Translated by John Dryden [1697]
And thou, O matron of immortal fame,
Here dying, to the shore
hast left thy name;
Cajeta still the place is call'd from
thee,
The nurse of great Aeneas' infancy.
Here rest thy bones
in rich Hesperia's plains;
Thy name ('t is all a ghost can have)
remains.
Now, when the prince her fun'ral rites had paid,
He plow'd the
Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd.
From land a gentle breeze
arose by night,
Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright,
And
the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of
Circe's shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the
Sun,)
A dang'rous coast: the goddess wastes her days
In joyous
songs; the rocks resound her lays:
In spinning, or the loom, she
spends the night,
And cedar brands supply her father's light.
From
hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,
The roars of lions that
refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of
bears,
And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors'
ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the
sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate,
whom Circe's pow'r,
(That watch'd the moon and planetary
hour,)
With words and wicked herbs from humankind
Had alter'd,
and in brutal shapes confin'd.
Which monsters lest the Trojans'
pious host
Should bear, or touch upon th' inchanted
coast,
Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night
With
rising gales that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these,
they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly
roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
And wav'd her
saffron streamer thro' the skies;
When Thetis blush'd in purple
not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
A
sudden silence sate upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with
struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a
wood,
Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
Betwixt
the trees the Tiber took his course,
With whirlpools dimpled; and
with downward force,
That drove the sand along, he took his
way,
And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea.
About him, and
above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his
flood,
That bath'd within, or basked upon his side,
To tuneful
songs their narrow throats applied.
The captain gives command; the
joyful train
Glide thro' the gloomy shade, and leave the main.
Now, Erato, thy poet's mind inspire,
And fill his soul with thy
celestial fire!
Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings;
Declare
the past and state of things,
When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia
sought,
And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought.
These
are my theme, and how the war began,
And how concluded by the
godlike man:
For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage,
Which
princes and their people did engage;
And haughty souls, that,
mov'd with mutual hate,
In fighting fields pursued and found their
fate;
That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms,
And
peaceful Italy involv'd in arms.
A larger scene of action is
display'd;
And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh'd.
Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd
The Latin scepter,
and his people blest:
His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame
His
mother; fair Marica was her name.
But Faunus came from Picus:
Picus drew
His birth from Saturn, if records be true.
Thus King
Latinus, in the third degree,
Had Saturn author of his family.
But
this old peaceful prince, as Heav'n decreed,
Was blest with no
male issue to succeed:
His sons in blooming youth were snatch'd by
fate;
One only daughter heir'd the royal state.
Fir'd with her
love, and with ambition led,
The neighb'ring princes court her
nuptial bed.
Among the crowd, but far above the rest,
Young
Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd.
Turnus, for high descent
and graceful mien,
Was first, and favor'd by the Latian
queen;
With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand,
But dire
portents the purpos'd match withstand.
Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood
A laurel's
trunk, a venerable wood;
Where rites divine were paid; whose holy
hair
Was kept and cut with superstitious care.
This plant
Latinus, when his town he wall'd,
Then found, and from the tree
Laurentum call'd;
And last, in honor of his new abode,
He vow'd
the laurel to the laurel's god.
It happen'd once (a boding
prodigy!)
A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky,
(Unknown
from whence they took their airy flight,)
Upon the topmost branch
in clouds alight;
There with their clasping feet together
clung,
And a long cluster from the laurel hung.
An ancient
augur prophesied from hence:
"Behold on Latian shores a
foreign prince!
From the same parts of heav'n his navy stands,
To
the same parts on earth; his army lands;
The town he conquers, and
the tow'r commands."
Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire
Before the gods, and
stood beside her sire,
(Strange to relate!) the flames, involv'd
in smoke
Of incense, from the sacred altar broke,
Caught her
dishevel'd hair and rich attire;
Her crown and jewels crackled in
the fire:
From thence the fuming trail began to spread
And
lambent glories danc'd about her head.
This new portent the seer
with wonder views,
Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews:
"The
nymph, who scatters flaming fires around,
Shall shine with honor,
shall herself be crown'd;
But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate,
War
shall the country waste, and change the state."
Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent,
For counsel to his
father Faunus went,
And sought the shades renown'd for
prophecy
Which near Albunea's sulph'rous fountain lie.
To these
the Latian and the Sabine land
Fly, when distress'd, and thence
relief demand.
The priest on skins of off'rings takes his
ease,
And nightly visions in his slumber sees;
A swarm of thin
aerial shapes appears,
And, flutt'ring round his temples, deafs
his ears:
These he consults, the future fates to know,
From
pow'rs above, and from the fiends below.
Here, for the gods'
advice, Latinus flies,
Off'ring a hundred sheep for
sacrifice:
Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd,
He laid
beneath him, and to rest retir'd.
No sooner were his eyes in
slumber bound,
When, from above, a more than mortal sound
Invades
his ears; and thus the vision spoke:
"Seek not, my seed, in
Latian bands to yoke
Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke.
A
foreign son upon thy shore descends,
Whose martial fame from pole
to pole extends.
His race, in arms and arts of peace renown'd,
Not
Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound:
'T is theirs whate'er the
sun surveys around."
These answers, in the silent night
receiv'd,
The king himself divulg'd, the land believ'd:
The
fame thro' all the neighb'ring nations flew,
When now the Trojan
navy was in view.
Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread
His table on the turf,
with cakes of bread;
And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he
fed.
They sate; and, (not without the god's command,)
Their
homely fare dispatch'd, the hungry band
Invade their trenchers
next, and soon devour,
To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of
flour.
