Aeneid

Virgil

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

Now shrieks and loud confusion swept the town;
and though my father's dwelling stood apart
embowered deep in trees, th' increasing din
drew nearer, and the battle-thunder swelled.
I woke on sudden, and up-starting scaled
the roof, the tower, then stood with listening ear:
't was like an harvest burning, when wild winds
uprouse the flames; 't was like a mountain stream
that bursts in flood and ruinously whelms
sweet fields and farms and all the ploughman's toil,
whirling whole groves along; while dumb with fear,
from some far cliff the shepherd hears the sound.
Now their Greek plot was plain, the stratagem
at last laid bare. Deiphobus' great house
sank vanquished in the fire. Ucalegon's
hard by was blazing, while the waters wide
around Sigeum gave an answering glow.
Shrill trumpets rang; Ioud shouting voices roared;
wildly I armed me (when the battle calls,
how dimly reason shines!); I burned to join
the rally of my peers, and to the heights
defensive gather. Frenzy and vast rage
seized on my soul. I only sought what way
with sword in hand some noble death to die.

When Panthus met me, who had scarce escaped
the Grecian spears,—Panthus of Othrys' line,
Apollo's priest within our citadel;
his holy emblems, his defeated gods,
and his small grandson in his arms he bore,
while toward the gates with wild, swift steps he flew.
“How fares the kingdom, Panthus? What strong place
is still our own?” But scarcely could I ask
when thus, with many a groan, he made reply:—
“Dardania's death and doom are come to-day,
implacable. There is no Ilium now;
our Trojan name is gone, the Teucrian throne
Quite fallen. For the wrathful power of Jove
has given to Argos all our boast and pride.
The Greek is Iord of all yon blazing towers.
yon horse uplifted on our city's heart
disgorges men-at-arms. False Sinon now,
with scorn exultant, heaps up flame on flame.
Others throw wide the gates. The whole vast horde
that out of proud Mycenae hither sailed
is at us. With confronting spears they throng
each narrow passage. Every steel-bright blade
is flashing naked, making haste for blood.
Our sentries helpless meet the invading shock
and give back blind and unavailing war.”
By Panthus' word and by some god impelled,
I flew to battle, where the flames leaped high,
where grim Bellona called, and all the air
resounded high as heaven with shouts of war.
Rhipeus and Epytus of doughty arm
were at my side, Dymas and Hypanis,
seen by a pale moon, join our little band;
and young Coroebus, Mygdon's princely son,
who was in Troy that hour because he loved
Cassandra madly, and had made a league
as Priam's kinsman with our Phrygian arms:
ill-starred, to heed not what the virgin raved!

When these I saw close-gathered for the fight,
I thus addressed them: “Warriors, vainly brave,
if ye indeed desire to follow one
who dares the uttermost brave men may do,
our evil plight ye see: the gods are fled
from every altar and protecting fire,
which were the kingdom's stay. Ye offer aid
unto your country's ashes. Let us fight
unto the death! To arms, my men, to arms!
The single hope and stay of desperate men
is their despair.” Thus did I rouse their souls.
Then like the ravening wolves, some night of cloud,
when cruel hunger in an empty maw
drives them forth furious, and their whelps behind
wait famine-throated; so through foemen's steel
we flew to surest death, and kept our way
straight through the midmost town . The wings of night
brooded above us in vast vault of shade.
But who the bloodshed of that night can tell?
What tongue its deaths shall number, or what eyes
find meed of tears to equal all its woe?
The ancient City fell, whose throne had stood
age after age. Along her streets were strewn
the unresisting dead; at household shrines
and by the temples of the gods they lay.
Yet not alone was Teucrian blood required:
oft out of vanquished hearts fresh valor flamed,
and the Greek victor fell. Anguish and woe
were everywhere; pale terrors ranged abroad,
and multitudinous death met every eye.

