by Virgil
Then, woe-begone, by dark dreams goaded on,
she wanders aimless, fevered and unstrung
along the public ways; as oft one sees
beneath the twisted whips a leaping top
sped in long spirals through a palace-close
by lads at play: obedient to the thong,
it weaves wide circles in the gaping view
of its small masters, who admiring see
the whirling boxwood made a living thing
under their lash. So fast and far she roved
from town to town among the clansmen wild.
Then to the wood she ran, feigning to feel
the madness Bacchus loves; for she essays
a fiercer crime, by fiercer frenzy moved.
Now in the leafy dark of mountain vales
she hides her daughter, ravished thus away
from Trojan bridegroom and the wedding-feast.
“Hail, Bacchus! Thou alone,” she shrieked and raved,
“art worthy such a maid. For thee she bears
the thyrsus with soft ivy-clusters crowned,
and trips ecstatic in thy beauteous choir.
For thee alone my daughter shall unbind
the glory of her virgin hair.” Swift runs
the rumor of her deed; and, frenzy-driven,
the wives of Latium to the forests fly,
enkindled with one rage. They leave behind
their desolated hearths, and let rude winds
o’er neck and tresses blow; their voices fill
the welkin with convulsive shriek and wail;
and, with fresh fawn-skins on their bodies bound,
they brandish vine-clad spears. The Queen herself
lifts high a blazing pine tree, while she sings
a wedding-song for Turnus and her child.
With bloodshot glance and anger wild, she cries:
“Ho! all ye Latin wives, if e’er ye knew
kindness for poor Amata, if ye care
for a wronged mother’s woes, O, follow me!
Cast off the matron fillet from your brows,
and revel to our mad, voluptuous song.”
Thus, through the woodland haunt of creatures wild,
Alecto urges on the raging Queen
with Bacchus’ cruel goad. But when she deemed
the edge of wrath well whetted, and the house
of wise Latinus of all reason reft,
then soared the black-winged goddess to the walls
of the bold Rutule, to the city built
(So runs the tale) by beauteous Danae
and her Acrisian people, shipwrecked there
by south wind strong. Its name was Ardea
in language of our sires, and that proud name
of Ardea still it wears, though proud no more.
Here Turnus in the gloom of midnight lay
half-sleeping in his regal hall. For him
Alecto her grim fury-guise put by,
and wore an old crone’s face, her baleful brow
delved deep with wrinkled age, her hoary hair
in sacred fillet bound, and garlanded
with leaf of olive: Calybe she seemed,
an aged servitress ot Juno’s shrine,
and in this seeming thus the prince addressed: —
“O Turnus, wilt thou tamely see thy toil
lavished in vain? and thy true throne consigned
to Trojan wanderers? The King repels
thy noble wooing and thy war-won dower.
He summons him a son of alien stem
to take his kingdom. Rouse thee now, and front,
scorned and without reward, these perilous days.
Tread down that Tuscan host! Protect the peace
of Latium from its foe! Such is the word
which, while in night and slumber thou wert laid,
Saturnia’s godhead, visibly revealed,
bade me declare. Up, therefore, and array
thy warriors in arms! Swift sallying forth
from thy strong city-gates, on to the fray
exultant go! Assail the Phrygian chiefs
who tent them by thy beauteous river’s marge,
and burn their painted galleys! ‘t is the will
of gods above that speaks. Yea, even the King
Latinus, if he will not heed thy plea,
or hear thy wooing, shall be taught too late
what Turnus is in panoply of war.”
In mocking answer to the prophetess
the warrior thus replied: “That stranger fleet
in Tiber moored, not, as thy folly prates,
of me unnoted lies. Vex me no more
with thy fantastic terror. Juno’s power
is watchful of my cause. ‘T is mere old age,
gone to decay and dotage, fills thy breast
with vain foreboding, and, while kings contend,
scares and deceives thy visionary eye.
Guard thou in yonder temple’s holy shade
the images divine! Of peace and war
let men and warriors the burden bear!”
So kindled he Alecto’s wrath to flame;
and even as he spoke a shudder thrilled
the warrior’s body, and his eyeballs stood
stonily staring at the hydra hair
which hissed and writhed above the grisly head
of the large-looming fiend. With eyes of fire
horribly rolling, she repelled him far,
while he but faltered speechless. She upraised
two coiling snakes out of her tresses, cracked
the lashes of her scourge, and wrathfully,
with raving lips replied: “Look well on me,
gone to decay and dotage of old age!
And mocked with foolish fear while kings contend!
Wilt hearken now! Behold me, hither flown
from where my sister-furies dwell! My hands
bring bloody death and war.” She spoke, and hurled
her firebrand at the hero, thrusting deep
beneath his heart her darkly smouldering flame.
Then horror broke his sleep, and fearful sweat
dripped from his every limb. He shrieked aloud
for arms; and seized the ready arms that lay
around his couch and hall. Then o’er his soul
the lust of battle and wild curse of war
broke forth in angry power, as when the flames
of faggots round the bubbling cauldron sing,
and up the waters leap; the close-kept flood
brims over, streaming, foaming, breaking bound,
and flings thick clouds in air. He, summoning
his chieftains, bade them on Latinus move,
break peace, take arms, and, over Italy
their shields extending, to thrust forth her foe:
himself for Teucrian with Latin joined
was more than match. He called upon the gods
in witness of his vows: while, nothing loth,
Rutulia’s warriors rushed into array;
some by his youth and noble beauty moved,
some by his kingly sires and fame in arms.
While Turnus stirred Rutulia’s valiant souls,
Alecto on her Stygian pinions sped
to where the Teucrians lay. She scanned the ground
with eager guile, where by the river’s marge
fair-browed Iulus with his nets and snares
rode fiercely to the chase. Then o’er his hounds
that hell-born virgin breathed a sudden rage,
and filled each cunning nostril with the scent
of stags, till forth in wild pursuit they flew.
Here all the woe began, and here awoke
in rustic souls the swift-enkindling war.
For a fair stag, tall-antlered, stolen away
even from its mother’s milk, had long been kept
by Tyrrhus and his sons �
�� the shepherd he
of all the royal flocks, and forester
of a wide region round. With fondest care
their sister Silvia entwined its horns
with soft, fresh garlands, tamed it to run close,
and combed the creature, or would bring to bathe
at a clear, crystal spring. It knew the hands
of all its gentle masters, and would feed
from their own dish; or wandering through the wood,
come back unguided to their friendly door,
though deep the evening shade. Iulus’ dogs
now roused this wanderer in their ravening chase,
as, drifted down-stream far from home it lay,
on a green bank a-cooling. From bent bow
Ascanius, eager for a hunter’s praise,
let go his shaft; nor did Alecto fail
his aim to guide: but, whistling through the air,
the light-winged reed pierced deep in flank and side.
Swift to its cover fled the wounded thing,
and crept loud-moaning to its wonted stall,
where, like a blood-stained suppliant, it seemed
to fill that shepherd’s house with plaintive prayer.
Then Silvia the sister, smiting oft
on breast and arm, made cry for help, and called
the sturdy rustics forth in gathering throng.
These now (for in the silent forest couched
the cruel Fury) swift to battle flew.
One brandished a charred stake, another swung
a knotted cudgel, as rude anger shapes
its weapon of whate’er the searching eye
first haps to fall on. Tyrrhus roused his clans,
just when by chance he split with blows of wedge
an oak in four; and, panting giant breath,
shouldered his woodman’s axe. Alecto then,
prompt to the stroke of mischief, soared aloft
from where she spying sate, to the steep roof
of a tall byre, and from its peak of straw
blew a wild signal on a shepherd’s horn,
outflinging her infernal note so far
that all the forest shuddered, and the grove
throbbed to its deepest glen. Cold Trivia’s lake
from end to end gave ear, and every wave
of the white stream of Nar, the lonely pools
of still Velinus heard: while at the sound
pale mothers to their breasts their children drew.
Swift to the signal of the dreadful horn,
snatching their weapons rude, the freeborn swains
assembled for the fray; the Trojan bands
poured from their bivouac with instant aid
for young Ascanius. In array of war
both stand confronting. Not mere rustic brawl
with charred oak-staff and cudgel is the fight,
but with the two-edged steel; the naked swords
wave like dark-bladed harvest-field, while far
the brazen arms flash in the smiting sun,
and skyward fling their beam: so some wide sea,
at first but whitened in the rising wind,
swells its slow-rolling mass and ever higher
its billows rears, until the utmost deep
lifts in one surge to heaven. The first to fall
was Almo, eldest-born of Tyrrhus’ sons,
whom, striding in the van, a loud-winged shaft
laid low in death; deep in his throat it clung,
and silenced with his blood the dying cry
of his frail life. Around him fell the forms
of many a brave and strong; among them died
gray-haired Galaesus pleading for a truce:
righteous he was, and of Ausonian fields
a prosperous master; five full flocks had he
of bleating sheep, and from his pastures came
five herds of cattle home; his busy churls
turned with a hundred ploughs his fruitful glebe.
While o’er the battle-field thus doubtful swung
the scales of war, the Fury (to her task
now equal proven) having dyed the day
a deep-ensanguined hue, and opened fight
with death and slaughter, made no tarrying
within Hesperia, but skyward soared,
and, Ioud in triumph, insolently thus
to Juno called: “See, at thy will, their strife
full-blown to war and woe! Could even thyself
command them now to truce and amity?
But I, that with Ausonia’s blood befoul
their Trojan hands, yet more can do, if thou
shift not thy purpose. For with dire alarms
I will awake the bordering states to war
enkindling in their souls the frenzied lust
the war-god breathes; till from th’ horizon round
the reinforcement pours — I scattering seeds
of carnage through the land.” In answer spoke
juno: “Enough of artifice and fear!
Thy provocation works. Now have they joined
in close and deadly combat, and warm blood
those sudden-leaping swords incarnadines,
which chance put in their hands. Such nuptial joys,
such feast of wedlock, let the famous son
of Venus with the King Latinus share!
But yon Olympian Sire and King no more
permits thee freely in our skies to roam.
Go, quit the field! Myself will take control
of hazards and of labors yet to be.”
Thus Saturn’s daughter spoke. Alecto then,
unfolding far her hissing, viperous wings,
turned toward her Stygian home, and took farewell
of upper air. Deep in Italia lies
a region mountain-girded, widely famed,
and known in olden songs from land to land:
the valley of Amsanctus; deep, dark shades
enclose it between forest-walls, whereby
through thunderous stony channel serpentines
a roaring fall. Here in a monstrous cave
are breathing-holes of hell, a vast abyss
where Acheron opes wide its noisome jaws:
in this Alecto plunged, concealing so
her execrable godhead, while the air
of earth and heaven felt the curse removed.
Forthwith the sovereign hands of Juno haste
to consummate the war. The shepherds bear
back from the field of battle to the town
the bodies of the slain: young Almo’s corse
and gray Galaesus’ bleeding head. They call
just gods in heaven to Iook upon their wrong,
and bid Latinus see it. Turnus comes,
and, while the angry mob surveys the slain,
adds fury to the hour. “Shall the land
have Trojan lords? Shall Phrygian marriages
debase our ancient, royal blood — and I
be spurned upon the threshold?” Then drew near
the men whose frenzied women-folk had held
bacchantic orgies in the pathless grove,
awed by Amata’s name: these, gathering,
sued loud for war. Yea, all defied the signs
and venerable omens; all withstood
divine decrees, and clamored for revenge,
prompted by evil powers. They besieged
the house of King Latinus, shouting-loud
with emulous rage. But like a sea-girt rock
unmoved he stood; like sea-girt rock when surge
of waters o’er it sweeps, or howling waves
surround; it keeps a ponderous front of power,
though foaming cliffs around it vainly roar;
from its firm base the broken sea-weeds fall.
But when authority no whit could change
their counsels blind, and each event fulfi
lled
dread Juno’s will, then with complaining prayer
the aged sire cried loud upon his gods
and on th’ unheeding air: “Alas,” said he,
“My doom is shipwreck, and the tempest bears
my bark away! O wretches, your own blood
shall pay the forfeit for your impious crime.
O Turnus! O abominable deed!
Avenging woes pursue thee; to deaf gods
thy late and unavailing prayer shall rise.
Now was my time to rest. But as I come
close to my journey’s end, thou spoilest me
of comfort in my death.” With this the King
fled to his house and ceased his realm to guide.
A sacred custom the Hesperian land
of Latium knew, by all the Alban hills
honored unbroken, which wide-ruling Rome
keeps to this day, when to new stroke she stirs
the might of Mars; if on the Danube’s wave
resolved to fling the mournful doom of war,
or on the Caspian folk or Arabs wild;
or chase the morning far as India’s verge,
ind from the Parthian despot wrest away
our banners Iost. Twin Gates of War there be,
of fearful name, to Mars’ fierce godhead vowed:
a hundred brass bars shut them, and the strength
of uncorrupting steel; in sleepless watch
Janus the threshold keeps. ‘T is here, what time
the senate’s voice is war, the consul grave
in Gabine cincture and Quirinal shift
himself the griding hinges backward moves,
and bids the Romans arm; obedient then
the legionary host makes Ioud acclaim,
and hoarse consent the brazen trumpets blow.
Thus King Latinus on the sons of Troy
was urged to open war, and backward roll
those gates of sorrow: but the aged king
recoiled, refused the loathsome task, and fled
to solitary shades. Then from the skies
the Queen of gods stooped down, and her sole hand
the lingering portal moved; Saturnia
swung on their hinges the barred gates of war.
ausonia from its old tranquillity
bursts forth in flame. Foot-soldiers through the field
run to and fro; and mounted on tall steeds
the cavaliers in clouds of dust whirl by.
All arm in haste. Some oil the glittering shield
or javelin bright, or on the whetstone wear
good axes to an edge, while joyful bands
uplift the standards or the trumpets blow.
Five mighty cities to their anvils bring
new-tempered arms: Atina — martial name —
proud Tibur, Ardea, Crustumium,
and river-walled Antemnae, crowned with towers
strong hollow helmets on their brows they draw
