Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  As waters in a brazen urn flash bright,

  Smit by the sunbeam or the moon’s pale rays,

  And round the chamber flits the trembling light,

  And darts aloft, and on the ceiling plays, 19

  So many a varying mood his anxious mind displays.

  IV . ’Twas night; the tired world rested. Far and nigh

  All slept, the cattle and the fowls of air.

  Stretched on a bank, beneath the cold, clear sky,

  Lay good Æneas, fain at length to share

  Late slumber, troubled by the war with care.

  When, ‘twixt the poplars, where the fair stream flows,

  With azure mantle, and with sedge-crowned hair,

  The aged Genius of the place uprose, 28

  And, standing by, thus spake, and comforted his woes:

  V . “Blest seed of Heaven! who from the foemen’s hand

  Our Troy dost bring, and to an endless date

  Preservest Pergama; whom Latium’s land

  Hath looked for, and Laurentum’s fields await,

  Here, doubt not, are thy homegods, here hath Fate

  Thy home decreed. Let not war’s terrors seem

  To daunt thee. Heaven is weary of its hate;

  Its storms are spent. Distrust not, nor esteem 37

  These words of idle worth, the coinage of a dream.

  VI . “Hard by, beneath yon oak-trees, thou shalt see

  A huge, white swine, and, clustering around

  Her teats, are thirty young ones, white as she.

  There shall thy labour with repose be crown’d,

  Thy city set. There Alba’s walls renowned,

  When twice ten times hath rolled the circling year,

  Called Alba Longa, shall Ascanius found.

  Sure stands the word; and now attend and hear, 46

  How best through present straits a prosperous course to steer.

  VII . “Arcadians here, a race of old renown,

  From Pallas sprung, with king Evander came,

  And on the hill-side built a chosen town,

  Called Pallanteum, from their founder’s name.

  Year after year they ply the war’s rude game

  With Latins. Go, and win them to thy side,

  Bid them as fellows to thy camp, and frame

  A league. Myself along the banks will guide, 55

  And teach thy labouring oars to mount the opposing tide.

  VIII . “Rise, Goddess-born, and, when the stars decline,

  Pray first to Juno, and on bended knee

  Subdue her wrath with supplication. Mine

  Shall be the victor’s homage; I am he,

  Heaven’s favoured stream, whose brimming waves ye see,

  Borne in full flood these flowery banks between,

  Chafe the fat soil and cleave the fruitful lea,

  Blue Tiber. Here my dwelling shall be seen, 64

  Fairest of lofty towns, the world’s majestic queen.”

  IX . So saying, the Stream-god dived beneath the flood,

  And sought the deep. Slumber at once and night

  Forsook Æneas; he arose, and stood,

  And eastward gazing at the dawning light,

  Scooped up the stream, obedient to the rite,

  And prayed, “O nymphs, Laurentian nymphs, whence spring

  All rivers; father Tiber, blest and bright,

  Receive Æneas as your own, and bring 73

  Peace to his toil-worn heart, and shield the Dardan king.

  X . “What pool soever holds thy source, where’er

  The soil, from whence thou leapest to the day

  In loveliness, these grateful hands shall bear

  Due gifts, these lips shall hallow thee for aye,

  Horned river, whom Hesperian streams obey,

  Whose pity cheers; be with us, I entreat,

  Confirm thy purpose, and thy power display.”

  He spake, and chose two biremes from the fleet, 82

  Equipped with oars, and rigged with crews and arms complete.

  XI . Lo! now a portent, wondrous to be seen.

  Stretched at full length along the bank, they view

  The fateful swine, conspicuous on the green,

  White, with her litter of the self-same hue.

  Her good Æneas, as an offering due,

  To Juno, mightiest of all powers divine,

  Yea, e’en to thee, dread Juno, caught and slew,

  And lit the altars and outpoured the wine, 91

  And left the dam and brood together at the shrine.