Androgeos, followed by a thronging band
of Greeks, first met us on our desperate way;
but heedless, and confounding friend with foe,
thus, all unchallenged, hailed us as his own :
“Haste, heroes! Are ye laggards at this hour?
Others bear off the captives and the spoil
of burning Troy. Just from the galleys ye?”
He spoke; but straightway, when no safe reply
returned, he knew himself entrapped, and fallen
into a foeman's snare; struck dumb was he
and stopped both word and motion; as one steps,
when blindly treading a thick path of thorns,
upon a snake, and sick with fear would flee
that lifted wrath and swollen gorge of green:
so trembling did Androgeos backward fall.
At them we flew and closed them round with war;
and since they could not know the ground, and fear
had whelmed them quite, we swiftly laid them low.
Thus Fortune on our first achievement smiled;
and, flushed with victory, Cormbus cried:
“Come, friends, and follow Fortune's finger, where
she beckons us what path deliverance lies.
Change we our shields, and these Greek emblems wear.
'Twixt guile and valor who will nicely weigh
When foes are met? These dead shall find us arms.”
With this, he dons Androgeos' crested helm
and beauteous, blazoned shield; and to his side
girds on a Grecian blade. Young Rhipeus next,
with Dymas and the other soldiery,
repeat the deed, exulting, and array
their valor in fresh trophies from the slain.
Now intermingled with our foes we moved,
and alien emblems wore; the long, black night
brought many a grapple, and a host of Greeks
down to the dark we hurled. Some fled away,
seeking their safe ships and the friendly shore.
Some cowards foul went clambering back again
to that vast horse and hid them in its maw.

But woe is me! If gods their help withhold,
't is impious to be brave. That very hour
the fair Cassandra passed us, bound in chains,
King Priam's virgin daughter, from the shrine
and altars of Minerva; her loose hair
had lost its fillet; her impassioned eyes
were lifted in vain prayer,—her eyes alone!
For chains of steel her frail, soft hands confined.
Coroebus' eyes this horror not endured,
and, sorrow-crazed, he plunged him headlong in
the midmost fray, self-offered to be slain,
while in close mass our troop behind him poured.
But, at this point, the overwhelming spears
of our own kinsmen rained resistless down
from a high temple-tower; and carnage wild
ensued, because of the Greek arms we bore
and our false crests. The howling Grecian band,
crazed by Cassandra's rescue, charged at us
from every side; Ajax of savage soul,
the sons of Atreus, and that whole wild horde
Achilles from Dolopian deserts drew.
'T was like the bursting storm, when gales contend,
west wind and South, and jocund wind of morn
upon his orient steeds—while forests roar,
and foam-flecked Nereus with fierce trident stirs
the dark deep of the sea. All who did hide
in shadows of the night, by our assault
surprised, and driven in tumultuous flight,
now start to view. Full well they now can see
our shields and borrowed arms, and clearly note
our speech of alien sound; their multitude
o'erwhelms us utterly. Coroebus first
at mailed Minerva's altar prostrate lay,
pierced by Peneleus, blade; then Rhipeus fell;
we deemed him of all Trojans the most just,
most scrupulously righteous; but the gods
gave judgment otherwise. There Dymas died,
and Hypanis, by their compatriots slain;
nor thee, O Panthus, in that mortal hour,
could thy clean hands or Phoebus, priesthood save.
O ashes of my country! funeral pyre
of all my kin! bear witness that my breast
shrank not from any sword the Grecian drew,
and that my deeds the night my country died
deserved a warrior's death, had Fate ordained.
But soon our ranks were broken; at my side
stayed Iphitus and Pelias; one with age
was Iong since wearied, and the other bore
the burden of Ulysses' crippling wound.
Straightway the roar and tumult summoned us
to Priam's palace,where a battle raged
as if save this no conflict else were known,
and all Troy's dying brave were mustered there.
There we beheld the war-god unconfined;
The Greek besiegers to the roof-tops fled;
or, with shields tortoise-back, the gates assailed.
Ladders were on the walls; and round by round,
up the huge bulwark as they fight their way,
the shielded left-hand thwarts the falling spears,
the right to every vantage closely clings.
The Trojans hurl whole towers and roof-tops down
upon the mounting foe; for well they see
that the last hour is come, and with what arms
the dying must resist. Rich gilded beams,
with many a beauteous blazon of old time,
go crashing down. Men armed with naked swords
defend the inner doors in close array.

