by Virgil
Then, too, the boy Ascanius, named of late
Iulus — Ilus was he in the day
When firm by royalty stood Ilium’s state — 307
Shall rule till thirty years complete the destined date.
XXXVI . “He from Lavinium shall remove his seat,
And gird Long Alba for defence; and there
‘Neath Hector’s kin three hundred years complete
The kingdom shall endure, till Ilia fair,
Queen-priestess, twins by Mars’ embrace shall bear.
Then Romulus the nation’s charge shall claim,
Wolf-nursed and proud her tawny hide to wear,
And build a city of Mavortian fame, 316
And make the Roman race remembered by his name.
XXXVII . “To these no period nor appointed date,
Nor bounds to their dominion I assign;
An endless empire shall the race await.
Nay, Juno, too, who now, in mood malign,
Earth, sea and sky is harrying, shall incline
To better counsels, and unite with me
To cherish and uphold the imperial line,
The Romans, rulers of the land and sea, 325
Lords of the flowing gown. So standeth my decree.
XXXVIII . “In rolling ages there shall come the day
When heirs of old Assaracus shall tame
Phthia and proud Mycene to obey,
And terms of peace to conquered Greeks proclaim.
Cæsar, a Trojan, — Julius his name,
Drawn from the great Iulus — shall arise,
And compass earth with conquest, heaven with fame,
Him, crowned with vows and many an Eastern prize, 334
Thou, freed at length from care, shalt welcome to the skies.
XXXIX . “Then wars shall cease and savage times grow mild,
And Remus and Quirinus, brethren twain,
With hoary Faith and Vesta undefiled,
Shall give the law. With iron bolt and chain
Firm-closed the gates of Janus shall remain.
Within, the Fiend of Discord, high reclined
On horrid arms, unheeded in the fane,
Bound with a hundred brazen knots behind, 343
And grim with gory jaws, his grisly teeth shall grind.”
XL . So saying, the son of Maia down he sent,
To open Carthage and the Libyan state,
Lest Dido, weetless of the Fates’ intent,
Should drive the Trojan wanderers from her gate.
With feathered oars he cleaves the skies, and straight
On Libya’s shores alighting, speeds his hest.
The Tyrians, yielding to the god, abate
Their fierceness. Dido, more than all the rest, 352
Warms to her Phrygian friends, and wears a kindly breast.
XLI . But good Æneas, pondering through the night
Distracting thoughts and many an anxious care,
Resolved, when daybreak brought the gladsome light,
To search the coast, and back sure tidings bear,
What land was this, what habitants were there,
If man or beast, for, far as the eye could rove,
A wilderness the region seemed, and bare.
His ships he hides within a sheltering cove, 361
Screened by the caverned rock, and shadowed by the grove,
XLII . Then wielding in his hand two broad-tipt spears,
Alone with brave Achates forth he strayed,
When lo, before him in the wood appears
His mother, in a virgin’s arms arrayed,
In form and habit of a Spartan maid,
Or like Harpalyce, the pride of Thrace,
Who tires swift steeds, and scours the woodland glade,
And outstrips rapid Hebrus in the race. 370
So fair the goddess seemed, apparelled for the chase.
XLIII . Bare were her knees, and from her shoulders hung
The wonted bow, kept handy for the prey
Her flowing raiment in a knot she strung,
And loosed her tresses with the winds to play.
“Ho, Sirs!” she hails them, “saw ye here astray
Ought of my sisters, girt in huntress wise
With quiver and a spotted lynx-skin gay,
Or following on the foaming boar with cries?” 379
Thus Venus spake, and thus fair Venus’ son replies;
XLIV . “Nought of thy sisters have I heard or seen.
What name, O maiden, shall I give to thee,
For mortal never had thy voice or mien?
O Goddess surely, whether Nymph I see,
Or Phoebus’ sister; whosoe’er thou be,
Be kind, for strangers and in evil case
We roam, tost hither by the stormy sea.
Say, who the people, what the clime and place, 388
And many a victim’s blood thy hallowed shrine shall grace.”
XLV . “Nay, nay, to no such honour I aspire.”
Said Venus, “But a simple maid am I,
And ’tis the manner of the maids of Tyre
To wear, like me, the quiver, and to tie
The purple buskin round the ankles high.
The realm thou see’st is Punic; Tyrians are
The folk, the town Agenor’s. Round them lie
The Libyan plains, a people rough in war. 397
Queen Dido rules the land, who came from Tyre afar,
XLVI . “Flying her brother. Dark the tale of crime,
And long, but briefly be the sum supplied.
Sychæus was her lord, in happier time
The richest of Phoenicians far and wide
In land, and worshipped by his hapless bride.
Her, in the bloom of maidenhood, her sire
Had given him, and with virgin rites allied.
But soon her brother filled the throne of Tyre, 406
Pygmalion, swoln with sin; ‘twixt whom a feud took fire.