Ascanius this observ'd, and smiling said:
"See, we
devour the plates on which we fed."
The speech had omen, that
the Trojan race
Should find repose, and this the time and
place.
Aeneas took the word, and thus replies,
Confessing fate
with wonder in his eyes:
"All hail, O earth! all hail, my
household gods!
Behold the destin'd place of your abodes!
For
thus Anchises prophesied of old,
And this our fatal place of rest
foretold:
'When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat,
By famine
forc'd, your trenchers you shall eat,
Then ease your weary Trojans
will attend,
And the long labors of your voyage end.
Remember
on that happy coast to build,
And with a trench inclose the
fruitful field.'
This was that famine, this the fatal place
Which
ends the wand'ring of our exil'd race.
Then, on to-morrow's dawn,
your care employ,
To search the land, and where the cities
lie,
And what the men; but give this day to joy.
Now pour to
Jove; and, after Jove is blest,
Call great Anchises to the genial
feast:
Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught;
Enjoy
the present hour; adjourn the future thought."
Thus having said, the hero bound his brows
With leafy branches,
then perform'd his vows;
Adoring first the genius of the
place,
Then Earth, the mother of the heav'nly race,
The nymphs,
and native godheads yet unknown,
And Night, and all the stars that
gild her sable throne,
And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove,
And
last his sire below, and mother queen above.
Then heav'n's high
monarch thunder'd thrice aloud,
And thrice he shook aloft a golden
cloud.
Soon thro' the joyful camp a rumor flew,
The time was
come their city to renew.
Then ev'ry brow with cheerful green is
crown'd,
The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round.
When next the rosy morn disclos'd the day,
The scouts to
sev'ral parts divide their way,
To learn the natives' names, their
towns explore,
The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore:
Here
Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands;
Here warlike Latins hold the
happy lands.
The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways
To
found his empire, and his town to raise,
A hundred youths from all
his train selects,
And to the Latian court their course
directs,
(The spacious palace where their prince resides,)
And
all their heads with wreaths of olive hides.
They go commission'd
to require a peace,
And carry presents to procure access.
Thus
while they speed their pace, the prince designs
His new-elected
seat, and draws the lines.
The Trojans round the place a rampire
cast,
And palisades about the trenches plac'd.
Meantime the train, proceeding on their way,
From far the town
and lofty tow'rs survey;
At length approach the walls. Without the
gate,
They see the boys and Latian youth debate
The martial
prizes on the dusty plain:
Some drive the cars, and some the
coursers rein;
Some bend the stubborn bow for victory,
And some
with darts their active sinews try.
A posting messenger,
dispatch'd from hence,
Of this fair troop advis'd their aged
prince,
That foreign men of mighty stature came;
Uncouth their
habit, and unknown their name.
The king ordains their entrance,
and ascends
His regal seat, surrounded by his friends.
The palace built by Picus, vast and proud,
Supported by a
hundred pillars stood,
And round incompass'd with a rising
wood.
The pile o'erlook'd the town, and drew the sight;
Surpris'd
at once with reverence and delight.
There kings receiv'd the marks
of sov'reign pow'r;
In state the monarchs march'd; the lictors
bore
Their awful axes and the rods before.
Here the tribunal
stood, the house of pray'r,
And here the sacred senators
repair;
All at large tables, in long order set,
A ram their
off'ring, and a ram their meat.
Above the portal, carv'd in cedar
wood,
Plac'd in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood;
Old
Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high;
And Italus, that led the
colony;
And ancient Janus, with his double face,
And bunch of
keys, the porter of the place.
There good Sabinus, planter of the
vines,
On a short pruning hook his head reclines,
And
studiously surveys his gen'rous wines;
Then warlike kings, who for
their country fought,
And honorable wounds from battle
brought.
Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears,
And
captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars,
And broken beaks of
ships, the trophies of their wars.
Above the rest, as chief of all
the band,
Was Picus plac'd, a buckler in his hand;
His other
wav'd a long divining wand.
Girt in his Gabin gown the hero
sate,
Yet could not with his art avoid his fate:
For Circe long
had lov'd the youth in vain,
Till love, refus'd, converted to
disdain:
Then, mixing pow'rful herbs, with magic art,
She
chang'd his form, who could not change his heart;
Constrain'd him
in a bird, and made him fly,
With party-color'd plumes, a
chatt'ring pie.
In this high temple, on a chair of state,
The seat of audience,
old Latinus sate;
Then gave admission to the Trojan train;
And
thus with pleasing accents he began:
"Tell me, ye Trojans,
for that name you own,
Nor is your course upon our coasts
unknown-
Say what you seek, and whither were you bound:
Were
you by stress of weather cast aground?
(Such dangers as on seas
are often seen,
And oft befall to miserable men,)
Or come, your
shipping in our ports to lay,
Spent and disabled in so long a
way?
Say what you want: the Latians you shall find
Not forc'd
to goodness, but by will inclin'd;
For, since the time of Saturn's
holy reign,
His hospitable customs we retain.
I call to mind
(but time the tale has worn)
Th' Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho'
born
On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore,
And
Samothracia, Samos call'd before.
From Tuscan Coritum he claim'd
his birth;
But after, when exempt from mortal earth,
From
thence ascended to his kindred skies,
A god, and, as a god,
augments their sacrifice,"
He said. Ilioneus made this reply:
"O king, of Faunus'
royal family!
Nor wintry winds to Latium forc'd our way,
Nor
did the stars our wand'ring course betray.