Thus were our hearts inflamed to stand and strike
for the king's house, and to his body-guard
bring succor, and renew their vanquished powers.
A certain gate I knew, a secret way,
which gave free passage between Priam's halls,
and exit rearward; hither, in the days
before our fall, the lone Andromache
was wont with young Astyanax to pass
in quest of Priam and her husband's kin.
This way to climb the palace roof I flew,
where, desperate, the Trojans with vain skill
hurled forth repellent arms. A tower was there,
reared skyward from the roof-top, giving view
of Troy's wide walls and full reconnaissance
of all Achaea's fleets and tented field;
this, with strong steel, our gathered strength assailed,
and as the loosened courses offered us
great threatening fissures, we uprooted it
from its aerial throne and thrust it down.
It fell with instantaneous crash of thunder
along the Danaan host in ruin wide.
But fresh ranks soon arrive; thick showers of stone
rain down, with every missile rage can find.

Now at the threshold of the outer court
Pyrrhus triumphant stood, with glittering arms
and helm of burnished brass. He glittered like
some swollen viper, fed on poison-leaves,
whom chilling winter shelters underground,
till, fresh and strong, he sheds his annual scales
and, crawling forth rejuvenate, uncoils
his slimy length; his lifted gorge insults
the sunbeam with three-forked and quivering tongue.
Huge Periphas was there; Automedon,
who drove Achilles' steeds, and bore his arms.
Then Scyros' island-warriors assault
the palaces, and hurl reiterate fire
at wall and tower. Pyrrhus led the van;
seizing an axe he clove the ponderous doors
and rent the hinges from their posts of bronze;
he cut the beams, and through the solid mass
burrowed his way, till like a window huge
the breach yawned wide, and opened to his gaze
a vista of long courts and corridors,
the hearth and home of many an ancient king,
and Priam's own; upon its sacred bourne
the sentry, all in arms, kept watch and ward.
Confusion, groans, and piteous turmoil
were in that dwelling; women shrieked and wailed
from many a dark retreat, and their loud cry
rang to the golden stars. Through those vast halls
the panic-stricken mothers wildly roved,
and clung with frantic kisses and embrace
unto the columns cold. Fierce as his sire,
Pyrrhus moves on; nor bar nor sentinel
may stop his way; down tumbles the great door
beneath the battering beam, and with it fall
hinges and framework violently torn.
Force bursts all bars; th' assailing Greeks break in,
do butchery, and with men-at-arms possess
what place they will. Scarce with an equal rage
a foaming river, when its dykes are down,
o'erwhelms its mounded shores, and through the plain
rolls mountain-high, while from the ravaged farms
its fierce flood sweeps along both flock and fold.
My own eyes looked on Neoptolemus
frenzied with slaughter, and both Atreus' sons
upon the threshold frowning; I beheld
her hundred daughters with old Hecuba;
and Priam, whose own bleeding wounds defiled
the altars where himself had blessed the fires;
there fifty nuptial beds gave promise proud
of princely heirs; but all their brightness now,
of broidered cunning and barbaric gold,
lay strewn and trampled on. The Danaan foe
stood victor, where the raging flame had failed.

But would ye haply know what stroke of doom
on Priam fell? Now when his anguish saw
his kingdom lost and fallen, his abode
shattered, and in his very hearth and home
th' exulting foe, the aged King did bind
his rusted armor to his trembling thews,—
all vainly,— and a useless blade of steel
he girded on; then charged, resolved to die
encircled by the foe. Within his walls
there stood, beneath the wide and open sky,
a lofty altar; an old laurel-tree
leaned o'er it, and enclasped in holy shade
the statues of the tutelary powers.
Here Hecuba and all the princesses
took refuge vain within the place of prayer.
Like panic-stricken doves in some dark storm,
close-gathering they sate, and in despair
embraced their graven gods. But when the Queen
saw Priam with his youthful harness on,
“What frenzy, O my wretched lord,” she cried,
“Arrayed thee in such arms? O, whither now?
Not such defences, nor such arm as thine,
the time requires, though thy companion were
our Hector's self. O, yield thee, I implore!
This altar now shall save us one and all,
or we must die together.” With these words
she drew him to her side, and near the shrine
made for her aged spouse a place to cling.

