Translated by John Dryden [1697]
"When Heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state
And Priam's
throne, by too severe a fate;
When ruin'd Troy became the
Grecians' prey,
And Ilium's lofty tow'rs in ashes lay;
Warn'd
by celestial omens, we retreat,
To seek in foreign lands a happier
seat.
Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot,
The timber of the
sacred groves we cut,
And build our fleet; uncertain yet to
find
What place the gods for our repose assign'd.
Friends daily
flock; and scarce the kindly spring
Began to clothe the ground,
and birds to sing,
When old Anchises summon'd all to sea:
The
crew my father and the Fates obey.
With sighs and tears I leave my
native shore,
And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.
My
sire, my son, our less and greater gods,
All sail at once, and
cleave the briny floods.
"Against our coast appears a spacious land,
Which once the
fierce Lycurgus did command,
(Thracia the name- the people bold in
war;
Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,)
A
hospitable realm while Fate was kind,
With Troy in friendship and
religion join'd.
I land; with luckless omens then adore
Their
gods, and draw a line along the shore;
I lay the deep foundations
of a wall,
And Aenos, nam'd from me, the city call.
To Dionaean
Venus vows are paid,
And all the pow'rs that rising labors aid;
A
bull on Jove's imperial altar laid.
Not far, a rising hillock
stood in view;
Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels
grew.
There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,
And shade
our altar with their leafy greens,
I pull'd a plant- with horror I
relate
A prodigy so strange and full of fate.
The rooted fibers
rose, and from the wound
Black bloody drops distill'd upon the
ground.
Mute and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood;
Fear shrunk
my sinews, and congeal'd my blood.
Mann'd once again, another
plant I try:
That other gush'd with the same sanguine dye.
Then,
fearing guilt for some offense unknown,
With pray'rs and vows the
Dryads I atone,
With all the sisters of the woods, and most
The
God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast,
That they, or he, these
omens would avert,
Release our fears, and better signs
impart.
Clear'd, as I thought, and fully fix'd at length
To
learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength:
I bent my knees
against the ground; once more
The violated myrtle ran with
gore.
Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb
Of wounded
earth, and caverns of the tomb,
A groan, as of a troubled ghost,
renew'd
My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued:
'Why
dost thou thus my buried body rend?
O spare the corpse of thy
unhappy friend!
Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood:
The
tears distil not from the wounded wood;
But ev'ry drop this living
tree contains
Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins.
O fly
from this unhospitable shore,
Warn'd by my fate; for I am
Polydore!
Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued,
Again
shoot upward, by my blood renew'd.'
"My falt'ring tongue and shiv'ring limbs declare
My
horror, and in bristles rose my hair.
When Troy with Grecian arms
was closely pent,
Old Priam, fearful of the war's event,
This
hapless Polydore to Thracia sent:
Loaded with gold, he sent his
darling, far
From noise and tumults, and destructive
war,
Committed to the faithless tyrant's care;
Who, when he saw
the pow'r of Troy decline,
Forsook the weaker, with the strong to
join;
Broke ev'ry bond of nature and of truth,
And murder'd,
for his wealth, the royal youth.
O sacred hunger of pernicious
gold!
What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?
Now, when my
soul had shaken off her fears,
I call my father and the Trojan
peers;
Relate the prodigies of Heav'n, require
What he
commands, and their advice desire.
All vote to leave that
execrable shore,
Polluted with the blood of Polydore;
But, ere
we sail, his fun'ral rites prepare,
Then, to his ghost, a tomb and
altars rear.
In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,
With
baleful cypress and blue fillets crown'd,
With eyes dejected, and
with hair unbound.
Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,
And
thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.
"Now, when the raging storms no longer reign,
But southern
gales invite us to the main,
We launch our vessels, with a
prosp'rous wind,
And leave the cities and the shores behind.
"An island in th' Aegaean main appears;
Neptune and wat'ry
Doris claim it theirs.
It floated once, till Phoebus fix'd the
sides
To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides.
Here, borne
by friendly winds, we come ashore,
With needful ease our weary
limbs restore,
And the Sun's temple and his town adore.
"Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown'd,
His
hoary locks with purple fillets bound,
Who saw my sire the Delian
shore ascend,
Came forth with eager haste to meet his
friend;
Invites him to his palace; and, in sign
Of ancient
love, their plighted hands they join.
Then to the temple of the
god I went,
And thus, before the shrine, my vows present:
'Give,
O Thymbraeus, give a resting place
To the sad relics of the Trojan
race;
A seat secure, a region of their own,
A lasting empire,
and a happier town.
Where shall we fix? where shall our labors
end?
Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?
Let not my
pray'rs a doubtful answer find;
But in clear auguries unveil thy
mind.'
Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground,
The
laurels, and the lofty hills around;
And from the tripos rush'd a
bellowing sound.