Willing we sought your
shores; and, hither bound,
The port, so long desir'd, at length we
found;
From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell'd;
Great
as the greatest that the sun beheld.
The god began our line, who
rules above;
And, as our race, our king descends from Jove:
And
hither are we come, by his command,
To crave admission in your
happy land.
How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour'd,
Our
plains, our temples, and our town devour'd;
What was the waste of
war, what fierce alarms
Shook Asia's crown with European
arms;
Ev'n such have heard, if any such there be,
Whose earth
is bounded by the frozen sea;
And such as, born beneath the
burning sky
And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie.
From that
dire deluge, thro' the wat'ry waste,
Such length of years, such
various perils past,
At last escap'd, to Latium we repair,
To
beg what you without your want may spare:
The common water, and
the common air;
Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean
abodes,
Fit to receive and serve our banish'd gods.
Nor our
admission shall your realm disgrace,
Nor length of time our
gratitude efface.
Besides, what endless honor you shall gain,
To
save and shelter Troy's unhappy train!
Now, by my sov'reign, and
his fate, I swear,
Renown'd for faith in peace, for force in
war;
Oft our alliance other lands desir'd,
And, what we seek of
you, of us requir'd.
Despite not then, that in our hands we
bear
These holy boughs, sue with words of pray'r.
Fate and the
gods, by their supreme command,
Have doom'd our ships to seek the
Latian land.
To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends;
Here
Dardanus was born, and hither tends;
Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with
rapid force,
And where Numicus opes his holy source.
Besides,
our prince presents, with his request,
Some small remains of what
his sire possess'd.
This golden charger, snatch'd from burning
Troy,
Anchises did in sacrifice employ;
This royal robe and
this tiara wore
Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore
In full
assemblies, and in solemn games;
These purple vests were weav'd by
Dardan dames."
Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll'd around
His eyes, and fix'd
a while upon the ground.
Intent he seem'd, and anxious in his
breast;
Not by the scepter mov'd, or kingly vest,
But pond'ring
future things of wondrous weight;
Succession, empire, and his
daughter's fate.
On these he mus'd within his thoughtful mind,
And
then revolv'd what Faunus had divin'd.
This was the foreign
prince, by fate decreed
To share his scepter, and Lavinia's
bed;
This was the race that sure portents foreshew
To sway the
world, and land and sea subdue.
At length he rais'd his cheerful
head, and spoke:
"The pow'rs," said he, "the pow'rs
we both invoke,
To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be,
And
firm our purpose with their augury!
Have what you ask; your
presents I receive;
Land, where and when you please, with ample
leave;
Partake and use my kingdom as your own;
All shall be
yours, while I command the crown:
And, if my wish'd alliance
please your king,
Tell him he should not send the peace, but
bring.
Then let him not a friend's embraces fear;
The peace is
made when I behold him here.
Besides this answer, tell my royal
guest,
I add to his commands my own request:
One only daughter
heirs my crown and state,
Whom not our oracles, nor Heav'n, nor
fate,
Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join
With any native of
th' Ausonian line.
A foreign son-in-law shall come from far
(Such
is our doom), a chief renown'd in war,
Whose race shall bear aloft
the Latian name,
And thro' the conquer'd world diffuse our
fame.
Himself to be the man the fates require,
I firmly judge,
and, what I judge, desire."
He said, and then on each bestow'd a steed.
Three hundred
horses, in high stables fed,
Stood ready, shining all, and
smoothly dress'd:
Of these he chose the fairest and the best,
To
mount the Trojan troop. At his command
The steeds caparison'd with
purple stand,
With golden trappings, glorious to behold,
And
champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold.
Then to his absent
guest the king decreed
A pair of coursers born of heav'nly
breed,
Who from their nostrils breath'd ethereal fire;
Whom
Circe stole from her celestial sire,
By substituting mares
produc'd on earth,
Whose wombs conceiv'd a more than mortal
birth.
These draw the chariot which Latinus sends,
And the rich
present to the prince commends.
Sublime on stately steeds the
Trojans borne,
To their expecting lord with peace return.
But jealous Juno, from Pachynus' height,
As she from Argos took
her airy flight,
Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight.
She
saw the Trojan and his joyful train
Descend upon the shore, desert
the main,
Design a town, and, with unhop'd success,
Th'
embassadors return with promis'd peace.
Then, pierc'd with pain,
she shook her haughty head,
Sigh'd from her inward soul, and thus
she said:
"O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes!
O fates
of Troy, which Juno's fates oppose!
Could they not fall unpitied
on the plain,
But slain revive, and, taken, scape again?
When
execrable Troy in ashes lay,
Thro' fires and swords and seas they
forc'd their way.
Then vanquish'd Juno must in vain contend,
Her
rage disarm'd, her empire at an end.
Breathless and tir'd, is all
my fury spent?
Or does my glutted spleen at length relent?
As
if 't were little from their town to chase,
I thro' the seas
pursued their exil'd race;
Ingag'd the heav'ns, oppos'd the stormy
main;
But billows roar'd, and tempests rag'd in vain.
What have
my Scyllas and my Syrtes done,
When these they overpass, and those
they shun?
On Tiber's shores they land, secure of fate,
Triumphant
o'er the storms and Juno's hate.
Mars could in mutual blood the
Centaurs bathe,
And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia's wrath,
Who
sent the tusky boar to Calydon;
(What great offense had either
people done?)
But I, the consort of the Thunderer,
Have wag'd a
long and unsuccessful war,
With various arts and arms in vain have
toil'd,
And by a mortal man at length am foil'd.
