Aeneid

Virgil

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

Arrived the wished-for day; through cloudless sky
the coursers of the Sun's bright-beaming car
bore upward the ninth morn. The neighboring folk
thronged eager to the shore; some hoped to see
Aeneas and his warriors, others fain
would their own prowess prove in bout and game.
Conspicuous lie the rewards, ranged in sight
in the mid-circus; wreaths of laurel green,
the honored tripod, coronals of palm
for conquerors' brows, accoutrements of war,
rare robes of purple stain, and generous weight
of silver and of gold. The trumpet's call
proclaimed from lofty mound the opening games.

First, side by side, with sturdy, rival oars,
four noble galleys, pride of all the fleet,
come forward to contend. The straining crew
of Mnestheus bring his speedy Pristis on, —
Mnestheus in Italy erelong the sire
of Memmius' noble line. Brave Gyas guides
his vast Chimaera, a colossal craft,
a floating city, by a triple row
of Dardan sailors manned, whose banks of oars
in triple order rise. Sergestus, he
of whom the Sergian house shall after spring,
rides in his mighty Centaur. Next in line,
on sky-blue Scylla proud Cloanthus rides —
whence thy great stem, Cluentius of Rome!

Fronting the surf-beat shore, far out at sea
rises a rock, which under swollen waves
lies buffeted unseen, when wintry storms
mantle the stars; but when the deep is calm,
lifts silently above the sleeping wave
its level field,—a place where haunt and play
flocks of the sea-birds, Iovers of the sun.
Here was the goal; and here Aeneas set
a green-leaved flex-tree, to be a mark
for every captain's eye, from whence to veer
the courses of their ships in sweeping curves
and speed them home. Now places in the line
are given by lot. Upon the lofty sterns
the captains ride, in beautiful array
of Tyriao purple and far-flaming gold;
the crews are poplar-crowned, the shoulders bare
rubbed well with glittering oil; their straining arms
make long reach to the oar, as on the thwarts
they sit attentive, listening for the call
of the loud trumpet; while with pride and fear
their hot hearts throb, impassioned for renown.
Soon pealed the signal clear; from all the line
instant the galleys bounded, and the air
rang to the rowers, shouting, while their arms
pulled every inch and flung the waves in foam;
deep cut the rival strokes; the surface fair
yawned wide beneath their blades and cleaving keels.
Not swifter scour the chariots o'er the plain,
sped headlong from the line behind their teams
of mated coursers, while each driver shakes
loose, rippling reins above his plunging pairs,
and o'er the lash leans far. With loud applause
vociferous and many an urgent cheer
the woodlands rang, and all the concave shores
back from the mountains took the Trojan cry
in answering song. Forth-flying from his peers,
while all the crowd acclaims, sped Gyas' keel
along the outmost wave. Cloanthus next
pushed hard upon, with stronger stroke of oars
but heavier ship. At equal pace behind
the Pristis and the Centaur fiercely strive
for the third place. Now Pristis seems to lead,
now mightier Centaur past her flies, then both
ride on together, prow with prow, and cleave
long lines of foaming furrow with swift keels.
Soon near the rock they drew, and either ship
was making goal,—when Gyas, in the lead,
and winner of the half-course, Ioudly hailed
menoetes, the ship's pilot: “Why so far
to starboard, we? Keep her head round this way!
Hug shore! Let every oar-blade almost graze
that reef to larboard! Let the others take
the deep-sea course outside!” But while he spoke,
Menoetes, dreading unknown rocks below,
veered off to open sea. “Why steer so wide?
Round to the rock, Menoetes!” Gyas roared, —
again in vain, for looking back he saw
cloanthus hard astern, and ever nearer,
who, in a trice, betwixt the booming reef
and Gyas' galley, lightly forward thrust
the beak of Scylla to the inside course,
and, quickly taking lead, flew past the goal
to the smooth seas beyond. Then wrathful grief
flamed in the warrior's heart, nor was his cheek
unwet with tears; and, reckless utterly
of his own honor and his comrades, lives,
he hurled poor, slack Menoetes from the poop
headlong upon the waters, while himself,
pilot and master both, the helm assuming,
urged on his crew, and landward took his way.
But now, with heavy limbs that hardly won
his rescue from the deep, engulfing wave,
up the rude rock graybeard Menoetes climbed
with garment dripping wet, and there dropped down
upon the cliff's dry top. With laughter loud
the Trojan crews had watched him plunging, swimming,
and now to see his drink of bitter brine
spewed on the ground, the sailors laughed again.

