Aeneis
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Original / primary: Perseus Eng2
5.1.1
Meanwhile Aeneas, now well launched away,
5.1.2
steered forth with all the fleet to open sea,
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on his unswerving course, and ploughed the waves,
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sped by a driving gale; but when his eyes
5.1.5
looked back on Carthage, they beheld the glare
5.1.6
of hapless Dido's fire. Not yet was known
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what kindled the wild flames; but that the pang
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of outraged love is cruel, and what the heart
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of desperate woman dares, they knew too well,
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and sad foreboding shook each Trojan soul.
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Soon in mid-sea, beyond all chart of shore,
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when only seas and skies were round their way,
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full in the zenith loomed a purple cloud,
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storm-laden, dark as night, and every wave
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grew black and angry; from his Iofty seat
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the helmsman Palinurus cried, “Alas!
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What means this host of storms encircling heaven?
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What, Neptune, wilt thou now?” He, having said,
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bade reef and tighten, bend to stronger stroke,
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and slant sail to the wind; then spake again:
5.1.21
“High-souled Aeneas, not if Jove the King
5.1.22
gave happy omen, would I have good hope
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of making Italy through yonder sky.
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Athwart our course from clouded evening-star
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rebellious winds run shifting, and the air
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into a cloud-wrack rolls. Against such foes
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too weak our strife and strain! Since now the hand
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of Fortune triumphs, let us where she calls
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obedient go. For near us, I believe,
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lies Eryx' faithful and fraternal shore:
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here are Sicilian havens, if my mind
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of yon familiar stars have knowledge true.”
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then good Aeneas: “For a friendly wind
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long have I sued, and watched thee vainly strive.
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Shift sail! What happier land for me and mine,
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or for our storm-beat ships what safer shore,
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than where Dardanian Acestes reigns;
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the land whose faithful bosom cherishes
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Anchises' ashes?” Heedful of his word,
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they landward steer, while favoring zephyrs fill
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the spreading sail. On currents swift and strong
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the fleet is wafted, and with thankful soul
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they moor on Sicily's familiar strand.
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From a far hill-top having seen with joy
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the entering ships, and knowing them for friends,
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good King Acestes ran to bid them hail.
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Garbed in rough pelt of Libyan bear was he,
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and javelins he bore, in sylvan guise:
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for him the river-god Crimisus sired
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of Trojan wife. Remembering in his heart
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his ancient blood, he greeted with glad words
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the wanderers returned; bade welcome to
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his rude abundance, and with friendly gifts
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their weariness consoled. The morrow morn,
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soon as the new beams of a golden day
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had banished every star, Aeneas called
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a council of his followers on the shore,
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and from a fair green hillock gave this word:
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“Proud sons of Dardanus, whose lofty line
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none but the gods began! This day fulfils
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the annual cycle of revolving time,
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since the dear relics of my god-like sire
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to earth we gave, and with dark offerings due
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built altars sorrowful. If now I err not,
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this is my day—ye gods have willed it so! —
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for mourning and for praise. Should it befall
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me exiled in Gaetulia's wilderness,
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or sailing some Greek sea, or at the walls
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of dire Mycenae, still would I renew
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unfailing vows, and make solemnity
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with thankful rites, and worshipful array,
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at altars rich with gifts. But, lo, we come,
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beyond all hope, where lie the very bones
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of my great sire. Nor did it come to pass
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without divine intent and heavenly power,
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that on these hospitable shores we stand.
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Up, then! For we will make a festal day,
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imploring lucky winds! O, may his spirit
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grant me to build my city, where his shrines
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forever shall receive perpetual vows
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made in his name! This prince of Trojan line,
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Acestes, upon every ship bestows
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a pair of oxen. To our offerings call
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the powers that bless the altars and the fires
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of our ancestral hearth; and join with these
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the gods of good Acestes. Presently,
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when the ninth dawn shall bring its beam benign
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to mortal men, and show the radiant world,
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or all my Teucrian people I ordain
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a holiday of games; the flying ships
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shall first contend; then swiftest runners try
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a foot-race; after that the champions bold
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who step forth for a cast of javelins,
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or boast the soaring arrow; or fear not
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the boxing-bout, with gauntlet of thick thongs.
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This summons is for all; let all have hope
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to earn some noble palm! And from this hour
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speak but well-boding words, and bind your brows
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with garlands green.” So saying, he twined a wreath
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of his own mother's myrtle-tree, to shade
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his sacred brow; the hero Helymus,
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and King Acestes for his tresses gray,
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like coronals took on; Ascanius
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and all the warrior youth like emblems wore.
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Then in th' attendant throng conspicuous,
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with thousands at his side, the hero moved
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from place of council to his father's tomb.
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There on the ground he poured libation due,
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two beakers of good wine, of sweet milk two,
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two of the victim's blood—and scattered flowers
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of saddest purple stain, while thus he prayed:
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“Hail, hallowed sire! And hail, ye ashes dear
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of him I vainly saved! O soul and shade
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of my blest father! Heaven to us denied
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to find together that predestined land
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of Italy, or our Ausonian stream
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of Tiber—ah! but where?” He scarce had said,
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when from the central shrine a gliding snake,
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coiled seven-fold in seven spirals wide,
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twined round the tomb and trailed innocuous o'er
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the very altars; his smooth back was flecked
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with green and azure, and his changeful scales
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gleamed golden, as the cloud-born rainbow flings
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its thousand colors from th' opposing sun.
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Aeneas breathless watched the serpent wind
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among the bowls and cups of polished rim,
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tasting the sacred feast; where, having fed,
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back to the tomb all harmless it withdrew.
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Then with new zeal his sacrifice he brings
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in honor of his sire; for he must deem
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that serpent the kind genius of the place,
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or of his very father's present shade
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some creature ministrant. Two lambs he slew,
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the wonted way, two swine, and, sable-hued,
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the yoke of bulls; from shallow bowl he poured
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libation of the grape, and called aloud
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on great Anchises' spirit, and his shade,
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from Acheron set free. Then all the throng,
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each from his separate store, heap up the shrines
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with victims slain; some range in order fair
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the brazen cauldrons; or along the grass,
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scattered at ease, hold o'er the embers bright
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the spitted flesh and roast it in the flames.
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Arrived the wished-for day; through cloudless sky
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the coursers of the Sun's bright-beaming car
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bore upward the ninth morn. The neighboring folk
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thronged eager to the shore; some hoped to see
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Aeneas and his warriors, others fain
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would their own prowess prove in bout and game.
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Conspicuous lie the rewards, ranged in sight
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in the mid-circus; wreaths of laurel green,
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the honored tripod, coronals of palm
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for conquerors' brows, accoutrements of war,
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rare robes of purple stain, and generous weight
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of silver and of gold. The trumpet's call
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proclaimed from lofty mound the opening games.
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First, side by side, with sturdy, rival oars,
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four noble galleys, pride of all the fleet,
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come forward to contend. The straining crew
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of Mnestheus bring his speedy Pristis on, —
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Mnestheus in Italy erelong the sire
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of Memmius' noble line. Brave Gyas guides
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his vast Chimaera, a colossal craft,
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a floating city, by a triple row
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of Dardan sailors manned, whose banks of oars
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in triple order rise. Sergestus, he
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of whom the Sergian house shall after spring,
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rides in his mighty Centaur. Next in line,
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on sky-blue Scylla proud Cloanthus rides —
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whence thy great stem, Cluentius of Rome!
