Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Noised swiftly through the little town it flies
- that to the precinct of the Tuscan King
- armed horsemen speed. Pale mothers in great fear
- unceasing pray; for panic closely runs
- in danger's steps; the war-god drawing nigh
- looms larger; and good sire Evander now
- clings to the hand of his departing son
- and, weeping without stay, makes sad farewell:
- “O, that great Jove would give me once again
- my vanished years! O, if such man I were,
- as when beneath Praeneste's wall I slew
- the front ranks of her sons, and burned for spoil
- their gathered shields on my triumph day;
- or when this right hand hurled king Erulus
- to shades below, though—terrible to tell —
- Feronia bore him with three lives, that thrice
- he might arise from deadly strife o'erthrown,
- and thrice be slain—yet all these lives took I,
- and of his arms despoiled him o'er and o'er:
- not now, sweet son (if such lost might were mine),
- should I from thy beloved embrace be torn;
- nor could Mezentius with insulting sword
- do murder in my sight and make my land
- depopulate and forlorn. O gods in Heaven,
- and chiefly thou whom all the gods obey,
- have pity, Jove, upon Arcadia's King,
- and hear a father's prayer: if your intent
- be for my Pallas a defence secure,
- if it be writ that long as I shall live,
- my eyes may see him, and my arms enfold,
- I pray for life, and all its ills I bear.
- But if some curse, too dark to tell, impend
- from thee, O Fortune blind! I pray thee break
- my thread of miserable life to-day;
- to-day, while fear still doubts and hope still smiles
- on the unknown to-morrow, as I hold
- thee to my bosom, dearest child, who art
- my last and only joy; to-day, before
- th' intolerable tidings smite my ears.”
- Such grief the royal father's heart outpoured
- at this last parting; the strong arms of slaves
- lifted him, fallen in swoon, and bore him home.