But Mnestheus and Sergestus, coming last,
have joyful hope enkindled in each heart
to pass the laggard Gyas. In the lead
Sergestus' ship shoots forth; and to the rock
runs boldly nigh; but not his whole long keel
may pass his rival; the projecting beak
is followed fast by Pristis' emulous prow.
Then, striding straight amidships through his crew,
thus Mnestheus urged them on: “O Hector's friends!
Whom in the dying hours of Troy I chose
for followers! Now stand ye to your best!
Put forth the thews of valor that ye showed
in the Gaetulian Syrtes, or that sea
Ionian, or where the waves race by
the Malean promontory! Mnestheus now
hopes not to be the first, nor do I strive
for victory. O Father Neptune, give
that garland where thou wilt! But O, the shame
if we are last! Endure it not, my men!
The infamy refuse!” So, bending low,
they enter the home-stretch. Beneath their stroke
the brass-decked galley throbs, and under her
the sea-floor drops away. On, on they fly!
Parched are the panting lips, and sweat in streams
pours down their giant sides; but lucky chance
brought the proud heroes what their honor craved.
For while Sergestus furiously drove
his ship's beak toward the rock, and kept inside
the scanty passage, by his evil star
he grounded on the jutting reef; the cliffs
rang with the blow, and his entangled oars
grated along the jagged granite, while
the prow hung wrecked and helpless. With loud cry
upsprang the sailors, while the ship stood still,
and pushed off with long poles and pointed iron,
or snatched the smashed oars from the whirling tide.
Mnestheus exults; and, roused to keener strife
by happy fortune, with a quicker stroke
of each bright rank of oars, and with the breeze
his prayer implored, skims o'er the obedient wave
and sweeps the level main. Not otherwise
a startled dove, emerging o'er the fields
from secret cavern in the crannied hill
where her safe house and pretty nestlings lie,
soars from her nest, with whirring wings—but soon
through the still sky she takes her path of air
on pinions motionless. So Pristis sped
with Mnestheus, cleaving her last stretch of sea,
by her own impulse wafted. She outstripped
Sergestus first; for he upon the reef
fought with the breakers, desperately shouting
for help, for help in vain, with broken oars
contriving to move on. Then Mnestheus ran
past Gyas, in Chimaera's ponderous hulk,
of pilot now bereft; at last remains
Cloanthus his sole peer, whom he pursues
with a supreme endeavor. From the shore
burst echoing cheers that spur him to the chase,
and wild applause makes all the welkin ring.
The leaders now with eager souls would scorn
to Iose their glory, and faint-hearted fail
to grasp a prize half-won, but fain would buy
honor with life itself; the followers too
are flushed with proud success, and feel them strong
because their strength is proven. Both ships now
with indistinguishable prows had sped
to share one prize,—but with uplifted hands
spread o'er the sea, Cloanthus, suppliant,
called on the gods to bless his votive prayer:
“Ye gods who rule the waves, whose waters be
my pathway now; for you on yonder strand
a white bull at the altar shall be slain
in grateful tribute for a granted vow;
and o'er the salt waves I will scatter far
the entrails, and outpour the flowing wine.”
He spoke; and from the caverns under sea
Phorcus and virgin Panopea heard,
and all the sea-nymphs' choir; while with strong hand
the kindly God of Havens rose and thrust
the gliding ship along, that swifter flew
than south wind, or an arrow from the string,
and soon made land in haven safe and sure.

Aeneas then, assembling all to hear,
by a far-sounding herald's voice proclaimed
Cloanthus victor, and arrayed his brows
with the green laurel-garland; to the crews
three bulls, at choice, were given, and plenteous wine
and talent-weight of silver; to the chiefs
illustrious gifts beside; the victor had
a gold-embroidered mantle with wide band
of undulant Meliboean purple rare,
where, pictured in the woof, young Ganymede
through Ida's forest chased the light-foot deer
with javelin; all flushed and panting he.
But lo! Jove's thunder-bearing eagle fell,
and his strong talons snatched from Ida far
the royal boy, whose aged servitors
reached helpless hands to heaven; his faithful hound
bayed fiercely at the air. To him whose worth
the second place had won, Aeneas gave
a smooth-linked golden corselet, triple-chained,
of which his own victorious hand despoiled
Demoleos, by the swift, embattled stream
of Simois, under Troy,—and bade it be
a glory and defence on valor's field;
scarce might the straining shoulders of two slaves,
Phegeus and Sagaris, the load endure,
yet oft Demoleos in this armor dressed
charged down full speed on routed hosts of Troy.
The third gift was two cauldrons of wrought brass,
and bowls of beaten silver, cunningly
embossed with sculpture fair. Bearing such gifts,
th' exultant victors onward moved, each brow
bound with a purple fillet. But behold!
Sergestus, from the grim rock just dragged off
by cunning toil, one halting rank of oars
left of his many lost, comes crawling in
with vanquished ship, a mockery to all.
As when a serpent, on the highway caught,
some brazen wheel has crushed, or traveller
with heavy-smiting blow left half alive
and mangled by a stone; in vain he moves
in writhing flight; a part is lifted high
with hissing throat and angry, glittering eyes;
but by the wounded part a captive still
he knots him fold on fold: with such a track
the maimed ship labored slow; but by her sails
she still made way, and with full canvas on
arrived at land. Aeneas then bestowed
a boon upon Sergestus, as was meet
for reward of the ship in safety brought
with all its men; a fair slave was the prize,
the Cretan Pholoe, well taught to weave,
and twin boy-babes upon her breast she bore.