But, lo! just 'scaped of Pyrrhus' murderous hand,
Polites, one of Priam's sons, fled fast
along the corridors, through thronging foes
and a thick rain of spears. Wildly he gazed
across the desolate halls, wounded to death.
Fierce Pyrrhus followed after, pressing hard
with mortal stroke, and now his hand and spear
were close upon:— when the lost youth leaped forth
into his father's sight, and prostrate there
lay dying, while his life-blood ebbed away.
Then Priam, though on all sides death was nigh,
quit not the strife, nor from loud wrath refrained:
“Thy crime and impious outrage, may the gods
(if Heaven to mortals render debt and due)
justly reward and worthy honors pay!
My own son's murder thou hast made me see,
blood and pollution impiously throwing
upon a father's head. Not such was he,
not such, Achilles, thy pretended sire,
when Priam was his foe. With flush of shame
he nobly listened to a suppliant's plea
in honor made. He rendered to the tomb
my Hector's body pale, and me did send
back to my throne a king.” With this proud word
the aged warrior hurled with nerveless arm
his ineffectual spear, which hoarsely rang
rebounding on the brazen shield, and hung
piercing the midmost boss,- but all in vain.
Then Pyrrhus: “Take these tidings, and convey
message to my father, Peleus' son!
tell him my naughty deeds! Be sure and say
how Neoptolemus hath shamed his sires.
Now die!” With this, he trailed before the shrines
the trembling King, whose feet slipped in the stream
of his son's blood. Then Pyrrhus' left hand clutched
the tresses old and gray; a glittering sword
his right hand lifted high, and buried it
far as the hilt in that defenceless heart.
So Priam's story ceased. Such final doom
fell on him, while his dying eyes surveyed
Troy burning, and her altars overthrown,
though once of many an orient land and tribe
the boasted lord. In huge dismemberment
his severed trunk lies tombless on the shore,
the head from shoulder torn, the corpse unknown.

Then first wild horror on my spirit fell
and dazed me utterly. A vision rose
of my own cherished father, as I saw
the King, his aged peer, sore wounded Iying
in mortal agony; a vision too
of lost Creusa at my ravaged hearth,
and young Iulus' peril. Then my eyes
looked round me seeking aid. But all were fled,
war-wearied and undone; some earthward leaped
from battlement or tower; some in despair
yielded their suffering bodies to the flame.

I stood there sole surviving; when, behold,
to Vesta's altar clinging in dumb fear,
hiding and crouching in the hallowed shade,
Tyndarus' daughter!— 't was the burning town
lighted full well my roving steps and eyes.
In fear was she both of some Trojan's rage
for Troy o'erthrown, and of some Greek revenge,
or her wronged husband's Iong indignant ire.
So hid she at that shrine her hateful brow,
being of Greece and Troy, full well she knew,
the common curse. Then in my bosom rose
a blaze of wrath; methought I should avenge
my dying country, and with horrid deed
pay crime for crime. “Shall she return unscathed
to Sparta, to Mycenae's golden pride,
and have a royal triumph? Shall her eyes
her sire and sons, her hearth and husband see,
while Phrygian captives follow in her train?
is Priam murdered? Have the flames swept o'er
my native Troy? and cloth our Dardan strand
sweat o'er and o'er with sanguinary dew?
O, not thus unavenged! For though there be
no glory if I smite a woman's crime,
nor conqueror's fame for such a victory won,
yet if I blot this monster out, and wring
full punishment from guilt, the time to come
will praise me, and sweet pleasure it will be
to glut my soul with vengeance and appease
the ashes of my kindred.”So I raved,
and to such frenzied purpose gave my soul.
Then with clear vision (never had I seen
her presence so unclouded) I beheld,
in golden beams that pierced the midnight gloom,
my gracious mother, visibly divine,
and with that mien of majesty she wears
when seen in heaven; she stayed me with her hand,
and from her lips of rose this counsel gave:
“O son, what sorrow stirs thy boundless rage?
what madness this? Or whither vanisheth
thy love of me? Wilt thou not seek to know
where bides Anchises, thy abandoned sire,
now weak with age? or if Creusa lives
and young Ascanius, who are ringed about
with ranks of Grecian foes, and long ere this—
save that my love can shield them and defend—
had fallen on flame or fed some hungry sword?
Not Helen's hated beauty works thee woe;
nor Paris, oft-accused. The cruelty
of gods, of gods unaided, overwhelms
thy country's power, and from its Iofty height
casts Ilium down. Behold, I take away
the barrier-cloud that dims thy mortal eye,
with murk and mist o'er-veiling. Fear not thou
to heed thy mother's word, nor let thy heart
refuse obedience to her counsel given.
'Mid yonder trembling ruins, where thou see'st
stone torn from stone, with dust and smoke uprolling,
't is Neptune strikes the wall; his trident vast
makes her foundation tremble, and unseats
the city from her throne. Fierce Juno leads
resistless onset at the Scaean gate,
and summons from the ships the league of powers,
wearing her wrathful sword. On yonder height
behold Tritonia in the citadel
clothed with the lightning and her Gorgon-shield!
Unto the Greeks great Jove himself renews
their courage and their power; 't is he thrusts on
the gods themselves against the Trojan arms.
Fly, O my son! The war's wild work give o'er!
I will be always nigh and set thee safe
upon thy father's threshold.” Having said,
she fled upon the viewless night away.

