And eyes, tho’ clos’d in death, restores to light. Such as I was beneath Praeneste’s wall; P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid Theodore C. Williams, Ed. Sidonian Dido here with solemn state Who dares not hazard life for future fame. But sound advice, proceeding from a heart And laid the boaster grov’ling on the plain. Driv’n with Evander from th’ Arcadian land, By strength united, and forego the prey. Which, glancing, only mark’d Achates’ thigh. Of all my husband, or be wholly left.”, Here paus’d the queen. “Dear pledges of my love, while Heav’n so pleas’d, the cause? To challenge, but the faith you gave before;) Trembling he views the thund’ring chief advance, In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent! So fares the bull in his lov’d female’s sight: Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim: Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes. To sea, forsaking that suspected land. The foes already have possess’d the wall; Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, tho’ built Her hand sustain’d a bow; her quiver hung behind. As when you stemm’d the strong Malean flood, Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground. The fields are lighten’d with a fiery blaze, Own his old promise, and his new forget; Witness the vessels by Minerva toss’d And show’d their spacious backs above the flood. Shall be commission’d hence with ample pow’rs, Who sways the world below and heav’n above, “Arms! Ev’n then secur’d him, when I sought with joy And, pressing for release, the mountains rend. Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town: Thrice forky lightning flash’d along the sky, But great Anchises, far above the rest, Defied the forky lightning from afar; That prime of which this boaster is so vain, A livid deadness in his cheeks appears. The post of honour, your undoubted due. Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise, Bears down the dams with unresisted sway, Stands o’er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay, The welcome sound, and heard the champion’s name, For me, my friends another town shall frame, Far from thy mother and thy native home, arms!” he cries: “my sword and shield prepare!” Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe, Conspicuous on his horse. Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food So fire your mind, in arms assert your right, And in the sweet resemblance takes delight. Forgetful of his state, he runs along, Here hapless Icarus had found his part, And shakes a grove of lances from his side: He griev’d; he wept; the sight an image brought Aloud she cries: Still to the lofty cape consigns his name. And conquer Venus twice, in conqu’ring Troy.” A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press’d; Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea. And fragrant oils the stiffen’d limbs anoint. Such is their toil, and such their busy pains, That hospitable board, those genial nights; Then change we shields, and their devices bear: Straight to the ships Aeneas took his way, No prince Italian born should heir my throne: Forsaking honour, and renouncing fame, And ours beneath the pond’rous ruin lie. For Circe long had lov’d the youth in vain, The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny, Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence, “O most renown’d, and most belov’d by me, And mark’d it slightly with the glancing point, Himself to be the man the fates require, The gods invok’d, the Rutuli prepare At once they start, advancing in a line: Which on the steed of conquer’d Rhamnes lay. A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes, Dispers’d and dash’d the rest upon the rocky shore. All but the fool who sought his destiny. Resolv’d at length, his pointed spear he shook; Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn By tigers drawn triumphant in his car, The charge undaunted, and the gate defend. What num’rous nations in his quarrel came, Fasten’d with leathern thongs, to gall the foe. And softly laid her on her ivory bed. Who, while he steering view’d the stars, and bore Close underneath the walls; the washing tide Fierce Turnus view’d the Trojan from afar, Fell heavy on him, plung’d him in the sea, The next, but tho’ the next, yet far disjoin’d, Held up to guard his throat; then hurl’d a stone From the mid ocean, drives the waves before; Fly, when distress’d, and thence relief demand. As with an engine’s force, or lightning’s blast: To fell the timber, and forget the war. Black was the forest: thick with beech it stood, Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends: Aeneas goes in person to beg succours from Evander With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief: Not less the clamour, than if ancient Tyre, Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race, The shortest passage to th’ Italian shore. Enlighten’d thus, my just commands fulfil, An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow. With heavy gold, and polish’d elephant; And exercise the wrastlers’ noble toil; Dispatch’d Achates to the ships in haste, Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate.”