Prostrate we fell; confess'd the present god,
Who
gave this answer from his dark abode:
'Undaunted youths, go, seek
that mother earth
From which your ancestors derive their
birth.
The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race
In her
old bosom shall again embrace.
Thro' the wide world th' Aeneian
house shall reign,
And children's children shall the crown
sustain.'
Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose:
A mighty
tumult, mix'd with joy, arose.
"All are concern'd to know what place the god
Assign'd,
and where determin'd our abode.
My father, long revolving in his
mind
The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,
Thus answer'd
their demands: 'Ye princes, hear
Your pleasing fortune, and dispel
your fear.
The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame,
Sacred
of old to Jove's imperial name,
In the mid ocean lies, with large
command,
And on its plains a hundred cities stand.
Another Ida
rises there, and we
From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.
From
thence, as 't is divulg'd by certain fame,
To the Rhoetean shores
old Teucrus came;
There fix'd, and there the seat of empire
chose,
Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow'rs arose.
In humble vales
they built their soft abodes,
Till Cybele, the mother of the
gods,
With tinkling cymbals charm'd th' Idaean woods,
She
secret rites and ceremonies taught,
And to the yoke the savage
lions brought.
Let us the land which Heav'n appoints,
explore;
Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore.
If
Jove assists the passage of our fleet,
The third propitious dawn
discovers Crete.'
Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid
On
smoking altars, to the gods he paid:
A bull, to Neptune an
oblation due,
Another bull to bright Apollo slew;
A milk-white
ewe, the western winds to please,
And one coal-black, to calm the
stormy seas.
Ere this, a flying rumor had been spread
That
fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled,
Expell'd and exil'd; that
the coast was free
From foreign or domestic enemy.
"We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea;
By Naxos,
fam'd for vintage, make our way;
Then green Donysa pass; and sail
in sight
Of Paros' isle, with marble quarries white.
We pass
the scatter'd isles of Cyclades,
That, scarce distinguish'd, seem
to stud the seas.
The shouts of sailors double near the
shores;
They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars.
'All
hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!' they cry,
And swiftly thro'
the foamy billows fly.
Full on the promis'd land at length we
bore,
With joy descending on the Cretan shore.
With eager haste
a rising town I frame,
Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name:
The
name itself was grateful; I exhort
To found their houses, and
erect a fort.
Our ships are haul'd upon the yellow strand;
The
youth begin to till the labor'd land;
And I myself new marriages
promote,
Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot;
When rising
vapors choke the wholesome air,
And blasts of noisome winds
corrupt the year;
The trees devouring caterpillars burn;
Parch'd
was the grass, and blighted was the corn:
Nor 'scape the beasts;
for Sirius, from on high,
With pestilential heat infects the
sky:
My men- some fall, the rest in fevers fry.
Again my father
bids me seek the shore
Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,
To
learn what end of woes we might expect,
And to what clime our
weary course direct.
"'T was night, when ev'ry creature, void of cares,
The
common gift of balmy slumber shares:
The statues of my gods (for
such they seem'd),
Those gods whom I from flaming Troy
redeem'd,
Before me stood, majestically bright,
Full in the
beams of Phoebe's ent'ring light.
Then thus they spoke, and eas'd
my troubled mind:
'What from the Delian god thou go'st to find,
He
tells thee here, and sends us to relate.
Those pow'rs are we,
companions of thy fate,
Who from the burning town by thee were
brought,
Thy fortune follow'd, and thy safety wrought.
Thro'
seas and lands as we thy steps attend,
So shall our care thy
glorious race befriend.
An ample realm for thee thy fates
ordain,
A town that o'er the conquer'd world shall reign.
Thou,
mighty walls for mighty nations build;
Nor let thy weary mind to
labors yield:
But change thy seat; for not the Delian god,
Nor
we, have giv'n thee Crete for our abode.
A land there is, Hesperia
call'd of old,
(The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold-
Th'
Oenotrians held it once,) by later fame
Now call'd Italia, from
the leader's name.
lasius there and Dardanus were born;
From
thence we came, and thither must return.
Rise, and thy sire with
these glad tidings greet.
Search Italy; for Jove denies thee
Crete.'
"Astonish'd at their voices and their sight,
(Nor were
they dreams, but visions of the night;
I saw, I knew their faces,
and descried,
In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;)
I
started from my couch; a clammy sweat
On all my limbs and
shiv'ring body sate.
To heav'n I lift my hands with pious
haste,
And sacred incense in the flames I cast.
Thus to the
gods their perfect honors done,
More cheerful, to my good old sire
I run,
And tell the pleasing news. In little space
He found his
error of the double race;
Not, as before he deem'd, deriv'd from
Crete;
No more deluded by the doubtful seat:
Then said: 'O son,
turmoil'd in Trojan fate!