Then loomed o'er Troy the apparition vast
of her dread foes divine; I seemed to see
all Ilium sink in fire, and sacred Troy,
of Neptune's building, utterly o'erthrown.
So some huge ash-tree on the mountain's brow
(when rival woodmen, heaving stroke on stroke
of two-edged axes, haste to cast her down)
sways ominously her trembling, leafy top,
and drops her smitten head; till by her wounds
vanquished at last, she makes her dying groan,
and falls in loud wreck from the cliffs uptorn.
I left the citadel; and, led by Heaven,
threaded the maze of deadly foes and fires,
through spears that glanced aside and flames that fell.

Soon came I to my father's ancient seat,
our home and heritage. But lo! my sire
(whom first of all I sought, and first would bear
to safe asylum in the distant hills)
vowed he could never, after fallen Troy,
live longer on, or bear an exile's woe.
“O you,” he cried, “whose blood not yet betrays
the cruel taint of time, whose powers be still
unpropped and undecayed, go, take your flight.
If heavenly wrath had willed my life to spare,
this dwelling had been safe. It is too much
that I have watched one wreck, and for too Iong
outlived my vanquished country. Thus, O, thus!
Compose these limbs for death, and say farewell.
My own hand will procure it; or my foe
will end me of mere pity, and for spoil
will strip me bare. It is an easy loss
to have no grave. For many a year gone by,
accursed of Heaven, I tarry in this world
a useless burden, since that fatal hour
when Jove, of gods the Sire and men the King,
his lightnings o'er me breathed and blasting fire.”

Such fixed resolve he uttered o'er and o'er,
and would not yield, though with my tears did join
my spouse Creusa, fair Ascanius,
and our whole house, imploring the gray sire
not with himself to ruin all, nor add
yet heavier burdens to our crushing doom.
He still cried, “No!” and clung to where he sat
and to the same dread purpose. I once more
back to the fight would speed. For death alone
I made my wretched prayer. What space was left
for wisdom now? What chance or hope was given?
“Didst thou, dear father, dream that I could fly
sundered from thee? Did such an infamy
fall from a father's lips? If Heaven's decree
will of this mighty nation not let live
a single soul, if thine own purpose be
to cast thyself and thy posterity
into thy country's grave, behold, the door
is open to thy death! Lo, Pyrrhus comes
red-handed from King Priam! He has slain
a son before a father's eyes, and spilt
a father's blood upon his own hearthstone.
Was it for this, O heavenly mother mine,
that thou hast brought me safe through sword and fire?
that I might see these altars desecrate
by their worst foes? that I might look upon
my sire, my wife, and sweet Ascanius
dead at my feet in one another's blood?
To arms, my men, to arms! The hour of death
now beckons to the vanquished. Let me go
whither the Greeks are gathered; let me stand
where oft revives the flagging stroke of war:
Not all of us die unavenged this day!”

