Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- When from the eastern waves the light of morn
- began to peer, and from the upper sky
- Aurora flamed away the dark and dew,
- out of the forest sprang a startling shape
- of hunger-wasted misery; a man
- in wretched guise, who shoreward came with hands
- outstretched in supplication. We turned back
- and scanned him well. All grime and foulness he,
- with long and tangled beard, his savage garb
- fastened with thorns; but in all else he seemed
- a Greek, and in his country's league of arms
- sent to the seige of Troy. Then he beheld
- the Dardan habit, and our Trojan steel,
- he somewhat paused, as if in dread dismay
- such sight to see, and falteringly moved;
- but soon with headlong steps he sought the shore,
- ejaculating broken sobs and prayers:
- “By stars above! By gods on high! O, hear!
- By this bright heavenly air we mortals breathe,
- save me, sweet Trojans! Carry me away
- unto what land ye will! I ask no more.
- I came, I know it, in the ships of Greece;
- and I did war, 't is true, with Ilium's gods.
- O, if the crime deserve it, fling my corse
- on yonder waves, and in the boundless brine
- sink me forever! Give me in my death
- the comfort that by human hands I die.”
- He clasped our knees, and writhing on his own
- clung fast. We bid him tell his race and name,
- and by what fate pursued. Anchises gave
- his own right hand in swift and generous aid,
- and by prompt token cheered the exile's heart,
- who, banishing his fears, poured forth this tale :—