Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

So dolphins, sporting on the watery plain, 712

  Cleave the Carpathian waves and distant Libya’s main.

  LXXXI . These feats Ascanius to his people showed,

  When girdling Alba Longa; there with joy

  The ancient Latins in the pastime rode,

  Wherein the princely Dardan, as a boy,

  Was wont his Trojan comrades to employ.

  To Alban children from their sires it came,

  And mighty Rome took up the “game of Troy,”

  And called the players “Trojans,” and the name 721

  Lives on, as sons renew the hereditary game.

  LXXXII . Thus far to blest Anchises they defrayed

  The funeral rites; when Fortune turned unkind,

  Forsook her faith. For while the games were played

  Before the tomb, Saturnian Juno’s mind

  New schemes, to glut her ancient wrath, designed.

  Iris she calls, and bids the Goddess go

  Down to the Ilian fleet, and breathes a wind

  To waft her on. So, borne upon her bow 730

  Of myriad hues, unseen, the maiden hastes below.

  LXXXIII . She eyes the concourse, marks the ships unmanned,

  And sees the empty harbour and the shore.

  While far off on the solitary strand

  The Trojan dames sat sorrowful, and o’er

  The deep sea gazed, and, gazing, evermore

  Wept for the Sire. “Ah, woe! the fields of foam!

  The waste of waters for the wearied oar!

  Oh! for a city and a certain home; 739

  A rest for sea-worn souls, for weary ’tis to roam!”

  LXXXIV . So, not unversed in mischief, from the skies

  Amidst the gathered matrons down she came,

  In raiment and in face to mortal eyes

  No more a Goddess, but an aged dame,

  The wife of Doryclus, of Tmarian fame.

  E’en venerable Beröe, once blest

  With rank, and children and a noble name.

  So changed in semblance, the celestial guest 748

  Mixed with the Dardan dames, and thus the crowd addressed:

  LXXXV . “Oh, born to sorrow! whom th’ Achaian foe

  Dragged not to death, when Ilion was o’erthrown!

  O hapless race! what still extremer woe

  Doth Fortune doom the living to bemoan?

  Since Ilion fell, seven summers nigh have flown,

  And we o’er every ocean, every plain,

  Past cheerless rocks, and under stars unknown,

  Oft and so oft are driven, as in vain 757

  Italia’s shores we grasp, and welter on the main!

  LXXXVI . “’Tis Eryx’ land, Acestes is our host.

  What hinders for the homeless here to gain

  A home — an Ilion for the one we lost?

  O fatherland! O home-gods saved in vain,

  If still in endless exile we remain!

  Ah! nevermore shall I behold with joy

  A Xanthus and a Simois again,

  Our Hector’s streams? ne’er hear the name of Troy? 766

  Up! let devouring flames these ill-starred ships destroy!

  LXXXVII . “Methought in sleep, Cassandra’s ghost came near,

  With torches in her hands, and bade me seize

  The flaming firebrands, and exclaimed: ‘See, here

  Thy Troy, the home that destiny decrees!

  The hour is ripe; such prodigies as these

  Brook not delay. Lo! here to Neptune rise

  Four altars. He, the Sovereign of the seas,

  Himself the firebrands and the will supplies.’” 775

  Then straight, with arm drawn back, and fury in her eyes,

  LXXXVIII . She waved a torch, and hurled it. Dazed with fear,

  The women trembled as she tossed the flame.

  Then one who nursed through many a bygone year

  The sons of Priam — Pyrgo was the dame, —

  “No Trojan this, nor Beröe her name,

  The wife of Doryclus. Full sure I ween

  Immortal birth her sparkling eyes proclaim.

  What breathing beauty! what celestial sheen! 784

  Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien!

  LXXXIX . “Myself but now left Beröe, worn out

  With sickness, grieving in her heart to miss

  These funeral honours to our Sire.” — In doubt

  They waver, and with eyes that bode amiss

  Look towards the vessels and the blue abyss

  Of ocean, torn in spirit ‘twixt the love

  Of realms that shall be and the land that is.

