Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  Was o’er, when Salius with his clamouring stirred

  Troy’s seated elders, furious with defeat,

  And claimed the prize, as wrested by a cheat.

  Tears aid Euryalus, and favour pleads

  His worth, more winsome in a form so sweet,

  And loudly, too, Diores intercedes. 406

  Lost were his own last prize, if Salius’ claim succeeds.

  XLVII . “Boys,” said the good Æneas, “the award

  Is fixt, and no man shall the palm withhold.

  Yet be it mine to cheer a friend ill-starred.”

  He spake, and Salius with a gift consoled,

  A Moorish lion’s hide, with claws of gold

  And shaggy hair. Then Nisus with a frown:

  “If gifts so great a vanquished man may hold,

  If falls win pity, and defeat renown, 415

  What prize shall Nisus gain, whose merit earned the crown?

  XLVIII . “Ay, who had won, had Chance not interfered,

  And baffled me, like Salius? Look,” he said,

  And pointed to his limbs and forehead, smeared

  With ordure. Smiling, the good Sire surveyed

  His piteous plight and raiment disarrayed;

  Then forth he bade a glittering shield be borne,

  Which Didymaon’s workmanship had made,

  From Neptune’s temple by the Danaans torn. 424

  This prize he gives the youth, his prowess to adorn.

  XLIX . The race was ended, and the gifts assigned,

  When thus Æneas, as they thronged about,

  Addressed the crowd: “Now, whosoe’er hath mind

  His nerve to venture, or whose heart is stout,

  Step forth, and don the gauntlets and strike out.”

  He spake, and straightway, while the lists they clear,

  Sets forth the gifts, for him who wins the bout,

  Gilt-horned and garlanded, a comely steer, 433

  A sword and glittering helm, the loser’s soul to cheer.

  L . At once, amid loud murmurs, to his feet

  Upsprang great Dares, who in olden day

  Alone the haughty Paris dared to meet.

  He, by the tomb where mightiest Hector lay,

  Huge Butes fought, who, glorying in the bay,

  And boasting Amycus’ Bebrycian strain,

  Called for his match. But Dares heard him, yea,

  And smote him. Headlong on the sandy plain 442

  A lifeless corpse he rolled, and all his boasts were vain.

  LI . Such Dares towers, and strides into the ring,

  With head erect, and shoulders broad and bare,

  And right and left his sinewy arms doth swing,

  And burning for a rival, beats the air.

  Where is his match? Not one of all will dare

  To don the gloves. So, deeming none can stand

  Against him, flushed with triumph, then and there

  Before Æneas, grasping in his hand 451

  The heifer’s horns, he cries in accents of command:

  LII . “Son of a goddess, if none risks the fray,

  How long shall Dares guerdonless remain?

  What end of standing? Must I wait all day?

  Bring the prize hither.” Straight the Dardan train

  Shout for their champion, and his claim sustain.

  Then to Entellus, seated at his side,

  Couched on the green grass, in reproachful strain

  Thus sternly spake Acestes, fired with pride, 460

  And fain, for manhood sake, his younger friend to chide:

  LIII . “Entellus, once our bravest, but in vain,

  Can’st thou sit tamely, with the field unfought,

  And see this braggart glory in his gain?

  Where is thy god, that Eryx? Hath he taught

  Thine arm its vaunted cleverness for naught?

  To us what booteth thy Trinacrian name,

  Thy spoil-hung house, thy roof with prizes fraught?”

  Entellus said: “My spirit is the same. 469

  Fear hath not quenched my fire, nor checked the love of fame.

  LIV . “But numbing age hath made the blood run cold,

  And turned my strength to dulness and decay.

  Had I the youth that stirred these bones of old,

  The youth he boasts, no need of guerdon, nay,

  Nor comely steer to tempt me to the fray.

  Glory I care for, not a gift,” he cried,

  And, rising, hurled into the ring midway

  Two ponderous gauntlets, stiff with hardened hide; 478

  These Eryx wore, these thongs around his wrists he tied.

  LV . All stood amazed, so huge the weight, so vast,

  Sevenfold with lead and iron overlaid,

  The bull’s tough hide. E’en Dares shrank aghast.

  Forth stepped Æneas, and the gauntlets weighed,

  And to and fro the ponderous folds he swayed.

  Then gruffly spake the veteran once more:

  “Ah! had ye seen great Hercules arrayed

  In arms like these, such gauntlets as he wore, 487

  And watched the deadly fight waged here upon the shore!

  LVI . “These Eryx wore, thy brother, when that day

  He faced Alcides in the strife; — see now

  His blood and brains, — with these I dared the fray

  When better blood gave vigour, nor the snow

  Of envious eld was sprinkled on my brow.

  Still, if this Trojan doth these arms decline,

  And good Æneas and our host allow,

  Match we the fight. These gauntlets I resign, 496

  Put fear away, and doff those Trojan gloves of thine.”

  LVII . So saying, Entellus from his shoulders flung

  His quilted doublet, and revealed to light

  The massive joints, the sinews firmly strung,

  The bones and muscles, and the limbs of might,

  And, like a giant, stood prepared for fight.