Then good Aeneas, the ship-contest o'er,
turned to a wide green valley, circled round
with clasp of wood-clad hills, wherein was made
an amphitheatre; entering with a throng
of followers, the hero took his seat
in mid-arena on a lofty mound.
For the fleet foot-race, now, his summons flies, —
he offers gifts, and shows the rewards due.
The mingling youth of Troy and Sicily
hastened from far. Among the foremost came
the comrades Nisus and Euryalus,
Euryalus for beauty's bloom renowned,
Nisus for loyal love; close-following these
Diores strode, a prince of Priam's line;
then Salius and Patron, who were bred
in Acarnania and Arcady;
then two Sicilian warriors, Helymus
and Panopes, both sylvan bred and born,
comrades of King Acestes; after these
the multitude whom Fame forgets to tell.
Aeneas, so surrounded, thus spake forth:
“Hear what I purpose, and with joy receive!
of all your company, not one departs
with empty hand. The Cretan javelins
bright-tipped with burnished steel, and battle-axe
adorned with graven silver, these shall be
the meed of all. The three first at the goal
shall bind their foreheads with fair olive green,
and win the rewards due. The first shall lead,
victorious, yon rich-bridled steed away;
this Amazonian quiver, the next prize,
well-stocked with Thracian arrows; round it goes
a baldrick broad and golden,—in its clasp
a lustrous gem. The third man goes away
taking this helmet from the Argive spoil.”

They heard, and took their places. The loud horn
gave signal, and impetuous from the line,
swift as a bursting storm they sped away,
eyes fixed upon the goal. Far in advance
Nisus shot forward, swifter than the winds
or winged thunderbolt; the next in course,
next, but out-rivalled far, was Salius,
and after him a space, Euryalus
came third; him Helymus was hard upon;
and, look! Diores follows, heel on heel,
close at his shoulder—if the race be long
he sure must win, or claim a doubtful prize.
Now at the last stretch, spent and panting, all
pressed to the goal, when in a slime of blood
Nisus, hard fate! slipped down, where late the death
of victims slain had drenched the turf below.
Here the young victor, with his triumph flushed,
lost foothold on the yielding ground, and plunged
face forward in the pool of filth and gore;
but not of dear Euryalus was he
forgetful then, nor heedless of his friend;
but rising from the mire he hurled himself
in Salius' way; so he in equal plight
rolled in the filthy slough. Euryalus
leaped forth, the winner of the race by gift
of his true friend, and flying to the goal
stood first, by many a favoring shout acclaimed.
Next Helymus ran in; and, for the third, last prize,
Diores. But the multitude now heard
the hollowed hill-side ringing with wild wrath
from Salius, clamoring where the chieftains sate
for restitution of his stolen prize,
lost by a cheat. But general favor smiles
upon Euryalus, whose beauteous tears
commend him much, and nobler seems the worth
of valor clothed in youthful shape so fair.
Diores, too, assists the victor's claim,
with loud appeal—he too has won a prize,
and vainly holds his last place, if the first
to Salius fall. Aeneas then replied:
“Your gifts, my gallant youths, remain secure.
None can re-judge the prize. But to console
the misadventure of a blameless friend,
is in my power.” Therewith to Salius
an Afric lion's monstrous pelt he gave,
with ponderous mane, the claws o'erlaid with gold.
But Nisus cried: “If such a gift be found
for less than victory, and men who fall
are worthy so much sorrow, pray, what prize
shall Nisus have? For surely I had won
the proudest of the garlands, if one stroke
of inauspicious fortune had not fallen
on Salius and me.” So saying, he showed
his smeared face and his sorry limbs befouled
with mire and slime. Then laughed the gracious sire,
and bade a shield be brought, the cunning work
of Didymaon, which the Greeks tore down
from Neptune's temple; with this noble gift
he sent the high-born youth upon his way.