Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Soon as the breaking dawn its glory threw
- along the hills, and from the sea's profound
- leaped forth the horses of the sun-god's car,
- from lifted nostrils breathing light and fire,
- then Teucrian and Rutulian measured out
- a place for duel, underneath the walls
- of the proud city. In the midst were set
- altars of turf and hearth-stones burning bright
- in honor of their common gods. Some brought
- pure waters and the hallowed flame, their thighs
- in priestly skirt arrayed, and reverend brows
- with vervain bound. Th' Ausonians, spear in hand,
- out from the city's crowded portals moved
- in ordered column: next the Trojans all,
- with Tuscan host in various martial guise,
- equipped with arms of steel, as if they heard
- stern summons to the fight. Their captains, too,
- emerging from the multitude, in pride
- of gold and purple, hurried to and fro:
- Mnestheus of royal stem, Asilas brave;
- and Neptune's offspring, tamer of the steed,
- Messapus. Either host, at signal given,
- to its own ground retiring, fixed in earth
- the long shafts of the spears and stacked the shields.
- Then eagerly to tower and rampart fly
- the women, the infirm old men, the throng
- of the unarmed, and sit them there at gaze,
- or on the columned gates expectant stand.
- But Juno, peering from that summit proud
- which is to-day the Alban (though that time
- nor name nor fame the hallowed mountain knew),
- surveyed the plain below and fair array
- of Trojan and Laurentine, by the walls
- of King Latinus. Whereupon straightway
- with Turnus' sister she began converse,
- goddess with goddess; for that nymph divine
- o'er Alba's calm lakes and loud rivers reigns;
- Jove, the high monarch of th' ethereal sky,
- gave her such glory when he stole away
- her virgin zone. “O nymph“, she said, “who art
- the pride of flowing streams, and much beloved
- of our own heart! thou knowest thou alone
- hast been my favorite of those Latin maids
- that to proud Jove's unthankful bed have climbed;
- and willingly I found thee place and share
- in our Olympian realm. So blame not me,
- but hear, Juturna, what sore grief is thine:
- while chance and destiny conceded aught
- of strength to Latium's cause, I shielded well
- both Turnus and thy city's wall; but now
- I see our youthful champion make his war
- with fates adverse. The Parcae's day of doom
- implacably impends. My eyes refuse
- to Iook upon such fight, such fatal league.
- If for thy brother's life thou couldst be bold
- to venture some swift blow, go, strike it now!
- 'T is fit and fair! Some issue fortunate
- may tread on sorrow's heel.” She scarce had said,
- when rained the quick tears from Juturna's eyes.
- Three times and yet again her desperate hand
- smote on her comely breast. But Juno cried,
- “No tears to-day! But haste thee, haste and find
- what way, if way there be, from clutch of death
- to tear thy brother free; arouse the war;
- their plighted peace destroy. I grant thee leave
- such boldness to essay.” With this command
- she left the nymph dismayed and grieving sore.