If native
pow'r prevail not, shall I doubt
To seek for needful succor from
without?
If Jove and Heav'n my just desires deny,
Hell shall
the pow'r of Heav'n and Jove supply.
Grant that the Fates have
firm'd, by their decree,
The Trojan race to reign in Italy;
At
least I can defer the nuptial day,
And with protracted wars the
peace delay:
With blood the dear alliance shall be bought,
And
both the people near destruction brought;
So shall the son-in-law
and father join,
With ruin, war, and waste of either line.
O
fatal maid, thy marriage is endow'd
With Phrygian, Latian,
andRutulian blood!
Bellona leads thee to thy lover's hand;
Another
queen brings forth another brand,
To burn with foreign fires
another land!
A second Paris, diff'ring but in name,
Shall fire
his country with a second flame."
Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground,
With furious
haste, and shoots the Stygian sound,
To rouse Alecto from th'
infernal seat
Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat.
This
Fury, fit for her intent, she chose;
One who delights in wars and
human woes.
Ev'n Pluto hates his own misshapen race;
Her sister
Furies fly her hideous face;
So frightful are the forms the
monster takes,
So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes.
Her
Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite:
"O virgin daughter
of eternal Night,
Give me this once thy labor, to sustain
My
right, and execute my just disdain.
Let not the Trojans, with a
feign'd pretense
Of proffer'd peace, delude the Latian
prince.
Expel from Italy that odious name,
And let not Juno
suffer in her fame.
'T is thine to ruin realms, o'erturn a
state,
Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate,
And kindle
kindred blood to mutual hate.
Thy hand o'er towns the fun'ral
torch displays,
And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways.
Now
shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds
Of envy, discord, and of
cruel deeds:
Confound the peace establish'd, and prepare
Their
souls to hatred, and their hands to war."
Smear'd as she was with black Gorgonian blood,
The Fury sprang
above the Stygian flood;
And on her wicker wings, sublime thro'
night,
She to the Latian palace took her flight:
There sought
the queen's apartment, stood before
The peaceful threshold, and
besieg'd the door.
Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast
Fir'd
with disdain for Turnus dispossess'd,
And the new nuptials of the
Trojan guest.
From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes
Her
darling plague, the fav'rite of her snakes;
With her full force
she threw the poisonous dart,
And fix'd it deep within Amata's
heart,
That, thus envenom'd, she might kindle rage,
And
sacrifice to strife her house husband's age.
Unseen, unfelt, the
fiery serpent skims
Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs;
His
baleful breath inspiring, as he glides,
Now like a chain around
her neck he rides,
Now like a fillet to her head repairs,
And
with his circling volumes folds her hairs.
At first the silent
venom slid with ease,
And seiz'd her cooler senses by
degrees;
Then, ere th' infected mass was fir'd too far,
In
plaintive accents she began the war,
And thus bespoke her husband:
"Shall," she said,
"A wand'ring prince enjoy
Lavinia's bed?
If nature plead not in a parent's heart,
Pity my
tears, and pity her desert.
I know, my dearest lord, the time will
come,
You in vain, reverse your cruel doom;
The faithless
pirate soon will set to sea,
And bear the royal virgin far away!
A
guest like him, a Trojan guest before,
In shew of friendship
sought the Spartan shore,
And ravish'd Helen from her husband
bore.
Think on a king's inviolable word;
And think on Turnus,
her once plighted lord:
To this false foreigner you give your
throne,
And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son.
Resume your
ancient care; and, if the god
Your sire, and you, resolve on
foreign blood,
Know all are foreign, in a larger sense,
Not
born your subjects, or deriv'd from hence.
Then, if the line of
Turnus you retrace,
He springs from Inachus of Argive race."
But when she saw her reasons idly spent,
And could not move him
from his fix'd intent,
She flew to rage; for now the snake
possess'd
Her vital parts, and poison'd all her breast;
She
raves, she runs with a distracted pace,
And fills with horrid
howls the public place.
And, as young striplings whip the top for
sport,
On the smooth pavement of an empty court;
The wooden
engine flies and whirls about,
Admir'd, with clamors, of the
beardless rout;
They lash aloud; each other they provoke,
And
lend their little souls at ev'ry stroke:
Thus fares the queen; and
thus her fury blows
Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes.
Nor
yet content, she strains her malice more,
And adds new ills to
those contriv'd before:
She flies the town, and, mixing with a
throng
Of madding matrons, bears the bride along,
Wand'ring
thro' woods and wilds, and devious ways,
And with these arts the
Trojan match delays.
She feign'd the rites of Bacchus; cried
aloud,
And to the buxom god the virgin vow'd.
"Evoe! O
Bacchus!" thus began the song;
And "Evoe!" answer'd
all the female throng.
"O virgin! worthy thee alone!"
she cried;
"O worthy thee alone!" the crew replied.
"For
thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance,
And with thy winding
ivy wreathes her lance."
Like fury seiz'd the rest; the
progress known,
All seek the mountains, and forsake the town:
All,
clad in skins of beasts, the jav'lin bear,
Give to the wanton
winds their flowing hair,
And shrieks and shoutings rend the
suff'ring air.
The queen herself, inspir'd with rage divine,
Shook
high above her head a flaming pine;
Then roll'd her haggard eyes
around the throng,
And sung, in Turnus' name, the nuptial
song:
"Io, ye Latian dames! if any here
Hold your unhappy
queen, Amata, dear;
If there be here," she said, who dare
maintain
My right, nor think the name of mother vain;
Unbind
your fillets, loose your flowing hair,
And orgies and nocturnal
rites prepare."