  XII . All night the Tiber stayed his swelling flood,

  And with hushed wave, recoiling from the main,

  Calm as some pool or quiet lake, he stood

  And smoothed his waters like a liquid plain,

  That not an oar should either strive or strain.

  Thus on they go; smooth glides the bark of pine,

  Borne with glad shouts; and ever and again

  The woods and waters wonder, as the line 100

  Of painted keels goes by, with arms of glittering shine.

  XIII . All night and day outwearying, they steer

  Up the long reaches, through the groves, that lie

  With green trees shadowing the tranquil mere.

  Now flamed the sun in the meridian high,

  When walls afar and citadel they spy,

  And scattered roofs. Where now the power of Rome

  Hath made her stately structures mate the sky,

  Then poor and lowly stood Evander’s home. 109

  Thither their prows are turned, and to the town they come.

  XIV . That day, Arcadia’s monarch, in a grove

  Before the town, a solemn feast had planned

  To Hercules and all the gods above.

  His son, young Pallas, and a youthful band,

  And humble senators around him stand,

  Each offering incense, and the warm, fresh blood

  Still smokes upon the shrines, when, hard at hand,

  They see the tall ships, through the shadowy wood, 118

  Glide up with silent oars along the sacred flood.

  XV . Scared by the sudden sight, all quickly rise

  And quit the board. But Pallas, bold of cheer,

  Bids them not break the worship. Forth he flies

  To meet the strangers, as their ships appear,

  His right hand brandishing a glittering spear.

  “Gallants,” he hails them from a mound afar,

  “What drove you hither by strange ways to steer?

  Say whither wending? who and what ye are? 127

  Your kin, and where your home? And bring ye peace or war?”

  XVI . Then sire Æneas from the stern outheld

  A branch of olive, and bespake him fair:

  “Troy’s sons ye see, by Latin pride expelled.

  ‘Gainst Latin enemies these arms we bear.

  We seek Evander. Go, the news declare:

  Choice Dardan chiefs his friendship come to claim.

  His aid we ask for, and his arms would share.”

  He ceased, and wonder and amazement came 136

  On Pallas, struck with awe to hear the mighty name.

  XVII . “Whoe’er thou art, hail, stranger,” he replied,

  “Step forth, and to my father tell thy quest,

  And take the welcome that true hearts provide.”

  Forth as he leaped, the Dardan’s hand he pressed,

  And, pressing, held it, and embraced his guest.

  So from the river through the grove they fare,

  And reach the place, where, feasting with the rest,

  They find Evander. Him with speeches fair 145

  Æneas hails, and hastes his errand to declare.

  XVIII . “O best of Greeks, whom thus with olive bough

  Hath Fortune willed me to entreat; yet so

  I shunned thee not, albeit Arcadian thou,

  A Danaan leader, in whose
veins doth flow

  The blood of Atreus, and my country’s foe.

  My conscious worth, our ties of ancestry,

  Thy fame, which rumour through the world doth blow,

  And Heaven’s own oracles, by Fate’s decree, 154

  My willing steps have led, and link my heart, to thee.

  XIX . “Troy’s founder, Dardanus, to the Teucrians came,

  Child of Electra, so the Greeks declare.

  Huge Atlas was Electra’s sire, the same

  Whose shoulders still the starry skies upbear.

  Your sire is Mercury, whom Maia fair

  On chill Cyllene’s summit bore of old;

  And Maia’s sire, if aught of truth we hear,

  Was Atlas, he who doth the spheres uphold. 163

  Thus from a single stock the double stems unfold.

  XX . “Trusting to this, no embassy I sent,

  No arts employed, thy purpose to explore.

  Myself, my proper person, I present,

  And stand a humble suppliant at thy door.

  Thy foes are ours, the Daunian race, and sore

  They grind us. If they drive us hence, they say,

  Their conquering arms shall stretch from shore to shore.