I clasped my sword-belt round me once again,
fitted my left arm to my shield, and turned
to fly the house; but at the threshold clung
Creusa to my knees, and lifted up
Iulus to his father's arms. “If thou
wouldst rush on death,” she cried, “O, suffer us
to share thy perils with thee to the end.
But if this day's work bid thee trust a sword,
defend thy hearthstone first. Who else shall guard
thy babe Iulus, or thy reverend sire?
Or me, thy wife that was—what help have I?”

So rang the roof-top with her piteous cries:
but lo! a portent wonderful to see
on sudden rose; for while his parents' grief
held the boy close in arm and full in view,
there seemed upon Iulus' head to glow
a flickering peak of fire; the tongue of flame
innocuous o'er his clustering tresses played,
and hovered round his brows. We, horror-struck,
grasped at his burning hair, and sprinkled him,
to quench that holy and auspicious fire.
then sire Anchises with exultant eyes
looked heavenward, and lifted to the stars
his voice and outstretched hands. “Almighty Jove,
if aught of prayer may move thee, let thy grace
now visit us! O, hear this holy vow!
And if for service at thine altars done,
we aught can claim, O Father, lend us aid,
and ratify the omen thou hast given!”

Scarce ceased his aged voice, when suddenly
from leftward, with a deafening thunder-peal,
cleaving the blackness of the vaulted sky,
a meteor-star in trailing splendor ran,
exceeding bright. We watched it glide sublime
o'er tower and town, until its radiant beam
in forest-mantled Ida died away;
but left a furrow on its track in air,
a glittering, Iong line, while far and wide
the sulphurous fume and exhalation flowed.
My father strove not now; but lifted him
in prayer to all the gods, in holy awe
of that auspicious star, and thus exclaimed:
“Tarry no moment more! Behold, I come!
Whithersoe'er ye lead, my steps obey.
Gods of my fathers, O, preserve our name!
Preserve my son, and his! This augury
is yours; and Troy on your sole strength relies.
I yield, dear son; I journey at thy side.”
He spoke; and higher o'er the blazing walls
leaped the loud fire, while ever nearer drew
the rolling surges of tumultuous flame.
“Haste, father, on these bending shoulders climb!
This back is ready, and the burden light;
one peril smites us both, whate'er befall;
one rescue both shall find. Close at my side
let young Iulus run, while, not too nigh,
my wife Creusa heeds what way we go.
Ye servants of our house, give ear, I pray,
to my command. Outside the city's gates
lies a low mound and long since ruined fane
to Ceres vowed; a cypress, ancient shade
o'erhangs it, which our fathers' pious care
protected year by year; by various paths
be that our meeting-place. But in thy hands
bring, sire, our household gods, and sanctifies:
for me to touch, who come this very hour
from battle and the fresh blood of the slain,
were but abomination, till what time
in living waters I shall make me clean.”
So saying, I bowed my neck and shoulders broad,
o'erspread me with a lion's tawny skin,
and lifted up my load. Close at my side
little Iulus twined his hand in mine
and followed, with unequal step, his sire.
My wife at distance came. We hastened on,
creeping through shadows; I, who once had viewed
undaunted every instrument of war
and all the gathered Greeks in grim array,
now shook at every gust, and heard all sounds
with fevered trepidation, fearing both
for him I bore and him who clasped my hand.
Now near the gates I drew, and deemed our flight
safely at end, when suddenly I heard
the sounding tread of many warriors
that seemed hard-by, while through the murky night
my father peered, and shouted, “O my son,
away, away! for surely all our foes
are here upon us, and my eyes behold
the glance of glittering shields and flash of arms.”
O, then some evil-working, nameless god
clouded my senses quite: for while I sped
along our pathless way, and left behind
all paths and regions known—O wretched me!—
Creusa on some dark disaster fell;
she stopped, or wandered, or sank down undone,—
I never knew what way,—and nevermore
I looked on her alive. Yet knew I not
my loss, nor backward turned a look or thought,
till by that hallowed hill to Ceres vowed
we gathered all,— and she alone came not,
while husband, friends, and son made search in vain.
What god, what man, did not my grief accuse
in frenzied word? In all the ruined land
what worse woe had I seen? Entrusting then
my sire, my son, and all the Teucrian gods
to the deep shadows of a slanting vale
where my allies kept guard, I tried me back
to that doomed town, re-girt in glittering arms.
Resolved was I all hazards to renew,
all Troy to re-explore, and once again
offer my life to perils without end.