  On even wings the goddess soared above, 793

  And with her rainbow vast the cloudy drift she clove.

  XC . Then, by the monstrous prodigy dismayed,

  And driven by madness, forth the matrons fare

  With shouts and shrieks. The houses they invade,

  And living embers from the hearthstones tear,

  With impious hands these strip the altars bare,

  And boughs, and leaves and lighted brands they cast

  In heaps, and fuel for the flames prepare.

  O’er bench and oar, from painted keel to mast, 802

  The Fire-god raves at will, and rides upon the blast.

  XCI . Meanwhile, with tidings of the fleet in flames,

  Swift posts Eumelus. To the tomb he hies

  Of old Anchises, and the crowded games.

  Back look the Trojans, and with awe-struck eyes

  See the dark ash-cloud floating through the skies.

  And, as his troop Ascanius joyed to lead

  In mimic fight, so keen, when danger cries,

  First to the wildered camp he spurs his steed; 811

  And breathless guardians fail to stay his headlong speed.

  XCII . “What madness this, poor women?” he exclaims,

  “What mean ye now? No camp of Argive foe,

  Your hopes ye doom to perish in the flames.

  See your Ascanius!” — At his feet below

  He flung the helmet, that adorned his brow

  When mimic fight he marshalled. Hurrying came

  Æneas, hurrying came the host; but lo!

  The shore lies bare; this way and that each dame 820

  Slinks to the woods and caves, if aught can hide her shame.

  XCIII . All loathe the daylight and the deed unblest.

  Sobered, they know their countrymen at last,

  And Juno’s power is shaken from each breast.

  Not so the flames; with gathered strength and fast

  Onward still swept the unconquerable blast.

  Forth puffed between the timbers, drenched in vain,

  The smoke-jets from the smouldering tow. Down passed

  From keel to cabin the devouring bane. 829

  Nor floods nor heroes’ strength the mastering flames restrain.

  XCIV . Then good Æneas from his shoulders threw

  His robe, and heavenward stretched his hands in prayer;

  “Great Jove! if spares thy vengeance to pursue

  Troy’s children to the uttermost, if e’er

  The toils of mortals move thy ancient care,

  Preserve this feeble remnant, and command

  These flames from further havoc to forbear;

  Else, if my deeds deserve it, bare thine hand, 838

  Launch thine avenging bolt, and slay me as I stand.”

  XCV . Scarce spake he, when in torrents comes the rain.

  Darkly the tempest riots, and the roar

  Of thunder shakes the mountains and the plain.

  Black storm-clouds from the thickening South sweep o’er

  The darkened heavens, and down a deluge pour.

  Drenched are the decks; the timbers, charr’d with heat,

  Are soaked and smoulder, till the fire no more

  Raves, and the flames are conquered, and the fleet, 847


  Save four alone, survives the fiery plague complete.

  XCVI . Sore-struck, Æneas in his breast debates

  This way and that, still doubtful to remain

  In fields Sicilian, mindless of the Fates,

  Or strive the shores of Italy to gain,

  Then aged Nautes, wisest of his train,

  Taught by Tritonian Pallas to unfold

  What wrathful gods or destinies ordain,

  In prescient utterance his response unrolled, 856

  And thus with cheerful words the anxious chief consoled:

  XCVII . “O Goddess-born, where Fate directs the way,

  ’Tis ours to follow. Who the best can bear,

  Best conquers Fortune, be the doom what may.

  A friend thou hast, Acestes; bid him share

  And be a willing partner of thy care.

  He too is Trojan, and of seed divine.

  Give him the lost ships’ crews, and whosoe’er

  Is faint or feeble, to his charge consign, 865

  Old men and sea-sick dames, who glory’s quest decline.

  XCVIII . “Here let them rest, who care not for renown,

  And build their walls, and, if our host assent,

  Acesta from Acestes name the town.”