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Fronting the surf-beat shore, far out at sea
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rises a rock, which under swollen waves
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lies buffeted unseen, when wintry storms
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mantle the stars; but when the deep is calm,
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lifts silently above the sleeping wave
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its level field,—a place where haunt and play
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flocks of the sea-birds, Iovers of the sun.
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Here was the goal; and here Aeneas set
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a green-leaved flex-tree, to be a mark
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for every captain's eye, from whence to veer
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the courses of their ships in sweeping curves
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and speed them home. Now places in the line
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are given by lot. Upon the lofty sterns
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the captains ride, in beautiful array
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of Tyriao purple and far-flaming gold;
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the crews are poplar-crowned, the shoulders bare
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rubbed well with glittering oil; their straining arms
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make long reach to the oar, as on the thwarts
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they sit attentive, listening for the call
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of the loud trumpet; while with pride and fear
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their hot hearts throb, impassioned for renown.
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Soon pealed the signal clear; from all the line
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instant the galleys bounded, and the air
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rang to the rowers, shouting, while their arms
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pulled every inch and flung the waves in foam;
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deep cut the rival strokes; the surface fair
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yawned wide beneath their blades and cleaving keels.
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Not swifter scour the chariots o'er the plain,
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sped headlong from the line behind their teams
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of mated coursers, while each driver shakes
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loose, rippling reins above his plunging pairs,
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and o'er the lash leans far. With loud applause
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vociferous and many an urgent cheer
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the woodlands rang, and all the concave shores
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back from the mountains took the Trojan cry
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in answering song. Forth-flying from his peers,
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while all the crowd acclaims, sped Gyas' keel
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along the outmost wave. Cloanthus next
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pushed hard upon, with stronger stroke of oars
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but heavier ship. At equal pace behind
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the Pristis and the Centaur fiercely strive
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for the third place. Now Pristis seems to lead,
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now mightier Centaur past her flies, then both
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ride on together, prow with prow, and cleave
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long lines of foaming furrow with swift keels.
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Soon near the rock they drew, and either ship
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was making goal,—when Gyas, in the lead,
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and winner of the half-course, Ioudly hailed
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menoetes, the ship's pilot: “Why so far
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to starboard, we? Keep her head round this way!
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Hug shore! Let every oar-blade almost graze
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that reef to larboard! Let the others take
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the deep-sea course outside!” But while he spoke,
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Menoetes, dreading unknown rocks below,
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veered off to open sea. “Why steer so wide?
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Round to the rock, Menoetes!” Gyas roared, —
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again in vain, for looking back he saw
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cloanthus hard astern, and ever nearer,
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who, in a trice, betwixt the booming reef
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and Gyas' galley, lightly forward thrust
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the beak of Scylla to the inside course,
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and, quickly taking lead, flew past the goal
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to the smooth seas beyond. Then wrathful grief
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flamed in the warrior's heart, nor was his cheek
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unwet with tears; and, reckless utterly
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of his own honor and his comrades, lives,
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he hurled poor, slack Menoetes from the poop
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headlong upon the waters, while himself,
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pilot and master both, the helm assuming,
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urged on his crew, and landward took his way.
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But now, with heavy limbs that hardly won
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his rescue from the deep, engulfing wave,
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up the rude rock graybeard Menoetes climbed
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with garment dripping wet, and there dropped down
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upon the cliff's dry top. With laughter loud
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the Trojan crews had watched him plunging, swimming,
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and now to see his drink of bitter brine
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spewed on the ground, the sailors laughed again.
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But Mnestheus and Sergestus, coming last,
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have joyful hope enkindled in each heart
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to pass the laggard Gyas. In the lead
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Sergestus' ship shoots forth; and to the rock
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runs boldly nigh; but not his whole long keel
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may pass his rival; the projecting beak
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is followed fast by Pristis' emulous prow.
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Then, striding straight amidships through his crew,
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thus Mnestheus urged them on: “O Hector's friends!
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Whom in the dying hours of Troy I chose
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for followers! Now stand ye to your best!
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Put forth the thews of valor that ye showed
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in the Gaetulian Syrtes, or that sea
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Ionian, or where the waves race by
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the Malean promontory! Mnestheus now
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hopes not to be the first, nor do I strive
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for victory. O Father Neptune, give
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that garland where thou wilt! But O, the shame
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if we are last! Endure it not, my men!
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The infamy refuse!” So, bending low,
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they enter the home-stretch. Beneath their stroke
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the brass-decked galley throbs, and under her
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the sea-floor drops away. On, on they fly!
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Parched are the panting lips, and sweat in streams
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pours down their giant sides; but lucky chance
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brought the proud heroes what their honor craved.
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For while Sergestus furiously drove
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his ship's beak toward the rock, and kept inside
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the scanty passage, by his evil star
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he grounded on the jutting reef; the cliffs
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rang with the blow, and his entangled oars
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grated along the jagged granite, while
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the prow hung wrecked and helpless. With loud cry
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upsprang the sailors, while the ship stood still,
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and pushed off with long poles and pointed iron,
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or snatched the smashed oars from the whirling tide.
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Mnestheus exults; and, roused to keener strife
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by happy fortune, with a quicker stroke
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of each bright rank of oars, and with the breeze
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his prayer implored, skims o'er the obedient wave
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and sweeps the level main. Not otherwise
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a startled dove, emerging o'er the fields
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from secret cavern in the crannied hill
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where her safe house and pretty nestlings lie,
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soars from her nest, with whirring wings—but soon
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through the still sky she takes her path of air
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on pinions motionless. So Pristis sped
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with Mnestheus, cleaving her last stretch of sea,
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by her own impulse wafted. She outstripped
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Sergestus first; for he upon the reef
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fought with the breakers, desperately shouting
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for help, for help in vain, with broken oars
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contriving to move on. Then Mnestheus ran
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past Gyas, in Chimaera's ponderous hulk,
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of pilot now bereft; at last remains
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Cloanthus his sole peer, whom he pursues
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with a supreme endeavor. From the shore
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burst echoing cheers that spur him to the chase,
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and wild applause makes all the welkin ring.
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The leaders now with eager souls would scorn
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to Iose their glory, and faint-hearted fail
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to grasp a prize half-won, but fain would buy
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honor with life itself; the followers too
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are flushed with proud success, and feel them strong
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because their strength is proven. Both ships now
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with indistinguishable prows had sped
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to share one prize,—but with uplifted hands
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spread o'er the sea, Cloanthus, suppliant,
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called on the gods to bless his votive prayer:
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“Ye gods who rule the waves, whose waters be
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my pathway now; for you on yonder strand
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a white bull at the altar shall be slain
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in grateful tribute for a granted vow;
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and o'er the salt waves I will scatter far
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the entrails, and outpour the flowing wine.”
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He spoke; and from the caverns under sea
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Phorcus and virgin Panopea heard,
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and all the sea-nymphs' choir; while with strong hand
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the kindly God of Havens rose and thrust
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the gliding ship along, that swifter flew
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than south wind, or an arrow from the string,
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and soon made land in haven safe and sure.
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Aeneas then, assembling all to hear,
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by a far-sounding herald's voice proclaimed
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Cloanthus victor, and arrayed his brows
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with the green laurel-garland; to the crews
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three bulls, at choice, were given, and plenteous wine
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and talent-weight of silver; to the chiefs
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illustrious gifts beside; the victor had
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a gold-embroidered mantle with wide band
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of undulant Meliboean purple rare,
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where, pictured in the woof, young Ganymede
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through Ida's forest chased the light-foot deer
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with javelin; all flushed and panting he.
