Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Hail, Erato! while olden kings and thrones
- and all their sequent story I unfold!
- How Latium's honor stood, when alien ships
- brought war to Italy, and from what cause
- the primal conflict sprang, O goddess, breathe
- upon thy bard in song. Dread wars I tell,
- array of battle, and high-hearted kings
- thrust forth to perish, when Etruria's host
- and all Hesperia gathered to the fray.
- Events of grander march impel my song,
- and loftier task I try. Latinus, then
- an aged king, held long-accepted sway
- o'er tranquil vales and towns. He was the son
- of Faunus, so the legend tells, who wed
- the nymph Marica of Laurentian stem.
- Picus was Faunus' father, whence the line
- to Saturn's Ioins ascends. O heavenly sire,
- from thee the stem began! But Fate had given
- to King Latinus' body no heirs male:
- for taken in the dawning of his day
- his only son had been; and now his home
- and spacious palace one sole daughter kept,
- who was grown ripe to wed and of full age
- to take a husband. Many suitors tried
- from all Ausonia and Latium's bounds;
- but comeliest in all their princely throng
- came Turnus, of a line of mighty sires.
- Him the queen mother chiefly loved, and yearned
- to call him soon her son. But omens dire
- and menaces from Heaven withstood her will.
- A laurel-tree grew in the royal close,
- of sacred leaf and venerated age,
- which, when he builded there his wall and tower,
- Father Latinus found, and hallowed it
- to Phoebus' grace and power, wherefrom the name
- Laurentian, which his realm and people bear.
- Unto this tree-top, wonderful to tell,
- came hosts of bees, with audible acclaim
- voyaging the stream of air, and seized a place
- on the proud, pointing crest, where the swift swarm,
- with interlacement of close-clinging feet,
- swung from the leafy bough. “Behold, there comes,”
- the prophet cried, “a husband from afar!
- To the same region by the self-same path
- behold an arm'd host taking lordly sway
- upon our city's crown!” Soon after this,
- when, coming to the shrine with torches pure,
- Lavinia kindled at her father's side
- the sacrifice, swift seemed the flame to burn
- along her flowing hair—O sight of woe!
- Over her broidered snood it sparkling flew,
- lighting her queenly tresses and her crown
- of jewels rare: then, wrapt in flaming cloud,
- from hall to hall the fire-god's gift she flung.
- This omen dread and wonder terrible
- was rumored far: for prophet-voices told
- bright honors on the virgin's head to fall
- by Fate's decree, but on her people, war.