P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid
Theodore C. Williams, Ed.

One more immortal name thy death bequeathed,
Nurse of Aeneas, to Italian shores,
Caieta; there thy honor hath a home;
Thy bones a name: and on Hesperia's breast
Their proper glory.When Aeneas now
The tribute of sepulchral vows had paid
Beside the funeral mound, and o'er the seas
Stillness had fallen, he flung forth his sails,
And leaving port pursued his destined way.
Freshly the night-winds breathe; the cloudless moon
Outpours upon his path unstinted beam,
And with far-trembling glory smites the sea.
Close to the lands of Circe soon they fare,
Where the Sun's golden daughter in far groves
Sounds forth her ceaseless song; her lofty hall
Is fragrant every night with flaring brands
Of cedar, giving light the while she weaves
With shrill-voiced shuttle at her linens fine.
From hence are heard the loud lament and wrath
Of lions, rebels to their linked chains
And roaring all night long; great bristly boars
And herded bears, in pinfold closely kept,
Rage horribly, and monster-wolves make moan;
Whom the dread goddess with foul juices strong
From forms of men drove forth, and bade to wear
the mouths and maws of beasts in Circe's thrall.
But lest the sacred Trojans should endure
such prodigy of doom, or anchor there
on that destroying shore, kind Neptune filled
their sails with winds of power, and sped them on
in safety past the perils of that sea.
Now morning flushed the wave, and saffron-garbed
Aurora from her rose-red chariot beamed
in highest heaven; the sea-winds ceased to stir;
a sudden calm possessed the air, and tides
of marble smoothness met the laboring oar.
Then, gazing from the deep, Aeneas saw
a stretch of groves, whence Tiber's smiling stream,
its tumbling current rich with yellow sands,
burst seaward forth: around it and above
shore-haunting birds of varied voice and plume
flattered the sky with song, and, circling far
o'er river-bed and grove, took joyful wing.
Thither to landward now his ships he steered,
and sailed, high-hearted, up the shadowy stream.
Hail, Erato! while olden kings and thrones
and all their sequent story I unfold!
How Latium's honor stood, when alien ships
brought war to Italy, and from what cause
the primal conflict sprang, O goddess, breathe
upon thy bard in song. Dread wars I tell,
array of battle, and high-hearted kings
thrust forth to perish, when Etruria's host
and all Hesperia gathered to the fray.
Events of grander march impel my song,
and loftier task I try. Latinus, then
an aged king, held long-accepted sway
o'er tranquil vales and towns. He was the son
of Faunus, so the legend tells, who wed
the nymph Marica of Laurentian stem.
Picus was Faunus' father, whence the line
to Saturn's Ioins ascends. O heavenly sire,
from thee the stem began! But Fate had given
to King Latinus' body no heirs male:
for taken in the dawning of his day
his only son had been; and now his home
and spacious palace one sole daughter kept,
who was grown ripe to wed and of full age
to take a husband. Many suitors tried
from all Ausonia and Latium's bounds;
but comeliest in all their princely throng
came Turnus, of a line of mighty sires.
Him the queen mother chiefly loved, and yearned
to call him soon her son. But omens dire
and menaces from Heaven withstood her will.
A laurel-tree grew in the royal close,
of sacred leaf and venerated age,
which, when he builded there his wall and tower,
Father Latinus found, and hallowed it
to Phoebus' grace and power, wherefrom the name
Laurentian, which his realm and people bear.
Unto this tree-top, wonderful to tell,
came hosts of bees, with audible acclaim
voyaging the stream of air, and seized a place
on the proud, pointing crest, where the swift swarm,
with interlacement of close-clinging feet,
swung from the leafy bough. “Behold, there comes,”
the prophet cried, “a husband from afar!
To the same region by the self-same path
behold an arm'd host taking lordly sway
upon our city's crown!” Soon after this,
when, coming to the shrine with torches pure,
Lavinia kindled at her father's side
the sacrifice, swift seemed the flame to burn
along her flowing hair—O sight of woe!
Over her broidered snood it sparkling flew,
lighting her queenly tresses and her crown
of jewels rare: then, wrapt in flaming cloud,
from hall to hall the fire-god's gift she flung.
This omen dread and wonder terrible
was rumored far: for prophet-voices told
bright honors on the virgin's head to fall
by Fate's decree, but on her people, war.
The King, sore troubled by these portents, sought
oracular wisdom of his sacred sire,
Faunus, the fate-revealer, where the groves
stretch under high Albunea, and her stream
roars from its haunted well, exhaling through
vast, gloomful woods its pestilential air.
Here all Oenotria's tribes ask oracles
in dark and doubtful days: here, when the priest
has brought his gifts, and in the night so still,
couched on spread fleeces of the offered flock,
awaiting slumber lies, then wondrously
a host of flitting shapes he sees, and hears
voices that come and go: with gods he holds
high converse, or in deep Avernian gloom
parleys with Acheron. Thither drew near
Father Latinus, seeking truth divine.
Obedient to the olden rite, he slew
a hundred fleecy sheep, and pillowed lay
upon their outstretched skins. Straightway a voice
out of the lofty forest met his prayer.
“Seek not in wedlock with a Latin lord
to join thy daughter, O my son and seed!
Beware this purposed marriage! There shall come
sons from afar, whose blood shall bear our name
starward; the children of their mighty loins,
as far as eve and morn enfold the seas,
shall see a subject world beneath their feet
submissive lie.” This admonition given
Latinus hid not. But on restless wing
rumor had spread it, when the men of Troy
along the river-bank of mounded green
their fleet made fast.Aeneas and his chiefs,
with fair Iulus, under spreading boughs
of one great tree made resting-place, and set
the banquet on. Thin loaves of altar-bread
along the sward to bear their meats were laid
(such was the will of Jove), and wilding fruits
rose heaping high, with Ceres' gift below.
Soon, all things else devoured, their hunger turned
to taste the scanty bread, which they attacked
with tooth and nail audacious, and consumed
both round and square of that predestined leaven.
“Look, how we eat our tables even!” cried
Iulus, in a jest. Such was the word
which bade their burdens fall. From his boy's lip
the father caught this utterance of Fate,
silent with wonder at the ways of Heaven;
then swift he spoke: “Hail! O my destined shore,
protecting deities of Ilium, hail!
Here is our home, our country here! This day
I publish the mysterious prophecy
by Sire Anchises given: ‘My son,’ said he,
‘When hunger in strange lands shall bid devour
the tables of thy banquet gone, then hope
for home, though weary, and take thought to build
a dwelling and a battlement.’ Behold!
This was our fated hunger! This last proof
will end our evil days. Up, then! For now
by morning's joyful beam we will explore
what men, what cities, in this region be,
and, leaving ship, our several errands ply.
Your gift to Jove outpour! Make thankful prayer
unto Anchises' shade! To this our feast
bring back the flowing wine!” Thereat he bound
his forehead with green garland, calling loud
upon the Genius of that place, and Earth,
eldest of names divine; the Nymphs he called,
and river-gods unknown; his voice invoked
the night, the omen-stars through night that roll.
Jove, Ida's child, and Phrygia's fertile Queen:
he called his mother from Olympian skies,
and sire from Erebus. Lo, o'er his head
three times unclouded Jove omnipotent
in thunder spoke, and, with effulgent ray
from his ethereal tract outreaching far,
shook visibly the golden-gleaming air.
Swift, through the concourse of the Trojans, spread
news of the day at hand when they should build
their destined walls. So, with rejoicing heart
at such vast omen, they set forth a feast
with zealous emulation, ranging well
the wine-cups fair with many a garland crowned.
Soon as the morrow with the lamp of dawn
looked o'er the world, they took their separate ways,
exploring shore and towns; here spread the pools
and fountain of Numicius; here they see
the river Tiber, where bold Latins dwell.
Anchises' son chose out from his brave band
a hundred envoys, bidding them depart
to the King's sacred city, each enwreathed
with Pallas' silver leaf; and gifts they bear
to plead for peace and friendship at his throne.
While on this errand their swift steps are sped,
Aeneas, by a shallow moat and small,
his future city shows, breaks ground, and girds
with mound and breastwork like a camp of war
the Trojans' first abode. Soon, making way
to where the Latin citadel uprose,
the envoys scanned the battlements, and paused
beneath its wall. Outside the city gates
fair youths and striplings in life's early bloom
course with swift steeds, or steer through dusty cloud
the whirling chariot, or stretch stout bows,
or hurl the seasoned javelin, or strive
in boxing-bout and foot-race: one of these
made haste on horseback to the aged King,
with tidings of a stranger company
in foreign garb approaching. The good King
bade call them to his house, and took his seat
in mid-court on his high, ancestral throne.
Large and majestical the castle rose:
a hundred columns lifted it in air
upon the city's crown—the royal keep
of Picus of Laurentum; round it lay
deep, gloomy woods by olden worship blest.
Here kings took sceptre and the fasces proud
with omens fair; the selfsame sacred place
was senate-house and temple; here was found
a hall for hallowed feasting, where a ram
was offered up, and at long banquet-boards
the nation's fathers sat in due array.
Here ranged ancestral statues roughly hewn
of ancient cedar-wood: King Italus;
Father Sabinus, planter of the vine,
a curving sickle in his sculptured hand;
gray-bearded Saturn; and the double brow
of Janus' head; and other sires and kings
were wardens of the door, with many a chief
wounded in battle for his native land.
Trophies of arms in goodly order hung
along the columns: chariots of war
from foeman taken, axes of round blade,
plumed helmets, bolts and barriers of steel
from city-gates, shields, spears, and beaks of bronze
from captured galleys by the conqueror torn.
Here, wielding his Quirinal augur-staff,
girt in scant shift, and bearing on his left
the sacred oval shield, appeared enthroned
Picus, breaker of horses, whom his bride,
enamoured Circe, smote with golden wand,
and, raining o'er him potent poison-dew,
changed to a bird of pied and dappled wings.
In such a temple of his gods did Sire
Latinus, on hereditary throne,
welcome the Trojans to his halls, and thus
with brow serene gave greeting as they came:
“O sons of Dardanus, think not unknown
your lineage and city! Rumored far
your venturous voyage has been. What seek ye here?
What cause, what quest, has brought your barks and you
o'er the blue waters to Ausonia's hills?
What way uncharted, or wild stress of storm,
or what that sailors suffer in mid-sea,
unto this river bank and haven bore?
Doubt not our welcome! We of Latin land
are Saturn's sons, whose equitable minds,
not chained by statute or compulsion, keep
in freedom what the god's good custom gave.
Now I bethink me our Ausonian seers
have dark, dim lore that 't was this land gave birth
to Dardanus, who after took his way
through Phrygian Ida's towns and Samothrace.
Once out of Tuscan Corythus he fared;
but now in golden house among the stars
he has a throne, and by his altars blest
adds to the number of the gods we praise.”
He spoke; Ilioneus this answer made:
“O King, great heir of Faunus! No dark storm
impelled us o'er the flood thy realm to find.
Nor star deceived, nor strange, bewildering shore
threw out of our true course; but we are come
by our free choice and with deliberate aim
to this thy town, though exiled forth of realms
once mightiest of all the sun-god sees
when moving from his utmost eastern bound.
From Jove our line began; the sons of Troy
boast Jove to be their sire, and our true King
is of Olympian seed. To thine abode
Trojan Aeneas sent us. How there burst
o'er Ida's vales from dread Mycenae's kings
a tempest vast, and by what stroke of doom
all Asia's world with Europe clashed in war,
that lone wight hears whom earth's remotest isle
has banished to the Ocean's rim, or he
whose dwelling is the ample zone that burns
betwixt the changeful sun-god's milder realms,
far severed from the world. We are the men
from war's destroying deluge safely borne
over the waters wide. We only ask
some low-roofed dwelling for our fathers' gods,
some friendly shore, and, what to all is free,
water and air. We bring no evil name
upon thy people; thy renown will be
but wider spread; nor of a deed so fair
can grateful memory die. Ye ne'er will rue
that to Ausonia's breast ye gathered Troy.
I swear thee by the favored destinies
of great Aeneas, by his strength of arm
in friendship or in war, that many a tribe
(O, scorn us not, that, bearing olive green,
with suppliant words we come), that many a throne
has sued us to be friends. But Fate's decree
to this thy realm did guide. Here Dardanus
was born; and with reiterate command
this way Apollo pointed to the stream
of Tiber and Numicius' haunted spring.
Lo, these poor tributes from his greatness gone
Aeneas sends, these relics snatched away
from Ilium burning: with this golden bowl
Anchises poured libation when he prayed;
and these were Priam's splendor, when he gave
laws to his gathered states; this sceptre his,
this diadem revered, and beauteous pall,
handwork of Asia's queens.” So ceased to speak
Ilioneus. But King Latinus gazed
unanswering on the ground, all motionless
save for his musing eyes. The broidered pall
of purple, and the sceptre Priam bore,
moved little on his kingly heart, which now
pondered of giving to the bridal bed
his daughter dear. He argues in his mind
the oracle of Faunus:—might this be
that destined bridegroom from an alien land,
to share his throne, to get a progeny
of glorious valor, which by mighty deeds
should win the world for kingdom? So at last
with joyful brow he spoke: “Now let the gods
our purpose and their own fair promise bless!
Thou hast, O Trojan, thy desire. Thy gifts
I have not scorned; nor while Latinus reigns
shall ye lack riches in my plenteous land,
not less than Trojan store. But where is he,
Aeneas' self? If he our royal love
so much desire, and have such urgent mind
to be our guest and friend, let him draw near,
nor turn him from well-wishing looks away!
My offering and pledge of peace shall be
to clasp your monarch's hand. Bear back, I pray,
this answer to your King: my dwelling holds
a daughter, whom with husband of her blood
great signs in heaven and from my father's tomb
forbid to wed. A son from alien shores
they prophesy for Latium's heir, whose seed
shall lift our glory to the stars divine.
I am persuaded this is none but he,
that man of destiny; and if my heart
be no false prophet, I desire it so.”
Thus having said, the sire took chosen steeds
from his full herd, whereof, well-groomed and fair,
three hundred stood within his ample pale.
Of these to every Teucrian guest he gave
a courser swift and strong, in purple clad
and broidered housings gay; on every breast
hung chains of gold; in golden robes arrayed,
they champed the red gold curb their teeth between.
For offering to Aeneas, he bade send
a chariot, with chargers twain of seed
ethereal, their nostrils breathing fire:
the famous kind which guileful Circe bred,
cheating her sire, and mixed the sun-god's team
with brood-mares earthly born. The sons of Troy,
such gifts and greetings from Latinus bearing,
rode back in pomp his words of peace to bring.
But lo! from Argos on her voyage of air
rides the dread spouse of Jove. She, sky-enthroned
above the far Sicilian promontory,
pachynus, sees Dardania's rescued fleet,
and all Aeneas' joy. The prospect shows
houses a-building, lands of safe abode,
and the abandoned ships. With bitter grief
she stands at gaze: then with storm-shaken brows,
thus from her heart lets loose the wrathful word:
“O hated race! O Phrygian destinies —
to mine forevermore (unhappy me!)
a scandal and offense! Did no one die
on Troy's embattled plain? Could captured slaves
not be enslaved again? Was Ilium's flame
no warrior's funeral pyre? Did they walk safe
through serried swords and congregated fires?
At last, methought, my godhead might repose,
and my full-fed revenge in slumber lie.
But nay! Though flung forth from their native land,
I o'er the waves, with enmity unstayed,
dared give them chase, and on that exiled few
hurled the whole sea. I smote the sons of Troy
with ocean's power and heaven's. But what availed
Syrtes, or Scylla, or Charybdis' waves?
The Trojans are in Tiber; and abide
within their prayed-for land delectable,
safe from the seas and me! Mars once had power
the monstrous Lapithae to slay; and Jove
to Dian's honor and revenge gave o'er
the land of Calydon. What crime so foul
was wrought by Lapithae or Calydon?
But I, Jove's wife and Queen, who in my woes
have ventured each bold stroke my power could find,
and every shift essayed,—behold me now
outdone by this Aeneas! If so weak
my own prerogative of godhead be,
let me seek strength in war, come whence it will!
If Heaven I may not move, on Hell I call.