  Two gloves for either champion, matched in weight,

  Æneas brings, and binds them firm and tight.

  So, face to face, each eager and elate, 505

  Like-armed the rivals stand, on tiptoe for debate.

  LVIII . Each from the blow the towering head draws back,

  Fearless, with arms uplifted to the skies.

  Spars hand through hand, and tempts to the attack,

  One, nimbler-footed, on his youth relies;

  Entellus’ strength is in his limbs and size.

  But the knees shake beneath him, and are slow,

  And age the wanted energy denies.

  He heaves for breath; thick pantings come and go, 514

  And shake the labouring breast, as hailing blow on blow.

  LIX . In vain they strive for mastery. Loud sound

  Their hollow sides; the battered chests ring back,

  As here and there the whistling strokes pelt round

  Their ears and temples, and the jaw-bones crack.

  Firm stands Entellus, though his knees are slack;

  Still in the same strained posture, he defies,

  Unmoved, the tempest of his foe’s attack.

  Only his body and his watchful eyes 523

  Slip from the purposed stroke, and shun the wished surprise.

  LX . As one who strives with battery to o’erthrow

  A high-walled city, or close siege doth lay

  Against some mountain-stronghold; even so

  Sly Dares shifts, an opening to essay,

  And vainly varies his assault each way.

  On tiptoe stretched, Entellus, pricked with pride,

  Puts forth his right hand, with resistless sway

  Steep from his shoulder. But the foe, quick-ey’d, 532

  Foresees the coming blow, and lightly leaps aside.

  LXI . On empty air Entellus wastes his strength.

  Down goes the giant, baulked of his design,
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  Fallen like a giant, and lies stretched at length.

  So, torn from earth, on Ida’s height divine

  Or Erymanthus, falls the hollow pine.

  Up spring each rival’s countrymen. Loud cheers

  The welkin rend, and, bursting through the line,

  Forth runs Acestes, and his friend uprears, 541

  Pitying his fallen worth and fellowship of years.

  LXII . Fearless, unshaken, with his soul aflame

  For vengeance, up Entellus springs again,

  And conscious valour and the sense of shame

  Rouse all his strength as, burning with disdain,

  He drives huge Dares headlong o’er the plain,

  Now right, now left, keeps pummelling his foe;

  No stint, no stay; as rattling hailstones rain

  On roof-tops, so with many a ceaseless blow 550

  Each hand in turn he plies, and pounds him to and fro.

  LXIII . But good Æneas suffered not too far

  The strife to rage, not let Entellus slake

  His wrath, but rescued Dares from the war,

  Sore-spent, and thus in soothing terms bespake,

  “Poor friend! what madness doth thy mind o’ertake?

  Feel’st not that more than mortal is his aid?

  The gods are with him, and thy cause forsake.

  Yield then to heaven and desist.” — He said, 559

  And with his voice straightway the deadly strife allayed.

  LXIV . Then, stirred with pity, the Dardanian throng

  Their vanquished kinsman from the contest bore.

  His sick knees wearily he drags along,

  Feeble and helpless, for his wound is sore;

  And loosened teeth and clots of curdled gore

  Spout forth, as o’er his shoulders nods each way

  The drooping head. They lead him to the shore,

  His gifts, the sword and helmet; but the bay 568

  And bull Entellus takes, the victor of the day.

  LXV . Forth steps the champion, glorying in the prize,

  Pride in his port, defiance on his brow.

  “See, Goddess-born; ye Teucrians, mark,” he cried,

  “What strength Entellus in his youth could show;

  How dire a doom ye warded from his foe.”

  He spake and, standing opposite the bull,

  Swung back his arm, and, rising to the blow,

  Betwixt the horns with hardened glove smote full, 577

  And back upon the brain drove in the splintered skull.

  LXVI . Down drops the beast, and on the earth lies low,

  Quivering but dead. Then o’er him, as he lay,

  Entellus cries “O Eryx, hear my vow.

  This life, for Dares, I devote this day,

  A nobler victim and a worthier prey.

  Accept it thou who taught’st this arm to wield

  The gloves of death. Unvanquished in the fray

  These withered arms their latest offering yield, 586

  These gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field.”

  LXVII . Next cries Æneas to the crowd: “Come now,

  Whoso hath mind in archer’s feats to vie,

  Step forth, and prove his cunning with the bow”:

  Then sets the prizes: on the beach hard by

  With stalwart arms he rears a mast on high,

  Ta’en from Serestus’ vessel, and thereto

  A fluttering pigeon with a string doth tie,

  Mark for their shafts. Around the rivals drew, 595

  And in a brazen helm the gathered lots they threw.

  LXVIII . Out leap the names; cheers hail the first in place,

  Hippocoon, son of Hyrtacus renowned;

  Then Mnestheus, victor in the naval race,

  Mnestheus, his brows with olive wreath still crowned.

  Third in the casque Eurytion’s lot is found

  Thy brother, famous Pandarus, whose dart,

  Hurled at the Danaans, did the truce confound.

  Last comes Acestes, for with dauntless heart 604

  Still in the toils of youth the veteran claims his part.