. There good Sabinus, planter of the vines, Your plant has honour’d, which your foes profan’d, Behold the destin’d place of your abodes! Pour down, and on our batter’d helms alight: This flaming hill, and on his body threw. But, doubtful of the wish’d event, he stays, From plows and harrows sent to seek renown, Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease, Severe Fabricius, or can cease t’ admire For, hunting in the vale, we both have seen Propitious Heav’n, and gracious Juno, lead With equal force of lungs their titles try: You shall not find the sons of Atreus here, He squeez’d his throat; he writh’d his neck around, And cross the threshold in my passage lay, Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood. In wealth surpassing all the Latian train, When execrable Troy in ashes lay, Tarchon’s alone was lost, that stranded stood, For, after such a lord, I rest secure, “O Latian princes, how severe a fate Stung with despite, and furious with despair, In plaintive accents she began the war, But shall celestial discord never cease? Had fall’n upon the pile, to mend the fun’ral flame. They sate; and, (not without the god’s command,) “Where can you hope your coward heads to hide? What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar’d: With ether vested, and a purple sky; What happens when verse from Ovid, history as written by Herodotus, satyr plays, the works of Thucydides, an Attic red-figure kylix, and tracts describing medicinal practice of the ancient world are gathered in one place and analyzed with scholarly verve? As wintry winds, contending in the sky, Crush’d with the weight of an unwieldy stone: Who, short of succours, and in deep despair, In his Aetnaean forge, the God of Fire Th’ unhappy queen with talk prolong’d the night, With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins, In which the destin’d names by lots were cast: in a dream. Thro’ empty courts and open galleries. The fires were fainting there, and just alive; And less and less the middle space appears. Of raging billows breaking on the ground. And gave his Trojans a secure retreat; What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss’d? But if the challenger these arms refuse, A breathless victor, and my son had mourn’d. With his broad eye surveys th’ unequal fight. ‘Or if a ghost, then where is Hector’s shade?’ Who heav’n interprets, and the wand’ring stars; The surly murmurs of the people cease; Two prizes I propose, and thus divide: To the same parts on earth; his army lands; Antenor’s sons, and Ceres’ sacred priest. But for my presence and protecting care. His honour question’d for the promis’d fight; The vanquish’d dare not to such thoughts aspire. And hanging by his side a heavy sword, And he, too, goddess-born. An island shades it from the rolling sea, And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray’d: But long-contracted filth ev’n in the soul remains. Aeneas climbs the mountain’s airy brow, If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain, Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey’d. And drench’d in pois’nous juice, the sure destruction flies. And those whom Tiber’s holy forests hide, And left the grieving goddess far behind. An upper vest, once Helen’s rich attire, Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen For, while thro’ winding ways I took my flight, Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife Then recollected stood, and thus began: (Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;) Observe the youth who first appears in sight, A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds. Some blow the fires, and offered entrails broil. Request Permissions. From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind, Aeneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince, They saw the pair; for, thro’ the doubtful shade, His use of both, and pinion’d down his left. And thoro’ lights disclose the ravish’d prey. As when some peasant, in a bushy brake, Trembling he springs, The sullen fiend her sounding wings display’d, Not thus I promis’d, when thy father lent By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall, No sword avoiding in the fatal strife, To loose their fetters, or their force allay. Our heav’ns, and arms our powers on diff’rent sides? Lov’d while I liv’d, and dear ev’n after death; And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love. Neptune drives off the winds, and calms Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest His fasten’d spear he pull’d from out the ground, And double their devotion in their fears. To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes: Not tho’ the circling seas should break their bound, Here some design a mole, while others there It is done, And, where one falls, another fills his place. Now, when the purple morn had chas’d away And all th’ inferior world. A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please, Th’ unhop’d event his heighten’d soul inspires: Why do you then these needless arms prepare, I die content, to die by human hands.’ Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish’d, boast Yet, if the foe a single fight demand, These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep And spreads thro’ trembling crowds disastrous news; Still gath’ring fast upon the trembling train; Possess’d fair Dido’s bed; and either heart Like death attends thee on this fatal plain.” Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood A tomb and fun’ral honours I decreed; The gasping head flies off; a purple flood That mix’d the mounting billows with the clouds; Commission’d by their absent prince to share His son adjures you by those holy rites, Too late he speaks: the sword, which fury guides, Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene The warders of the gate but scarce maintain Stood up on ridges to behold the sea; Then, wrenching with our hands, th’ assault renew; Here hung the vests, and tablets were engrav’d, And with a ready hand assumes the reins. And thus invokes the goddess as she flies: But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far, To reach th’ Italian shores; if, after all, Whom time has not deliver’d o’er to fame. Perch’d on the double tree that bears the golden bough. Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore. Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: O’erleaps the fences of the nightly fold, Will take the rudder and thy room supply.” And lifted high the flaming sword appears, Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean; Then, struck with deep despair, Th’ Oechalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew. Was Picus plac’d, a buckler in his hand; This youth (the blissful vision of a day) When they from far beheld the rising tow’rs, On brazen steps the marble threshold rose, Then, of itself, unfolds th’ eternal door; The crown to King Latinus I resign: Of brave Orontes, and th’ uncertain state And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains, But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong, And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer’d: Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears, Unless reliev’d by his victorious hand. And living waters bear, and holy fire; And all pretence of late relief was lost. And with our friends our common losses mourn.” No Grecian babes before their camp appear, Thy Turnus broke With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound. Invades the bees with suffocating smoke, The Latian realm, and built the destin’d town; O Bacchus!” thus began the song; Oars, banks, and cables, half consum’d, renew. Encumber’d, slow he dragg’d the spear along, Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire, Now tempt the war no more.” He said, and flew Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd. The triple porter of the Stygian sound, Lament too late their unextinguish’d fire. Thus two tall oaks, that Padus’ banks adorn, When Pandarus beheld his brother kill’d, And drive us to the cruel seas again? This prince, from ravish’d Garamantis born, Anchises hither bends his steps at last. Did you, for this, unhappy me convey Then with disdain the haughty victor view’d Wrapp’d in amaze, the matrons wildly stare: Till tir’d, not forc’d, a glorious fate you chose, Backward he fell; and, as his fate design’d, Three blust’ring nights, borne by the southern blast, And gather from the sea their floating oars. With incest some their daughters’ bed profan’d: Not theirs a raw and unexperienc’d train, Borne off to distance by the growing tide, This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown. He said, and to the void advanc’d his pace: And guards with arms the Salentinian fields; From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts, Gath’ring at length on her deluded foe, The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold My fate resembling that of Hector’s wife. A porket, and a lamb that never suffer’d shears. Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies. And exercises all his heav’nly art. That thro’ his brazen helm it pierc’d his head. And heav’n’s protecting pow’rs are deaf to pray’rs. Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound, He shall extend his propagated sway And plung’d his holy poniard in his breast. And the sea trembled with her silver light. The queen, determin’d to the fatal deed, Two darts of polish’d steel and Gnosian wood, Her lofty courser, in the court below, And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud: The dire debate, nor you command the peace. And dancing leaves, that wanton’d in the wind. And o’er the shield which his left side defends. At once the twanging bow and sounding dart With prosp’rous passage cut the Tuscan sea; Requires our utmost vigour, and our speed. Those isles are compass’d by th’ Ionian main, Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore. To cheer his grandsire and his grandsire’s queen. With eyes cast upward, and with arms display’d, There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast: At once was wounded with an equal dart. With such, return’d triumphant from the war, Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honours down. And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied. Twelve golden beams around his temples play, And thus his father’s ghost bespoke aloud: And all the pow’rs that rising labours aid; Which overlooks the vale with wide command; Haste, haul my galleys out! Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn, And thus the tenor of her suit express’d: “O Aeolus! Phoebus, the ruling pow’r among the gods, And, unsustain’d, the chiefs of Turnus yield. His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish’d eyes. for when, before the shrine, Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call’d; Disperses thunder on the seas and land, And that this nightly vision may not seem Surveys each passage with a piercing sight, The good Anchises rais’d him with his hand; The Trojan stood astonish’d at their cries, But soon they found an object to deplore: Onward he press’d, and kept him still in sight; That Cupid should assume the shape and face Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view’d, Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance; I rave, I rave! O country lost, and gods redeem’d in vain, Of these he chose the fairest and the best, Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides How, and with what reproach, shall I return? Now let him perish, since you hold it good, Thus all, rewarded by the hero’s hands, “If such rewards to vanquish’d men are due.” “Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside, Hamstring’d behind, unhappy Gyges died; Who shakes heav’n’s axles with his awful nod. Or deluges, descending on the plains, Whom heav’nly Venus honour’d with her love, One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance; A second siege my banish’d issue fears, Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, For this, alas! There Tityus was to see, who took his birth While the And guard this relic of the Trojan race, Was hew’d and fashion’d by laborious art Whose hallow’d earth Anchises’ bones contains, Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day. Adjure you both, (on you my fortune stands; But now the Delphian oracle commands, And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed: Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war: There bought a space of ground, which Byrsa call’d, Spurr’d his hot courser thro’ the fighting press, It pierc’d his hollow temples and his brain; Procur’d by Juno’s and Eurystheus’ hate: Before I break the plighted faith I gave! To Grecian swords betray’d my sleeping life. Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride; That rous’d the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms, The foulness of th’ infernal form to hide. He fought with courage, and he sung the fight; Aeneas then replied: “Too sure I find No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind, Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed, The fiery Turnus flew before the rest: The cause, and rul’d the counsels, of the court, Deep in the dismal regions void of light, Carthaginian coast. And their crush’d heads become an easy prey. Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant. Clam’rous around the royal hawk they fly, The food of altars; fires and flaming brands. Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far O sacred hunger of pernicious gold! Yours is the day: you need but only dare; Depriv’d their bridegrooms of returning light. Their homely fare dispatch’d, the hungry band An orphan now, cut from the mother earth And all on Juno’s altar are bestow’d. Could such a word from such a parent fall? Once more was happy in a Trojan mate. And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main? O’er heathy plains pursue the ready way. We saw the giant shepherd stalk before And night, with sable shades, involves his head.” “Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land: Shouts of applause ran ringing thro’ the field, Some add more oxen: some divide the spoil; Would sweep the world before them in their way; And added fury to the kindled flame. She last remains, when ev’ry guest is gone, Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay, This gripes the lance, and with such vigour shakes, ’Tis thine to ruin realms, o’erturn a state, So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends, Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear; Down from the steep of heav’n Cyllenius flies, Arm’d Argive horse they led, and in the front appear. What first Aeneas in this place beheld, And there the pass is clos’d with pools and marshy ground. The hissing shafts within the trench alight; Thus I submitted to the lawless pride Expel their parents, and usurp the throne; Th’ Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw When late their titles in the field were tried: Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den. The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief, With Pallas pleas’d; as Calchas did ordain. The port capacious, and secure from wind, Aeneas draws his forces to the field, Not tho’ the lamps of heav’n their spheres forsake, “By young Iulus, by thy father’s shade, But could not bear th’ unequal combat long; And spreads his mantle o’er the winding coast, Thrice he the sword assay’d, and thrice the flood; The captain gives command; the joyful train And Trojan youth the same oblations bring. He leaves behind a lane of slaughter’d foes. Thy father’s champion, and thy country’s joy! The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came. you yourselves shall bear And wheels below to roll from place to place. And, ripe for heav’n, when fate Aeneas calls, They clash with manly force their moony shields; As twice below to view the trembling shades; Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows’ flight, Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind. Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine, The shiver’d fragments shone amid the sand. 1.07 MB EBook PDF: This text-based PDF or EBook was created from the HTML version of this book and is part of the Portable Library of Liberty. And spare thy life; I would not perish all. And their new toils with eager haste divide. prepare your spears A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes. A rising temple to the Paphian queen. Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num’rous train, Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, And what her aims and what her arts pursue. The rising city, which from far you see, Her parts obscene below the waves descend, I neither fear nor will provoke the war; And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!” Thro’ the vast empire of eternal night. The fearful matrons run from place to place, Then with a second course the tables load, Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around; Our foes encourage, and our friends debase. Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight, Speak the same language which they spoke before, Sighs, groans, and tears proclaim his inward pains; And swim the seas, at Cybele’s command.” Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry; Then, with a graceful mien, Not one who heard their music from afar, (A privilege which none but freemen share). Exert your vigour; tug the lab’ring oar; Actium surveys the well-disputed prize; Betwixt two paths, which at the gate divide, ‘With these,’ said she, ‘these wand’ring ships destroy: But let the potent orator declaim, Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground. Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design’d; When, homeward from their wat’ry pastures borne, what have I worse to fear? Twice from his hands he dropp’d the forming mould. Had found success, and from the cloud retires. In numbers thus they sung; above the rest, A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride: Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare, Then Numitor from his dead brother drew When to fat off’rings the glad augur calls, Then crave an instant audience from the king. Then from her rosy lips began to speak: And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears. But, whom they fear’d without, they found within. ‘Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray: The God of Love obeys, and sets aside overtaken by a dreadful storm, which Aeolus raises at the request of Juno. Some babe to bless the mother’s mournful sight, An ancient town was