Such things as these Cassandra did
relate.
This day revives within my mind what she
Foretold of
Troy renew'd in Italy,
And Latian lands; but who could then have
thought
That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought,
Or who
believ'd what mad Cassandra taught?
Now let us go where Phoebus
leads the way.'
"He said; and we with glad consent obey,
Forsake the seat,
and, leaving few behind,
We spread our sails before the willing
wind.
Now from the sight of land our galleys move,
With only
seas around and skies above;
When o'er our heads descends a burst
of rain,
And night with sable clouds involves the main;
The
ruffling winds the foamy billows raise;
The scatter'd fleet is
forc'd to sev'ral ways;
The face of heav'n is ravish'd from our
eyes,
And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies.
Cast
from our course, we wander in the dark.
No stars to guide, no
point of land to mark.
Ev'n Palinurus no distinction found
Betwixt
the night and day; such darkness reign'd around.
Three starless
nights the doubtful navy strays,
Without distinction, and three
sunless days;
The fourth renews the light, and, from our
shrouds,
We view a rising land, like distant clouds;
The
mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight,
And curling smoke
ascending from their height.
The canvas falls; their oars the
sailors ply;
From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly.
At
length I land upon the Strophades,
Safe from the danger of the
stormy seas.
Those isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main,
The
dire abode where the foul Harpies reign,
Forc'd by the winged
warriors to repair
To their old homes, and leave their costly
fare.
Monsters more fierce offended Heav'n ne'er sent
From
hell's abyss, for human punishment:
With virgin faces, but with
wombs obscene,
Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean;
With
claws for hands, and looks for ever lean.
"We landed at the port, and soon beheld
Fat herds of oxen
graze the flow'ry field,
And wanton goats without a keeper
stray'd.
With weapons we the welcome prey invade,
Then call the
gods for partners of our feast,
And Jove himself, the chief
invited guest.
We spread the tables on the greensward ground;
We
feed with hunger, and the bowls go round;
When from the
mountain-tops, with hideous cry,
And clatt'ring wings, the hungry
Harpies fly;
They snatch the meat, defiling all they find,
And,
parting, leave a loathsome stench behind.
Close by a hollow rock,
again we sit,
New dress the dinner, and the beds refit,
Secure
from sight, beneath a pleasing shade,
Where tufted trees a native
arbor made.
Again the holy fires on altars burn;
And once again
the rav'nous birds return,
Or from the dark recesses where they
lie,
Or from another quarter of the sky;
With filthy claws
their odious meal repeat,
And mix their loathsome ordures with
their meat.
I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,
And
with the hellish nation wage the war.
They, as commanded, for the
fight provide,
And in the grass their glitt'ring weapons
hide;
Then, when along the crooked shore we hear
Their
clatt'ring wings, and saw the foes appear,
Misenus sounds a
charge: we take th' alarm,
And our strong hands with swords and
bucklers arm.
In this new kind of combat all employ
Their
utmost force, the monsters to destroy.
In vain- the fated skin is
proof to wounds;
And from their plumes the shining sword
rebounds.
At length rebuff'd, they leave their mangled prey,
And
their stretch'd pinions to the skies display.
Yet one remain'd-
the messenger of Fate:
High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate,
And
thus her dismal errand did relate:
'What! not contented with our
oxen slain,
Dare you with Heav'n an impious war maintain,
And
drive the Harpies from their native reign?
Heed therefore what I
say; and keep in mind
What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has
design'd,
And I, the Furies' queen, from both relate-
You seek
th' Italian shores, foredoom'd by fate:
Th' Italian shores are
granted you to find,
And a safe passage to the port assign'd.
But
know, that ere your promis'd walls you build,
My curses shall
severely be fulfill'd.
Fierce famine is your lot for this
misdeed,
Reduc'd to grind the plates on which you feed.'
She
said, and to the neighb'ring forest flew.
Our courage fails us,
and our fears renew.
Hopeless to win by war, to pray'rs we
fall,
And on th' offended Harpies humbly call,
And whether gods
or birds obscene they were,
Our vows for pardon and for peace
prefer.
But old Anchises, off'ring sacrifice,
And lifting up to
heav'n his hands and eyes,
Ador'd the greater gods: 'Avert,' said
he,
'These omens; render vain this prophecy,
And from th'
impending curse a pious people free!'
"Thus having said, he bids us put to sea;
We loose from
shore our haulsers, and obey,
And soon with swelling sails pursue
the wat'ry way.
Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear;
And
next by rocky Neritos we steer:
We fly from Ithaca's detested
shore,
And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore.
At length
Leucate's cloudy top appears,
And the Sun's temple, which the
sailor fears.
Resolv'd to breathe a while from labor past,
Our
crooked anchors from the prow we cast,
And joyful to the little
city haste.
Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay
To
Jove, the guide and patron of our way.
The customs of our country
we pursue,
And Trojan games on Actian shores renew.
Our youth
their naked limbs besmear with oil,
And exercise the wrastlers'
noble toil;
Pleas'd to have sail'd so long before the wind,
And
left so many Grecian towns behind.
The sun had now fulfill'd his
annual course,
And Boreas on the seas display'd his force:
I
fix'd upon the temple's lofty door
The brazen shield which
vanquish'd Abas bore;
The verse beneath my name and action
speaks:
'These arms Aeneas took from conqu'ring Greeks.'
Then I
command to weigh; the seamen ply
Their sweeping oars; the smoking
billows fly.
The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost,
And
skimm'd along Epirus' rocky coast.
"Then to Chaonia's port our course we bend,
And, landed,
to Buthrotus' heights ascend.
Here wondrous things were loudly
blaz'd fame:
How Helenus reviv'd the Trojan name,
And reign'd
in Greece; that Priam's captive son
Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed
and throne;
And fair Andromache, restor'd by fate,
Once more
was happy in a Trojan mate.
I leave my galleys riding in the
port,
And long to see the new Dardanian court.
By chance, the
mournful queen, before the gate,
Then solemniz'd her former
husband's fate.
Green altars, rais'd of turf, with gifts she
crown'd,
And sacred priests in order stand around,
And thrice
the name of hapless Hector sound.
The grove itself resembles Ida's
wood;
And Simois seem'd the well-dissembled flood.
But when at
nearer distance she beheld
My shining armor and my Trojan
shield,
Astonish'd at the sight, the vital heat
Forsakes her
limbs; her veins no longer beat:
She faints, she falls, and scarce
recov'ring strength,
Thus, with a falt'ring tongue, she speaks at
length:
"'Are you alive, O goddess-born ?' she said,
'Or if a
ghost, then where is Hector's shade?'
At this, she cast a loud and
frightful cry.
With broken words I made this brief reply:
'All
of me that remains appears in sight;
I live, if living be to
loathe the light.
No phantom; but I drag a wretched life,
My
fate resembling that of Hector's wife.
What have you suffer'd
since you lost your lord?
By what strange blessing are you now
restor'd?
Still are you Hector's? or is Hector fled,
And his
remembrance lost in Pyrrhus' bed?'
With eyes dejected, in a lowly
tone,
After a modest pause she thus begun:
"'O only happy maid of Priam's race,
Whom death deliver'd
from the foes' embrace!
Commanded on Achilles' tomb to die,
Not
forc'd, like us, to hard captivity,
Or in a haughty master's arms
to lie.
In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne,
Endur'd the
victor's lust, sustain'd the scorn:
Thus I submitted to the
lawless pride
Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride.
Cloy'd
with possession, he forsook my bed,
And Helen's lovely daughter
sought to wed;
Then me to Trojan Helenus resign'd,
And his two
slaves in equal marriage join'd;
Till young Orestes, pierc'd with
deep despair,
And longing to redeem the promis'd fair,
Before
Apollo's altar slew the ravisher.
By Pyrrhus' death the kingdom we
regain'd:
At least one half with Helenus remain'd.
Our part,
from Chaon, he Chaonia calls,
And names from Pergamus his rising
walls.
But you, what fates have landed on our coast?
What gods
have sent you, or what storms have toss'd?
Does young Ascanius
life and health enjoy,
Sav'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy?
O
tell me how his mother's loss he bears,
What hopes are promis'd
from his blooming years,
How much of Hector in his face
appears?'
She spoke; and mix'd her speech with mournful cries,
And
fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes.
"At length her lord descends upon the plain,
In pomp,
attended with a num'rous train;
Receives his friends, and to the
city leads,
And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.
Proceeding
on, another Troy I see,
Or, in less compass, Troy's epitome.
A
riv'let by the name of Xanthus ran,
And I embrace the Scaean gate
again.
My friends in porticoes were entertain'd,
And feasts and
pleasures thro' the city reign'd.
The tables fill'd the spacious
hall around,
And golden bowls with sparkling wine were
crown'd.
Two days we pass'd in mirth, till friendly gales,
Blown
from the supplied our swelling sails.
Then to the royal seer I
thus began:
'O thou, who know'st, beyond the reach of man,
The
laws of heav'n, and what the stars decree;
Whom Phoebus taught
unerring prophecy,
From his own tripod, and his holy tree;
Skill'd
in the wing'd inhabitants of air,
What auspices their notes and
flights declare:
O say- for all religious rites portend
A happy
voyage, and a prosp'rous end;
And ev'ry power and omen of the
sky
Direct my course for destin'd Italy;
But only dire Celaeno,
from the gods,
A dismal famine fatally forebodes-
O say what
dangers I am first to shun,
What toils vanquish, and what course
to run.'
"The prophet first with sacrifice adores
The greater gods;
their pardon then implores;
Unbinds the fillet from his holy
head;
To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led,
Full of
religious doubts and awful dread.
Then, with his god possess'd,
before the shrine,
These words proceeded from his mouth divine:
'O
goddess-born, (for Heav'n's appointed will,
With greater auspices
of good than ill,
Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course
directs;
Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,)
Of
many things some few I shall explain,
Teach thee to shun the
dangers of the main,
And how at length the promis'd shore to
gain.
The rest the fates from Helenus conceal,
And Juno's angry
pow'r forbids to tell.
First, then, that happy shore, that seems
so nigh,
Will far from your deluded wishes fly;
Long tracts of
seas divide your hopes from Italy:
For you must cruise along
Sicilian shores,
And stem the currents with your struggling
oars;
Then round th' Italian coast your navy steer;
And, after
this, to Circe's island veer;
And, last, before your new
foundations rise,
Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether
skies.
Now mark the signs of future ease and rest,
And bear
them safely treasur'd in thy breast.
When, in the shady shelter of
a wood,
And near the margin of a gentle flood,
Thou shalt
behold a sow upon the ground,
With thirty sucking young
encompass'd round;
The dam and offspring white as falling
snow-
These on thy city shall their name bestow,
And there
shall end thy labors and thy woe.
Nor let the threaten'd famine
fright thy mind,
For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will
find.
Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent,
Which
fronts from far th' Epirian continent:
Those parts are all by
Grecian foes possess'd;
The salvage Locrians here the shores
infest;
There fierce Idomeneus his city builds,
And guards with
arms the Salentinian fields;
And on the mountain's brow Petilia
stands,
Which Philoctetes with his troops commands.
Ev'n when
thy fleet is landed on the shore,
And priests with holy vows the
gods adore,
Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,
Lest
hostile faces blast the sacrifice.
These rites and customs to the
rest commend,
That to your pious race they may descend.
"'When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits
For
Sicily, shall bear you to the straits
Where proud Pelorus opes a
wider way,
Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea:
Veer
starboard sea and land. Th' Italian shore
And fair Sicilia's coast
were one, before
An earthquake caus'd the flaw: the roaring
tides
The passage broke that land from land divides;
And where
the lands retir'd, the rushing ocean rides.
Distinguish'd by the
straits, on either hand,
Now rising cities in long order
stand,
And fruitful fields: so much can time invade
The
mold'ring work that beauteous Nature made.
Far on the right, her
dogs foul Scylla hides:
Charybdis roaring on the left
presides,
And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides;
Then
spouts them from below: with fury driv'n,
The waves mount up and
wash the face of heav'n.
But Scylla from her den, with open
jaws,
The sinking vessel in her eddy draws,
Then dashes on the
rocks. A human face,
And virgin bosom, hides her tail's
disgrace:
Her parts obscene below the waves descend,
With dogs
inclos'd, and in a dolphin end.
'T is safer, then, to bear aloof
to sea,
And coast Pachynus, tho' with more delay,
Than once to
view misshapen Scylla near,
And the loud yell of wat'ry wolves to
hear.
"'Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,
And if prophetic
Phoebus tell me true,
Do not this precept of your friend
forget,
Which therefore more than once I must repeat:
Above the
rest, great Juno's name adore;
Pay vows to Juno; Juno's aid
implore.
Let gifts be to the mighty queen design'd,
And mollify
with pray'rs her haughty mind.
Thus, at the length, your passage
shall be free,
And you shall safe descend on Italy.
Arriv'd at
Cumae, when you view the flood
Of black Avernus, and the sounding
wood,
The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find,
Dark in a cave,
and on a rock reclin'd.
She sings the fates, and, in her frantic
fits,
The notes and names, inscrib'd, to leafs commits.
What
she commits to leafs, in order laid,
Before the cavern's entrance
are display'd:
Unmov'd they lie; but, if a blast of wind
Without,
or vapors issue from behind,
The leafs are borne aloft in liquid
air,
And she resumes no more her museful care,
Nor gathers from
the rocks her scatter'd verse,
Nor sets in order what the winds
disperse.
Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid
The madness
of the visionary maid,
And with loud curses leave the mystic
shade.
"'Think it not loss of time a while to stay,
Tho' thy
companions chide thy long delay;
Tho' summon'd to the seas, tho'
pleasing gales
Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling
sails:
But beg the sacred priestess to relate
With willing
words, and not to write thy fate.
The fierce Italian people she
will show,
And all thy wars, and all thy future woe,
And what
thou may'st avoid, and what must undergo.
She shall direct thy
course, instruct thy mind,
And teach thee how the happy shores to
find.
This is what Heav'n allows me to relate:
Now part in
peace; pursue thy better fate,
And raise, by strength of arms, the
Trojan state.'
"This when the priest with friendly voice declar'd,
He
gave me license, and rich gifts prepar'd:
Bounteous of treasure,
he supplied my want
With heavy gold, and polish'd elephant;
Then
Dodonaean caldrons put on board,
And ev'ry ship with sums of
silver stor'd.
A trusty coat of mail to me he sent,
Thrice
chain'd with gold, for use and ornament;
The helm of Pyrrhus added
to the rest,
That flourish'd with a plume and waving crest.
Nor
was my sire forgotten, nor my friends;
And large recruits he to my
navy sends:
Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike
stores;
Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars.
Meantime,
my sire commands to hoist our sails,
Lest we should lose the first
auspicious gales.
"The prophet bless'd the parting crew, and last,
With
words like these, his ancient friend embrac'd:
'Old happy man, the
care of gods above,
Whom heav'nly Venus honor'd with her love,
And
twice preserv'd thy life, when Troy was lost,
Behold from far the
wish'd Ausonian coast:
There land; but take a larger compass
round,
For that before is all forbidden ground.
The shore that
Phoebus has design'd for you,
At farther distance lies, conceal'd
from view.
Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes,
Blest in a
son, and favor'd by the gods:
For I with useless words prolong
your stay,
When southern gales have summon'd you away.'
"Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor'd,
Nor was
less bounteous than her Trojan lord.
A noble present to my son she
brought,
A robe with flow'rs on golden tissue wrought,
A
phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside
Of precious texture,
and of Asian pride.
'Accept,' she said, 'these monuments of
love,
Which in my youth with happier hands I wove:
Regard these
trifles for the giver's sake;
'T is the last present Hector's wife
can make.
Thou call'st my lost Astyanax to mind;
In thee his
features and his form I find:
His eyes so sparkled with a lively
flame;
Such were his motions; such was all his frame;
And ah!
had Heav'n so pleas'd, his years had been the same.'
"With tears I took my last adieu, and said:
'Your fortune,
happy pair, already made,
Leaves you no farther wish. My diff'rent
state,
Avoiding one, incurs another fate.
To you a quiet seat
the gods allow:
You have no shores to search, no seas to plow,
Nor
fields of flying Italy to chase:
(Deluding visions, and a vain
embrace!)
You see another Simois, and enjoy
The labor of your
hands, another Troy,
With better auspice than her ancient
tow'rs,
And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs.
If e'er the
gods, whom I with vows adore,
Conduct my steps to Tiber's happy
shore;
If ever I ascend the Latian throne,
And build a city I
may call my own;
As both of us our birth from Troy derive,
So
let our kindred lines in concord live,
And both in acts of equal
friendship strive.
Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the
same:
The double Troy shall differ but in name;
That what we
now begin may never end,
But long to late posterity descend.'
"Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore;
The shortest
passage to th' Italian shore.
Now had the sun withdrawn his
radiant light,
And hills were hid in dusky shades of night:
We
land, and, on the bosom Of the ground,
A safe retreat and a bare
lodging found.
Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep
Their
watches, and the rest securely sleep.
The night, proceeding on
with silent pace,
Stood in her noon, and view'd with equal
face
Her steepy rise and her declining race.
Then wakeful
Palinurus rose, to spy
The face of heav'n, and the nocturnal
sky;
And listen'd ev'ry breath of air to try;
Observes the
stars, and notes their sliding course,
The Pleiads, Hyads, and
their wat'ry force;
And both the Bears is careful to behold,
And
bright Orion, arm'd with burnish'd gold.
Then, when he saw no
threat'ning tempest nigh,
But a sure promise of a settled sky,
He
gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep,
Forsake the pleasing
shore, and plow the deep.
"And now the rising morn with rosy light
Adorns the skies,
and puts the stars to flight;
When we from far, like bluish mists,
descry
The hills, and then the plains, of Italy.
Achates first
pronounc'd the joyful sound;
Then, 'Italy!' the cheerful crew
rebound.
My sire Anchises crown'd a cup with wine,
And,
off'ring, thus implor'd the pow'rs divine:
'Ye gods, presiding
over lands and seas,
And you who raging winds and waves
appease,
Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp'rous wind,
And
smooth our passage to the port assign'd!'
The gentle gales their
flagging force renew,
And now the happy harbor is in
view.
Minerva's temple then salutes our sight,
Plac'd, as a
landmark, on the mountain's height.
We furl our sails, and turn
the prows to shore;
The curling waters round the galleys roar.
The
land lies open to the raging east,
Then, bending like a bow, with
rocks compress'd,
Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves
complain,
And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.
The port
lies hid within; on either side
Two tow'ring rocks the narrow
mouth divide.
The temple, which aloft we view'd before,
To
distance flies, and seems to shun the shore.
Scarce landed, the
first omens I beheld
Were four white steeds that cropp'd the
flow'ry field.