Amata's breast the Fury thus invades,
And fires with rage, amid
the sylvan shades;
Then, when she found her venom spread so
far,
The royal house embroil'd in civil war,
Rais'd on her
dusky wings, she cleaves the skies,
And seeks the palace where
young Turnus lies.
His town, as fame reports, was built of old
By
Danae, pregnant with almighty gold,
Who fled her father's rage,
and, with a train
Of following Argives, thro' the stormy
main,
Driv'n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign.
'T
was Ardua once; now Ardea's name it bears;
Once a fair city, now
consum'd with years.
Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus
lay,
Betwixt the confines of the night and day,
Secure in
sleep. The Fury laid aside
Her looks and limbs, and with new
methods tried
The foulness of th' infernal form to hide.
Propp'd
on a staff, she takes a trembling mien:
Her face is furrow'd, and
her front obscene;
Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she
draws;
Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws;
Her hoary
hair with holy fillets bound,
Her temples with an olive wreath are
crown'd.
Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane
Of Juno, now she
seem'd, and thus began,
Appearing in a dream, to rouse the
careless man:
"Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain
In
fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain?
Win, for a Trojan head
to wear the prize,
Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories?
The
bride and scepter which thy blood has bought,
The king transfers;
and foreign heirs are sought.
Go now, deluded man, and seek
again
New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain.
Repel the
Tuscan foes; their city seize;
Protect the Latians in luxurious
ease.
This dream all-pow'rful Juno sends; I bear
Her mighty
mandates, and her words you hear.
Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue
to the plain;
With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train:
Their
thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie
In Tiber's
mouth, with fire and sword destroy.
The Latian king, unless he
shall submit,
Own his old promise, and his new forget-
Let him,
in arms, the pow'r of Turnus prove,
And learn to fear whom he
disdains to love.
For such is Heav'n's command." The youthful
prince
With scorn replied, and made this bold defense:
"You
tell me, mother, what I knew before:
The Phrygian fleet is landed
on the shore.
I neither fear nor will provoke the war;
My fate
is Juno's most peculiar care.
But time has made you dote, and
vainly tell
Of arms imagin'd in your lonely cell.
Go; be the
temple and the gods your care;
Permit to men the thought of peace
and war."
These haughty words Alecto's rage provoke,
And frighted Turnus
trembled as she spoke.
Her eyes grow stiffen'd, and with sulphur
burn;
Her hideous looks and hellish form return;
Her curling
snakes with hissings fill the place,
And open all the furies of
her face:
Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes,
She cast
him backward as he strove to rise,
And, ling'ring, sought to frame
some new replies.
High on her head she rears two twisted
snakes,
Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes;
And,
churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks:
"Behold whom time
has made to dote, and tell
Of arms imagin'd in her lonely
cell!
Behold the Fates' infernal minister!
War, death,
destruction, in my hand I bear."
Thus having said, her smold'ring torch, impress'd
With her full
force, she plung'd into his breast.
Aghast he wak'd; and, starting
from his bed,
Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs
o'erspread.
"Arms! arms!" he cries: "my sword and
shield prepare!"
He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal
war.
So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries,
The
bubbling waters from the bottom rise:
Above the brims they force
their fiery way;
Black vapors climb aloft, and cloud the day.
The peace polluted thus, a chosen band
He first commissions to
the Latian land,
In threat'ning embassy; then rais'd the rest,
To
meet in arms th' intruding Trojan guest,
To force the foes from
the Lavinian shore,
And Italy's indanger'd peace restore.
Himself
alone an equal match he boasts,
To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian
hosts.
The gods invok'd, the Rutuli prepare
Their arms, and
warn each other to the war.
His beauty these, and those his
blooming age,
The rest his house and his own fame ingage.
While Turnus urges thus his enterprise,
The Stygian Fury to the
Trojans flies;
New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand,
Which
overlooks the vale with wide command;
Where fair Ascanius and his
youthful train,
With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain,
And
pitch their toils around the shady plain.
The Fury fires the pack;
they snuff, they vent,
And feed their hungry nostrils with the
scent.
'Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise
High o'er
his front; his beams invade the skies.
From this light cause th'
infernal maid prepares
The country churls to mischief, hate, and
wars.
The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred,
Snatch'd from his
dams, and the tame youngling fed.
Their father Tyrrheus did his
fodder bring,
Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king:
Their
sister Silvia cherish'd with her care
The little wanton, and did
wreaths prepare
To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied
His
tender neck, and comb'd his silken hide,
And bathed his body.
Patient of command
In time he grew, and, growing us'd to hand,
He
waited at his master's board for food;
Then sought his salvage
kindred in the wood,
Where grazing all the day, at night he
came
To his known lodgings, and his country dame.
This household beast, that us'd the woodland grounds,
Was
view'd at first by the young hero's hounds,
As down the stream he
swam, to seek retreat
In the cool waters, and to quench his
heat.
Ascanius young, and eager of his game,
Soon bent his bow,
uncertain in his aim;
But the dire fiend the fatal arrow
guides,
Which pierc'd his bowels thro' his panting sides.
The
bleeding creature issues from the floods,
Possess'd with fear, and
seeks his known abodes,
His old familiar hearth and household
gods.
He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans,
Implores
their pity, and his pain bemoans.
Young Silvia beats her breast,
and cries aloud
For succor from the clownish neighborhood:
The
churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay
In the close woody covert,
urg'd their way.