  LXIX . Forth step the marksmen, and with bows well-bent,

  Draw forth their arrows, and their aim prepare.

  Loud twanged the cord, as first Hippocoon sent

  His feathered shaft, that through the flowing air

  Went whistling on, and pierced the mast, and there

  Stuck fast. The stout tree quivered, and the bird

  Flapped with her wings in terror and despair,

  Fluttering for freedom, and around were heard 613

  Shouts, as admiring joy the clamorous concourse stirred.

  LXX . Next him stood Mnestheus, eager for the prize,

  And straight the bowstring to his breast updrew,

  Aiming aloft. The lightning of his eyes

  Went with the arrow, as he twanged the yew.

  Ah pity! Fortune sped the shaft untrue.

  The bird he missed, but cut the flaxen ties

  That held the feet, and cleft the knots in two.

  And forth, exulting, through the windy skies, 622

  Into the darkening clouds the loosened captive flies.

  LXXI . Then, quick as thought, his arrow on the string,

  Eurytion to his brother breathed a prayer,

  Marking the pigeon, as she clapped her wing

  Beneath a cloud, he pierced her. Breathless there

  She drops; her life is with the stars of air,

  The bolt is in her breast. Acestes now

  Alone remains; no palm is left to bear,

  Yet skyward shoots the veteran, proud to show 631

  What skill his hand can boast, the sounding of his bow.

  LXXII . Sudden a portent was revealed; how great

  An augury, the future brought to light,

  And frightening seers their omens sang too late.

  Aloft, the arrow kindled in its flight,

  Then marked with shining trail its pathway bright,

  And, wasting, vanished into viewless air.

  So stars, unfastened from the vault of night,

  Stream in the firmament with fiery glare, 640

  And through the dark fling out a length of glittering hair.

  LXXIII . Awed stand the men of Sicily and Troy,

  And pray the gods. Æneas owns the sign,

  And, heaping gifts, Acestes clasps with joy.

  “Take, father, take; Jove’s auspices divine

  A special honour for thy meed assign.

  This bowl, embossed with images of gold,

  The gift of old Anchises, shall be thine,

  Which Thracian Cisseus to my sire of old 649

  Gave, as a pledge of love, to have it and to hold.”

  LXXIV . So saying, with a garland of green bay

  He crowned his temples, and the prize conferred,

  And named Acestes victor of the day.

  Nor good Eurytion to the choice demurred,

  Nor grudged to see the veteran’s claim preferred,

  Though his the prowess that the rest surpassed,

  His shaft the one that struck the soaring bird.

  The second, he who cut the cord, the last, 658

  He who with feathered reed transfixed the tapering mast.

  LXXV . But good Æneas, ere the games are done,

  The child of Epytus, companion dear

  And trusty guardian of his beardless son,

  Calls to his side, and whispers in his ear:

  “Go bid Ascanius, if his troop be here

  And steeds in readiness, with spear and shield

  In honour of his grandsire to appear.”

  Then, calling to the thronging crowd to yield 667

  Free space, he clears the course, and open lies the field.

  LXXVI . Forth ride the boys, before their fathers’ eyes,

  Reining their steeds. In radiant files they fare,

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p; And wondering murmurs from each host arise.

  All with stript leaves have bound the flowing hair.

  Two cornel javelins, tipt with steel, they bear,

  Some, polished quivers; and a pliant chain

  Of twisted gold around the neck they wear;

  Three companies — three captains scour the plain. 676

  Twelve youths, behind each chief, compose the glittering train.

  LXXVII . One shouting troop young Priam’s lead obeys,

  Thy son, Polites, from his grandsire hight,

  And born erelong Italia’s fame to raise.

  A dappled Thracian charger bears the knight,

  His pasterns flecked and forehead starred with white.

  Next Atys, whom the Atian line reveres,

  The youthful idol of a youth’s delight,

  So well Iulus loved him. Last appears 685

  Iulus, first in grace and comeliest of his peers.

  LXXVIII . His a Sidonian charger; Dido fair

  This pledge and token of her love supplied.

  Trinacrian horses his attendants bear,

  Acestes’ gift. Their bosoms throb with pride,

  While Dardans, cheering, welcome as they ride

  The sires that have been in the sons that are.

  So, when before their kinsfolk on each side

  Their ranks had passed, Epytides afar 694

  Cracks the loud whip, and shouts the signal, as for war.

  LXXIX . In equal bands the triple troops divide,

  Then turn, and rallying, with spears bent low,

  Charge at the call. Now back again they ride,

  Wheel round, and weave new courses to and fro,

  In armed similitude of martial show,

  Circling and intercircling. Now in flight

  They bare their backs, now turning, foe to foe,

  Level their lances to the charge, now plight 703

  The truce, and side by side in friendly league unite.

  LXXX . E’en as in Crete the Labyrinth of old

  Between blind walls its secret hid from view,

  With wildering ways and many a winding fold,

  Wherein the wanderer, if the tale be true,

  Roamed unreturning, cheated of the clue:

  Such tangles weave the Teucrians, as they feign

  Fighting or flying, and the game renew: