Complete Works of Virgil

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