Aeneid

Virgil

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

  1. 'T was then Ascanius first shot forth in war
  2. the arrow swift from which all creatures wild
  3. were wont to fly in fear: and he struck down
  4. with artful aim Numanus, sturdy foe,
  5. called Remulus, who lately was espoused
  6. to Turnus' younger sister. He had stalked
  7. before the van, and made vociferous noise
  8. of truths and falsehoods foul and base, his heart
  9. puffed up with new-found greatness. Up and down
  10. he strode, and swelled his folly with loud words:
  11. “No shame have ye this second time to stay
  12. cooped close within a rampart's craven siege,
  13. O Phrygians twice-vanquished? Is a wall
  14. your sole defence from death? Are such the men
  15. who ask our maids in marriage? Say what god,
  16. what doting madness, rather, drove ye here
  17. to Italy? This way ye will not find
  18. the sons of Atreus nor the trickster tongue
  19. of voluble Ulysses. Sturdy stock
  20. are we; our softest new-born babes we dip
  21. in chilling rivers, till they bear right well
  22. the current's bitter cold. Our slender lads
  23. hunt night and day and rove the woods at large,
  24. or for their merriment break stubborn steeds,
  25. or bend the horn-tipped bow. Our manly prime
  26. in willing labor lives, and is inured
  27. to poverty and scantness; we subdue
  28. our lands with rake and mattock, or in war
  29. bid strong-walled cities tremble. Our whole life
  30. is spent in use of iron; and we goad
  31. the flanks of bullocks with a javelin's end.
  32. Nor doth old age, arriving late, impair
  33. our brawny vigor, nor corrupt the soul
  34. to frail decay. But over silvered brows
  35. we bind the helmet. Our unfailing joy
  36. is rapine, and to pile the plunder high.
  37. But ye! your gowns-are saffron needlework
  38. or Tyrian purple; ye love shameful ease,
  39. or dancing revelry. Your tunics fiow
  40. long-sleeved, and ye have soft caps ribbon-bound.
  41. Aye, Phrygian girls are ye, not Phrygian men!
  42. Hence to your hill of Dindymus! Go hear
  43. the twy-mouthed piping ye have loved so long.
  44. The timbrel, hark! the Berecynthian flute
  45. calls you away, and Ida's goddess calls.
  46. Leave arms to men, true men! and quit the sword!”