Aeneid

Virgil

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

  1. But now not blindly from Olympian throne
  2. the Sire of gods and men observant saw
  3. how sped the day. Then to the conflict dire
  4. the god thrust Tarchon forth, the Tyrrhene King,
  5. goading the warrior's rage. So Tarchon rode
  6. through slaughter wide and legions in retreat,
  7. and roused the ranks with many a wrathful cry:
  8. he called each man by name, and toward the foe
  9. drove back the routed lines. “What terrors now,
  10. Tuscan cowards, dead to noble rage,
  11. have seized ye? or what laggard sloth and vile
  12. unmans your hearts, that now a woman's arm
  13. pursues ye and this scattered host confounds?
  14. Why dressed in steel, or to what purpose wear
  15. your futile swords? Not slackly do ye join
  16. the ranks of Venus in a midnight war;
  17. or when fantastic pipes of Bacchus call
  18. your dancing feet, right venturesome ye fly
  19. to banquets and the flowing wine—what zeal,
  20. what ardor then! Or if your flattering priest
  21. begins the revel, and to Iofty groves
  22. fat flesh of victims bids ye haste away!”
  23. So saying, his steed he spurred, and scorning death
  24. dashed into the mid-fray, where, frenzy-driven,
  25. he sought out Venulus, and, grappling him
  26. with one hand, from the saddle snatched his foe,
  27. and, clasping strongly to his giant breast,
  28. exultant bore away. The shouting rose
  29. to heaven, and all the Latins gazed his way,
  30. as o'er the plain the fiery Tarchon flew
  31. bearing the full-armed man; then, breaking off
  32. the point of his own spear, he pried a way
  33. through the seam'd armor for the mortal wound;
  34. the other, struggling, thrust back from his throat
  35. the griping hand, full force to force opposing.
  36. As when a golden eagle high in air
  37. knits to a victim—snake his clinging feet
  38. and deeply-thrusting claws; but, coiling back,
  39. the wounded serpent roughens his stiff scales
  40. and stretches high his hissing head; whereat
  41. the eagle with hooked beak the more doth rend
  42. her writhing foe, and with swift stroke of wing
  43. lashes the air: so Tarchon, from the ranks
  44. of Tibur's sons, triumphant snatched his prey.
  45. The Tuscans rallied now, well pleased to view
  46. their king's example and successful war.
  47. Then Arruns, marked for doom, made circling line
  48. around Camilla's path, his crafty spear
  49. seeking its lucky chance. Where'er the maid
  50. sped furious to the battle, Arruns there
  51. in silence dogged her footsteps and pursued;
  52. or where triumphant from her fallen foes
  53. she backward drew, the warrior stealthily
  54. turned his swift reins that way: from every side
  55. he circled her, and scanned his vantage here
  56. or vantage there, his skilful javelin
  57. stubbornly shaking. But it soon befell
  58. that Chloreus, once a priest of Cybele,
  59. shone forth in far-resplendent Phrygian arms,
  60. and urged a foaming steed, which wore a robe
  61. o'erwrought with feathery scales of bronze and gold;
  62. while he, in purples of fine foreign stain,
  63. bore light Gortynian shafts and Lycian bow;
  64. his bow was gold; a golden casque he wore
  65. upon his priestly brow; the saffron cloak,
  66. all folds of rustling cambric, was enclasped
  67. in glittering gold; his skirts and tunics gay
  68. were broidered, and the oriental garb
  69. swathed his whole leg. Him when the maiden spied,
  70. (Perchance she fain on temple walls would hang
  71. the Trojan prize, or in such captured gold
  72. her own fair shape array), she gave mad chase,
  73. and reckless through the ranks her prey pursued,
  74. desiring, woman-like, the splendid spoil.
  75. Then from his ambush Arruns seized at last
  76. the fatal moment and let speed his shaft,
  77. thus uttering his vow to heavenly powers:
  78. “Chief of the gods, Apollo, who dost guard
  79. Soracte's hallowed steep, whom we revere
  80. first of thy worshippers, for thee is fed
  81. the heap of burning pine; for thee we pass
  82. through the mid-blaze in sacred zeal secure,
  83. and deep in glowing embers plant our feet.
  84. O Sire Omnipotent, may this my spear
  85. our foul disgrace put by. I do not ask
  86. for plunder, spoils, or trophies in my name,
  87. when yonder virgin falls; let honor's crown
  88. be mine for other deeds. But if my stroke
  89. that curse and plague destroy, may I unpraised
  90. safe to the cities of my sires return.”