'War, war is threaten'd from this foreign
ground,'
My father cried, 'where warlike steeds are found.
Yet,
since reclaim'd to chariots they submit,
And bend to stubborn
yokes, and champ the bit,
Peace may succeed to war.' Our way we
bend
To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend;
There prostrate to
the fierce virago pray,
Whose temple was the landmark of our
way.
Each with a Phrygian mantle veil'd his head,
And all
commands of Helenus obey'd,
And pious rites to Grecian Juno
paid.
These dues perform'd, we stretch our sails, and stand
To
sea, forsaking that suspected land.
"From hence Tarentum's bay appears in view,
For Hercules
renown'd, if fame be true.
Just opposite, Lacinian Juno
stands;
Caulonian tow'rs, and Scylacaean strands,
For
shipwrecks fear'd. Mount Aetna thence we spy,
Known by the smoky
flames which cloud the sky.
Far off we hear the waves with surly
sound
Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound.
The
billows break upon the sounding strand,
And roll the rising tide,
impure with sand.
Then thus Anchises, in experience old:
''T is
that Charybdis which the seer foretold,
And those the promis'd
rocks! Bear off to sea!'
With haste the frighted mariners
obey.
First Palinurus to the larboard veer'd;
Then all the
fleet by his example steer'd.
To heav'n aloft on ridgy waves we
ride,
Then down to hell descend, when they divide;
And thrice
our galleys knock'd the stony ground,
And thrice the hollow rocks
return'd the sound,
And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with
dews around.
The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun;
And,
wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run.
The port capacious, and
secure from wind,
Is to the foot of thund'ring Aetna join'd.
By
turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high;
By turns hot embers from
her entrails fly,
And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the
sky.
Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown,
And, shiver'd
by the force, come piecemeal down.
Oft liquid lakes of burning
sulphur flow,
Fed from the fiery springs that boil
below.
Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove,
With blasted
limbs came tumbling from above;
And, where he fell, th' avenging
father drew
This flaming hill, and on his body threw.
As often
as he turns his weary sides,
He shakes the solid isle, and smoke
the heavens hides.
In shady woods we pass the tedious night,
Where
bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright,
Of which no cause
is offer'd to the sight;
For not one star was kindled in the
sky,
Nor could the moon her borrow'd light supply;
For misty
clouds involv'd the firmament,
The stars were muffled, and the
moon was pent.
"Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal'd,
Scarce had
his heat the pearly dews dispell'd,
When from the woods there
bolts, before our sight,
Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a
sprite,
So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan,
So bare of
flesh, he scarce resembled man.
This thing, all tatter'd, seem'd
from far t' implore
Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.
We
look behind, then view his shaggy beard;
His clothes were tagg'd
with thorns, and filth his limbs
besmear'd;
The rest, in mien,
in habit, and in face,
Appear'd a Greek, and such indeed he
was.
He cast on us, from far, a frightful view,
Whom soon for
Trojans and for foes he knew;
Stood still, and paus'd; then all at
once began
To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran.
Soon
as approach'd, upon his knees he falls,
And thus with tears and
sighs for pity calls:
'Now, by the pow'rs above, and what we
share
From Nature's common gift, this vital air,
O Trojans,
take me hence! I beg no more;
But bear me far from this unhappy
shore.
'T is true, I am a Greek, and farther own,
Among your
foes besieg'd th' imperial town.
For such demerits if my death be
due,
No more for this abandon'd life I sue;
This only favor let
my tears obtain,
To throw me headlong in the rapid main:
Since
nothing more than death my crime demands,
I die content, to die by
human hands.'
He said, and on his knees my knees embrac'd:
I
bade him boldly tell his fortune past,
His present state, his
lineage, and his name,
Th' occasion of his fears, and whence he
came.
The good Anchises rais'd him with his hand;
Who, thus
encourag'd, answer'd our demand:
'From Ithaca, my native soil, I
came
To Troy; and Achaemenides my name.
Me my poor father with
Ulysses sent;
(O had I stay'd, with poverty content!)
But,
fearful for themselves, my countrymen
Left me forsaken in the
Cyclops' den.
The cave, tho' large, was dark; the dismal floor
Was
pav'd with mangled limbs and putrid gore.
Our monstrous host, of
more than human size,
Erects his head, and stares within the
skies;
Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue.
Ye gods,
remove this plague from mortal view!
The joints of slaughter'd
wretches are his food;
And for his wine he quaffs the streaming
blood.
These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand
He seiz'd
two captives of our Grecian band;
Stretch'd on his back, he dash'd
against the stones
Their broken bodies, and their crackling
bones:
With spouting blood the purple pavement swims,
While the
dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs.
