Aeneid

Virgil

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

Next after these, his brows and helmet bound
with noble olive, from Marruvium came
a priest, brave Umbro, ordered to the field
by King Archippus: o'er the viper's brood,
and venomed river-serpents he had power
to scatter slumber with wide-waving hands
and wizard-songs. His potent arts could soothe
their coiling rage and heal the mortal sting:
but 'gainst a Trojan sword no drug had he,
nor could his drowsy spells his flesh repair,
nor gathered simples from the Marsic hills.
Thee soon in wailing woods Anguitia mourned,
thee, Fucinus, the lake of crystal wave,
thee, many a mountain-tarn!

Next, Virbius in martial beauty rode,
son of Hippolytus, whose mother, proud
Aricia, sent him in his flower of fame
out of Egeria's hills and cloudy groves
where lies Diana's gracious, gifted fane.
For legend whispers that Hippolytus,
by step-dame's plot undone, his life-blood gave
to sate his vengeful father, and was rent
in sunder by wild horses; but the grave
to air of heaven and prospect of the stars
restored him;—for Diana's love and care
poured out upon him Paeon's healing balm.
But Jove, almighty Sire, brooked not to see
a mortal out of death and dark reclimb
to light of life, and with a thunderbolt
hurled to the Stygian river Phoebus' son,
who dared such good elixir to compound.
But pitying Trivia hid Hippolytus
in her most secret cave, and gave in ward
to the wise nymph Egeria in her grove;
where he lived on inglorious and alone,
ranging the woods of Italy, and bore
the name of Virbius. 'T is for this cause
the hallowed woods to Trivia's temple vowed
forbid loud-footed horses, such as spilled
stripling and chariot on the fatal shore,
scared by the monsters peering from the sea.
Yet did the son o'er that tumultuous plain
his battle-chariot guide and plunging team.

Lo, Turnus strides conspicuous in the van,
full armed, of mighty frame, his lordly head
high o'er his peers emerging! His tall helm
with flowing triple crest for ensign bears
Chimaera, whose terrific lips outpour
volcanic fires; where'er the menace moves
of her infernal flames and wrathful frown,
there wildest flows the purple flood of war.
On his smooth shield deep graven in the gold
is horned Io—wondrous the device!—
a shaggy heifer-shape the maiden shows;
Argus is watching her, while Inachus
pours forth his river from the pictured urn.
A storm of tramping troops, to Turnus sworn,
throngs all the widespread plain with serried shields:
warriors of Argos, and Auruncan bands,
Sicani, Rutuli, Sacranian hosts,
Labicum's painted shields; all who till
thy woodland vales, O Tiber! or the shore
Numicius hallows; all whose ploughs upturn
Rutulia's hills, or that Circaean range
where Jove of Anxur guards, and forests green
make fair Feronia glad; where lie the fens
of Satura, and Ufens' icy wave
through lowland valleys seeks his seaward way.

Last came Camilla, of the Volscians bred,
leading her mail-clad, radiant chivalry;
a warrior-virgin, of Minerva's craft
of web and distaff, fit for woman's toil,
no follower she; but bared her virgin breast
to meet the brunt of battle, and her speed
left even the winds behind; for she would skim
an untouched harvest ere the sickle fell,
nor graze the quivering wheat-tops as she ran;
or o'er the mid-sea billows' swollen surge
so swiftly race, she wet not in the wave
her flying feet. For sight of her the youth
from field and fortress sped, and matrons grave
stood wondering as she passed, well-pleased to see
her royal scarf in many a purple fold
float off her shining shoulder, her dark hair
in golden clasp caught fast, and how she bore
for arms a quiver of the Lycian mode,
and shepherd's shaft of myrtle tipped with steel.

When Turnus from Laurentum's bastion proud
published the war, and roused the dreadful note
of the harsh trumpet's song; when on swift steeds
the lash he laid and clashed his sounding arms;
then woke each warrior soul; all Latium stirred
with tumult and alarm; and martial rage
enkindled youth's hot blood. The chieftains proud,
Messapus, Ufens, and that foe of Heaven,
Mezentius, compel from far and wide
their loyal hosts, and strip the field and farm
of husbandmen. To seek auxiliar arms
they send to glorious Diomed's domain
the herald Venulus, and bid him cry:
“Troy is to Latium come; Aeneas' fleet
has come to land. He brings his vanquished gods,
and gives himself to be our destined King.
Cities not few accept him, and his name
through Latium waxes large. But what the foe
by such attempt intends, what victory
is his presumptuous hope, if Fortune smile,
Aetolia's lord will not less wisely fear
than royal Turnus or our Latin King.”

Thus Latium's cause moved on. Meanwhile the heir
of great Laomedon, who knew full well
the whole wide land astir, was vexed and tossed
in troubled seas of care. This way and that
his swift thoughts flew, and scanned with like dismay
each partial peril or the general storm.
Thus the vexed waters at a fountain's brim,
smitten by sunshine or the silver sphere
of a reflected moon, send forth a beam
of flickering light that leaps from wall to wall,
or, skyward lifted in ethereal flight,
glances along some rich-wrought, vaulted dome.
Now night had fallen, and all weary things,
all shapes of beast or bird, the wide world o'er,
lay deep in slumber. So beneath the arch
of a cold sky Aeneas laid him down
upon the river-bank, his heart sore tried
by so much war and sorrow, and gave o'er
his body to its Iong-delayed repose.
There, 'twixt the poplars by the gentle stream,
the River-Father, genius of that place,
old Tiberinus visibly uprose;
a cloak of gray-green lawn he wore, his hair
o'erhung with wreath of reeds. In soothing words
thus, to console Aeneas' cares, he spoke:

“Seed of the gods! who bringest to my shore
thy Trojan city wrested from her foe,
a stronghold everlasting, Latium's plain
and fair Laurentum long have looked for thee.
Here truly is thy home. Turn not away.
Here the true guardians of thy hearth shall be.
Fear not the gathering war. The wrath of Heaven
has stilled its swollen wave. A sign I tell:
Lest thou shouldst deem this message of thy sleep
a vain, deluding dream, thou soon shalt find
in the oak-copses on my margent green,
a huge sow, with her newly-littered brood
of thirty young; along the ground she lies,
snow-white, and round her udders her white young.
There shall thy city stand, and there thy toil
shall find untroubled rest. After the lapse
of thrice ten rolling years, Ascanius
shall found a city there of noble name,
White-City, Alba; 't is no dream I sing!
But I instruct thee now by what wise way
th' impending wars may bring thee victory:
receive the counsel, though the words be few:
within this land are men of Arcady,
of Pallas' line, who, following in the train
of King Evander and his men-at-arms,
built them a city in the hills, and chose
(honoring Pallas, their Pelasgian sire),
the name of Pallanteum. They make war
incessant with the Latins. Therefore call
this people to thy side and bind them close
in federated power. My channel fair
and shaded shore shall guide thee where they dwell,
and thy strong oarsmen on my waters borne
shall mount my falling stream. Rise, goddess-born,
and ere the starlight fade give honor due
to Juno, and with supplicating vow
avert her wrath and frown. But unto me
make offering in thy victorious hour,
in time to come. I am the copious flood
which thou beholdest chafing at yon shores
and parting fruitful fields: cerulean stream
of Tiber, favored greatly of high Heaven.
here shall arise my house magnificent,
a city of all cities chief and crown.”