  Such counsel cheered him, but his breast is rent

  With trouble, musing on the dark event.

  And now black Night, upon her course midway,

  With ebon car had climbed the steep ascent,

  When, gliding down before him as he lay, 874

  His father’s phantom stood, and speaking, seemed to say:

  XCIX . “O dearer than the life, while life remained,

  My son, by Troy’s hard destinies sore tried,

  Hither I come at Jove’s command, who deigned

  Thy burning ships to save, and pitying-eyed

  Beholds thy sorrows. Hear then, nor deride

  The grey-haired Nautes, for his words are good.

  Choice youths, the bravest, for thy quest provide.

  Stout hearts ye need in Italy, for rude 883

  And rough the Latin race, and hard to be subdued.

  C . “But seek thou first the nether realms of Dis,

  And through Avernus tread the dark domain

  To meet me. Not in Tartarus’ abyss,

  Sad shades of sin and never-ending pain,

  I dwell, but on the blest Elysian plain

  Join with the just in fellowship. Now heed:

  There the chaste Sibyl, if with victims slain,

  Black sheep, ye seek her, shall thy footsteps lead, 892

  And show thy destined walls and progeny decreed.

  CI . “And now farewell; for dewy Night midway

  Wheels on her course, and from the Orient sky

  Fierce beats the breathing of the steeds of Day.”

  He spake, and melted as a mist on high.

  “Ah, whither,” cried Æneas, “wilt thou fly?

  Who tears thee hence? Where hurriest thou again?”

  So saying, he wakes the embers ere they die.

  And offering frankincense and sacred grain, 901

  Troy’s household gods adores, and hoary Vesta’s fane.

  CII . Forthwith he tells Acestes, then the crews,

  Jove’s will, his father’s counsel and his own.

  All vote assent, nor doth his host refuse.

  No tarrying now; they write the matrons down,

  And all who faint or care not for renown

  They leave behind, — the idlers of each crew,

  But willing settlers in the new-planned town.

  These the charred timbers and the thwarts renew, 910

  Shape oars and fit the ropes; a gallant band, but few.

  CIII . Æneas with a ploughshare marks the town,

  And, homes allotting, gives each place a name,

  Here Troy, there Ilion. Pleased to wear the crown,

  A forum good Acestes hastes to frame,

  And laws to gathered senators proclaim.

  Rear’d high on Eryx, to the stars ascends

  A temple, to Idalian Venus’ fame.

  A priest Anchises’ sepulchre attends, 919

  A grove’s far sacred shade his hallowed dust defends.

  CIV . The rites are paid, the nine-days’ feast is o’er,

  Smooth lies the deep, and Southern winds invite

  The mariners. Along the winding shore

  Loud rise the sounds of sorrow, day and night,

  Where friends, clasped close in lingering undelight,

  Weep at the thought of parting. Matrons, ay,

  And men, who lately shuddered at the sight,

  And loathed the name of Ocean, scorn to stay, 928

  And willing hearts now brave the long, laborious way.

  CV . Kindly Æneas cheers them, and with tears

  Leaves to their King, then, parting, gives command

  A lamb to slay to tempest, and three steers

  To Eryx. So they loosen from the land.

  He on the prow, a charger in his hand,

  Flings forth the entrails, and outpours the wine,

  And, crowned with olive chaplet, takes his stand.

  Up-springs the favouring stern breeze, as in line 937

  With emulous sweep of oars, they brush the level brine.

  CVI . Then Venus, torn with anguish and desire,

  Spake thus to Neptune, and her grief confessed:

  “O Neptune, Juno’s unrelenting ire,

  The quenchless malice, that consumes her breast,

  Constrains me thus to urge a suppliant’s quest;

  And stoop, with humbled majesty, to sue.

  Her neither piety nor Jove’s behest

  Nor time, nor Fate can soften or subdue, 946

  Still doth immortal hate the Phrygian race pursue.

