Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  and weave them willow-shields; or melt and mould

  corselets of brass or shining silver greaves;

  none now for pruning-hook or sacred plough

  have love or care: but old, ancestral swords

  for hardier tempering to the smith they bring.

  Now peals the clarion; through the legions pass

  the watchwords: the impatient yeoman takes

  his helmet from the idle roof-tree hung;

  while to his chariot the master yokes

  the mettled war-horse, dons a shining shield

  and golden mail, and buckles his good sword.

  Virgins of Helicon, renew my song!

  Instruct me what proud kings to battle flown

  with following legions throng the serried plain.

  Tell me what heroes and illustrious arms

  Italia’s bosom in her dawning day

  benignant bore: for your celestial minds,

  have memory of the past, but faint and low

  steals glory’s whisper on a mortal ear.

  Foremost in fight, from shores Etrurian came

  Mezentius, scornful rebel against Heaven,

  his people all in arms; and at his side

  Lausus his heir (no fairer youth than he,

  save Turnus of Laurentum), Lausus, skilled

  o break proud horses and wild beasts to quell;

  who from Agylla’s citadel in vain

  led forth his thousand warriors: worthy he

  to serve a nobler sire, and happier far

  he had ne’er been born Mezentius’ son.

  Next after these, conspicuous o’er the plain,

  with palm-crowned chariot and victorious steeds,

  rode forth well-moulded Aventinus, sprung

  from shapely Hercules; upon the shield

  his blazon was a hundred snakes, and showed

  his father’s hydra-cincture serpentine;

  him deep in Aventine’s most secret grove

  the priestess Rhea bore — a mortal maid

  clasped in a god’s embrace the wondrous day

  when, flushed with conquest of huge Geryon,

  the lord of Tiryns to Laurentum drove,

  and washed in Tiber’s wave th’ Iberian kine.

  His followers brandished pointed pikes and staves,

  or smooth Sabellian bodkin tipped with steel;

  but he, afoot, swung round him as he strode

  a monstrous lion-skin, its bristling mane

  and white teeth crowning his ferocious brow:

  for garbed as Hercules he sought his King.

  Then came twin brethren, leaving Tibur’s keep

  (named from Tiburtus, brother of them twain)

  Catillus and impetuous Coras, youth

  of Argive seed, who foremost in the van

  pressed ever where the foemen densest throng:

  as when two centaurs, children of the cloud,

  from mountain-tops descend in swift career,

  the snows of Homole and Othrys leaving,

  while crashing thickets in their pathway fall.

  Nor was Praeneste’s founder absent there,

  by Vulcan sired, among the herds and hinds,

  and on a hearth-stone found (so runs the tale

  each pious age repeats) King Caeculus

  with rustic legions gathered from afar:

  from steep Praeneste and the Gabian vale

  to Juno dear, from Anio’s cold stream,

  from upland Hernic rocks and foaming rills,

  from rich Anagnia’s pastures, and the plain

  whence Amasenus pours his worshipped wave.

  Not all of armor boast, and seldom sound

  the chariot and shield; but out of slings

  they hurl blue balls of lead, or in one hand

  a brace of javelins bear; pulled o’er their brows

  are hoods of tawny wolf-skin; as they march

  the left foot leaves a barefoot track behind,

  a rawhide sandal on the right they wear.

  Messapus came, steed-tamer, Neptune’s son,

  by sword and fire invincible: this day,

  though mild his people and unschooled in war,

  he calls them to embattled lines, and draws

  no lingering sword. Fescennia musters there,

  Aequi Falisci, and what clans possess

  Soracte’s heights, Flavinia’s fruitful farms,

  Ciminian lake and mountain, and the groves

  about Capena. Rank on rank they move,

  loud singing of their chieftain’s praise: as when

  a flock of snowy swans through clouded air

  return from feeding, and make tuneful cry

  from their long throats, while Asia’s rivers hear,

  and lone Cayster’s startled moorland rings:

  for hardly could the listening ear discern

  the war-cry of a mail-clad host; the sound

  was like shrill-calling birds, when home from sea

  their soaring flock moves shoreward like a cloud.

  Then, one of far-descended Sabine name,

  Clausus advanced, the captain of a host,

  and in himself an equal host he seemed;

  from his proud loins the high-born Claudian stem

  through Latium multiplies, since Roman power

  with Sabine first was wed. A cohort came

  from Amiternum and the olden wall

  of Cures, called Quirites even then;

  Eretum answered and Mutusca’s hill

  with olives clad, Velinus’ flowery field,

  nomentum’s fortress, the grim precipice

  of Tetrica, Severus’ upland fair,

  Casperia, Foruli, Himella’s waves,

  Tiber and Fabaris, and wintry streams

  of Nursia; to the same proud muster sped

  Tuscan with Latin tribes, and loyal towns

  beside whose walls ill-omened Allia flows.

  As numerous they moved as rolling waves

  that stir smooth Libyan seas, when in cold floods

  sinks grim Orion’s star; or like the throng

  of clustering wheat-tops in the summer sun,

  near Hermus or on Lycia’s yellowing plain:

  shields clashed; their strong tramp smote the trembling ground.

  Now Agamemnon’s kinsman, cruel foe

  to the mere name of Troy, Halaesus, yokes

  the horses of his car and summons forth

  a thousand savage clans at Turnus’ call :

  rude men whose mattocks to the Massic hills

  bring Bacchus’ bounty, or by graybeard sires

  sent from Auruncan upland and the mead

  of Sidicinum; out of Cales came

  its simple folk; and dwellers by the stream

  of many-shoaled Volturnus, close-allied

  with bold Saticulan or Oscan swains.

  Their arms are tapered javelins, which they wear

  bound by a coiling thong; a shield conceals

  the left side, and they fight with crooked swords.

  Nor shalt thou, Oebalus, depart unsung,

  whom minstrels say the nymph Sebethis bore

  to Telon, who in Capri was a king

  when old and gray; but that disdaining son

  quitted so small a seat, and conquering sway

  among Sarrastian folk and those wide plains

  watered by Sarnus’ wave, became a king

  over Celenna, Rufrae, Batulum,

  and where among her apple-orchards rise

  Abella’s walls. All these, as Teutons use,

  hurl a light javelin; for helm they wear

  stripped cork-tree bark; the crescent of their shields

  is gleaming bronze, and gleaming bronze the sword.

  Next Ufens, mountain-bred, from Nersae came

  to join the war; of goodly fame was he

  for prosperous arms: his Aequian people show

  no gentle mien,
but scour the woods for prey,

  or, ever-armed, across the stubborn glebe

  compel the plough; though their chief pride and joy

  are rapine, violence, and plundered store.

  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.

  BOOK VIII

  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 o
f 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.”

  So spake the river-god, and sank from view

  down to his deepest cave; then night and sleep

  together from Aeneas fled away.

  He rose, and to the orient beams of morn

  his forehead gave; in both his hollowed palms

  he held the sacred waters of the stream,

  and called aloud: “O ye Laurentian nymphs,

  whence flowing rills be born, and chiefly thou,

  O Father Tiber, worshipped stream divine,

  accept Aeneas, and from peril save!

  If in some hallowed lake or haunted spring

  thy power, pitying my woes, abides,

  or wheresoe’er the blessed place be found

  whence first thy beauty flows, there evermore

  my hands shall bring thee gift and sacrifice.

  O chief and sovereign of Hesperian streams,

  O river-god that hold’st the plenteous horn,