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