Complete Works of Virgil
Page 255
To breed domestic strife and happy homes to burn.
XLVI . “A thousand names, a thousand means hast thou
Of mischief. Search thy fertile breast, and break
The plighted peace. Breed calumnies, and sow
The strife. Let youth desire, demand and take
Thy weapons.” — Wreathed with many a Gorgon snake,
To Latium’s court Alecto flew unseen,
And by Amata’s chamber sate, nor spake;
While, musing on her new-come guests, the queen, 406
Wroth for her Turnus, boiled with woman’s rage and spleen.
XLVII . At her the goddess from her dark locks threw
A snake, and lodged the monster in her breast,
To make her fury all the house undo.
In glides, impalpable, the maddening pest
Between the dainty bosom and the vest,
Breathing its venom. Like a necklace thin
It hung, all golden, like a wreath, caressed
Her temples, like a ribbon, wove within 415
Her hair its slippery coils, and wandered o’er her skin.
XLVIII . So, while the taint, first stealing through her frame,
Slipped in, with slimy venom, and the pest
Thrilled every sense, and wrapped her bones in flame,
Nor yet her soul had caught it, or confessed
The fiery fever that consumed her breast;
Soft, like a mother, and with tears, she cried,
Grieved for her child, and pondering with unrest
The Phrygian match, “Ah, woe the day betide, 424
If Teucrian exiles win Lavinia for a bride!
XLIX . “Hast thou no pity for thy child, nor thee,
O father! nor her mother, left forlorn,
When, with the rising North-wind, o’er the sea
Yon faithless pirate hath the maiden borne?
Not so, forsooth, did Lacedæmon mourn
Robbed Helen, when the Phrygian shepherd planned
Her capture. Is thy sacred faith forsworn?
Where is thy old affection? Where that hand 433
So oft to Turnus pledged, thy kinsman of the land?
L . “If Latins for Lavinia needs must find
A foreign mate; if so the Fates constrain,
And Faunus’ words weigh heavy on thy mind,
All lands, that yield not to the Latin reign,
I count as foreign; so the Gods speak plain;
And foreign then is Turnus, if we trace
The first beginning of his princely strain.
Greeks were his grandsires; Argos was the place 442
Where old Acrisius ruled, where dwelt th’ Inachian race.”
LI . So pleading, and so weeping, she essayed
To move the king; but when her prayers were vain,
Nor tears Latinus from his purpose stayed,
And now the viper with its deadly bane
Crept to her inmost parts, and through each vein
The maddening poison to her heartstrings stole,
Then, scared by monstrous phantoms of the brain,
Poor queen! she raved, and maddening past control, 451
Ran through the crowded streets in impotence of soul.
LII . Like as a whip-top by the lash is sent
In widening orbs to spin, when lads among
The empty courtyards urge their merriment;
And, scourged in circling courses by the thong
It wheels and eddies, while the beardless throng
Bend over, lost in ignorant surprise,
And marvel, as the boxwood whirls along,
Stirred by each stroke; so fast Amata flies 460
From street to street, while crowds look on with lowering eyes.
LIII . Nay, simulating Bacchus, now she dares
To feign new orgies, and her crime complete.
Swift with her daughter to the woods she fares,
And hides her on the mountains, fain to cheat
The Trojans, and the purposed rites defeat.
“Hail, thou alone art worthy of the fair!
Evoë, Bacchus! for thy name is sweet.
For thee she grows her dedicated hair, 469
For thee she leads the dance, the ivied wand doth bear.”
LIV . The matrons then — so fast the rumour flew, —
Fired like the Queen, and frenzied with despair,
Rush forth, and leave their ancient homes for new,
And to the breezes give their necks and hair.
These with their tremulous wailings fill the air,
And, girt about with fawn-skins, bear along
The vine-branch javelins, and Amata there,
Herself ablaze with fury, o’er the throng 478
A blazing pine-torch waves, and chants the nuptial song
LV . Of Turnus and Lavinia. Fiercely roll
Her blood-shot eyes, and, frowning, suddenly
She pours the frantic passions of her soul.
“Ho! Latin mothers all, where’er ye be,
Here, if ye love me, if a mother’s plea
Deserve your pity, let your hair be seen
Loosed from the fillets, and be mad, like me.”
So through the woods, the wild-beasts’ lairs between, 487
With Bacchanalian goads Alecto drives the Queen.
LVI . When now thus fairly was the work begun,
The barbs of anger planted, pleased to view
Latinus’ purpose and his house undone,
On dusky wings the Goddess soared, and through
The liquid air to neighbouring Ardea flew,
The bold Rutulian’s city, built of yore
By Danaë, thither when the South-wind blew
Her and her followers. Ardea’s name it bore, 496
And Ardea’s name still lives, though fortune smiles no more.
LVII . There in his palace, locked in sleep’s embrace,
Lay Turnus. Straight Alecto, versed in snares,
Doffs the fiend’s figure and her frowning face.
The likeness of a withered crone she wears,
With wrinkled forehead and with hoary hairs.