To bar him from his Latin throne exceeds
my fated power. So be it! Fate has given
Lavinia for his bride. But long delays
I still can plot, and to the high event
deferment and obstruction. I can smite
the subjects of both kings. Let sire and son
buy with their people's blood this marriage-bond!
Let Teucrian and Rutulian slaughter be
thy virgin dower, and Bellona's blaze
light thee the bridal bed! Not only teemed
the womb of Hecuba with burning brand,
and brought forth nuptial fires; but Venus, too,
such offspring bore, a second Paris, who
to their new Troy shall fatal wedlock bring.”
So saying, with aspect terrible she sped
earthward her way; and called from gloom of hell
Alecto, woeful power, from cloudy throne
among the Furies, where her heart is fed
with horrid wars, wrath, vengeance, treason foul,
and fatal feuds. Her father Pluto loathes
the creature he engendered, and with hate
her hell-born sister-fiends the monster view.
A host of shapes she wears, and many a front
of frowning black brows viper-garlanded.
Juno to her this goading speech addressed:
“O daughter of dark Night, arouse for me
thy wonted powers and our task begin!
Lest now my glory fail, my royal name
be vanquished, while Aeneas and his crew
cheat with a wedlock bond the Latin King
and seize Italia's fields. Thou canst thrust on
two Ioving brothers to draw sword and slay,
and ruin homes with hatred, calling in
the scourge of Furies and avenging fires.
A thousand names thou bearest, and thy ways
of ruin multiply a thousand-fold.
Arouse thy fertile breast! Go, rend in twain
this plighted peace! Breed calumnies and sow
causes of battle, till yon warrior hosts
cry out for swords and leap to gird them on.”
Straightway Alecto, through whose body flows
the Gorgon poison, took her viewless way
to Latium and the lofty walls and towers
of the Laurentian King. Crouching she sate
in silence on the threshold of the bower
where Queen Amata in her fevered soul
pondered, with all a woman's wrath and fear,
upon the Trojans and the marriage-suit
of Turnus. From her Stygian hair the fiend
a single serpent flung, which stole its way
to the Queen's very heart, that, frenzy-driven,
she might on her whole house confusion pour.
Betwixt her smooth breast and her robe it wound
unfelt, unseen, and in her wrathful mind
instilled its viper soul. Like golden chain
around her neck it twined, or stretched along
the fillets on her brow, or with her hair
enwrithing coiled; then on from limb to limb
slipped tortuous. Yet though the venom strong
thrilled with its first infection every vein,
and touched her bones with fire, she knew it not,
nor yielded all her soul, but made her plea
in gentle accents such as mothers use;
and many a tear she shed, about her child,
her darling, destined for a Phrygian's bride:
“O father! can we give Lavinia's hand
to Trojan fugitives? why wilt thou show
no mercy on thy daughter, nor thyself;
nor unto me, whom at the first fair wind
that wretch will leave deserted, bearing far
upon his pirate ship my stolen child?
Was it not thus that Phrygian shepherd came
to Lacedaemon, ravishing away
Helen, the child of Leda, whom he bore
to those false Trojan lands? Hast thou forgot
thy plighted word? Where now thy boasted love
of kith and kin, and many a troth-plight given
unto our kinsman Turnus? If we need
an alien son, and Father Faunus' words
irrevocably o'er thy spirit brood,
I tell thee every land not linked with ours
under one sceptre, but distinct and free,
is alien; and 't is thus the gods intend.
Indeed, if Turnus' ancient race be told,
it sprang of Inachus, Acrisius,
and out of mid-Mycenae.” But she sees
her lord Latinus resolute, her words
an effort vain; and through her body spreads
the Fury's deeply venomed viper-sting.
Then, woe-begone, by dark dreams goaded on,
she wanders aimless, fevered and unstrung
along the public ways; as oft one sees
beneath the twisted whips a leaping top
sped in long spirals through a palace-close
by lads at play: obedient to the thong,
it weaves wide circles in the gaping view
of its small masters, who admiring see
the whirling boxwood made a living thing
under their lash. So fast and far she roved
from town to town among the clansmen wild.
Then to the wood she ran, feigning to feel
the madness Bacchus loves; for she essays
a fiercer crime, by fiercer frenzy moved.
Now in the leafy dark of mountain vales
she hides her daughter, ravished thus away
from Trojan bridegroom and the wedding-feast.
“Hail, Bacchus! Thou alone,” she shrieked and raved,
“art worthy such a maid. For thee she bears
the thyrsus with soft ivy-clusters crowned,
and trips ecstatic in thy beauteous choir.
For thee alone my daughter shall unbind
the glory of her virgin hair.” Swift runs
the rumor of her deed; and, frenzy-driven,
the wives of Latium to the forests fly,
enkindled with one rage. They leave behind
their desolated hearths, and let rude winds
o'er neck and tresses blow; their voices fill
the welkin with convulsive shriek and wail;
and, with fresh fawn-skins on their bodies bound,
they brandish vine-clad spears. The Queen herself
lifts high a blazing pine tree, while she sings
a wedding-song for Turnus and her child.
With bloodshot glance and anger wild, she cries:
“Ho! all ye Latin wives, if e'er ye knew
kindness for poor Amata, if ye care
for a wronged mother's woes, O, follow me!
Cast off the matron fillet from your brows,
and revel to our mad, voluptuous song.”
Thus, through the woodland haunt of creatures wild,
Alecto urges on the raging Queen
with Bacchus' cruel goad. But when she deemed
the edge of wrath well whetted, and the house
of wise Latinus of all reason reft,
then soared the black-winged goddess to the walls
of the bold Rutule, to the city built
(So runs the tale) by beauteous Danae
and her Acrisian people, shipwrecked there
by south wind strong. Its name was Ardea
in language of our sires, and that proud name
of Ardea still it wears, though proud no more.
