Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- There, too, the helmsman Palinurus strayed :
- Who, as he whilom watched the Libyan stars,
- Had fallen, plunging from his lofty seat
- Into the billowy deep. Aeneas now
- Discerned his sad face through the blinding gloom,
- And hailed him thus : “0 Palinurus, tell
- What god was he who ravished thee away
- From me and mine, beneath the o'crwhelming wave?
- Speak on! for he who ne'er had spoke untrue,
- Apollo's self, did mock my listening mind,
- And chanted me a faithful oracle
- That thou shouldst ride the seas unharmed, and touch
- Ausonian shores. Is this the pledge divine?”
- Then he, “0 chieftain of Anchises' race,
- Apollo's tripod told thee not untrue.
- No god did thrust me down beneath the wave,
- For that strong rudder unto which I clung,
- My charge and duty, and my ship's sole guide,
- Wrenched from its place, dropped with me as I fell.
- Not for myself—by the rude seas I swear—
- Did I have terror, but lest thy good ship,
- Stripped of her gear, and her poor pilot lost,
- Should fail and founder in that rising flood.
- Three wintry nights across the boundless main
- The south wind buffeted and bore me on;
- At the fourth daybreak, lifted from the surge,
- I looked at last on Italy, and swam
- With weary stroke on stroke unto the land.
- Safe was I then. Alas! but as I climbed
- With garments wet and heavy, my clenched hand
- Grasping the steep rock, came a cruel horde
- Upon me with drawn blades, accounting me—
- So blind they were!—a wrecker's prize and spoil.
- Now are the waves my tomb; and wandering winds
- Toss me along the coast. 0, I implore,
- By heaven's sweet light, by yonder upper air,
- By thy lost father, by Iulus dear,
- Thy rising hope and joy, that from these woes,
- Unconquered chieftain, thou wilt set me free!
- Give me a grave where Velia's haven lies,
- For thou hast power! Or if some path there be,
- If thy celestial mother guide thee here
- (For not, I ween, without the grace of gods
- Wilt cross yon rivers vast, you Stygian pool)
- Reach me a hand! and bear with thee along!
- Until (least gift!) death bring me peace and calm.”
- Such words he spoke: the priestess thus replied:
- “Why, Palinurus, these unblest desires?
- Wouldst thou, unsepulchred, behold the wave
- Of Styx, stern river of th' Eumenides?
- Wouldst thou, unbidden, tread its fearful strand?
- Hope not by prayer to change the laws of Heaven!
- But heed my words, and in thy memory
- Cherish and keep, to cheer this evil time.
- Lo, far and wide, led on by signs from Heaven,
- Thy countrymen from many a templed town
- Shall consecrate thy dust, and build thy tomb,
- A tomb with annual feasts and votive flowers,
- To Palinurus a perpetual fame!”
- Thus was his anguish stayed, from his sad heart
- Grief ebbed awhile, and even to this day,
- Our land is glad such noble name to wear.