Her fillet and her olive crown proclaim
The priestess. Changed in semblance, she appears
Like Calybe, great Juno’s sacred dame; 505
Thus to the youth she comes, and hails him by his name.
LVIII . “Fie! Turnus, fie! wilt thou behold unstirred
Such labours wasted, and thy hopes belied?
Thy sceptre to a Dardan guest transferred?
See, now, to thee Latinus hath denied
Thy blood-bought dowry, and thy promised bride,
And seeks a stranger for his throne. Away
To thankless perils, while thy friends deride!
Go, strew the Tuscans, scatter their array, 514
Till Latins, saved once more, their plighted word betray.
LIX . “This mandate great Saturnia bade me bear,
Thou sleeping. Up, then! greet the welcome hour;
Arm, arm the youth, and from the towngates fare!
These Phrygian vessels with the flames devour,
Moored yonder in fair Tiber. ’Tis the power
Of Heaven that bids thee. Let Latinus, too,
If false and faithless he withhold the dower,
And grudge thy marriage, learn the deed to rue, 523
And taste at length and try what Turnus armed can do.”
LX . Then he in scorn: “Yea, Tiber’s waves beset
With foreign ships — I know it; wherefore feign
For me such terrors? Juno guards me yet.
Good mother, dotage wears thee, and thy brain
Is rusty; age hath troubled thee in vain,
And, ‘midst the feuds of monarchs, mocks with fright
A priestess. Go; ’tis thine to guard the fane
And sacred statues; these be thy delight; 532
Leave pea
ce and war to men, whose business is to fight.”
LXI . Therewith in fire Alecto’s wrath outbroke,
A sudden tremor through his limbs ran fast,
His stony eyeballs stiffened as he spoke.
So hissed the Fury with her snakes, so vast
Her shape appeared, so fierce the look she cast,
As back she thrust him with her flaming eyes,
Fain to say more, but faltering and aghast.
Two serpents from her Gorgon locks uprise; 541
Shrill sounds her scorpion lash, as, foaming, thus she cries:
LXII . “Behold me, worn with dotage! me, whom age
Hath rusted, and, while monarchs fight, would scare
With empty fears! Behold me in my rage!
I come, the Furies’ minister; see there,
War, death and havoc in these hands I bear.”
Full at his breast a firebrand, as she spoke,
Black with thick smoke, but bright with lurid glare,
The Fiend outflung. In terror he awoke, 550
And o’er his bones and limbs a clammy sweat outbroke.
LXIII . “Arms, arms!” he yells, and searches for his sword
In couch and chamber, maddening at the core
With war’s fierce passion, and the lust abhorred
Of slaughter, and with bitter wrath yet more.
As when a wood-fire crackles with fierce roar,
Heaped round a caldron, and the simmering stream
Foams, fumes, and bubbles, and at last boils o’er,
And upward shoots the mingled smoke and steam; 559
So Turnus boils with wrath, so dire his rage doth seem.
LXIV . Choice youths he sends, to let Latinus know
The peace was torn, then musters his array
To guard Italia and expel the foe.
Let Trojans league with Latins as they may,
Himself can match them, and he comes to slay.
So saying, his vows he renders. Ardour fires
The fierce Rutulians, and each hails the fray;
And one his youth, and one his grace admires, 568
And one his valorous deeds, and one his kingly sires.
LXV . So Turnus the Rutulians stirred to war.
Meanwhile the Fury to the Trojans bent
Her flight; with wily eye she marked afar,
With snares and steeds upon the chase intent,
Iulus. On his hounds at once she sent
A sudden madness, and fierce rage awoke
To chase the stag, as with the well-known scent
She lured their nostrils. — Thus the feud outbroke; 577
So small a cause of strife could rustic hearts provoke.
LXVI . Broad-antlered, beauteous was the stag, which erst
The sons of Tyrrheus (Tyrrheus kept whilere
The royal herd and pastures), fostering nursed,
Snatched from the dam. Their sister, Silvia fair,
Oft wreathed his horns, and oft with tender care
She washed him, and his shaggy coat would comb.
So tamed, and trained his master’s board to share,
The gentle favourite in the woods would roam; 586
Each night, how late soe’er, he sought the well-known home.
LXVII . Him the fierce hounds now startle far astray,
As down the stream he floats, or, crouching low,
Rests on the green bank from the noontide ray.
Athirst for praise, Ascanius bends his bow;
Loud whirs the arrow, for Fate aims the blow,
And cleaves his flank and belly. Homeward flies
The wounded creature, moaning in his woe.
Blood-stained, with piteous and imploring eyes, 595
Like one who sues for life, he fills the house with cries.
LXVIII . Smiting the breast, poor Silvia calls for aid.
Forth rush the churls, scarce waiting her demand,
Roused by the Fury in the wood’s still shade.
One grasps a club, another wields a brand;
Rage makes a weapon of what comes to hand.
Forth from his work ran Tyrrheus, who an oak
Was cleaving with the wedge, and cheered the band.
