Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Then rallied from the grove-clad, Iofty isle
- the Cyclops' clan, and lined the beach and bay.
- We saw each lonely eyeball glare in vain,
- as side by side those brothers Aetna-born
- stood towering high, a conclave dark and dire:
- as when, far up some mountain's famous crest,
- wind-fronting oaks or cone-clad cypresses
- have made assembling in the solemn hills,
- Jove's giant wood or Dian's sacred grove.
- We, terror-struck, would fly we knew not where,
- with loosened sheet and canvas swelling strong
- before a welcome wind; but Helenus
- bade us both Scylla and Charybdis fear,
- where 'twixt the twain death straitly hems the way;
- and so the counsel was to veer our bark
- the course it came. But lo! a northern gale
- burst o'er us from Pelorus' narrowed side,
- and on we rode far past Pantagia's bay
- of unhewn rock, and past the haven strong
- of Megara, and Thapsus Iying low.
- Such were the names retold, and such the shores
- shown us by Achemenides, whose fate
- made him familiar there, for he had sailed
- with evil-starred Ulysses o'er that sea.
- Off the Sicilian shore an island lies,
- wave-washed Plemmyrium, called in olden days
- Ortygia; here Alpheus, river-god,
- from Elis flowed by secret sluice, they say,
- beneath the sea, and mingles at thy mouth,
- fair Arethusa! with Sicilian waves.
- Our voices hailed the great gods of the land
- with reverent prayer; then skirted we the shore,
- where smooth Helorus floods the fruitful plain.
- Under Pachynus' beetling precipice
- we kept our course; then Camarina rose
- in distant view, firm-seated evermore
- by Fate's decree; and that far-spreading vale
- of Gela, with the name of power it takes
- from its wide river; and, uptowering far,
- the ramparts of proud Acragas appeared,
- where fiery steeds were bred in days of old.
- Borne by the winds, along thy coast I fled,
- Selinus, green with palm! and past the shore
- of Lilybaeum with its treacherous reef;
- till at the last the port of Drepanum
- received me to its melancholy strand.
- Here, woe is me I outworn by stormful seas,
- my sire, sole comfort of my grievous doom,
- Anchises ceased to be. O best of sires!
- Here didst thou leave me in the weary way;
- through all our perils—O the bitter loss! —
- borne safely, but in vain. King Helenus,
- whose prophet-tongue of dark events foretold,
- spoke not this woe; nor did Celeno's curse
- of this forebode. Such my last loss and pain;
- such, of my weary way, the destined goal.
- From thence departing, the divine behest
- impelled me to thy shores, O listening queen!
- Such was, while all gave ear, the tale sublime
- father Aeneas, none but he, set forth
- of wanderings and of dark decrees divine:
- silent at last, he ceased, and took repose.