Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  XXIX . “Saved from the sea, the Strophades we gain,

  So called in Greece, where dwells, with Harpies, dire

  Celæno, in the vast Ionian main,

  Since, forced from Phineus’ palace to retire,

  They fled their former banquet. Heavenly ire

  Ne’er sent a pest more loathsome; ne’er were seen

  Worse plagues to issue from the Stygian mire —

  Birds maiden-faced, but trailing filth obscene, 253

  With taloned hands and looks for ever pale and lean.

  XXX . “The harbour gained, lo! herds of oxen bright

  And goats untended browse the pastures fair.

  We, sword in hand, make onset, and invite

  The gods and Jove himself the spoil to share,

  And piling couches, banquet on the fare.

  When straight, down-swooping from the hills meanwhile

  The Harpies flap their clanging wings, and tear

  The food, and all with filthy touch defile, 262

  And, mixt with screams, uprose a sickening stench and vile.

  XXXI . “Once more, within a cavern screened from view,

  Where circling trees a rustling shade supply,

  The boards are spread, the altars blaze anew.

  Back, from another quarter of the sky,

  Dark-ambushed, round the clamorous Harpies fly

  With taloned claws, and taste and taint the prey.

  To arms I call my comrades, and defy

  The loathsome brood to battle. They obey, 271

  And swords and bucklers hide amid the grass away.

  XXXII . “So when their screams descending fill the strand,

  Misenus from his outlook sounds the fray.

  All to the strange encounter, sword in hand,

  Rush forth, these miscreants of the deep to slay.

  No wounds they take, no weapon wins its way.

  Swiftly they soar, all leaving, ere they go,

  Their filthy traces on the half-gorged prey.

  One perched, Celæno, on a rock, and lo, 280

  Thus croaked the dismal seer her prophecy of woe.

  XXXIII . “‘War, too, Laomedon’s twice-perjured race!

  War do ye bring, our cattle stol’n and slain?

  And unoffending Harpies would ye chase

  Forth from their old, hereditary reign?

  Mark then my words and in your breasts retain.

  What Jove, the Sire omnipotent, of old

  Revealed to Phoebus, and to me again

  Phoebus Apollo at his hest foretold, 289

  I now to thee and thine, the Furies’ Queen, unfold.

  XXXIV . “‘Ye seek Italia and, with favouring wind,

  Shall reach Italia, and her ports attain.

  But ne’er the town, by Destiny assigned,

  Your walls shall gird, till famine’s pangs constrain

  To gnaw your boards, in quittance for our slain.’

  So spake the Fiend, and backward to the wood

  Soared on the wing. Cold horror froze each vein.

  Aghast and shuddering my comrades stood; 298

  Down sank at once each heart, and terror chilled the blood.

  XXXV . “No more with arms, for peace with vows and prayer

  We sue, and pardon of these powers implore,

  Or be they goddesses or birds of air

  Obscene and dire; and lifting on the shore

  His hands, Anchises doth the gods adore.

  ‘O Heaven!’ he cries, ‘avert these threats; be kind

  And stay the curse, and vex with plagues no more

  A pious folk,’ then bids the crews unbind 307

  The stern-ropes, loose the sheets and spread them to the wind.

  XXXVI . “The South-wind fills the canvas; on we fly

  Where breeze and pilot drive us through the deep.

  Soon, crowned with woods, Zacynthos we espy,

  Dulichium, Same and the rock-bound steep

  Of Neritos. Past Ithaca we creep,

  Laertes’ realms, and curse the land that bred

  Ulysses, cause of all the woes we weep.

  Soon, where Leucate lifts her cloud-capt head, 316

  Looms forth Apollo’s fane, the seaman’s name of dread.

  XXXVII . “Tired out we seek the little town, and run

  The sterns ashore and anchor in the bay,

  Saved beyond hope and glad the land is won,

  And lustral rites, with blazing altars, pay

  To Jove, and make the shores of Actium gay

  With Ilian games, as, like our sires, we strip

  And oil our sinews for the wrestler’s play.