  Plight we our troth; strong arms are ours to-day, 172

  Stout hearts, and manhood proved in many a hard essay.”

  XXI . He ceased. Long while Evander marked with joy

  His face and eyes, and scanned through and through,

  Then spake: “O bravest of the sons of Troy!

  What joy to greet thee; thine the voice, the hue,

  The face of great Anchises, whom I knew.

  Well I remember, how, in days forepast,

  Old Priam came to Salamis, to view

  His sister’s realms, Hesione’s, and passed 181

  To far Arcadia, chilled with many a Northern blast.

  XXII . “Scarce o’er my cheeks the callow down had crept,

  With wondering awe I viewed the Trojan train,

  And gazed at Priam. But Anchises stepped

  The tallest. Boyish ardour made me fain

  To greet the hero, and his hand to strain.

  I ventured, and to Pheneus brought my guest.

  A Lycian case of arrows, bridles twain,

  All golden — Pallas holds them, — and a vest 190

  And scarf of broidered gold his parting thanks expressed.

  XXIII . “Take then the hand thou seekest; be it thine,

  The plighted pact; and when to-morrow’s ray

  Shall chase the shadows, and the dawn shall shine,

  Aid will I give you, and due stores purvey,

  And send you hence rejoicing on your way.

  Meanwhile, since Heaven forbids us to postpone

  These yearly rites, and we are friends, be gay

  And share with us the banquet. Sit ye down, — 199

  Behold, the boards are spread, — and make the feast your own.”

  XXIV . He spake, and back, at his command, they bring

  The food and wine. The chiefs, in order meet,

  Along the grass he ranges, and their king

  Leads to his throne; of maple was the seat;

  A lion’s hide lay bristling at his feet.

  Youths and the altar’s minister bring wine,

  And heap the bread, and serve the roasted meat.

  On lustral entrails and the bull’s whole chine, 208

  Couched round the Trojan king, the Trojan warriors dine.

  XXV . Then, when at last desire of food had ceased,

  Thus spake Evander: “Lo, this solemn show,

  This sacred altar, and this ordered feast,

  No idle witchwork are they. Well we know

  The ancient gods. Saved from a fearful foe,

  Each year the deed we celebrate. See there

  Yon nodding crag; behold the rocks below,

  Tost in huge ruin, and the lonely lair, 217

  Scooped from the mountain’s side, how wild the waste and bare!

  XXVI . “There yawned the cavern, in the rock’s dark womb,

  Wherein the monster Cacus dwelt of yore,

  Half-human. Never sunlight pierced the gloom;

  But day by day the rank earth reeked with gore,

  And human faces, nailed above the door,

  Hung, foul and ghastly. From the loins he came

  Of Vulcan, and his huge mouth evermore

  Spewed forth a torrent of Vulcanian flame; 226

  Proudly he stalked the earth, and shook the world’s fair frame.

  XXVII . “But time, in answer to our prayers, one day

  Brought aid, — a God to help us in our need.

  Flushed with the death of Geryon, came this way

  Alcides, glorying in the victor’s meed,

  And hither drove his mighty bulls to feed.

  These, pasturing in the valley, from his lair

  Fierce Cacus saw, and, scorning in his greed

  To leave undone what crime or craft could dare, 235

  Four beauteous heifers stole, four oxen sleek and fair.

  XXVIII . “Then, lest their footprints should the track declare,

  Back by their tails he dragged the captured kine,

  With hoofs reversed, and shut them in his lair,

  And whoso sought the cavern found no sign.

  But when at last Amphitryon’s son divine,

  His feasted herds, preparing to remove,

  Called from their pastures, and in long-drawn line,

  With plaintive lowing, the departing drove 244

  Trooped from the echoing hills, and clamours filled the grove,

  XXIX . “One of the heifers from the cave again

  Lowed back, in answer to the sound, and broke

  The hopes of Cacus, and his theft was plain.