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But lo! Jove's thunder-bearing eagle fell,
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and his strong talons snatched from Ida far
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the royal boy, whose aged servitors
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reached helpless hands to heaven; his faithful hound
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bayed fiercely at the air. To him whose worth
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the second place had won, Aeneas gave
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a smooth-linked golden corselet, triple-chained,
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of which his own victorious hand despoiled
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Demoleos, by the swift, embattled stream
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of Simois, under Troy,—and bade it be
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a glory and defence on valor's field;
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scarce might the straining shoulders of two slaves,
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Phegeus and Sagaris, the load endure,
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yet oft Demoleos in this armor dressed
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charged down full speed on routed hosts of Troy.
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The third gift was two cauldrons of wrought brass,
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and bowls of beaten silver, cunningly
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embossed with sculpture fair. Bearing such gifts,
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th' exultant victors onward moved, each brow
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bound with a purple fillet. But behold!
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Sergestus, from the grim rock just dragged off
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by cunning toil, one halting rank of oars
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left of his many lost, comes crawling in
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with vanquished ship, a mockery to all.
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As when a serpent, on the highway caught,
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some brazen wheel has crushed, or traveller
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with heavy-smiting blow left half alive
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and mangled by a stone; in vain he moves
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in writhing flight; a part is lifted high
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with hissing throat and angry, glittering eyes;
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but by the wounded part a captive still
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he knots him fold on fold: with such a track
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the maimed ship labored slow; but by her sails
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she still made way, and with full canvas on
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arrived at land. Aeneas then bestowed
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a boon upon Sergestus, as was meet
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for reward of the ship in safety brought
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with all its men; a fair slave was the prize,
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the Cretan Pholoe, well taught to weave,
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and twin boy-babes upon her breast she bore.
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Then good Aeneas, the ship-contest o'er,
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turned to a wide green valley, circled round
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with clasp of wood-clad hills, wherein was made
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an amphitheatre; entering with a throng
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of followers, the hero took his seat
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in mid-arena on a lofty mound.
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For the fleet foot-race, now, his summons flies, —
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he offers gifts, and shows the rewards due.
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The mingling youth of Troy and Sicily
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hastened from far. Among the foremost came
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the comrades Nisus and Euryalus,
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Euryalus for beauty's bloom renowned,
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Nisus for loyal love; close-following these
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Diores strode, a prince of Priam's line;
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then Salius and Patron, who were bred
5.286.398
in Acarnania and Arcady;
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then two Sicilian warriors, Helymus
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and Panopes, both sylvan bred and born,
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comrades of King Acestes; after these
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the multitude whom Fame forgets to tell.
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Aeneas, so surrounded, thus spake forth:
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“Hear what I purpose, and with joy receive!
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of all your company, not one departs
5.286.406
with empty hand. The Cretan javelins
5.286.407
bright-tipped with burnished steel, and battle-axe
5.286.408
adorned with graven silver, these shall be
5.286.409
the meed of all. The three first at the goal
5.286.410
shall bind their foreheads with fair olive green,
5.286.411
and win the rewards due. The first shall lead,
5.286.412
victorious, yon rich-bridled steed away;
5.286.413
this Amazonian quiver, the next prize,
5.286.414
well-stocked with Thracian arrows; round it goes
5.286.415
a baldrick broad and golden,—in its clasp
5.286.416
a lustrous gem. The third man goes away
5.286.417
taking this helmet from the Argive spoil.”
5.315.418
They heard, and took their places. The loud horn
5.315.419
gave signal, and impetuous from the line,
5.315.420
swift as a bursting storm they sped away,
5.315.421
eyes fixed upon the goal. Far in advance
5.315.422
Nisus shot forward, swifter than the winds
5.315.423
or winged thunderbolt; the next in course,
5.315.424
next, but out-rivalled far, was Salius,
5.315.425
and after him a space, Euryalus
5.315.426
came third; him Helymus was hard upon;
5.315.427
and, look! Diores follows, heel on heel,
5.315.428
close at his shoulder—if the race be long
5.315.429
he sure must win, or claim a doubtful prize.
5.315.430
Now at the last stretch, spent and panting, all
5.315.431
pressed to the goal, when in a slime of blood
5.315.432
Nisus, hard fate! slipped down, where late the death
5.315.433
of victims slain had drenched the turf below.
5.315.434
Here the young victor, with his triumph flushed,
5.315.435
lost foothold on the yielding ground, and plunged
5.315.436
face forward in the pool of filth and gore;
5.315.437
but not of dear Euryalus was he
5.315.438
forgetful then, nor heedless of his friend;
5.315.439
but rising from the mire he hurled himself
5.315.440
in Salius' way; so he in equal plight
5.315.441
rolled in the filthy slough. Euryalus
5.315.442
leaped forth, the winner of the race by gift
5.315.443
of his true friend, and flying to the goal
5.315.444
stood first, by many a favoring shout acclaimed.
5.315.445
Next Helymus ran in; and, for the third, last prize,
5.315.446
Diores. But the multitude now heard
5.315.447
the hollowed hill-side ringing with wild wrath
5.315.448
from Salius, clamoring where the chieftains sate
5.315.449
for restitution of his stolen prize,
5.315.450
lost by a cheat. But general favor smiles
5.315.451
upon Euryalus, whose beauteous tears
5.315.452
commend him much, and nobler seems the worth
5.315.453
of valor clothed in youthful shape so fair.
5.315.454
Diores, too, assists the victor's claim,
5.315.455
with loud appeal—he too has won a prize,
5.315.456
and vainly holds his last place, if the first
5.315.457
to Salius fall. Aeneas then replied:
5.315.458
“Your gifts, my gallant youths, remain secure.
5.315.459
None can re-judge the prize. But to console
5.315.460
the misadventure of a blameless friend,
5.315.461
is in my power.” Therewith to Salius
5.315.462
an Afric lion's monstrous pelt he gave,
5.315.463
with ponderous mane, the claws o'erlaid with gold.
5.315.464
But Nisus cried: “If such a gift be found
5.315.465
for less than victory, and men who fall
5.315.466
are worthy so much sorrow, pray, what prize
5.315.467
shall Nisus have? For surely I had won
5.315.468
the proudest of the garlands, if one stroke
5.315.469
of inauspicious fortune had not fallen
5.315.470
on Salius and me.” So saying, he showed
5.315.471
his smeared face and his sorry limbs befouled
5.315.472
with mire and slime. Then laughed the gracious sire,
5.315.473
and bade a shield be brought, the cunning work
5.315.474
of Didymaon, which the Greeks tore down
5.315.475
from Neptune's temple; with this noble gift
5.315.476
he sent the high-born youth upon his way.
5.362.477
The foot-race over and the gifts disbursed,
5.362.478
“Come forth!” he cries, “if any in his heart
5.362.479
have strength and valor, let him now pull on
5.362.480
the gauntlets and uplift his thong-bound arms
5.362.481
in challenge.” For the reward of this fight
5.362.482
a two-fold gift he showed: the victor's meed,
5.362.483
a bullock decked and gilded; but a sword
5.362.484
and glittering helmet to console the fallen.