One with a brand yet burning from the
flame,
Arm'd with a knotty club another came:
Whate'er they
catch or find, without their care,
Their fury makes an instrument
of war.
Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast,
Then clench'd
a hatchet in his horny fist,
But held his hand from the descending
stroke,
And left his wedge within the cloven oak,
To whet their
courage and their rage provoke.
And now the goddess, exercis'd in
ill,
Who watch'd an hour to work her impious will,
Ascends the
roof, and to her crooked horn,
Such as was then by Latian
shepherds borne,
Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods
around,
And mountains, tremble at th' infernal sound.
The
sacred lake of Trivia from afar,
The Veline fountains, and
sulphureous Nar,
Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the
war.
Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess'd,
And
strain their helpless infants to their breast.
The clowns, a boist'rous, rude, ungovern'd crew,
With furious
haste to the loud summons flew.
The pow'rs of Troy, then issuing
on the plain,
With fresh recruits their youthful chief
sustain:
Not theirs a raw and unexperienc'd train,
But a firm
body of embattled men.
At first, while fortune favor'd neither
side,
The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried;
But
now, both parties reinforc'd, the fields
Are bright with flaming
swords and brazen shields.
A shining harvest either host
displays,
And shoots against the sun with equal rays.
Thus,
when a black-brow'd gust begins to rise,
White foam at first on
the curl'd ocean fries;
Then roars the main, the billows mount the
skies;
Till, by the fury of the storm full blown,
The muddy
bottom o'er the clouds is thrown.
First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus'
eldest care,
Pierc'd with an arrow from the distant war:
Fix'd
in his throat the flying weapon stood,
And stopp'd his breath, and
drank his vital blood
Huge heaps of slain around the body
rise:
Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies;
A good old man,
while peace he preach'd in vain,
Amidst the madness of th' unruly
train:
Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill'd;
His
lands a hundred yoke of oxen till'd.
Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood
The Fury bath'd
them in each other's blood;
Then, having fix'd the fight, exulting
flies,
And bears fulfill'd her promise to the skies.
To Juno
thus she speaks: "Behold! It is done,
The blood already
drawn, the war begun;
The discord is complete; nor can they
cease
The dire debate, nor you command the peace.
Now, since
the Latian and the Trojan brood
Have tasted vengeance and the
sweets of blood;
Speak, and my pow'r shall add this office
more:
The neighb'ing nations of th' Ausonian shore
Shall hear
the dreadful rumor, from afar,
Of arm'd invasion, and embrace the
war."
Then Juno thus: "The grateful work is done,
The
seeds of discord sow'd, the war begun;
Frauds, fears, and fury
have possess'd the state,
And fix'd the causes of a lasting
hate.
A bloody Hymen shall th' alliance join
Betwixt the Trojan
and Ausonian line:
But thou with speed to night and hell
repair;
For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear
Thy lawless
wand'ring walks in upper air.
Leave what remains to me."
Saturnia said:
The sullen fiend her sounding wings
display'd,
Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade.
In midst of Italy, well known to fame,
There lies a lake
(Amsanctus is the name)
Below the lofty mounts: on either
side
Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide.
Full in the
center of the sacred wood
An arm arises of the Stygian
flood,
Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound,
Whirls
the black waves and rattling stones around.
Here Pluto pants for
breath from out his cell,
And opens wide the grinning jaws of
hell.
To this infernal lake the Fury flies;
Here hides her
hated head, and frees the lab'ring skies.
Saturnian Juno now, with double care,
Attends the fatal process
of the war.
The clowns, return'd, from battle bear the
slain,
Implore the gods, and to their king complain.
The corps
of Almon and the rest are shown;
Shrieks, clamors, murmurs, fill
the frighted town.
Ambitious Turnus in the press appears,
And,
aggravating crimes, augments their fears;
Proclaims his private
injuries aloud,
A solemn promise made, and disavow'd;
A foreign
son is sought, and a mix'd mungril brood.
Then they, whose
mothers, frantic with their fear,
In woods and wilds the flags of
Bacchus bear,
And lead his dances with dishevel'd hair,
Increase
the clamor, and the war demand,
(Such was Amata's interest in the
land,)
Against the public sanctions of the peace,
Against all
omens of their ill success.
With fates averse, the rout in arms
resort,
To force their monarch, and insult the court.
But, like
a rock unmov'd, a rock that braves
The raging tempest and the
rising waves-
Propp'd on himself he stands; his solid sides
Wash
off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides-
So stood the pious
prince, unmov'd, and long
Sustain'd the madness of the noisy
throng.
But, when he found that Juno's pow'r prevail'd,
And all
the methods of cool counsel fail'd,
He calls the gods to witness
their offense,
Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence.
"Hurried
by fate," he cries, "and borne before
A furious wind, we
have the faithful shore.
O more than madmen! you yourselves shall
bear
The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war:
Thou, Turnus,
shalt atone it by thy fate,
And pray to Heav'n for peace, but pray
too late.
For me, my stormy voyage at an end,
I to the port of
death securely tend.
The fun'ral pomp which to your kings you
pay,
Is all I want, and all you take away."
He said no
more, but, in his walls confin'd,
Shut out the woes which he too
well divin'd
Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive,
But
left the helm, and let the vessel drive.
A solemn custom was observ'd of old,
Which Latium held, and now
the Romans hold,
Their standard when in fighting fields they
rear
Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare
The Scythian,
Indian, or Arabian war;
Or from the boasting Parthians would
regain
Their eagles, lost in Carrhae's bloody plain.