XLVII . “He, reckless of a sister’s love, and blind
With lust of gold, Sychæus unaware
Slew by the altar, and with impious mind
Long hid the deed, and flattering hopes and fair
Devised, to cheat the lover of her care.
But, lifting features marvellously pale,
The ghost unburied in her dreams laid bare
His breast, and showed the altar and the bale 415
Wrought by the ruthless steel, and solved the crime’s dark tale.
XLVIII . “Then bade her fly the country, and revealed,
To aid her flight, an old and unknown weight
Of gold and silver, in the ground concealed.
Thus roused, her friends she gathers. All await
Her summons, who the tyrant fear or hate.
Some ships at hand, chance-anchored in the bay,
They seize and load them with the costly freight,
And far off o’er the deep is borne away 424
Pygmalion’s hoarded pelf. A woman leads the way.
XLIX . “Hither, where now the walls and fortress high,
Of Carthage, and her rising homes are found,
They came, and there full cheaply did they buy,
Such space — called Byrsa from the deed — of ground
As one bull’s-hide could compass and surround.
But who are ye, pray answer? on what quest
Come ye? and whence and whither are ye bound?”
Her then Æneas, from his inmost breast 433
Heaving a deep-drawn sigh, with labouring speech addressed:
L . “O Goddess, should I from the first unfold,
Or could’st thou hear, the annals of our woe,
Eve’s star were shining, ere the tale were told.
From ancient Troy — if thou the name dost know —
A chance-met storm hath driven us to and fro,
And tost us on the Libyan shores. My name
Is good
Æneas; from the flames and foe
I bear Troy’s rescued deities. My fame 442
Outsoars the stars of heaven; a Jove-born race, we claim
LI . “A home in fair Italia far away.
With twice ten ships I climbed the Phrygian main,
My goddess-mother pointing out the way,
As Fate commanded. Now scarce seven remain,
Wave-worn and shattered by the tempest’s strain.
Myself, a stranger, friendless and unknown,
From Europe driven and Asia, roam in vain
The wilds of Libya” — Then his plaintive tone 451
No more could Venus bear, but interrupts her son;
LII . “Stranger,” she answered, “whosoe’er thou be;
Not unbeloved of heavenly powers, I ween,
Thou breath’st the vital air, whom Fate’s decree
Permits a Tyrian city to have seen.
But hence, and seek the palace of the queen.
Glad news I bear thee, of thy comrades brought,
The North-wind shifted and the skies serene;
Thy ships have gained the harbour which they sought, 460
Else vain my parents’ lore the augury they taught.
LIII . “See yon twelve swans, in jubilant array,
Whom late Jove’s eagle scattered through the sky;
Now these alight, now those the pitch survey.
As they, returning, sport with joyous cry,
And flap their wings and circle in the sky,
E’en so thy vessels and each late-lost crew
Safe now and scatheless in the harbour lie,
Or, crowding canvas, hold the port in view. 469
But hence, where leads the path, thy forward steps pursue.”
LIV . So saying, she turned, and all refulgent showed
Her roseate neck, and heavenly fragrance sweet
Was breathed from her ambrosial hair. Down flowed
Her loosened raiment, streaming to her feet,
And by her walk the Goddess shone complete.
“Ah, mother mine!” he chides her, as she flies,
“Art thou, then, also cruel? Wherefore cheat
Thy son so oft with images and lies? 478
Why may I not clasp hands, and talk without disguise?”
LV . Thus he, reproaching. Towards the town they fare
In haste. But Venus round them on the way
Wrapt a thick mist, a mantle of dark air,
That none should see them, none should touch nor stay,
Nor, urging idle questions, breed delay.
Then back, rejoicing, through the liquid air
To Paphos and her home she flies away,
Where, steaming with Sabæan incense rare, 487
An hundred altars breathe with garlands fresh and fair.
LVI . They by the path their forward steps pursued,
And climbed a hill, whose fronting summit frowned
Steep o’er the town. Amazed, Æneas viewed
Tall structures rise, where whilom huts were found,
The streets, the gates, the bustle and the sound.
Hotly the Tyrians are at work. These draw
The bastions’ lines, roll stones and trench the ground;
Or build the citadel; those clothe with awe 496
The Senate; there they choose the judges for the law.
LVII . These delve the port; the broad foundations there
They lay for theatres of ample space,
And columns, hewn from marble rocks, prepare,
Tall ornaments, the future stage to grace.
As bees in early summer swarm apace
Through flowery fields, when forth from dale and dell
They lead the full-grown offspring of the race,
Or with the liquid honey store each cell, 505
And make the teeming hive with nectarous sweets to swell.
LVIII . These ease the comers of their loads, those drive
The drones afar. The busy work each plies,
And sweet with thyme and honey smells the hive.
“O happy ye, whose walls already rise!”
Exclaimed Æneas, and with envious eyes
Looked up where pinnacles and roof-tops showed
The new-born city; then in wondrous wise,
Clothed in the covering of the friendly cloud, 514
Passed through the midst unseen, and mingled with the crowd.