Here Turnus in the gloom of midnight lay
half-sleeping in his regal hall. For him
Alecto her grim fury-guise put by,
and wore an old crone's face, her baleful brow
delved deep with wrinkled age, her hoary hair
in sacred fillet bound, and garlanded
with leaf of olive: Calybe she seemed,
an aged servitress ot Juno's shrine,
and in this seeming thus the prince addressed:—
“O Turnus, wilt thou tamely see thy toil
lavished in vain? and thy true throne consigned
to Trojan wanderers? The King repels
thy noble wooing and thy war-won dower.
He summons him a son of alien stem
to take his kingdom. Rouse thee now, and front,
scorned and without reward, these perilous days.
Tread down that Tuscan host! Protect the peace
of Latium from its foe! Such is the word
which, while in night and slumber thou wert laid,
Saturnia's godhead, visibly revealed,
bade me declare. Up, therefore, and array
thy warriors in arms! Swift sallying forth
from thy strong city-gates, on to the fray
exultant go! Assail the Phrygian chiefs
who tent them by thy beauteous river's marge,
and burn their painted galleys! 't is the will
of gods above that speaks. Yea, even the King
Latinus, if he will not heed thy plea,
or hear thy wooing, shall be taught too late
what Turnus is in panoply of war.”
In mocking answer to the prophetess
the warrior thus replied: “That stranger fleet
in Tiber moored, not, as thy folly prates,
of me unnoted lies. Vex me no more
with thy fantastic terror. Juno's power
is watchful of my cause. 'T is mere old age,
gone to decay and dotage, fills thy breast
with vain foreboding, and, while kings contend,
scares and deceives thy visionary eye.
Guard thou in yonder temple's holy shade
the images divine! Of peace and war
let men and warriors the burden bear!”
So kindled he Alecto's wrath to flame;
and even as he spoke a shudder thrilled
the warrior's body, and his eyeballs stood
stonily staring at the hydra hair
which hissed and writhed above the grisly head
of the large-looming fiend. With eyes of fire
horribly rolling, she repelled him far,
while he but faltered speechless. She upraised
two coiling snakes out of her tresses, cracked
the lashes of her scourge, and wrathfully,
with raving lips replied: “Look well on me,
gone to decay and dotage of old age!
And mocked with foolish fear while kings contend!
Wilt hearken now! Behold me, hither flown
from where my sister-furies dwell! My hands
bring bloody death and war.” She spoke, and hurled
her firebrand at the hero, thrusting deep
beneath his heart her darkly smouldering flame.
Then horror broke his sleep, and fearful sweat
dripped from his every limb. He shrieked aloud
for arms; and seized the ready arms that lay
around his couch and hall. Then o'er his soul
the lust of battle and wild curse of war
broke forth in angry power, as when the flames
of faggots round the bubbling cauldron sing,
and up the waters leap; the close-kept flood
brims over, streaming, foaming, breaking bound,
and flings thick clouds in air. He, summoning
his chieftains, bade them on Latinus move,
break peace, take arms, and, over Italy
their shields extending, to thrust forth her foe:
himself for Teucrian with Latin joined
was more than match. He called upon the gods
in witness of his vows: while, nothing loth,
Rutulia's warriors rushed into array;
some by his youth and noble beauty moved,
some by his kingly sires and fame in arms.
While Turnus stirred Rutulia's valiant souls,
Alecto on her Stygian pinions sped
to where the Teucrians lay. She scanned the ground
with eager guile, where by the river's marge
fair-browed Iulus with his nets and snares
rode fiercely to the chase. Then o'er his hounds
that hell-born virgin breathed a sudden rage,
and filled each cunning nostril with the scent
of stags, till forth in wild pursuit they flew.
Here all the woe began, and here awoke
in rustic souls the swift-enkindling war.
For a fair stag, tall-antlered, stolen away
even from its mother's milk, had long been kept
by Tyrrhus and his sons—the shepherd he
of all the royal flocks, and forester
of a wide region round. With fondest care
their sister Silvia entwined its horns
with soft, fresh garlands, tamed it to run close,
and combed the creature, or would bring to bathe
at a clear, crystal spring. It knew the hands
of all its gentle masters, and would feed
from their own dish; or wandering through the wood,
come back unguided to their friendly door,
though deep the evening shade. Iulus' dogs
now roused this wanderer in their ravening chase,
as, drifted down-stream far from home it lay,
on a green bank a-cooling. From bent bow
Ascanius, eager for a hunter's praise,
let go his shaft; nor did Alecto fail
his aim to guide: but, whistling through the air,
the light-winged reed pierced deep in flank and side.
Swift to its cover fled the wounded thing,
and crept loud-moaning to its wonted stall,
where, like a blood-stained suppliant, it seemed
to fill that shepherd's house with plaintive prayer.
Then Silvia the sister, smiting oft
on breast and arm, made cry for help, and called
the sturdy rustics forth in gathering throng.
These now (for in the silent forest couched
the cruel Fury) swift to battle flew.