Two gates
of steel (the name of Mars they bear,
And still are worship'd with
religious fear)
Before his temple stand: the dire abode,
And
the fear'd issues of the furious god,
Are fenc'd with brazen
bolts; without the gates,
The wary guardian Janus doubly
waits.
Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars,
The Roman
consul their decree declares,
And in his robes the sounding gates
unbars.
The youth in military shouts arise,
And the loud
trumpets break the yielding skies.
These rites, of old by
sov'reign princes us'd,
Were the king's office; but the king
refus'd,
Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar
Of
sacred peace, or loose th' imprison'd war;
But hid his head, and,
safe from loud alarms,
Abhorr'd the wicked ministry of arms.
Then
heav'n's imperious queen shot down from high:
At her approach the
brazen hinges fly;
The gates are forc'd, and ev'ry falling
bar;
And, like a tempest, issues out the war.
The peaceful cities of th' Ausonian shore,
Lull'd in their
ease, and undisturb'd before,
Are all on fire; and some, with
studious care,
Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare;
Some
their soft limbs in painful marches try,
And war is all their
wish, and arms the gen'ral cry.
Part scour the rusty shields with
seam; and part
New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart:
With
joy they view the waving ensigns fly,
And hear the trumpet's
clangor pierce the sky.
Five cities forge their arms: th' Atinian
pow'rs,
Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty tow'rs,
Ardea the proud,
the Crustumerian town:
All these of old were places of
renown.
Some hammer helmets for the fighting field;
Some twine
young sallows to support the shield;
The croslet some, and some
the cuishes mold,
With silver plated, and with ductile gold.
The
rustic honors of the scythe and share
Give place to swords and
plumes, the pride of war.
Old fauchions are new temper'd in the
fires;
The sounding trumpet ev'ry soul inspires.
The word is
giv'n; with eager speed they lace
The shining headpiece, and the
shield embrace.
The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied;
The
trusty weapon sits on ev'ry side.
And now the mighty labor is begun
Ye Muses, open all your
Helicon.
Sing you the chiefs that sway'd th' Ausonian land,
Their
arms, and armies under their command;
What warriors in our ancient
clime were bred;
What soldiers follow'd, and what heroes led.
For
well you know, and can record alone,
What fame to future times
conveys but darkly down.
Mezentius first appear'd upon the
plain:
Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain,
Defying
earth and heav'n. Etruria lost,
He brings to Turnus' aid his
baffled host.
The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire,
Rode
in the rank, and next his sullen sire;
To Turnus only second in
the grace
Of manly mien, and features of the face.
A skilful
horseman, and a huntsman bred,
With fates averse a thousand men he
led:
His sire unworthy of so brave a son;
Himself well worthy
of a happier throne.
Next Aventinus drives his chariot round
The Latian plains, with
palms and laurels crown'd.
Proud of his steeds, he smokes along
the field;
His father's hydra fills his ample shield:
A hundred
serpents hiss about the brims;
The son of Hercules he justly
seems
By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs;
Of heav'nly
part, and part of earthly blood,
A mortal woman mixing with a
god.
For strong Alcides, after he had slain
The triple Geryon,
drove from conquer'd Spain
His captive herds; and, thence in
triumph led,
On Tuscan Tiber's flow'ry banks they fed.
Then on
Mount Aventine the son of Jove
The priestess Rhea found, and
forc'd to love.
For arms, his men long piles and jav'lins
bore;
And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore.
Like
Hercules himself his son appears,
In salvage pomp; a lion's hide
he wears;
About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin;
The teeth
and gaping jaws severely grin.
Thus, like the god his father,
homely dress'd,
He strides into the hall, a horrid guest.
Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came,
(Which from their
brother Tiburs took the name,)
Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of
fear:
Arm'd Argive horse they led, and in the front appear.
Like
cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain's height
With rapid course
descending to the fight;
They rush along; the rattling woods give
way;
The branches bend before their sweepy sway.
Nor was Praeneste's founder wanting there,
Whom fame reports
the son of Mulciber:
Found in the fire, and foster'd in the
plains,
A shepherd and a king at once he reigns,
And leads to
Turnus' aid his country swains.
His own Praeneste sends a chosen
band,
With those who plow Saturnia's Gabine land;
Besides the
succor which cold Anien yields,
The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy
fields,
Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene-
A num'rous rout, but
all of naked men:
Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers
wield,
Nor drive the chariot thro' the dusty field,
But whirl
from leathern slings huge balls of lead,
And spoils of yellow
wolves adorn their head;
The left foot naked, when they march to
fight,
But in a bull's raw hide they sheathe the right.
Messapus
next, (great Neptune was his sire,)
Secure of steel, and fated
from the fire,
In pomp appears, and with his ardor warms
A
heartless train, unexercis'd in arms:
The just Faliscans he to
battle brings,
And those who live where Lake Ciminia springs;
And
where Feronia's grove and temple stands,
Who till Fescennian or
Flavinian lands.
All these in order march, and marching sing
The
warlike actions of their sea-born king;
Like a long team of snowy
swans on high,
Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid
sky,
When, homeward from their wat'ry pastures borne,
They
sing, and Asia's lakes their notes return.
Not one who heard their
music from afar,
Would think these troops an army train'd to
war,
But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar,
With
their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore.
Then Clausus came, who led a num'rous band
Of troops embodied
from the Sabine land,
And, in himself alone, an army brought.
'T
was he, the noble Claudian race begot,
The Claudian race,
ordain'd, in times to come,
To share the greatness of imperial
Rome.