LIX . A grove stood in the city, rich in shade,
Where storm-tost Tyrians, past the perilous brine,
Dug from the ground, by royal Juno’s aid,
A war-steed’s head, to far-off days a sign
That wealth and prowess should adorn the line.
Here, by the goddess and her gifts renowned,
Sidonian Dido built a stately shrine.
All brazen rose the threshold; brass was round 523
The door-posts; brazen doors on grating hinges sound.
LX . Here a new sight Æneas’ hopes upraised,
And fear was softened, and his heart was mann’d.
For while, the queen awaiting, round he gazed,
And marvelled at the happy town, and scanned
The rival labours of each craftsman’s hand,
Behold, Troy’s battles on the walls appear,
The war, since noised through many a distant land,
There Priam and th’ Atridæ twain, and here 532
Achilles, fierce to both, still ruthless and severe.
LXI . Pensive he stood, and with a rising tear,
“What lands, Achates, on the earth, but know
Our labours? See our Priam! Even here
Worth wins her due, and there are tears to flow,
And human hearts to feel for human woe.
Fear not,” he cries, “Troy’s glory yet shall gain
Some safety.” Thus upon the empty show
He feeds his soul, while ever and again 541
Deeply he sighs, and tears run down his cheeks like rain.
LXII . He sees, how, fighting round the Trojan wall,
Here fled the Greeks, the Trojan youth pursue,
Here fled the Phrygians, and, with helmet tall,
Achilles in his chariot stormed and slew.
Not far, with tears, the snowy tents he knew
Of Rhesus, where Tydides, bathed in blood,
Broke in at midnight with his murderous crew,
And drove the hot steeds campward, ere the food 550
Of Trojan plains they browsed, or drank the Xanthian flood.
LXIII . There, reft of arms, poor Troilus, rash to dare
Achilles, by his horses dragged amain,
Hangs from his empty chariot. Neck and hair
Trail on the ground; his hand still grasps the rein;
The spear inverted scores the dusty plain.
Meanwhile, with beaten breasts and streaming hair,
The Trojan dames, a sad and suppliant train,
The veil to partial Pallas’ temple bear. 559
Stern, with averted eyes the Goddess spurns their prayer.
LXIV . Thrice had Achilles round the Trojan wall
Dragged Hector; there the slayer sells the slain.
Sighing he sees him, chariot, arms and all,
And Priam, spreading helpless hands in vain.
Himself he knows among the Greeks again,
Black Memnon’s arms, and all his Eastern clan,
Penthesilea’s Amazonian train
With moony shields. Bare-breasted, in the van, 568
Girt with a golden zone, the maiden fights with man.
LXV . Thus while Æneas, with set gaze and long,
Hangs, mute with wonder, on the wildering scene,
Lo! to the temple, with a numerous throng
Of youthful followers, moves the beauteous Queen.
Such as Diana, with her Oreads seen
On swift Eurotas’ banks or Cynthus’ crest,
Le
ading the dances. She, in form and mien,
Armed with her quiver, towers above the rest, 577
And tranquil pleasure thrills Latona’s silent breast.
LXVI . E’en such was Dido; so with joyous mien,
Urging the business of her rising state,
Among the concourse passed the Tyrian queen;
Then, girt with guards, within the temple’s gate
Beneath the centre of the dome she sate.
There, ministering justice, she presides,
And deals the law, and from her throne of state,
As choice determines or as chance decides, 586
To each, in equal share, his separate task divides.
LXVII . Sudden, behold a concourse. Looking down,
His late-lost friends Æneas sees again,
Sergestus, brave Cloanthus of renown,
Antheus and others of the Trojan train,
Whom the black squall had scattered o’er the main,
And driven afar upon an alien strand.
At once, ‘twixt joy and terror rent in twain,
Amazed, Æneas and Achates stand, 595
And long to greet old friends and clasp a comrade’s hand.
LXVIII . Yet wildering wonder at so strange a scene
Still holds them mute, while anxious thoughts divide
Their doubtful minds, and in the cloud unseen,
Wrapt in its hollow covering, they abide
And note what fortune did their friends betide,
And whence they come, and why for grace they sue,
And on what shore they left the fleet to bide,
For chosen captains came from every crew, 604
And towards the sacred fane with clamorous cries they drew.
LXIX . Then, audience granted, as the fane they filled,
Thus calmly spake the eldest of the train,
Ilioneus: “O queen, whom Jove hath willed
To found this new-born city, here to reign,
And stubborn tribes with justice to refrain,
We, Troy’s poor fugitives, implore thy grace,
Storm-tost and wandering over every main, —
Forbid the flames our vessels to deface, 613
Mark our afflicted plight, and spare a pious race.
LXX . “We come not hither with the sword to rend
Your Libyan homes, and shoreward drive the prey.