  Proud, thus escaping from the foemen’s grip, 325

  Past all the Argive towns, through swarming Greeks, to slip.

  XXXVIII . “Meanwhile the sun rolls round the mighty year,

  And wintry North-winds vex the waves once more.

  In front, above the temple-gates I rear

  The brazen shield which once great Abas bore,

  And mark the deed in writing on the door,

  ‘Æneas these from conquering Greeks hath ta’en’;

  Then bid my comrades quit the port and shore,

  And man the benches. They with rival strain 334

  And slanting oar-blades sweep the levels of the main.

  XXXIX . “Phæacia’s heights with the horizon blend;

  We skim Epirus, and Chaonia’s bay

  Enter, and to Buthrotum’s town ascend.

  Strange news we hear: A Trojan Greeks obey,

  Helenus, master of the spouse and sway

  Of Pyrrhus, and Andromache once more

  Has yielded to a Trojan lord. Straightway

  I burn to greet them, and the tale explore, 343

  And from the harbour haste, and leave the ships and shore.

  XL . “Within a grove Andromache that day,

  Where Simois in fancy flowed again,

  Her offerings chanced at Hector’s grave to pay,

  A turf-built cenotaph, with altars twain,

  Source of her tears and sacred to the slain —

  And called his shade. Distracted with amaze

  She marked me, as the Trojan arms shone plain.

  Heat leaves her frame; she stiffens with the gaze, 352

  She swoons — and scarce at length these faltering words essays:

  XLI . “‘Real, then, real is thy face, and true

  Thy tidings? Liv’st thou, child of heavenly seed?

  If dead, then where is Hector?’ Tears ensue,

  And wailing, shrill as though her heart would bleed.

  Then I, with stammering accents, intercede,

  And, sore perplext, these broken words outthrow

  To calm her transport, ‘Yea, alive, indeed, —

  Alive through all extremities of woe. 361

  Doubt not, thou see’st the truth, no shape of empty show.

  XLII . “‘Alas! what lot is thine? What worthy fate

  Hath caught thee, fallen from a spouse so high?

  Hector’s Andromache, art thou the mate

  Of Pyrrhus?’ Then with lowly downcast eye

  She dropped her voice, and softly made reply.

  ‘Ah! happy maid of Priam, doomed instead

  At Troy upon a foeman’s tomb to die!

  Not drawn by lot for servitude, nor led 370

  A captive thrall, like me, to grace a conqueror’s bed.

  XLIII . “‘I, torn from burning Troy o’er many a wave,

  Endured the lust of Pyrrhus and his pride,

  And knew a mother’s travail as his slave.

  Fired with Hermione, a Spartan bride,

  Me, joined in bed and bondage, he allied

  To Helenus. But mad with love’s despair,

  And stung with Furies for his spouse denied,

  At length Orestes caught the wretch unware, 379

  E’en by his father’s shrine, and smote him then and ther
e.

  XLIV . “‘The tyrant dead, a portion of his reign

  Devolves on Helenus, who Chaonia calls

  From Trojan Chaon the Chaonian plain,

  And on these heights rebuilds the Trojan walls.

  But thou — what chance, or god, or stormy squalls

  Have driven thee here unweeting? — and the boy

  Ascanius — lives he, or what hap befalls

  His parents’ darling, and their only joy? 388

  Breathes he the vital air, whom unto thee now Troy —

  XLV . “‘Still grieves he for his mother? Doth the name

  Of sire or uncle make his young heart glow

  For deeds of valour and ancestral fame?’

  Weeping she spake, with unavailing woe,

  And poured her sorrow to the winds, when lo,

  In sight comes Helenus, with fair array,

  And hails his friends, and hastening to bestow

  Glad welcome, toward his palace leads the way; 397

  But tears and broken words his mingled thoughts betray.

  XLVI . “I see another but a tinier Troy,

  A seeming Pergama recalls the great.