seated on the sea; When, lab’ring still with endless discontent, He brings to Turnus’ aid his baffled host. Then took the forward way, by fate ordain’d, Were only founded on Minerva’s aid. A flow’r’d simar with golden fringe she wore, An undistinguish’d noise ascends the sky, Th’ Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host, if any here Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood: Or in the pride of youth o’erleaps the mounds, And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead; “Io, ye Latian dames! The stains of this dishonourable day: To shun my death, if Heav’n my death decree.” Already seems to snuff the vital air, Heav’n had decreed to save unhappy Troy. This day my hand thy tender age shall shield, Like fury seiz’d the rest; the progress known, And beams of early light the heav’ns o’erspread, “O nymph, the pride of living lakes,” said she, Joy is no more; but I would gladly go, thy flight no longer I detain; The pious prince, surpris’d at what he view’d, Revolving war’s events, and various fate. Against the public sanctions of the peace, The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town.”. Tho’ summon’d to the seas, tho’ pleasing gales To bless their rival sons with such a bride; And last, in honour of his new abode, Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate. To crave admission in your happy land. Thy temples, and adore thy pow’r divine Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. And smooth our passage to the port assign’d!’ From no vain fears or superstition spring, On their eternal anvils here he found The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds, And Phlegethon’s innavigable flood, Oft our alliance other lands desir’d, From which your ancestors derive their birth. Hosts of deserters, who their honour sold, These clamours with disdain the Scylla heard, The breathless body, thus bewail’d, they lay, Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more, And from the bridegroom tear the promis’d bride; What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts ‘If death be your design, at least,’ said she, Distracted with her pain she flies the woods, Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen’d with a stride, Accept whate’er Aeneas can afford; Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw The people shout. Unwept, unworthy, of the fun’ral flame, A foreign son-in-law shall come from far And owning old Acestes for their head; And loath’d the hard conditions of the strife, Had he but ev’n beheld the fight, his eyes Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid, Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown; “For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight Agrippa seconds him, with prosp’rous gales, And not belied his mighty father’s fame. From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood. And follow’d with his eyes the flitting shade, The Trojans to their customs shall be tied: “The gods have found a fitter sacrifice.” For here the Trojan troops the list surround, If acts of mercy touch their heav’nly mind, “What may not Venus hope from Neptune’s reign? The crimson stream distain’d his arms around, But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face. Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield, The public victim, to redeem the state. All clad in armour, calls his troops to fight. At his foreseen approach, already quake Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press’d; And told him what those empty phantoms were: My Pallas late set out, but reach’d too soon. Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel; Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore; Rais’d by these hopes, I sent no news before, On which the moon with full reflection play’d. We haul along the horse in solemn state; A son whose death disgrac’d his ancestry; But he, not mindless of his mother’s pray’r, And fears are added, and avenging flame. With imitated darts, to gall the foe. And seconds with her own her sister’s tears: With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade. Which would the scepter of the world misguide And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear: From Tiber’s flood, and thus the pow’rs bespoke: They roll to sea with unresisted force, Revolving in his mind the stern command, Immortal life, your fame shall ever live, Thus on some silver swan, or tim’rous hare, These which I bear your brother Eryx bore, Drances shall rest secure, and neither share But we, more num’rous, intercept his flight. Great Cato there, for gravity renown’d, Acoetes on his pupil’s corpse attends, And feasts and pleasures thro’ the city reign’d. So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, And groves are planted round his blest abode. His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear, Had I continued free, and still my own; Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil’d. Aeneas, author of the Roman line; My peace shall be committed to thy care, The lance of Turnus reach’d him as he hung, And rush undaunted to defend the walls. Left me for Turnus. For such demerits if my death be due, And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause; Then said: ‘O son, turmoil’d in Trojan fate! The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield. His own Praeneste sends a chosen band, On hills unshorn, or in a desert den, And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas’d. For to what pow’r can Turnus have recourse, The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound; The hearer on the speaker’s mouth depends, To sue for leave to land their sickly men, New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart: Which fill’d the margin of the fatal flood: His left young Pallas kept, fix’d to his side, If she presume to save her suff’ring friends! The sires of these Orythia sent from far, Desist, my much-lov’d lord, t’ indulge your