  Black choler in Alcides’ breast awoke.

  Grasping his arms and club of knotted oak,

  Straight to the sky-capt Aventine he hies,

  And scales the steep. Then, not till then, our folk

  Saw Cacus tremble. To the cave he flies, 253

  Wing’d like the wind with fear, and terror in his eyes.

  XXX . “Scarce in, the rock he loosened with a blow,

  Slung high in iron by his father’s care,

  And with the barrier blocked the door; when lo,

  With heart aflame, great Hercules was there,

  And searched each way for access to his lair,

  Grinding his teeth. Thrice round the mount he threw

  His vengeful eyes, thrice strove from earth to tear

  The stone, and storm the threshold, thrice withdrew, 262

  And in the vale sat down, and nursed his wrath anew.

  XXXI . “Sharp-pointed, sheer above the dungeon, stood

  A crag, fit home for evil birds to light.

  This, where it frowned to leftward o’er the flood,

  Alcides shook, and, heaving from the right,

  Tore from its roots, and headlong down the height

  Impelled it. With the impulse and the fall

  Heaven thunders; back the river in affright

  Shrinks to its source. Bank leaps from bank, and all 271

  The mountain, yawning, shows the monster’s cave and hall.

  XXXII . “Stript of their roof, the dark abodes far back

  Lie open to their inmost; e’en as though

  Earth, rent asunder with convulsive wrack,

  And opening to the centre, gaped to show

  Hell’s regions, and the gloomy realms of woe,

  Abhorr’d of gods, and bare to mortals lay

  The vast abyss, while in the gulf below

  The pallid spectres, huddling in dismay, 280

  Looked up with dazzled eyes, at influx of the day.

  XXXIII . “Caught in his den, the startled monster strove,

  With uncouth bellowing, to elude the light.

  With darts Alcides plies him from abo
ve,

  Huge trunks and millstones seizing for the fight,

  Hard pressed at length, and desperate for flight,

  Black smoke he vomits, wondrous to be told,

  That shrouds the cavern, and obscures the sight,

  And, denser than the night, around his hold 289

  Thick darkness, mixt with fire, and smothering fumes are rolled.

  XXXIV . “Scorn filled Alcides, and his wrath outbroke,

  And through the fire, indignant, with a bound

  He dashes, where thickest rolled the cloud of smoke,

  And in black vapours all the cave was drowned.

  Here, vomiting his idle flames, he found

  Huge Cacus in the darkness. Like a thread

  He twists him — chokes him — pins him to the ground,

  The strangled eyeballs starting from his head; 298

  Blood leaves the blackened throat, the giant form lies dead.

  XXXV . “Then suddenly, as back the doors are torn,

  The gloomy den stands open, and the prey,

  The stolen oxen, and the spoils forsworn,

  Are bared to heaven, and by the heels straightway

  He drags the grisly carcase to the day.

  All, thronging round, with hungry gaze admire

  The monster. Lost in wonder and dismay

  They mark the eyes, late terrible with ire, 307

  The face, the bristly breast, the jaw’s extinguished fire.

  XXXVI . “Henceforth they solemnise this day divine,

  Their glad posterity from year to year,

  Potitius first, and the Pinarian line,

  Preserve the praise of Hercules; and here

  This altar named ‘the Greatest’ did they rear.

  (Greatest ‘twill be for ever). Come then, all,

  And give such worth due honour. Wreathe your hair,

  And pass the wine-bowl merrily, and call 316

  Each on our common God, the guardian of us all.”

  XXXVII . He spake; the God’s own poplar, fleckt with white,

  Hung, twining o’er his brows. His right hand bore

  The sacred bowl. All, gladdening, hail the rite,

  And pour libations, and the Gods adore.

  ’Twas evening, and the Western star once more

  Sloped towards Olympus. Forth Potitius came,

  Leading the priests, girt roughly, as of yore,