He led the Cures forth, of old renown,
Mutuscans from
their olive-bearing town,
And all th' Eretian pow'rs; besides a
band
That follow'd from Velinum's dewy land,
And Amiternian
troops, of mighty fame,
And mountaineers, that from Severus
came,
And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica,
And those where
yellow Tiber takes his way,
And where Himella's wanton waters
play.
Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie
By Fabaris,
and fruitful Foruli:
The warlike aids of Horta next appear,
And
the cold Nursians come to close the rear,
Mix'd with the natives
born of Latine blood,
Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood.
Not
thicker billows beat the Libyan main,
When pale Orion sets in
wintry rain;
Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise,
Or
Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies,
Than stand these
troops: their bucklers ring around;
Their trampling turns the
turf, and shakes the solid ground.
High in his chariot then Halesus came,
A foe by birth to Troy's
unhappy name:
From Agamemnon born- to Turnus' aid
A thousand
men the youthful hero led,
Who till the Massic soil, for wine
renown'd,
And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground,
And
those who live by Sidicinian shores,
And where with shoaly fords
Vulturnus roars,
Cales' and Osca's old inhabitants,
And rough
Saticulans, inur'd to wants:
Light demi-lances from afar they
throw,
Fasten'd with leathern thongs, to gall the foe.
Short
crooked swords in closer fight they wear;
And on their warding arm
light bucklers bear.
Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung,
From nymph Semethis and
old Telon sprung,
Who then in Teleboan Capri reign'd;
But that
short isle th' ambitious youth disdain'd,
And o'er Campania
stretch'd his ample sway,
Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene
sea;
O'er Batulum, and where Abella sees,
From her high tow'rs,
the harvest of her trees.
And these (as was the Teuton use of
old)
Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold;
Sling
weighty stones, when from afar they fight;
Their casques are cork,
a covering thick and light.
Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went,
And led the
mountain troops that Nursia sent.
The rude Equicolae his rule
obey'd;
Hunting their sport, and plund'ring was their trade.
In
arms they plow'd, to battle still prepar'd:
Their soil was barren,
and their hearts were hard.
Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led,
By King Archippus
sent to Turnus' aid,
And peaceful olives crown'd his hoary
head.
His wand and holy words, the viper's rage,
And venom'd
wounds of serpents could assuage.
He, when he pleas'd with
powerful juice to steep
Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing
sleep.
But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art,
To cure the
wound giv'n by the Dardan dart:
Yet his untimely fate th' Angitian
woods
In sighs remurmur'd to the Fucine floods.
The son of fam'd Hippolytus was there,
Fam'd as his sire, and,
as his mother, fair;
Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore,
And
nurs'd his youth along the marshy shore,
Where great Diana's
peaceful altars flame,
In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his
name.
Hippolytus, as old records have said,
Was by his stepdam
sought to share her bed;
But, when no female arts his mind could
move,
She turn'd to furious hate her impious love.
Torn by wild
horses on the sandy shore,
Another's crimes th' unhappy hunter
bore,
Glutting his father's eyes with guiltless gore.
But
chaste Diana, who his death deplor'd,
With Aesculapian herbs his
life restor'd.
Then Jove, who saw from high, with just
disdain,
The dead inspir'd with vital breath again,
Struck to
the center, with his flaming dart,
Th' unhappy founder of the
godlike art.
But Trivia kept in secret shades alone
Her care,
Hippolytus, to fate unknown;
And call'd him Virbius in th' Egerian
grove,
Where then he liv'd obscure, but safe from Jove.
For
this, from Trivia's temple and her wood
Are coursers driv'n, who
shed their master's blood,
Affrighted by the monsters of the
flood.
His son, the second Virbius, yet retain'd
His father's
art, and warrior steeds he rein'd.
Amid the troops, and like the leading god,
High o'er the rest
in arms the graceful Turnus rode:
A triple of plumes his crest
adorn'd,
On which with belching flames Chimaera burn'd:
The
more the kindled combat rises high'r,
The more with fury burns the
blazing fire.
Fair Io grac'd his shield; but Io now
With horns
exalted stands, and seems to low-
A noble charge! Her keeper by
her side,
To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied;
And on
the brims her sire, the wat'ry god,
Roll'd from a silver urn his
crystal flood.
A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields
With
swords, and pointed spears, and clatt'ring shields;
Of Argives,
and of old Sicanian bands,
And those who plow the rich Rutulian
lands;
Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields,
And the proud
Labicans, with painted shields,
And those who near Numician
streams reside,
And those whom Tiber's holy forests hide,
Or
Circe's hills from the main land divide;
Where Ufens glides along
the lowly lands,
Or the black water of Pomptina stands.
Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came,
And led her warlike
troops, a warrior dame;
Unbred to spinning, in the loom
unskill'd,
She chose the nobler Pallas of the field.
Mix'd with
the first, the fierce virago fought,
Sustain'd the toils of arms,
the danger sought,
Outstripp'd the winds in speed upon the
plain,
Flew o'er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain:
She
swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along,
Her flying feet
unbath'd on billows hung.
Men, boys, and women, stupid with
surprise,
Where'er she passes, fix their wond'ring eyes:
Longing
they look, and, gaping at the sight,
Devour her o'er and o'er with
vast delight;
Her purple habit sits with such a grace
On her
smooth shoulders, and so suits her face;
Her head with ringlets of
her hair is crown'd,
And in a golden caul the curls are bound.
She
shakes her myrtle jav'lin; and, behind,
Her Lycian quiver dances
in the wind.