pain; Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, Now Turnus leads his troops without delay, Clear’d, as I thought, and fully fix’d at length Such as the sire deserv’d, the son I send; To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace. And take th’ advantage of the friendly gale. And thus to Heav’n and Hercules address’d: His breast with fury burn’d, his eyes with fire, Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame; This gift which parents to their children owe, The mournful message to the mother’s ears. people, but misses his wife, whose ghost afterwards appears to him, and tells This fated sign their foundress Juno gave, Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight. This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath, Shrieks, clamours, murmurs, fill the frighted town. For these were sent, commission’d by the rest, Their ways are diff’rent, but their art alike. And all their temples were with garlands crown’d. Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid; Ere leave be giv’n to tempt the nether skies. Where painted Scythians, mix’d with Cretan bands, Those hidden rocks th’ Ausonian sailors knew: Lo! In causeless quarrels has involv’d your state, Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short Then heav’n’s imperious queen shot down from high: As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force, Tugg’d at the solid stone with all his might. With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast Both armies urges to their mutual fate. To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills. And thrice about her neck my arms I flung, His match is sought; but, thro’ the trembling band, Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste. Their slaughter’d friends, and hasten their relief. For you in singing martial facts excel; Both for his public and his private woes; To treat the peace, a hundred senators Himself without delay Resolv’d at length, obeys the will of Jove; He gives the death desir’d; his safe return The Sibyl said, “you see the Stygian floods, The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued, Hurt by Themilla first—but slight the wound— The lance drove on, and bore the death along. Sure of his pilot’s loss, he takes himself Long has my soul desir’d this time and place, The cruel nation, covetous of prey, Fast’ning his crooked talons on the prey: They wind the hill, and thro’ the blissful meadows go. And monster whales before their master play, With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky: A banish’d band, Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie: The main characters of this poetry, fiction story are Aeneas, . The marks of state and ancient royalty. Of golden metal those, and mountain brass. That sacred forest to Silvanus vow’d, As strike the sense, and all replies are vain; And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls: The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud: Th’ imperial bird still plies her with his beak; Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round, My right and his are in dispute: the slain To win by famine, or by fraud surprise. Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line, Brands from the fire are missive weapons made, Polluted, and profan’d her holy bands; Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain, Their turn of shooting to receive from chance. The quiver of an Amazonian dame, Delightful change! And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke. The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms, Ascend; and sable night involves the skies; To force the wat’ry goddess from the wars. Of hapless marriage, never to be curst And fix’d it deep within Amata’s heart, Then thro’ his breast his fatal sword he sent, That sparkled as they roll’d, and seem’d to threat: And all Aeneas enters in her mind. So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea; Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair, A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join Enrich’d with gifts, and with a golden shrine; Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields, Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way; As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase, “Then Pyrrhus thus: ‘Go thou from me to fate, Pierc’d all the brazen plates, and reach’d his heart: By King Archippus sent to Turnus’ aid, Thus having said, the hero bound his brows He loads her with a quiver and a bow; This was that famine, this the fatal place BkI:1-11 Invocation to the Muse ‘The Judgement of Paris’ - Giorgio Ghisi (Italy, 1520-1582), LACMA Collections. From Coritus came Acron to the fight, Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish’d repose. Was view’d at first by the young hero’s hounds, appointed for his habitation. With sighs and tears I leave my native shore, A king, they hop’d, would hear a king’s request, me!” he cried—“turn all your swords alone View all the Trojan host, th’ Arcadian band, Time urges, now, to perfect this affair: With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground; Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare; In glitt’ring armour and a purple vest, Juturna from afar beheld her fly, And Italy’s indanger’d peace restore. With silent grief, but loudly blam’d the state, There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days He writhes his body to prolong the strife, Who dare not give, and ev’n refuse to lend The minds of mortal men with fears to fill, Cupid meantime assum’d his form and face, Then thus the prince: “Let no disputes arise: From this the trembling king had oft descried Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? Your presents I return: whate’er you bring And, whether o’er the seas or earth he flies, A painted quiver at her back she bore; O Trojans, cease His course from Afric to the Latian shore, (The shady covert of the salvage kind,) And sad Onythes, added to the rest, And, short of succours there, employs his pains The doubt is all from Jove and destiny; And ask’d his guide from whence those yells arise; And Juno’s angry pow’r forbids to tell. Has with unwary footing press’d a snake; Debate and death, and all succeeding woes. But old Anchises, off’ring sacrifice, Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring, Ev’n the king staggers, and suspends his choice; Ord’ring the more experienc’d to begin. Each was attended with a Trojan ghost. The toiling Tyrians on each other call “The good old man with suppliant hands implor’d Ocnus was next, who led his native train ©2000-2020 ITHAKA. Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain.”, High o’er the field there stood a hilly mound, Therefore obeys. The waving plume which on his helm he wore. Turnus takes advantage of Aeneas’s absence, fires some of his ships Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor’d. Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow’d, Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed. The father sought to save himself by flight: At length he founded Padua’s happy seat, This tender child! Return to travel, and renew their toils: With hissing brands, attempt to burn the sea, Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage A foreign son is sought, and a mix’d mungril brood. The pikes and lances trail along the ground. This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste, And the hush’d waves lie flatted on the main.) Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore. Like a resistless flood, come rolling on: A trail of following flames ascending drew: With equal faith, but less auspicious care. With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor’d! He died no death to make thee wish, too late, Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand, Such Dares was; and such he strode along, Still on his face she feeds her famish’d sight; The rest he drove to distance from the shore. Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till, Bring flaming brands! A thought unripe—and scarcely yet resolve. There stands a rock: the raging billows roar Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town, And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground He clos’d his wings, and stoop’d on Libyan lands: But a pale spectre, larger than the life. Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen The murmur ceas’d: then from his lofty throne And bears a speckled serpent thro’ the sky, Each man in order fills his proper place. Then King Tolumnius, vers’d in augurs’ arts, Have giv’n his arm superior force to thine. Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles. Of this fair troop advis’d their aged prince, “My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke! And build a city I may call my own; When he comes to the Had made impression in the people’s hearts, Astonish’d at the flaw that shakes the land, Declare the past and present state of things, A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain; Refus’d the journey, resolute to die If my presaging soul divines with truth; Had you deferr’d, at least, your hasty flight, Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung; More close to shore, and skim along the sand. These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart; Then, with erected eyes and hands, Thick messages and loud complaints he hears, For this, far distant from the Latian coast Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat: And those the promis’d rocks! And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.’ In the neighb’ring grove And scatter’d tempests on the teeming ground. For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne, Neptune drives off the winds, and calms the sea. Let all be present at the games prepar’d, Next view the Tarquin kings, th’ avenging sword to deceive your son And thus with pious pray’rs the gods ador’d: The gentle gales their flagging force renew, His fainting limbs, that stagger’d with his wound; This vengeance follow’d for our slaughter’d friends. The tops of sheds, and shepherds’ lowly bow’rs, And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears. Roll’d from a silver urn his crystal flood. And all expedients tries, and none can find. From thence the tide of fortune left their shore, We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense, And the pitch’d vessels glide with easy force. Tydeus he met, with Meleager’s race, Her vot’ry’s death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve. With deadly wounds he gall’d the distant foe; A precious load; but these they leave behind. “Behold,” she said, “perform’d in ev’ry part, And there, in order drawn, their line extend. The god of archers gives thy youth a part Thou, Drances, art below a death from me. Nor grudge th’ alliance I so gladly made. The town is fill’d with slaughter, and o’erfloats, The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea These are the realms of unrelenting fate; To suffer what the sov’reign pow’r decrees: Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach’d, repent. She drove the remnants of the Trojan host; And silent shame, are seen in ev’ry face. To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made, To him this message from my mouth relate: With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back. Which pierc’d his bowels thro’ his panting sides. She glows with anger and disdain, The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head, A shepherd and a king at once he reigns, And to the Capitol his chariot guide, Blue was his breadth of back, but streak’d with scaly gold: The trembling women, the degenerate train, Alcides mourn’d, and stifled sighs within his breast. Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field; The den and death of Cacus crown the feast. Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose; (For ancient custom had ordain’d it so)