Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Now felt the Queen the sharp, slow-gathering pangs
- of love; and out of every pulsing vein
- nourished the wound and fed its viewless fire.
- Her hero's virtues and his lordly line
- keep calling to her soul; his words, his glance,
- cling to her heart like lingering, barbed steel,
- and rest and peace from her vexed body fly.
- A new day's dawn with Phoebus' lamp divine
- lit up all lands, and from the vaulted heaven
- Aurora had dispelled the dark and dew;
- when thus unto the ever-answering heart
- of her dear sister spoke the stricken Queen:
- “Anna, my sister, what disturbing dreams
- perplex me and alarm? What guest is this
- new-welcomed to our house? How proud his mien!
- What dauntless courage and exploits of war!
- Sooth, I receive it for no idle tale
- that of the gods he sprang. 'T is cowardice
- betrays the base-born soul. Ah me! How fate
- has smitten him with storms! What dire extremes
- of war and horror in his tale he told!
- O, were it not immutably resolved
- in my fixed heart, that to no shape of man
- I would be wed again (since my first love
- left me by death abandoned and betrayed);
- loathed I not so the marriage torch and train,
- I could—who knows?—to this one weakness yield.
- Anna, I hide it not! But since the doom
- of my ill-starred Sichaeus, when our shrines
- were by a brother's murder dabbled o'er,
- this man alone has moved me; he alone
- has shaken my weak will. I seem to feel
- the motions of love's lost, familiar fire.
- But may the earth gape open where I tread,
- and may almighty Jove with thunder-scourge
- hurl me to Erebus' abysmal shade,
- to pallid ghosts and midnight fathomless,
- before, O Chastity! I shall offend
- thy holy power, or cast thy bonds away!
- He who first mingled his dear life with mine
- took with him all my heart. 'T is his alone —
- o, let it rest beside him in the grave!”
- She spoke: the bursting tears her breast o'erflowed.