Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- He spoke. The god a prompt obedience gave
- to his great sire's command. He fastened first
- those sandals of bright gold, which carry him
- aloft o'er land or sea, with airy wings
- that race the fleeting wind; then lifted he
- his wand, wherewith he summons from the grave
- pale-featured ghosts, or, if he will, consigns
- to doleful Tartarus; or by its power
- gives slumber or dispels; or quite unseals
- the eyelids of the dead: on this relying,
- he routs the winds or cleaves th' obscurity
- of stormful clouds. Soon from his flight he spied
- the summit and the sides precipitous
- of stubborn Atlas, whose star-pointing peak
- props heaven; of Atlas, whose pine-wreathed brow
- is girdled evermore with misty gloom
- and lashed of wind and rain; a cloak of snow
- melts on his shoulder; from his aged chin
- drop rivers, and ensheathed in stiffening ice
- glitters his great grim beard. Here first was stayed
- the speed of Mercury's well-poising wing;
- here making pause, from hence he headlong flung
- his body to the sea; in motion like
- some sea-bird's, which along the levelled shore
- or round tall crags where rove the swarming fish,
- flies Iow along the waves: o'er-hovering so
- between the earth and skies, Cyllene's god
- flew downward from his mother's mountain-sire,
- parted the winds and skimmed the sandy merge
- of Libya. When first his winged feet
- came nigh the clay-built Punic huts, he saw
- Aeneas building at a citadel,
- and founding walls and towers; at his side
- was girt a blade with yellow jaspers starred,
- his mantle with the stain of Tyrian shell
- flowed purple from his shoulder, broidered fair
- by opulent Dido with fine threads of gold,
- her gift of love; straightway the god began:
- “Dost thou for lofty Carthage toil, to build
- foundations strong? Dost thou, a wife's weak thrall,
- build her proud city? Hast thou, shameful loss!
- Forgot thy kingdom and thy task sublime?
- From bright Olympus, I. He who commands
- all gods, and by his sovran deity
- moves earth and heaven—he it was who bade
- me bear on winged winds his high decree.
- What plan is thine? By what mad hope dost thou
- linger so Iong in lap of Libyan land?
- If the proud reward of thy destined way
- move not thy heart, if all the arduous toil
- to thine own honor speak not, Iook upon
- Iulus in his bloom, thy hope and heir
- Ascanius. It is his rightful due
- in Italy o'er Roman lands to reign.”
- After such word Cyllene's winged god
- vanished, and e'er his accents died away,
- dissolved in air before the mortal's eyes.