One brandished a charred stake, another swung
a knotted cudgel, as rude anger shapes
its weapon of whate'er the searching eye
first haps to fall on. Tyrrhus roused his clans,
just when by chance he split with blows of wedge
an oak in four; and, panting giant breath,
shouldered his woodman's axe. Alecto then,
prompt to the stroke of mischief, soared aloft
from where she spying sate, to the steep roof
of a tall byre, and from its peak of straw
blew a wild signal on a shepherd's horn,
outflinging her infernal note so far
that all the forest shuddered, and the grove
throbbed to its deepest glen. Cold Trivia's lake
from end to end gave ear, and every wave
of the white stream of Nar, the lonely pools
of still Velinus heard: while at the sound
pale mothers to their breasts their children drew.
Swift to the signal of the dreadful horn,
snatching their weapons rude, the freeborn swains
assembled for the fray; the Trojan bands
poured from their bivouac with instant aid
for young Ascanius. In array of war
both stand confronting. Not mere rustic brawl
with charred oak-staff and cudgel is the fight,
but with the two-edged steel; the naked swords
wave like dark-bladed harvest-field, while far
the brazen arms flash in the smiting sun,
and skyward fling their beam: so some wide sea,
at first but whitened in the rising wind,
swells its slow-rolling mass and ever higher
its billows rears, until the utmost deep
lifts in one surge to heaven. The first to fall
was Almo, eldest-born of Tyrrhus' sons,
whom, striding in the van, a loud-winged shaft
laid low in death; deep in his throat it clung,
and silenced with his blood the dying cry
of his frail life. Around him fell the forms
of many a brave and strong; among them died
gray-haired Galaesus pleading for a truce:
righteous he was, and of Ausonian fields
a prosperous master; five full flocks had he
of bleating sheep, and from his pastures came
five herds of cattle home; his busy churls
turned with a hundred ploughs his fruitful glebe.
While o'er the battle-field thus doubtful swung
the scales of war, the Fury (to her task
now equal proven) having dyed the day
a deep-ensanguined hue, and opened fight
with death and slaughter, made no tarrying
within Hesperia, but skyward soared,
and, Ioud in triumph, insolently thus
to Juno called: “See, at thy will, their strife
full-blown to war and woe! Could even thyself
command them now to truce and amity?
But I, that with Ausonia's blood befoul
their Trojan hands, yet more can do, if thou
shift not thy purpose. For with dire alarms
I will awake the bordering states to war
enkindling in their souls the frenzied lust
the war-god breathes; till from th' horizon round
the reinforcement pours—I scattering seeds
of carnage through the land.” In answer spoke
juno: “Enough of artifice and fear!
Thy provocation works. Now have they joined
in close and deadly combat, and warm blood
those sudden-leaping swords incarnadines,
which chance put in their hands. Such nuptial joys,
such feast of wedlock, let the famous son
of Venus with the King Latinus share!
But yon Olympian Sire and King no more
permits thee freely in our skies to roam.
Go, quit the field! Myself will take control
of hazards and of labors yet to be.”
Thus Saturn's daughter spoke. Alecto then,
unfolding far her hissing, viperous wings,
turned toward her Stygian home, and took farewell
of upper air. Deep in Italia lies
a region mountain-girded, widely famed,
and known in olden songs from land to land:
the valley of Amsanctus; deep, dark shades
enclose it between forest-walls, whereby
through thunderous stony channel serpentines
a roaring fall. Here in a monstrous cave
are breathing-holes of hell, a vast abyss
where Acheron opes wide its noisome jaws:
in this Alecto plunged, concealing so
her execrable godhead, while the air
of earth and heaven felt the curse removed.
Forthwith the sovereign hands of Juno haste
to consummate the war. The shepherds bear
back from the field of battle to the town
the bodies of the slain: young Almo's corse
and gray Galaesus' bleeding head. They call
just gods in heaven to Iook upon their wrong,
and bid Latinus see it. Turnus comes,
and, while the angry mob surveys the slain,
adds fury to the hour. “Shall the land
have Trojan lords? Shall Phrygian marriages
debase our ancient, royal blood—and I
be spurned upon the threshold?” Then drew near
the men whose frenzied women-folk had held
bacchantic orgies in the pathless grove,
awed by Amata's name: these, gathering,
sued loud for war. Yea, all defied the signs
and venerable omens; all withstood
divine decrees, and clamored for revenge,
prompted by evil powers. They besieged
the house of King Latinus, shouting-loud
with emulous rage. But like a sea-girt rock
unmoved he stood; like sea-girt rock when surge
of waters o'er it sweeps, or howling waves
surround; it keeps a ponderous front of power,
though foaming cliffs around it vainly roar;
from its firm base the broken sea-weeds fall.
But when authority no whit could change
their counsels blind, and each event fulfilled
dread Juno's will, then with complaining prayer
the aged sire cried loud upon his gods
and on th' unheeding air: “Alas,” said he,
“My doom is shipwreck, and the tempest bears
my bark away! O wretches, your own blood
shall pay the forfeit for your impious crime.
O Turnus! O abominable deed!
Avenging woes pursue thee; to deaf gods
thy late and unavailing prayer shall rise.
Now was my time to rest. But as I come
close to my journey's end, thou spoilest me
of comfort in my death.” With this the King
fled to his house and ceased his realm to guide.
A sacred custom the Hesperian land
of Latium knew, by all the Alban hills
honored unbroken, which wide-ruling Rome
keeps to this day, when to new stroke she stirs
the might of Mars; if on the Danube's wave
resolved to fling the mournful doom of war,
or on the Caspian folk or Arabs wild;
or chase the morning far as India's verge,
ind from the Parthian despot wrest away
our banners Iost. Twin Gates of War there be,
of fearful name, to Mars' fierce godhead vowed:
a hundred brass bars shut them, and the strength
of uncorrupting steel; in sleepless watch
Janus the threshold keeps. 'T is here, what time
the senate's voice is war, the consul grave
in Gabine cincture and Quirinal shift
himself the griding hinges backward moves,
and bids the Romans arm; obedient then
the legionary host makes Ioud acclaim,
and hoarse consent the brazen trumpets blow.