5.362.485
Straightway, in all his pride of giant strength,
5.362.486
Dares Ioomed up, and wondering murmurs ran
5.362.487
along the gazing crowd; for he alone
5.362.488
was wont to match with Paris, he it was
5.362.489
met Butes, the huge-bodied champion
5.362.490
boasting the name and race of Amycus,
5.362.491
Bythinian-born; him felled he at a blow,
5.362.492
and stretched him dying on the tawny sand.
5.362.493
Such Dares was, who now held high his head,
5.362.494
fierce for the fray, bared both his shoulders broad,
5.362.495
lunged out with left and right, and beat the air.
5.362.496
Who shall his rival be? Of all the throng
5.362.497
not one puts on the gauntlets, or would face
5.362.498
the hero's challenge. Therefore, striding forth,
5.362.499
believing none now dare but yield the palm,
5.362.500
he stood before Aeneas, and straightway
5.362.501
seized with his left hand the bull's golden horn,
5.362.502
and cried, “O goddess-born, if no man dares
5.362.503
to risk him in this fight, how Iong delay?
5.362.504
how Iong beseems it I should stand and wait?
5.362.505
Bid me bear off my prize.” The Trojans all
5.362.506
murmured assent, and bade the due award
5.362.507
of promised gift. But with a brow severe
5.362.508
Acestes to Entellus at his side
5.362.509
addressed upbraiding words, where they reclined
5.362.510
on grassy bank and couch of pleasant green:
5.362.511
“O my Entellus, in the olden days
5.362.512
bravest among the mighty, but in vain!
5.362.513
Endurest thou to see yon reward won
5.362.514
without a blow? Where, prithee, is that god
5.362.515
who taught thee? Are thy tales of Eryx vain?
5.362.516
Does all Sicilia praise thee? Is thy roof
5.362.517
with trophies hung?” The other in reply:
5.362.518
“My jealous honor and good name yield not
5.362.519
to fear. But age, so cold and slow to move,
5.362.520
makes my blood laggard, and my ebbing powers
5.362.521
in all my body are but slack and chill.
5.362.522
O, if I had what yonder ruffian boasts—
5.362.523
my own proud youth once more! I would not ask
5.362.524
the fair bull for a prize, nor to the lists
5.362.525
in search of gifts come forth.” So saying, he threw
5.362.526
into the mid-arena a vast pair
5.362.527
of ponderous gauntlets, which in former days
5.362.528
fierce Eryx for his fights was wont to bind
5.362.529
on hand and arm, with the stiff raw-hide thong.
5.362.530
All marvelled; for a weight of seven bulls' hides
5.362.531
was pieced with lead and iron. Dares stared
5.362.532
astonished, and step after step recoiled;
5.362.533
high-souled Anchises' son, this way and that,
5.362.534
turned o'er the enormous coil of knots and thongs;
5.362.535
then with a deep-drawn breath the veteran spoke:
5.362.536
“O, that thy wondering eyes had seen the arms
5.362.537
of Hercules, and what his gauntlets were!
5.362.538
Would thou hadst seen the conflict terrible
5.362.539
upon this self-same shore! These arms were borne
5.362.540
by Eryx. Look; thy brother's!—spattered yet
5.362.541
with blood, with dashed-out brains! In these he stood
5.362.542
when he matched Hercules. I wore them oft
5.362.543
when in my pride and prime, ere envious age
5.362.544
shed frost upon my brows. But if these arms
5.362.545
be of our Trojan Dares disapproved,
5.362.546
if good Aeneas rules it so, and King
5.362.547
Acestes wills it, let us offer fight
5.362.548
on even terms. Let Eryx' bull's-hide go.
5.362.549
Tremble no more! But strip those gauntlets off —
5.362.550
fetched here from Troy.” So saying, he dropped down
5.362.551
the double-folded mantle from his shoulders,
5.362.552
stripped bare the huge joints, the huge arms and thews,
5.362.553
and towered gigantic in the midmost ring.
5.362.554
Anchises' son then gave two equal pairs
5.362.555
of gauntlets, and accoutred with like arms
5.362.556
both champions. Each lifted him full height
5.362.557
on tiptoe; each with mien unterrified
5.362.558
held both fists high in air, and drew his head
5.362.559
far back from blows assailing. Then they joined
5.362.560
in struggle hand to hand, and made the fray
5.362.561
each moment fiercer. One was light of foot
5.362.562
and on his youth relied; the other strong
5.362.563
in bulk of every limb, but tottering
5.362.564
on sluggish knees, while all his body shook
5.362.565
with labor of his breath. Without avail
5.362.566
they rained their blows, and on each hollow side,
5.362.567
each sounding chest, the swift, reverberate strokes
5.362.568
fell without pause; around their ears and brows
5.362.569
came blow on blow, and with relentless shocks
5.362.570
the smitten jaws cracked loud. Entellus stands
5.362.571
unshaken, and, the self-same posture keeping,
5.362.572
only by body-movement or quick eye
5.362.573
parries attack. Dares (like one in siege
5.362.574
against a mountain-citadel, who now will drive
5.362.575
with ram and engine at the craggy wall,
5.362.576
now wait in full-armed watch beneath its towers)
5.362.577
tries manifold approach, most craftily
5.362.578
invests each point of vantage, and renews
5.362.579
his unsuccessful, ever various war.
5.362.580
Then, rising to the stroke, Entellus poised
5.362.581
aloft his ponderous right; but, quick of eye,
5.362.582
the other the descending wrath foresaw
5.362.583
and nimbly slipped away; Entellus so
5.362.584
wasted his stroke on air, and, self-o'erthrown,
5.362.585
dropped prone to earth his monstrous length along,
5.362.586
as when on Erymanth or Ida falls
5.362.587
a hollowed pine from giant roots uptorn.
5.362.588
Alike the Teucrian and Trinacrian throng
5.362.589
shout wildly; while Acestes, pitying, hastes
5.362.590
to lift his gray companion. But, unchecked,
5.362.591
undaunted by his fall, the champion brave
5.362.592
rushed fiercer to the fight, his strength now roused
5.362.593
by rage, while shame and courage confident
5.362.594
kindle his soul; impetuous he drives
5.362.595
Dares full speed all round the ring, with blows
5.362.596
redoubled right and left. No stop or stay
5.362.597
gives he, but like a storm of rattling hail
5.362.598
upon a house-top, so from each huge hand
5.362.599
the champion's strokes on dizzy Dares fall.
5.461.600
Then Sire Aeneas willed to make a stay
5.461.601
to so much rage, nor let Entellus' soul
5.461.602
flame beyond bound, but bade the battle pause,
5.461.603
and, rescuing weary Dares, thus he spoke
5.461.604
in soothing words: “Ill-starred! What mad attempt
5.461.605
is in thy mind? Will not thy heart confess
5.461.606
thy strength surpassed, and auspices averse?
5.461.607
Submit, for Heaven decrees!” With such wise words
5.461.608
he sundered the fell strife. But trusty friends
5.461.609
bore Dares off: his spent limbs helpless trailed,
5.461.610
his head he could not lift, and from his lips
5.461.611
came blood and broken teeth. So to the ship
5.461.612
they bore him, taking, at Aeneas' word,
5.461.613
the helmet and the sword—but left behind
5.461.614
Entellus' prize of victory, the bull.