  A dried-up Xanthus I salute with joy,

  And clasp the portals of a Scæan gate.

  Nor less kind welcome doth the rest await.

  The monarch, mindful of his sire of old,

  Receives the Teucrians in his courts of state.

  They in the hall, the viands piled on gold, 406

  Pledging the God of wine, their brimming cups uphold.

  XLVII . “One day and now another passed; the gale

  Sings in the shrouds, and calls us to depart,

  When thus the prophet Helenus I hail,

  ‘Troy-born interpreter of Heaven! whose art

  The signs of Phoebus’ pleasure can impart;

  Thou know’st the tripod and the Clarian bay,

  The stars, the voices of the birds, that dart

  On wings with omens laden, speak and say, — 415

  Since fate and all the gods foretell a prosperous way.

  XLVIII . “‘And point to far Italia, — One alone,

  Celæno, sings of famine foul and dread,

  A nameless prodigy, a plague unknown, —

  What perils first to shun? what path to tread,

  To win deliverance from such toils?’ This said,

  I ceased, and Helenus with slaughtered kine

  Implores the god, and from his sacred head

  Unbinds the wreath, and leads me to the shrine, 424

  Awed by Apollo’s power, and chants the doom divine:

  XLIX . “‘O Goddess-born, high auspices are thine,

  And heaven’s plain omens guide thee o’er the main.

  Thus Jove, by lot unfolding his design,

  Assorts the chances, and the Fates ordain.

  This much may I of many things explain,

  How best o’er foreign seas to urge thy keel

  In safety, and Ausonian ports attain,

  The rest from Helenus the Fates conceal, 433

  And Juno’s envious power forbids me to reveal.

  L . “‘Learn then, Italia, that thou deem’st so near,

  And thither dream’st of lightly passing o’er,

  Long leagues divide, and many a pathless mere.

  First must Trinacrian waters bend the oar,

  Ausonian waves thy vessels must explore,

  First must thou view the nether world, where flows

  Dark Styx, and visit that Ææan shore,

  The home of Circe, ere, at rest from woes, 442

  Thou build the promised walls, and win the wished repose.

  LI . “‘These tokens bear, and in thy memory store.

  When, musing sad and pensive, thou hast found

  Beside an oak-fringed river, on the shore,

  A huge sow thirty-farrowed, and around,

  Milk-white as she, her litter, mark the ground,

  That spot shall see thy promised town; for there

  Thy toils are ended, and thy rest is crowned.

  Fear not this famine— ’tis an empty scare; 451

  The Fates will find a way, and Phoebus hear thy prayer.

  LII . “‘As for yon shore and that Italian coast,

  Washed, where the land lies nearest, by our main,

  Shun them; their cities hold a hostile host.

  There Troy’s old foes, the evil Argives, reign,

  Locrians of Narycos her towns contain.

  There fierce Idomeneus from Crete brought o’er

  His troops to vex the Sallentinian plain;

  There, girt with walls and guarded by the power 460

  Of Philoctetes, stands Petelia’s tiny tower.

  LIII . “‘Nay, when thy vessels, ranged upon her shore,

  Rest from the deep, and on the beach ye light

  The votive altars, and the gods adore,

  Veil then thy locks, with purple hood bedight,

  And shroud thy visage from a foeman’s sight,

  Lest hostile presence, ‘mid the flames divine,

  Break in, and mar the omen and the rite.

  This pious use keep sacred, thou and thine, 469

  The sons of sons unborn, and all the Trojan line.

  LIV . “‘When, wafted to Sicilia, dawns in sight

  Pelorus’ channel, keep the leftward shore,

  Though long the circuit, and avoid the right.

  These lands, ’tis said, one continent of yore

  (Such change can ages work) an earthquake tore

  Asunder; in with havoc rushed the main,

  And far Sicilia from Hesperia bore,

  And now, where leapt the parted lands in twain, 478

  The narrow tide pours through, ‘twixt severed town and plain.

