Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- “O dearer to thy sister than her life,”
- Anna replied, “wouldst thou in sorrow's weed
- waste thy long youth alone, nor ever know
- sweet babes at thine own breast, nor gifts of love?
- Will dust and ashes, or a buried ghost
- reck what we do? 'T is true thy grieving heart
- was cold to earlier wooers, Libya's now,
- and long ago in Tyre. Iarbas knew
- thy scorn, and many a prince and captain bred
- in Afric's land of glory. Why resist
- a love that makes thee glad? Hast thou no care
- what alien lands are these where thou dost reign?
- Here are Gaetulia's cities and her tribes
- unconquered ever; on thy borders rove
- Numidia's uncurbed cavalry; here too
- lies Syrtis' cruel shore, and regions wide
- of thirsty desert, menaced everywhere
- by the wild hordes of Barca. Shall I tell
- of Tyre's hostilities, the threats and rage
- of our own brother? Friendly gods, I bow,
- wafted the Teucrian ships, with Juno's aid,
- to these our shores. O sister, what a throne,
- and what imperial city shall be thine,
- if thus espoused! With Trojan arms allied
- how far may not our Punic fame extend
- in deeds of power? Call therefore on the gods
- to favor thee; and, after omens fair,
- give queenly welcome, and contrive excuse
- to make him tarry, while yon wintry seas
- are loud beneath Orion's stormful star,
- and on his battered ships the season frowns.”