Thus King Latinus on the sons of Troy
was urged to open war, and backward roll
those gates of sorrow: but the aged king
recoiled, refused the loathsome task, and fled
to solitary shades. Then from the skies
the Queen of gods stooped down, and her sole hand
the lingering portal moved; Saturnia
swung on their hinges the barred gates of war.
ausonia from its old tranquillity
bursts forth in flame. Foot-soldiers through the field
run to and fro; and mounted on tall steeds
the cavaliers in clouds of dust whirl by.
All arm in haste. Some oil the glittering shield
or javelin bright, or on the whetstone wear
good axes to an edge, while joyful bands
uplift the standards or the trumpets blow.
Five mighty cities to their anvils bring
new-tempered arms: Atina—martial name —
proud Tibur, Ardea, Crustumium,
and river-walled Antemnae, crowned with towers
strong hollow helmets on their brows they draw
and weave them willow-shields; or melt and mould
corselets of brass or shining silver greaves;
none now for pruning-hook or sacred plough
have love or care: but old, ancestral swords
for hardier tempering to the smith they bring.
Now peals the clarion; through the legions pass
the watchwords: the impatient yeoman takes
his helmet from the idle roof-tree hung;
while to his chariot the master yokes
the mettled war-horse, dons a shining shield
and golden mail, and buckles his good sword.
Virgins of Helicon, renew my song!
Instruct me what proud kings to battle flown
with following legions throng the serried plain.
Tell me what heroes and illustrious arms
Italia's bosom in her dawning day
benignant bore: for your celestial minds,
have memory of the past, but faint and low
steals glory's whisper on a mortal ear.
Foremost in fight, from shores Etrurian came
Mezentius, scornful rebel against Heaven,
his people all in arms; and at his side
Lausus his heir (no fairer youth than he,
save Turnus of Laurentum), Lausus, skilled
o break proud horses and wild beasts to quell;
who from Agylla's citadel in vain
led forth his thousand warriors: worthy he
to serve a nobler sire, and happier far
he had ne'er been born Mezentius' son.
Next after these, conspicuous o'er the plain,
with palm-crowned chariot and victorious steeds,
rode forth well-moulded Aventinus, sprung
from shapely Hercules; upon the shield
his blazon was a hundred snakes, and showed
his father's hydra-cincture serpentine;
him deep in Aventine's most secret grove
the priestess Rhea bore—a mortal maid
clasped in a god's embrace the wondrous day
when, flushed with conquest of huge Geryon,
the lord of Tiryns to Laurentum drove,
and washed in Tiber's wave th' Iberian kine.
His followers brandished pointed pikes and staves,
or smooth Sabellian bodkin tipped with steel;
but he, afoot, swung round him as he strode
a monstrous lion-skin, its bristling mane
and white teeth crowning his ferocious brow:
for garbed as Hercules he sought his King.
Then came twin brethren, leaving Tibur's keep
(named from Tiburtus, brother of them twain)
Catillus and impetuous Coras, youth
of Argive seed, who foremost in the van
pressed ever where the foemen densest throng:
as when two centaurs, children of the cloud,
from mountain-tops descend in swift career,
the snows of Homole and Othrys leaving,
while crashing thickets in their pathway fall.
Nor was Praeneste's founder absent there,
by Vulcan sired, among the herds and hinds,
and on a hearth-stone found (so runs the tale
each pious age repeats) King Caeculus
with rustic legions gathered from afar:
from steep Praeneste and the Gabian vale
to Juno dear, from Anio's cold stream,
from upland Hernic rocks and foaming rills,
from rich Anagnia's pastures, and the plain
whence Amasenus pours his worshipped wave.
Not all of armor boast, and seldom sound
the chariot and shield; but out of slings
they hurl blue balls of lead, or in one hand
a brace of javelins bear; pulled o'er their brows
are hoods of tawny wolf-skin; as they march
the left foot leaves a barefoot track behind,
a rawhide sandal on the right they wear.
Messapus came, steed-tamer, Neptune's son,
by sword and fire invincible: this day,
though mild his people and unschooled in war,
he calls them to embattled lines, and draws
no lingering sword. Fescennia musters there,
Aequi Falisci, and what clans possess
Soracte's heights, Flavinia's fruitful farms,
Ciminian lake and mountain, and the groves
about Capena. Rank on rank they move,
loud singing of their chieftain's praise: as when
a flock of snowy swans through clouded air
return from feeding, and make tuneful cry
from their long throats, while Asia's rivers hear,
and lone Cayster's startled moorland rings:
for hardly could the listening ear discern
the war-cry of a mail-clad host; the sound
was like shrill-calling birds, when home from sea
their soaring flock moves shoreward like a cloud.
Then, one of far-descended Sabine name,
Clausus advanced, the captain of a host,
and in himself an equal host he seemed;
from his proud loins the high-born Claudian stem
through Latium multiplies, since Roman power
with Sabine first was wed. A cohort came
from Amiternum and the olden wall
of Cures, called Quirites even then;
Eretum answered and Mutusca's hill
with olives clad, Velinus' flowery field,
nomentum's fortress, the grim precipice
of Tetrica, Severus' upland fair,
Casperia, Foruli, Himella's waves,
Tiber and Fabaris, and wintry streams
of Nursia; to the same proud muster sped
Tuscan with Latin tribes, and loyal towns
beside whose walls ill-omened Allia flows.