  CVII . “’Tis not enough their city to destroy,

  And wear their remnant with remorseless pain,

  Needs must she trample on the dust of Troy.

  She best, forsooth, her fury can explain.

  But thou, — thou know’st how on the Libyan main, —

  Thine eyes beheld it from thy throne on high, —

  Lately she stirred the tumult, and in vain

  Armed with Æolian tempests, sea and sky 955

  Mixed in rebellious wrath, thy sceptre to defy.

  CVIII . “All this she ventured in thy realm; nay more,

  Her rage hath filled the matrons, fired the fleet,

  And left these crews upon an alien shore,

  Reft of their friends, and baffled of retreat.

  O spare this Trojan remnant, I entreat;

  Safe in thy guidance let them sail the main,

  And scatheless reach their promised walls, and greet

  Laurentian Tiber and the Latian plain, 964

  If what I ask be just, and so the Fates ordain.”

  CIX . Then spake the Monarch of the deep: “’Tis just

  To look for safety to my realm, that gave

  Thee birth; and well have I deserved thy trust,

  Who oft have stilled the raging wind and wave;

  Nor less on land have interposed, to save —

  Xanthus and Simois I attest again —

  Thy darling son, when back Achilles drave

  Troy’s breathless host, and rivers, choked with slain, 973

  Groaned, ay, and Xanthus scarce could struggle to the main.

  CX . “Then, as with adverse Gods and feebler power

  He faced Pelides, in a cloud I caught

  Thy favourite, albeit ’twas the hour

  When, wroth with perjured Ilion, I sought

  To raze the walls these very hands had wrought.

  Fear not; unaltered doth my will remain.

  Safe shall he be into this haven brought.

  One, only one, for many shall be slain; 982

  One in the deep thy son shall look for, but in vain.”

  CXI . So saying, h
e soothed the Goddess, and in haste

  His steeds with golden harness yoked amain.

  The bridle and the foaming bit he placed,

  To curb their fury, and outflung the rein.

  Lightly he flies along the watery plain,

  Borne in his azure chariot. Far and nigh

  Beneath his thundering wheels the heaving main

  Sinks, and the waves are tranquil, and on high 991

  Through flying storm-drift shines the immeasurable sky.

  CXII . Behind him throng, in many a motley group,

  His followers — monsters of enormous chine,

  Sea-shouldering whales, and Glaucus’ aged troop,

  Paloemon, Ino’s progeny divine,

  Swift Tritons, born to gambol in the brine,

  And Phorcus’ finny legions. Melite,

  And virgin Panopoea leftward shine,

  Thetis, Nesæe, daughters of the sea, 1000

  Spio, Thalia fair, and bright Cymodoce.

  CXIII . Then o’er Æneas’ spirit, racked with fear,

  Joy stole in gentle counterchange. He hails

  The crews, and biddeth them the masts uprear,

  And stretch the sheets. All, tacking, loose the brails

  Larboard or starboard, and let go the sails,

  And square or sideways to the breeze incline

  The lofty sailyards. Welcome blow the gales

  Behind them. Palinurus leads the line; 1009

  The rest his course obey, and follow at his sign.

  CXIV . Damp Night well-nigh had climbed Olympus’ crest;

  Each slumbering mariner his limbs unbends,

  Stretched by his oar, along the bench at rest,

  When lo! false Sleep his feathery wings extends.

  To guiltless Palinurus he descends,

  Parting the scattered shadows. Down he bears

  Delusive dreams, and cunning words pretends,

  As now, in Phorbas’ likeness he appears, 1018

  Perched on the lofty stern, and whispers in his ears:

  CXV . “Son of Iasus! see, the tide that flows

  Bears thee along; behind thee breathes apace

  The stern breeze, and the hour invites repose.

  Rest now, and cheat thy wearied eyes a space,

  Myself will take the rudder in thy place.”

  “Nay,” quoth the pilot, with half-lifted eyes,