"'Not unreveng'd Ulysses bore their fate,
Nor thoughtless
of his own unhappy state;
For, gorg'd with flesh, and drunk with
human wine
While fast asleep the giant lay supine,
Snoring
aloud, and belching from his maw
His indigested foam, and morsels
raw;
We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround
The monstrous
body, stretch'd along the ground:
Each, as he could approach him,
lends a hand
To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.
Beneath
his frowning forehead lay his eye;
For only one did the vast frame
supply-
But that a globe so large, his front it fill'd,
Like
the sun's disk or like a Grecian shield.
The stroke succeeds; and
down the pupil bends:
This vengeance follow'd for our slaughter'd
friends.
But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly!
Your cables
cut, and on your oars rely!
Such, and so vast as Polypheme
appears,
A hundred more this hated island bears:
Like him, in
caves they shut their woolly sheep;
Like him, their herds on tops
of mountains keep;
Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from
steep to steep
And now three moons their sharpen'd horns
renew,
Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view,
I
drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,
And in deserted caverns
lodge by night;
Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see
Of
the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree:
From far I hear his
thund'ring voice resound,
And trampling feet that shake the solid
ground.
Cornels and salvage berries of the wood,
And roots and
herbs, have been my meager food.
While all around my longing eyes
I cast,
I saw your happy ships appear at last.
On those I fix'd
my hopes, to these I run;
'T is all I ask, this cruel race to
shun;
What other death you please, yourselves bestow.'
"Scarce had he said, when on the mountain's brow
We saw
the giant shepherd stalk before
His following flock, and leading
to the shore:
A monstrous bulk, deform'd, depriv'd of sight;
His
staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright.
His pond'rous
whistle from his neck descends;
His woolly care their pensive lord
attends:
This only solace his hard fortune sends.
Soon as he
reach'd the shore and touch'd the waves,
From his bor'd eye the
gutt'ring blood he laves:
He gnash'd his teeth, and groan'd; thro'
seas he strides,
And scarce the topmost billows touch'd his sides.
"Seiz'd with a sudden fear, we run to sea,
The cables cut,
and silent haste away;
The well-deserving stranger
entertain;
Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the
main.
The giant harken'd to the dashing sound:
But, when our
vessels out of reach he found,
He strided onward, and in vain
essay'd
Th' Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.
With that
he roar'd aloud: the dreadful cry
Shakes earth, and air, and seas;
the billows fly
Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy.
The
neigh'ring Aetna trembling all around,
The winding caverns echo to
the sound.
His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar,
And,
rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore.
We saw their stern
distorted looks, from far,
And one-eyed glance, that vainly
threaten'd war:
A dreadful council, with their heads on high;
(The
misty clouds about their foreheads fly;)
Not yielding to the
tow'ring tree of Jove,
Or tallest cypress of Diana's grove.
New
pangs of mortal fear our minds assail;
We tug at ev'ry oar, and
hoist up ev'ry sail,
And take th' advantage of the friendly
gale.
Forewarn'd by Helenus, we strive to shun
Charybdis' gulf,
nor dare to Scylla run.
An equal fate on either side appears:
We,
tacking to the left, are free from fears;
For, from Pelorus'
point, the North arose,
And drove us back where swift Pantagias
flows.
His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way
By Thapsus and
Megara's winding bay.
This passage Achaemenides had shown,
Tracing
the course which he before had run.
"Right o'er against Plemmyrium's wat'ry strand,
There lies
an isle once call'd th' Ortygian land.
Alpheus, as old fame
reports, has found
From Greece a secret passage under ground,
By
love to beauteous Arethusa led;
And, mingling here, they roll in
the same sacred bed.
As Helenus enjoin'd, we next adore
Diana's
name, protectress of the shore.
With prosp'rous gales we pass the
quiet sounds
Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds.
Then,
doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey
The rocky shore extended to the
sea.
The town of Camarine from far we see,
And fenny lake,
undrain'd by fate's decree.
In sight of the Geloan fields we
pass,
And the large walls, where mighty Gela was;
Then Agragas,
with lofty summits crown'd,
Long for the race of warlike steeds
renown'd.
We pass'd Selinus, and the palmy land,
And widely
shun the Lilybaean strand,
Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving
sand.
At length on shore the weary fleet arriv'd,
Which
Drepanum's unhappy port receiv'd.
Here, after endless labors,
often toss'd
By raging storms, and driv'n on ev'ry coast,
My
dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost:
Ease of my cares, and
solace of my pain,
Sav'd thro' a thousand toils, but sav'd in
vain
The prophet, who my future woes reveal'd,
Yet this, the
greatest and the worst, conceal'd;
And dire Celaeno, whose
foreboding skill
Denounc'd all else, was silent of the ill.
This
my last labor was. Some friendly god
From thence convey'd us to
your blest abode."
Thus, to the list'ning queen, the royal guest
His wand'ring
course and all his toils express'd;
And here concluding, he
retir'd to rest.