5.461.615
He, then, elate and glorying, spoke forth:
5.461.616
“See, goddess-born, and all ye Teucrians, see,
5.461.617
what strength was mine in youth, and from what death
5.461.618
ye have clelivered Dares.” Saying so,
5.461.619
he turned him full front to the bull, who stood
5.461.620
for reward of the fight, and, drawing back
5.461.621
his right hand, poising the dread gauntlet high,
5.461.622
swung sheer between the horns and crushed the skull;
5.461.623
a trembling, lifeless creature, to the ground
5.461.624
the bull dropped forward dead. Above the fallen
5.461.625
Entellus cried aloud, “This victim due
5.461.626
I give thee, Eryx, more acceptable
5.461.627
than Dares' death to thy benignant shade.
5.461.628
For this last victory and joyful day,
5.461.629
my gauntlets and my art I leave with thee.”
5.485.630
Forthwith Aeneas summons all who will
5.485.631
to contest of swift arrows, and displays
5.485.632
reward and prize. With mighty hand he rears
5.485.633
a mast within th' arena, from the ship
5.485.634
of good Sergestus taken; and thereto
5.485.635
a fluttering dove by winding cord is bound
5.485.636
for target of their shafts. Soon to the match
5.485.637
the rival bowmen came and cast the lots
5.485.638
into a brazen helmet. First came forth
5.485.639
Hippocoon's number, son of Hyrtacus,
5.485.640
by cheers applauded; Mnestheus was the next,
5.485.641
late victor in the ship-race, Mnestheus crowned
5.485.642
with olive-garland; next Eurytion,
5.485.643
brother of thee, O bowman most renowned,
5.485.644
Pandarus, breaker of the truce, who hurled
5.485.645
his shaft upon the Achaeans, at the word
5.485.646
the goddess gave. Acestes' Iot and name
5.485.647
came from the helmet last, whose royal hand
5.485.648
the deeds of youth dared even yet to try.
5.485.649
Each then with strong arm bends his pliant bow,
5.485.650
each from the quiver plucks a chosen shaft.
5.485.651
First, with loud arrow whizzing from the string,
5.485.652
the young Hippocoon with skyward aim
5.485.653
cuts through the yielding air; and lo! his barb
5.485.654
pierces the very wood, and makes the mast
5.485.655
tremble; while with a fluttering, frighted wing
5.485.656
the bird tugs hard,—and plaudits fill the sky.
5.485.657
Boldly rose Mnestheus, and with bow full-drawn
5.485.658
aimed both his eye and shaft aloft; but he
5.485.659
failing, unhappy man, to bring his barb
5.485.660
up to the dove herself, just cut the cord
5.485.661
and broke the hempen bond, whereby her feet
5.485.662
were captive to the tree: she, taking flight,
5.485.663
clove through the shadowing clouds her path of air.
5.485.664
But swiftly—for upon his waiting bow
5.485.665
he held a shaft in rest—Eurytion
5.485.666
invoked his brother's shade, and, marking well
5.485.667
the dove, whose happy pinions fluttered free
5.485.668
in vacant sky, pierced her, hard by a cloud;
5.485.669
lifeless she fell, and left in light of heaven
5.485.670
her spark of life, as, floating down, she bore
5.485.671
the arrow back to earth. Acestes now
5.485.672
remained, last rival, though the victor's palm
5.485.673
to him was Iost; yet did the aged sire,
5.485.674
to show his prowess and resounding bow,
5.485.675
hurl forth one shaft in air; then suddenly
5.485.676
all eyes beheld such wonder as portends
5.485.677
events to be (but when fulfilment came,
5.485.678
too late the fearful seers its warning sung):
5.485.679
for, soaring through the stream of cloud, his shaft
5.485.680
took fire, tracing its bright path in flame,
5.485.681
then vanished on the wind,—as oft a star
5.485.682
will fall unfastened from the firmament,
5.485.683
while far behind its blazing tresses flow.
5.485.684
Awe-struck both Trojan and Trinacrian stood,
5.485.685
calling upon the gods. Nor came the sign
5.485.686
in vain to great Aeneas. But his arms
5.485.687
folded the blest Acestes to his heart,
5.485.688
and, Ioading him with noble gifts, he cried:
5.485.689
“Receive them, sire! The great Olympian King
5.485.690
some peerless honor to thy name decrees
5.485.691
by such an omen given. I offer thee
5.485.692
this bowl with figures graven, which my sire,
5.485.693
good gray Anchises, for proud gift received
5.485.694
of Thracian Cisseus, for their friendship's pledge
5.485.695
and memory evermore.” Thereon he crowned
5.485.696
his brows with garland of the laurel green,
5.485.697
and named Acestes victor over all.
5.485.698
Nor could Eurytion, noble youth, think ill
5.485.699
of honor which his own surpassed, though he,
5.485.700
he only, pierced the bird in upper air.
5.485.701
Next gift was his whose arrow cut the cord;
5.485.702
last, his whose light shaft clove the lofty pine.
5.545.703
Father Aeneas now, not making end
5.545.704
of game and contest, summoned to his side
5.545.705
Epytides, the mentor and true friend
5.545.706
of young Iulus, and this bidding gave
5.545.707
to his obedient ear: “Arise and go
5.545.708
where my Ascanius has lined his troop
5.545.709
of youthful cavalry, and trained the steeds
5.545.710
to tread in ranks of war. Bid him lead forth
5.545.711
the squadron in our sire Anchises' name,
5.545.712
and wear a hero's arms!” So saying, he bade
5.545.713
the course be cleared, and from the whole wide field
5.545.714
th' insurging, curious multitude withdrew.
5.545.715
In rode the boys, to meet their parents' eyes,
5.545.716
in even lines, a glittering cavalry;
5.545.717
while all Trinacria and the host from Troy
5.545.718
made loud applause. On each bright brow
5.545.719
a well-trimmed wreath the flowing tresses bound;
5.545.720
two javelins of corner tipped with steel
5.545.721
each bore for arms; some from the shoulder slung
5.545.722
a polished quiver; to each bosom fell
5.545.723
a pliant necklace of fine, twisted gold.
5.545.724
Three bands of horsemen ride, three captains proud
5.545.725
prance here and there, assiduous in command,
5.545.726
each of his twelve, who shine in parted lines
5.545.727
which lesser captains lead. One cohort proud
5.545.728
follows a little Priam's royal name —
5.545.729
one day, Polites, thy illustrious race
5.545.730
through him prolonged, shall greater glory bring
5.545.731
to Italy. A dappled Thracian steed
5.545.732
with snow-white spots and fore-feet white as snow
5.545.733
bears him along, its white face lifted high.
5.545.734
Next Atys rode, young Atys, sire to be
5.545.735
of th' Atian house in Rome, a boy most dear
5.545.736
unto the boy Iulus; last in line,
5.545.737
and fairest of the throng, Iulus came,
5.545.738
astride a steed from Sidon, the fond gift
5.545.739
of beauteous Dido and her pledge of love.
5.545.740
Close followed him the youthful chivalry
5.545.741
of King Acestes on Trinacrian steeds.
5.575.742
The Trojans, with exultant, Ioud acclaim,
5.575.743
receive the shy-faced boys, and joyfully
5.575.744
trace in the features of the sons their sires.