  LV . “‘Here Scylla, leftward sits Charybdis fell,

  Who, yawning thrice, her lowest depths laid bare,

  Sucks the vast billows in her throat’s dark hell,

  Then starward spouts the refluent surge in air.

  Here Scylla, gaping from her gloomy lair,

  The passing vessels on the rocks doth hale;

  A maiden to the waist, with bosom fair

  And human face; below, a monstrous whale, 487

  Down from whose wolf-like womb hangs many a dolphin’s tail.

  LVI . “‘Far better round Pachynus’ point to steer,

  Though long the course, and tedious the delay,

  Than once dread Scylla to behold, or hear

  The rocks rebellow with her hell-hounds’ bay.

  This more, besides, I charge thee to obey,

  If any faith to Helenus be due,

  Or skill in prophecy the seer display,

  And mighty Phoebus hath inspired me true, 496

  These warning words I urge, and oft will urge anew:

  LVII . “‘Seek Juno first; great Juno’s power adore;

  With suppliant gifts the potent queen constrain,

  And winds shall waft thee to Italia’s shore.

  There, when at Cumæ landing from the main,

  Avernus’ lakes and sounding woods ye gain,

  Thyself shalt see, within her rock-hewn shrine,

  The frenzied prophetess, whose mystic strain

  Expounds the Fates, to leaves of trees consign 505

  The notes and names that mark the oracles divine.

  LVIII . “‘Whate’er the maiden on those leaves doth trace,

  In rows she sorts, and in the cave doth store.

  There rest they, nor their sequence change, nor place,

  Save when, by chance, on grating hinge the door

  Swings open, and a light breath sweeps the floor,

  Or rougher blasts the tender leaves disperse.

  Loose then they flutter, for she recks no more

  To call them back, and rearrange the verse; 514

  Untaught the votaries leave, the Sibyl’s cave to curse.

  LIX . “‘B
ut linger thou, nor count thy lingering vain,

  Though comrades chide, and breezes woo the fleet.

  Approach the prophetess; with prayer unchain

  Her voice to speak. She shall the tale repeat

  Of wars in Italy, thy destined seat, —

  What toils to shun, what dangers to despise, —

  And make the triumph of thy quest complete.

  Thou hast whate’er ’tis lawful to advise; 523

  Go, and with deathless deeds raise Ilion to the skies.’

  LX . “So spake the seer, and shipward bids his friends

  Rich gifts convey, and store them in the hold.

  Gold, silver plate, carved ivory he sends,

  With massive caldrons of Dodona’s mould;

  A coat of mail, with triple chain of gold,

  And shining helm, with cone and flowing crest,

  The arms of Pyrrhus, glorious to behold.

  Nor lacks my sire his presents; for the rest 532

  Steeds, guides and arms he finds, and oarsmen of the best.

  LXI . “Then to Anchises, as he bids us spread

  The sails, with reverence speaks Apollo’s seer,

  ‘Far-famed Anchises, honoured with the bed

  Of haughty Venus, Heaven’s peculiar care,

  Twice saved from Troy! behold Ausonia there,

  Steer towards her coasts, yet skirt them; far away

  That region lies, which Phoebus doth prepare.

  Blest in thy son’s devotion, take thy way. 541

  Why should more words of mine the rising South delay?’

  LXII . “Nor less Andromache, sore grieved to part,

  Rich raiment fetches, wrought with golden thread,

  And Phrygian scarf, and still with bounteous heart

  Loads him with broideries. ‘Take these,’ she said,

  ‘Sole image of Astyanax now dead.

  Thy kin’s last gifts, my handiwork, to show

  How Hector’s widow loved the son she bred.

  Such eyes had he, such very looks as thou, 550

  Such hands, and oh! like thine his age were ripening now!’

  LXIII . “With gushing tears I bid the pair farewell.

  Live happy ye, whose destinies are o’er;

  We still must wander where the Fates compel.

  Your rest is won; no oceans to explore,