His hand still grasped the hatchet for the stroke, 604
And bitter wrath he breathed, and fierce the words he spoke.
LXIX . The Fury snatched the moment; forth she flew,
And, perching on the cabin-roof, looked round,
And from the curved horn of the shepherds blew
A blast of Tartarus, that shook the ground,
And made the forests and the groves rebound
The infernal echoes. Trivia’s lakes afar,
And Velia’s fountains heard the dreadful sound;
The white waves heard it of the sulphurous Nar, 613
And mothers clasped their babes, and trembled at the war.
LXX . Swift at the summons, as the trumpet brayed,
The sturdy shepherds arm them for the fray.
Swift pour the Trojans from their camp, to aid
Ascanius. Lo! ’tis battle’s stern array,
No village brawl, where churls dispute the day
With charred oak-staves and cudgels. Broadswords clash
With broadswords, and War’s harvest far away
Stands, bristling black with iron, as they dash 622
Together, and drawn swords in doubtful conflict flash.
LXXI . And brazen arms shoot many a blinding ray,
Smit by the sun, as clouds that fill the sky,
Disparting, show the splendours of the fray.
As when a light wind o’er the sea doth fly,
And the wave whitens as the breeze goes by,
And by degrees the bosom of the deep
Heaves up and swells, till higher and more high
The billows rise, and, gathering in a heap, 631
From Ocean’s caves mount up, and storm the ethereal steep.
LXXII . First falls the son of Tyrrheus, stretched in death,
Young Almo. In his throat the deadly bane
Stuck fast, and choked the humid pass of breath,
And clipped the thin-spun life. There, too, is slain
Grey-haired Galæsus, parleying but in vain.
More righteous none, though many around lie killed,
None wealthier did Ausonia’s realm contain.
Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures filled, 640
And with a hundred ploughs his fruitful lands he tilled.
LXXIII . Thus while the conflict wavered on the plain,
The Fury, pleased her triumph to survey,
Her pledge fulfilled, — War crimsoned with the stain
Of gore, and grim Death busy with his prey, —
Swift from Hesperia wings her airy way,
And proudly speaks to Juno: “See, ’tis done;
The discord perfect in the dolorous fray,
And War with all its miseries begun. 649
Now bid, forsooth, the foes plight friendship and be one.
LXXIV . “Steeped are thy Trojans in Ausonian gore.
Yet speak, and more will I perform, if so
Thy purpose holds. Along the neighbouring shore
Each town shall hear the rumour of the foe,
Each breast with frenzy for the strife shall glow,
Till all bring aid, and fruitful is the land
In deeds of blood.” — Then Juno: “Nay, not so;
Enough of fraud and terror. Firmly stand 658
The causes of the feud; they battle hand to hand,
LXXV . “And fresh blood stains the weapons chance supplied.
Such joy the bridal to Latinus bear,
And Venus’ wondrous offspring, and his bride.
But thou — for scarce Olympus’ king would bear
Thy lawless roving in ethereal air, —
Give place; myself will guide the rest aright.”
; Saturnia spoke; Alecto then and there
Her wings, that hiss with serpents, spreads for flight, 667
And to Cocytus dives, and leaves the realms of light.
LXXVI . In mid Italia lies a vale renowned,
Amsanctus. Dark woods down the mountain grow
This side and that; a torrent with the sound
Of thunder roars among the rocks below.
There, black as night, an awful cave they show,
The gorge of Dis. Dread Acheron from beneath
Bursts in a whirlpool, with its waves of woe,
And jaws that gape with pestilential death. 676
There plunged the hateful Fiend, and earth and air took breath.
LXXVII . Nor less, meanwhile, Saturnia hastes to crown
The war’s mad tumult. Home the shepherds bore
Their dead from out the battle to the town.
Young Almo, and Galæsus, fouled with gore.
All bid Latinus witness, and implore
The gods, and while the blood-cry calls for flame
And slaughter, Turnus swells the wild uproar.
What! he an outcast? Shall the Trojans claim 685
The realm, and bastards dare the Latin race to shame?
LXXVIII . Then they, whose mothers through the pathless vales
And forests, fired with Bacchic frenzy, ply
Their orgies — so Amata’s name prevails —
Come forth, and, gathering from far and nigh,
Weary the War-god with their clamorous cry,
Till, thwarting Heaven’s high purpose, each and all
Omens at once and oracles defy,
And swarm around Latinus in his hall, 694
War now is all their wish, “to arms” the general call.
LXXIX . Firm stands the monarch as a sea-girt rock,
A sea-girt rock against the roaring main,
Which, spite of barking billows and the shock
Of Ocean, doth its own huge mass sustain.
The foaming crags around it chafe in vain,
And back it flings the seaweed from its side.
Too weak at length their madness to restrain,
For things move on as Juno’s whims decide, 703
Oft to the gods, and oft to empty air he cried.
LXXX . “Ah me! the tempest hurries us along.
Fate grinds us sore. Poor Latins! ye must sate,