5.575.745
After, with smiling eyes, the horsemen proud
5.575.746
have greeted each his kin in all the throng,
5.575.747
Epytides th' appointed signal calls,
5.575.748
and cracks his lash; in even lines they move,
5.575.749
then, Ioosely sundering in triple band,
5.575.750
wheel at a word and thrust their lances forth
5.575.751
in hostile ranks; or on the ample field
5.575.752
retreat or charge, in figure intricate
5.575.753
of circling troop with troop, and swift parade
5.575.754
of simulated war; now from the field
5.575.755
they flee with backs defenceless to the foe;
5.575.756
then rally, lance in rest—or, mingling all,
5.575.757
make common front, one legion strong and fair.
5.575.758
As once in Crete, the lofty mountain-isle,
5.575.759
that-fabled labyrinthine gallery
5.575.760
wound on through lightless walls, with thousand paths
5.575.761
which baffled every clue, and led astray
5.575.762
in unreturning mazes dark and blind:
5.575.763
so did the sons of Troy their courses weave
5.575.764
in mimic flights and battles fought for play,
5.575.765
like dolphins tumbling in the liquid waves,
5.575.766
along the Afric or Carpathian seas.
5.575.767
This game and mode of march Ascanius,
5.575.768
when Alba Longa's bastions proudly rose,
5.575.769
taught to the Latin people of the prime;
5.575.770
and as the princely Trojan and his train
5.575.771
were wont to do, so Alba to her sons
5.575.772
the custom gave; so glorious Rome at last
5.575.773
the heritage accepted and revered;
5.575.774
and still we know them for the “Trojan Band,”
5.575.775
and call the lads a “Troy.” Such was the end
5.575.776
of game and contest at Anchises' grave.
5.604.777
Then fortune veered and different aspect wore.
5.604.778
For 'ere the sacred funeral games are done,
5.604.779
Saturnian Juno from high heaven sent down
5.604.780
the light-winged Iris to the ships of Troy,
5.604.781
giving her flight good wind—still full of schemes
5.604.782
and hungering to avenge her ancient wrong.
5.604.783
Unseen of mortal eye, the virgin took
5.604.784
her pathway on the thousand-colored bow,
5.604.785
and o'er its gliding passage earthward flew.
5.604.786
She scanned the vast assemblage; then her gaze
5.604.787
turned shoreward, where along the idle bay
5.604.788
the Trojan galleys quite unpeopled rode.
5.604.789
But far removed, upon a lonely shore,
5.604.790
a throng of Trojan dames bewailed aloud
5.604.791
their lost Anchises, and with tears surveyed
5.604.792
the mighty deep. “O weary waste of seas!
5.604.793
What vast, untravelled floods beyond us roll!”
5.604.794
So cried they with one voice, and prayed the gods
5.604.795
for an abiding city; every heart
5.604.796
loathed utterly the long, laborious sea.
5.604.797
Then in their midst alighted, not unskilled
5.604.798
in working woe, the goddess; though she wore
5.604.799
nor garb nor form divine, but made herself
5.604.800
one Beroe, Doryclus' aged wife,
5.604.801
who in her happier days had lineage fair
5.604.802
and sons of noble name; in such disguise
5.604.803
she called the Trojan dames:“O ye ill-starred,
5.604.804
that were not seized and slain by Grecian foes
5.604.805
under your native walls! O tribe accursed,
5.604.806
what death is Fate preparing? Since Troy fell
5.604.807
the seventh summer flies, while still we rove
5.604.808
o'er cruel rocks and seas, from star to star,
5.604.809
from alien land to land, as evermore
5.604.810
we chase, storm-tossed, that fleeting Italy
5.604.811
across the waters wide. Behold this land
5.604.812
of Eryx, of Acestes, friend and kin;
5.604.813
what hinders them to raise a rampart here
5.604.814
and build a town? O city of our sires!
5.604.815
O venerated gods from haughty foes
5.604.816
rescued in vain! Will nevermore a wall
5.604.817
rise in the name of Troy? Shall I not see
5.604.818
a Xanthus or a Simois, the streams
5.604.819
to Hector dear? Come now! I lead the way.
5.604.820
Let us go touch their baneful ships with fire!
5.604.821
I saw Cassandra in a dream. Her shade,
5.604.822
prophetic ever, gave me firebrands,
5.604.823
and cried, ‘Find Ilium so! The home for thee
5.604.824
is where thou art.’ Behold, the hour is ripe
5.604.825
for our great act! No longer now delay
5.604.826
to heed the heavenly omen. Yonder stand
5.604.827
four altars unto Neptune. 'T is the god,
5.604.828
the god himself, gives courage for the deed,
5.604.829
and swift-enkindling fire.” So having said,
5.604.830
she seized a dreadful brand; then, lifting high,
5.604.831
waved it all flaming, and with furious arm
5.604.832
hurled it from far. The Ilian matrons gazed,
5.604.833
bewildered and appalled. But one, of all
5.604.834
the eldest, Pyrgo, venerated nurse
5.604.835
of Priam's numerous sons, exclaimed, “Nay, nay!
5.604.836
This is no Beroe, my noble dames.
5.604.837
Doryclus knew her not. Behold and see
5.604.838
her heavenly beauty and her radiant eyes!
5.604.839
What voice of music and majestic mien,
5.604.840
what movement like a god! Myself am come
5.604.841
from Beroe sick, and left her grieving sore
5.604.842
that she, she only, had no gift to bring
5.604.843
of mournful honor to Anchises' shade.”
5.604.844
She spoke. The women with ill-boding eyes
5.604.845
looked on the ships. Their doubting hearts were torn
5.604.846
'twixt tearful passion for the beauteous isle
5.604.847
their feet then trod, and that prophetic call
5.604.848
of Fate to lands unknown. Then on wide wings
5.604.849
soared Iris into heaven, and through the clouds
5.604.850
clove a vast arch of light. With wonder dazed,
5.604.851
the women in a shrieking frenzy rose,
5.604.852
took embers from the hearth-stones, stole the fires
5.604.853
upon the altars—faggots, branches, brands —
5.604.854
and rained them on the ships. The god of fire,
5.604.855
through thwarts and oars and bows of painted fir,
5.604.856
ran in unbridled flame. Swift to the tomb
5.604.857
of Sire Anchises, to the circus-seats,
5.604.858
the messenger Eumelus flew, to bring
5.604.859
news of the ships on fire; soon every eye
5.604.860
the clouds of smoke and hovering flame could see.
5.604.861
Ascanius, who had led with smiling brow
5.604.862
his troops of horse, accoutred as he was,
5.604.863
rode hot-haste to the turmoil of the camp,
5.604.864
nor could his guards restrain . “What madness now?
5.604.865
What is it ye would do?” he cried. “Alas!
5.604.866
Ill-fated women! Not our enemies,
5.604.867
nor the dread bulwarks of the Greek ye burn,
5.604.868
but all ye have to hope for. Look at me,
5.604.869
your own Ascanius!” His helmet then
5.604.870
into their midst he flung, which he had worn
5.604.871
for pageantry of war. Aeneas, too,
5.604.872
with Trojan bands sped thither. But far off,
5.604.873
the women, panic-scattered on the shore,
5.604.874
fled many ways, and deep in caverned crags
5.604.875
or shadowed forests hid them, for they Ioathed
5.604.876
their deed and life itself; their thoughts were changed;
5.604.877
they knew their kin and husbands, and their hearts
5.604.878
from Juno were set free. But none the less
5.604.879
the burning and indomitable flames
5.604.880
raged without stay; beneath the ships' smeared sides
5.604.881
the hempen fuel puffed a lingering smoke,
5.604.882
as, through the whole bulk creeping, the slow fire
5.604.883
devoured its way; and little it availed
5.604.884
that strong men fought the fire with stream on stream.