As numerous they moved as rolling waves
that stir smooth Libyan seas, when in cold floods
sinks grim Orion's star; or like the throng
of clustering wheat-tops in the summer sun,
near Hermus or on Lycia's yellowing plain:
shields clashed; their strong tramp smote the trembling ground.
Now Agamemnon's kinsman, cruel foe
to the mere name of Troy, Halaesus, yokes
the horses of his car and summons forth
a thousand savage clans at Turnus' call :
rude men whose mattocks to the Massic hills
bring Bacchus' bounty, or by graybeard sires
sent from Auruncan upland and the mead
of Sidicinum; out of Cales came
its simple folk; and dwellers by the stream
of many-shoaled Volturnus, close-allied
with bold Saticulan or Oscan swains.
Their arms are tapered javelins, which they wear
bound by a coiling thong; a shield conceals
the left side, and they fight with crooked swords.
Nor shalt thou, Oebalus, depart unsung,
whom minstrels say the nymph Sebethis bore
to Telon, who in Capri was a king
when old and gray; but that disdaining son
quitted so small a seat, and conquering sway
among Sarrastian folk and those wide plains
watered by Sarnus' wave, became a king
over Celenna, Rufrae, Batulum,
and where among her apple-orchards rise
Abella's walls. All these, as Teutons use,
hurl a light javelin; for helm they wear
stripped cork-tree bark; the crescent of their shields
is gleaming bronze, and gleaming bronze the sword.
Next Ufens, mountain-bred, from Nersae came
to join the war; of goodly fame was he
for prosperous arms: his Aequian people show
no gentle mien, but scour the woods for prey,
or, ever-armed, across the stubborn glebe
compel the plough; though their chief pride and joy
are rapine, violence, and plundered store.
Next after these, his brows and helmet bound
with noble olive, from Marruvium came
a priest, brave Umbro, ordered to the field
by King Archippus: o'er the viper's brood,
and venomed river-serpents he had power
to scatter slumber with wide-waving hands
and wizard-songs. His potent arts could soothe
their coiling rage and heal the mortal sting:
but 'gainst a Trojan sword no drug had he,
nor could his drowsy spells his flesh repair,
nor gathered simples from the Marsic hills.
Thee soon in wailing woods Anguitia mourned,
thee, Fucinus, the lake of crystal wave,
thee, many a mountain-tarn!
Next, Virbius in martial beauty rode,
son of Hippolytus, whose mother, proud
Aricia, sent him in his flower of fame
out of Egeria's hills and cloudy groves
where lies Diana's gracious, gifted fane.
For legend whispers that Hippolytus,
by step-dame's plot undone, his life-blood gave
to sate his vengeful father, and was rent
in sunder by wild horses; but the grave
to air of heaven and prospect of the stars
restored him;—for Diana's love and care
poured out upon him Paeon's healing balm.
But Jove, almighty Sire, brooked not to see
a mortal out of death and dark reclimb
to light of life, and with a thunderbolt
hurled to the Stygian river Phoebus' son,
who dared such good elixir to compound.
But pitying Trivia hid Hippolytus
in her most secret cave, and gave in ward
to the wise nymph Egeria in her grove;
where he lived on inglorious and alone,
ranging the woods of Italy, and bore
the name of Virbius. 'T is for this cause
the hallowed woods to Trivia's temple vowed
forbid loud-footed horses, such as spilled
stripling and chariot on the fatal shore,
scared by the monsters peering from the sea.
Yet did the son o'er that tumultuous plain
his battle-chariot guide and plunging team.
Lo, Turnus strides conspicuous in the van,
full armed, of mighty frame, his lordly head
high o'er his peers emerging! His tall helm
with flowing triple crest for ensign bears
Chimaera, whose terrific lips outpour
volcanic fires; where'er the menace moves
of her infernal flames and wrathful frown,
there wildest flows the purple flood of war.
On his smooth shield deep graven in the gold
is horned Io—wondrous the device!—
a shaggy heifer-shape the maiden shows;
Argus is watching her, while Inachus
pours forth his river from the pictured urn.
A storm of tramping troops, to Turnus sworn,
throngs all the widespread plain with serried shields:
warriors of Argos, and Auruncan bands,
Sicani, Rutuli, Sacranian hosts,
Labicum's painted shields; all who till
thy woodland vales, O Tiber! or the shore
Numicius hallows; all whose ploughs upturn
Rutulia's hills, or that Circaean range
where Jove of Anxur guards, and forests green
make fair Feronia glad; where lie the fens
of Satura, and Ufens' icy wave
through lowland valleys seeks his seaward way.
Last came Camilla, of the Volscians bred,
leading her mail-clad, radiant chivalry;
a warrior-virgin, of Minerva's craft
of web and distaff, fit for woman's toil,
no follower she; but bared her virgin breast
to meet the brunt of battle, and her speed
left even the winds behind; for she would skim
an untouched harvest ere the sickle fell,
nor graze the quivering wheat-tops as she ran;
or o'er the mid-sea billows' swollen surge
so swiftly race, she wet not in the wave
her flying feet. For sight of her the youth
from field and fortress sped, and matrons grave
stood wondering as she passed, well-pleased to see
her royal scarf in many a purple fold
float off her shining shoulder, her dark hair
in golden clasp caught fast, and how she bore
for arms a quiver of the Lycian mode,
and shepherd's shaft of myrtle tipped with steel.