The walls and gloomy gates whence forth I came
I first revisit, and retrace my way,
searching the night once more. On all sides round
horror spread wide; the very silence breathed
a terror on my soul. I hastened then
back to my fallen home, if haply there
her feet had strayed; but the invading Greeks
were its possessors, though the hungry fire
was blown along the roof-tree, and the flames
rolled raging upward on the fitful gale.
To Priam's house I haste, and climb once more
the citadel; in Juno's temple there,
the chosen guardians of her wasted halls,
Phoenix and dread Ulysses watched the spoil.
Here, snatched away from many a burning fane,
Troy's treasures lay,—rich tables for the gods,
thick bowls of messy gold, and vestures rare,
confusedly heaped up, while round the pile
fair youths and trembling virgins stood forlorn.
Yet oft my voice rang dauntless through the gloom,
from street to street I cried with anguish vain;
and on Creusa piteously calling,
woke the lamenting echoes o'er and o'er.
While on this quest I roamed the city through,
of reason reft there rose upon my sight—
O shape of sorrow!— my Creusa's ghost,
hers truly, though a loftier port it wore.
I quailed, my hair rose, and I gasped for fear;
but thus she spoke, and soothed my grief away:
“Why to these frenzied sorrows bend thy soul,
O husband ever dear! The will of Heaven
hath brought all this to pass. Fate doth not send
Creusa the long journeys thou shalt take,
or hath th' Olympian King so given decree.
Long is thy banishment; thy ship must plough
the vast, far-spreading sea. Then shalt thou come
unto Hesperia, whose fruitful plains
are watered by the Tiber, Lydian stream,
of smooth, benignant Bow. Thou shalt obtain
fair fortunes, and a throne and royal bride.
For thy beloved Creusa weep no more!
No Myrmidon's proud palace waits me now;
Dolopian shall not scorn, nor Argive dames
command a slave of Dardan's royal stem
and wife to Venus' son. On these loved shores
the Mother of the Gods compels my stay.
Farewell! farewell! O, cherish evermore
thy son and mine!” Her utterance scarce had ceased,
when, as I strove through tears to make reply,
she left me, and dissolved in empty air.
Thrice would my frustrate arms her form enfold;
thrice from the clasp of hand that vision fled,
like wafted winds and like a fleeting dream.

The night had passed, and to my friends once more
I made my way, much wondering to find
a mighty multitude assembled there
of friends new-come,—matrons and men-at-arms,
and youth for exile bound,— a doleful throng.
From far and near they drew, their hearts prepared
and their possessions gathered, to sail forth
to lands unknown, wherever o'er the wave
I bade them follow. Now above the crest
of loftiest Ida rose the morning-star,
chief in the front of day. The Greeks held fast
the captive gates of Troy. No help or hope
was ours any more. Then, yielding all,
and lifting once again my aged sire,
for refuge to the distant hills I fled.

When Asia's power and Priam's race and throne,
though guiltless, were cast down by Heaven's decree,
when Ilium proud had fallen, and Neptune's Troy
in smouldering ash lay level with the ground,
to wandering exile then and regions wild
the gods by many an augury and sign
compelled us forth. We fashioned us a fleet
within Antander's haven, in the shade
of Phrygian Ida's peak (though knowing not
whither our fate would drive, or where afford
a resting-place at last), and my small band
of warriors I arrayed. As soon as smiled
the light of summer's prime, my reverend sire
Anchises bade us on the winds of Fate
to spread all sail. Through tears I saw recede
my native shore, the haven and the plains
where once was Troy. An exile on the seas,
with son and followers and household shrines,
and Troy's great guardian-gods, I took my way.