5.604.885
Then good Aeneas from his shoulder rent
5.604.886
his garment, and with lifted hands implored
5.604.887
the help of Heaven. “O Jove omnipotent!
5.604.888
If thou not yet thy wrath implacable
5.604.889
on every Trojan pourest, if thou still
5.604.890
hast pity, as of old, for what men bear,
5.604.891
O, grant my fleet deliverance from this flame!
5.604.892
From uttermost destruction, Father, save
5.604.893
our desperate Trojan cause! Or even now —
5.604.894
last cruelty! thy fatal thunders throw.
5.604.895
If this be my just meed, let thy dread arm
5.604.896
confound us all.” But scarce the prayer is said,
5.604.897
when with a bursting deluge a dark storm
5.604.898
falls, marvellous to see; while hills and plains
5.604.899
with thunder shake, and to each rim of heaven
5.604.900
spreads swollen cloud-rack, black with copious rain
5.604.901
and multitudinous gales. The full flood pours
5.604.902
on every ship, and all the smouldering beams
5.604.903
are drenched, until the smoke and flames expire
5.604.904
and (though four ships be lost) the burning fleet
5.604.905
rides rescued from its doom. But smitten sore
5.604.906
by this mischance, Aeneas doubtfully
5.604.907
weighs in his heart its mighty load of cares,
5.604.908
and ponders if indeed he may abide
5.604.909
in Sicily, not heeding prophet-songs,
5.604.910
or seek Italian shores. Thereon uprose
5.604.911
Nautes, an aged sire, to whom alone
5.604.912
Tritonian Pallas of her wisdom gave
5.604.913
and made his skill renowned; he had the power
5.604.914
to show celestial anger's warning signs,
5.604.915
or tell Fate's fixed decree. The gifted man
5.604.916
thus to Aeneas comfortably spoke:
5.604.917
“O goddess-born, we follow here or there,
5.604.918
as Fate compels or stays. But come what may,
5.604.919
he triumphs over Fortune, who can bear
5.604.920
whate'er she brings. Behold, Acestes draws
5.604.921
from Dardanus his origin divine!
5.604.922
Make him thy willing friend, to share with thee
5.604.923
thy purpose and thy counsel. Leave with him
5.604.924
the crews of the lost ships, and all whose hearts
5.604.925
repine at thy high task and great emprise:
5.604.926
the spent old men, the women ocean-weary,
5.604.927
whate'er is feeble found, or faint of heart
5.604.928
in danger's hour,—set that apart, and give
5.604.929
such weary ones within this friendly isle
5.604.930
a city called Acesta,—if he will.”
5.719.931
Much moved Aeneas was by this wise word
5.719.932
of his gray friend, though still his anxious soul
5.719.933
was vexed by doubt and care. But when dark night
5.719.934
had brought her chariot to the middle sky,
5.719.935
the sacred shade of Sire Anchises seemed,
5.719.936
from heaven descending, thus to speak aloud:
5.719.937
“My son, than life more dear, when life was mine!
5.719.938
O son, upon whose heart the Trojan doom
5.719.939
has weighed so Iong! Beside thy couch I stand,
5.719.940
at pleasure of great Jove, whose hand dispelled
5.719.941
the mad fire from thy ships; and now he looks
5.719.942
from heaven with pitying brow. I bid thee heed
5.719.943
the noble counsels aged Nautes gave.
5.719.944
Only with warriors of dauntless breast
5.719.945
to Italy repair; of hardy breed,
5.719.946
of wild, rough life, thy Latin foes will be.
5.719.947
But first the shores of Pluto and the Shades
5.719.948
thy feet must tread, and through the deep abyss
5.719.949
of dark Avernus come to me, thy sire:
5.719.950
for I inhabit not the guilty gloom
5.719.951
of Tartarus, but bright Elysian day,
5.719.952
where all the just their sweet assemblies hold.
5.719.953
Hither the virgin Sibyl, if thou give
5.719.954
full offerings of the blood of sable kine,
5.719.955
shall lead thee down; and visions I will show
5.719.956
of cities proud and nations sprung from thee.
5.719.957
Farewell, for dewy Night has wheeled her way
5.719.958
far past her middle course; the panting steeds
5.719.959
of orient Morn breathe pitiless upon me.”
5.719.960
He spoke, and passed, like fleeting clouds of smoke,
5.719.961
to empty air. “O, whither haste away?”
5.719.962
Aeneas cried. “Whom dost thou fly? What god
5.719.963
from my fond yearning and embrace removes?”
5.719.964
Then on the altar of the gods of Troy
5.719.965
he woke the smouldering embers, at the shrine
5.719.966
of venerable Vesta, worshipping
5.719.967
with hallowed bread and incense burning free.
5.746.968
Straightway he calls assembly of his friends, —
5.746.969
Acestes first in honor,—and makes known
5.746.970
Jove's will, the counsel of his cherished sire,
5.746.971
and his own fresh resolve. With prompt assent
5.746.972
they hear his word, nor does Acestes fail
5.746.973
the task to share. They people the new town
5.746.974
with women; and leave every wight behind
5.746.975
who wills it—souls not thirsting for high praise.
5.746.976
Themselves re-bench their ships, rebuild, and fit
5.746.977
with rope and oar the flame-swept galleys all;
5.746.978
a band not large, but warriors bold and true.
5.746.979
Aeneas, guiding with his hand a plough,
5.746.980
marks out the city's ground, gives separate lands
5.746.981
by lot, and bids within this space appear
5.746.982
a second Troy. Trojan Acestes takes
5.746.983
the kingly power, and with benignant joy
5.746.984
appoints a forum, and decrees just laws
5.746.985
before a gathered senate. Then they raise
5.746.986
on that star-circled Erycinian hill,
5.746.987
the temple to Idalian Venus dear;
5.746.988
and at Anchises' sepulchre ordain
5.746.989
a priesthood and wide groves of hallowed shade.
5.762.990
Now the nine days of funeral pomp are done,
5.762.991
and every altar has had honors due
5.762.992
from all the folk. Now tranquil-breathing winds
5.762.993
have levelled the great deep, while brisk and free,
5.762.994
a favoring Auster bids them launch away.
5.762.995
But sound of many a wailing voice is heard
5.762.996
along the winding shore; for ere they go,
5.762.997
in fond embraces for a night and day
5.762.998
they linger still. The women—aye, and men! —
5.762.999
who hated yesterday the ocean's face
5.762.1000
and loathed its name, now clamor to set sail
5.762.1001
and bear all want and woe to exiles known.
5.762.1002
But good Aeneas with benignant words
5.762.1003
their sorrow soothes, and, not without a tear,
5.762.1004
consigns them to Acestes' kindred care.
5.762.1005
Then bids he sacrifice to Eryx' shade
5.762.1006
three bulls, and to the wind-gods and the storm
5.762.1007
a lamb, then loose the ships in order due.
5.762.1008
He, with a garland of shorn olive, stood
5.762.1009
holding aloft the sacrificial bowl
5.762.1010
from his own vessel's prow, and scattered far
5.762.1011
the sacred entrails o'er the bitter wave,
5.762.1012
with gift of flowing wine. Swift at the stern
5.762.1013
a fair wind rose and thrust them; while the crews
5.762.1014
with rival strokes swept o'er the spreading sea.
