upon Aeneas; but it could not strike
the hero's self, and grazed along the thigh
of great Achates. Next into the fight
Clausus of Cures came, in youthful bloom
exulting, and with far-thrown javelin
struck Dryops at the chin, and took away
from the gashed, shrieking throat both life and voice;
the warrior's fallen forehead smote the dust;
his lips poured forth thick blood. There also fell
three Thracians, odspring of the lordly stem
of Boreas, and three of Idas' sons
from Ismara, by various doom struck down.
Halaesus here his wild Auruncans brings;
and flying to the fight comes Neptune's son,
Messapus, famous horseman. On both sides
each charges on the foe. Ausonia's strand
is one wide strife. As when o'er leagues of air
the envious winds give battle to their peers,
well-matched in rage and power; and neither they
nor clouds above, nor plunging seas below
will end the doubtful war, but each withstands
the onset of the whole—in such wild way
the line of Trojans on the Latian line
hurls itself, limb on limb and man on man.