5.779.1015
Venus, the while, disturbed with grief and care,
5.779.1016
to Neptune thus her sorrowing heart outpoured:
5.779.1017
“Stern Juno's wrath and breast implacable
5.779.1018
compel me, Neptune, to abase my pride
5.779.1019
in lowly supplication. Lapse of days,
5.779.1020
nor prayers, nor virtues her hard heart subdue,
5.779.1021
nor Jove's command; nor will she rest or yield
5.779.1022
at Fate's decree. Her execrable grudge
5.779.1023
is still unfed, although she did consume
5.779.1024
the Trojan city, Phrygia's midmost throne,
5.779.1025
and though she has accomplished stroke on stroke
5.779.1026
of retribution. But she now pursues
5.779.1027
the remnant—aye! the ashes and bare bones
5.779.1028
of perished Ilium; though the cause and spring
5.779.1029
of wrath so great none but herself can tell.
5.779.1030
Wert thou not witness on the Libyan wave
5.779.1031
what storm she stirred, immingling sea and sky,
5.779.1032
and with Aeolian whirlwinds made her war, —
5.779.1033
in vain and insolent invasion, sire,
5.779.1034
of thine own realm and power? Behold, but now,
5.779.1035
goading to evil deeds the Trojan dames,
5.779.1036
she basely burned his ships; he in strange lands
5.779.1037
must leave the crews of his Iost fleet behind.
5.779.1038
O, I entreat thee, let the remnant sail
5.779.1039
in safety o'er thy sea, and end their way
5.779.1040
in Tiber's holy stream;—if this my prayer
5.779.1041
be lawful, and that city's rampart proud
5.779.1042
be still what Fate intends.”Then Saturn's son,
5.779.1043
the ruler of the seas profound, replied:
5.779.1044
“Queen of Cythera, it is meet for thee
5.779.1045
to trust my waves from which thyself art sprung.
5.779.1046
Have I not proved a friend, and oft restrained
5.779.1047
the anger and wild wrath of seas and skies?
5.779.1048
On land, let Simois and Xanthus tell
5.779.1049
if I have loved Aeneas! On that day
5.779.1050
Achilles drove the shuddering hosts of Troy
5.779.1051
in panic to the walls, and hurled to death
5.779.1052
innumerable foes, until the streams
5.779.1053
were choked with dead, and Xanthus scarce could find
5.779.1054
his wonted path to sea; that self-same day,
5.779.1055
aeneas, spent, and with no help of Heaven,
5.779.1056
met Peleus' dreadful son:—who else but I
5.779.1057
in cloudy mantle bore him safe afar?
5.779.1058
Though 't was my will to cast down utterly
5.779.1059
the walls of perjured Troy, which my own hands
5.779.1060
had built beside the sea. And even to-day
5.779.1061
my favor changes not. Dispel thy fear!
5.779.1062
Safe, even as thou prayest, he shall ride
5.779.1063
to Cumae's haven, where Avernus lies.
5.779.1064
One only sinks beneath th' engulfing seas, —
5.779.1065
5.779.1065
one life in lieu of many.” Having soothed
5.779.1066
and cheered her heart divine, the worshipped sire
5.779.1067
flung o'er his mated steeds a yoke of gold,
5.779.1068
bridled the wild, white mouths, and with strong hand
5.779.1069
shook out long, Ioosened reins. His azure car
5.779.1070
skimmed light and free along the crested waves;
5.779.1071
before his path the rolling billows all
5.779.1072
were calm and still, and each o'er-swollen flood
5.779.1073
sank 'neath his sounding wheel; while from the skies
5.779.1074
the storm-clouds fled away. Behind him trailed
5.779.1075
a various company; vast bulk of whales,
5.779.1076
the hoary band of Glaucus, Ino's son,
5.779.1077
Palaemon and the nimble Tritons all,
5.779.1078
the troop of Phorcus; and to leftward ranged
5.779.1079
Thalia, Thetis, and fair Alelite,
5.779.1080
with virgin Panopea, and the nymphs
5.779.1081
Nesaea, Spio and Cymodoce.
5.827.1082
Now in Aeneas' ever-burdened breast
5.827.1083
the voice of hope revived. He bade make haste
5.827.1084
to raise the masts, spread canvas on the spars;
5.827.1085
all hands hauled at the sheets, and left or right
5.827.1086
shook out the loosened sails, or twirled in place
5.827.1087
the horn-tipped yards. Before a favoring wind
5.827.1088
the fleet sped on. The line in close array
5.827.1089
was led by Palinurus, in whose course
5.827.1090
all ships were bid to follow. Soon the car
5.827.1091
of dewy Night drew near the turning-point
5.827.1092
of her celestial round. The oarsmen all
5.827.1093
yielded their limbs to rest, and prone had fallen
5.827.1094
on the hard thwarts, in deep, unpillowed slumber.
5.827.1095
Then from the high stars on light-moving wings,
5.827.1096
the God of Sleep found passage through the dark
5.827.1097
and clove the gloom,—to bring upon thy head,
5.827.1098
O Palinurus, an ill-boding sleep,
5.827.1099
though blameless thou. Upon thy ship the god
5.827.1100
in guise of Phorbas stood, thus whispering:
5.827.1101
“Look, Palinurus, how the flowing tides
5.827.1102
lift on thy fleet unsteered, and changeless winds
5.827.1103
behind thee breathe! 'T is now a happy hour
5.827.1104
take thy rest. Lay down the weary head.
5.827.1105
Steal tired eyes from toiling. I will do
5.827.1106
thine office for thee, just a little space.”
5.827.1107
But Palinurus, lifting scarce his eyes,
5.827.1108
thus answered him: “Have I not known the face
5.827.1109
of yonder placid seas and tranquil waves?
5.827.1110
Put faith in such a monster? Could I trust —
5.827.1111
I, oft by ocean's treacherous calm betrayed —
5.827.1112
my lord Aeneas to false winds and skies?”
5.852.1113
So saying, he grasped his rudder tight, and clung
5.852.1114
more firmly, fixing on the stars his eyes.
5.852.1115
Then waved the god above his brows a branch
5.852.1116
wet with the dews of Lethe and imbued
5.852.1117
with power of Stygian dark, until his eyes
5.852.1118
wavered and slowly sank. The slumberous snare
5.852.1119
had scarce unbound his limbs, when, leaning o'er,
5.852.1120
the god upon the waters flung him forth,
5.852.1121
hands clutching still the helm and ship-rail torn,
5.852.1122
and calling on his comrades, but in vain.
5.852.1123
Then soared th' immortal into viewless air;
5.852.1124
and in swift course across the level sea
5.852.1125
the fleet sped safe, protected from all fear
5.852.1126
by Neptune's vow. Yet were they drawing nigh
5.852.1127
the sirens' island-steep, where oft are seen
5.852.1128
white, bleaching bones, and to the distant ear
5.852.1129
the rocks roar harshly in perpetual foam.
5.852.1130
Then of his drifting fleet and pilot gone
5.852.1131
Aeneas was aware, and, taking helm,
5.852.1132
steered through the midnight waves, with many a sigh;
5.852.1133
and, by his comrade's pitiable death
5.852.1134
sore-smitten, cried, “O, thou didst trust too far
5.852.1135
fair skies and seas, and liest without a grave,
5.852.1136
my Palinurus, in a land unknown!”