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0
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Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,
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1
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And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,
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2
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Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.
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3
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Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,
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4
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And in the doubtful war, before he won
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5
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The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;
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6
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His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,
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7
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And settled sure succession in his line,
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8
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From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
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9
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And the long glories of majestic Rome.
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10
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O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;
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11
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What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate;
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12
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For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began
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13
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To persecute so brave, so just a man;
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14
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Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares,
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15
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Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars!
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16
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Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show,
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17
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Or exercise their spite in human woe?
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18
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Against the Tiber's mouth, but far away,
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19
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An ancient town was seated on the sea;
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20
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A Tyrian colony; the people made
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21
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Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:
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22
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Carthage the name; belov'd by Juno more
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23
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Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.
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24
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Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav'n were kind,
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25
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The seat of awful empire she design'd.
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26
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Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly,
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27
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(Long cited by the people of the sky,)
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28
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That times to come should see the Trojan race
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29
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Her Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface;
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30
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Nor thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign sway
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31
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Should on the necks of all the nations lay.
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32
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She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate;
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33
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Nor could forget the war she wag'd of late
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34
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For conqu'ring Greece against the Trojan state.
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35
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Besides, long causes working in her mind,
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36
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And secret seeds of envy, lay behind;
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37
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Deep graven in her heart the doom remain'd
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38
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Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd;
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39
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The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed,
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40
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Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed.
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41
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Each was a cause alone; and all combin'd
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42
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To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.
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43
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For this, far distant from the Latian coast
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44
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She drove the remnants of the Trojan host;
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45
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And sev'n long years th' unhappy wand'ring train
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46
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Were toss'd by storms, and scatter'd thro' the main.
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47
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Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name,
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48
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Such length of labor for so vast a frame.
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49
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Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars,
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50
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Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores,
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51
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Ent'ring with cheerful shouts the wat'ry reign,
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52
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And plowing frothy furrows in the main;
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53
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When, lab'ring still with endless discontent,
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54
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The Queen of Heav'n did thus her fury vent:
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55
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"Then am I vanquish'd? must I yield?" said she,
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56
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"And must the Trojans reign in Italy?
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57
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So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force;
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58
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Nor can my pow'r divert their happy course.
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59
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Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen,
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60
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The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?
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61
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She, for the fault of one offending foe,
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62
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The bolts of Jove himself presum'd to throw:
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63
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With whirlwinds from beneath she toss'd the ship,
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64
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And bare expos'd the bosom of the deep;
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65
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Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game,
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66
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The wretch, yet hissing with her father's flame,
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67
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She strongly seiz'd, and with a burning wound
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68
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Transfix'd, and naked, on a rock she bound.
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69
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But I, who walk in awful state above,
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70
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The majesty of heav'n, the sister wife of Jove,
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71
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For length of years my fruitless force employ
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72
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Against the thin remains of ruin'd Troy!
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73
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What nations now to Juno's pow'r will pray,
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74
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Or off'rings on my slighted altars lay?"
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75
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Thus rag'd the goddess; and, with fury fraught.
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76
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The restless regions of the storms she sought,
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77
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Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,
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78
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The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne,
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79
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With pow'r imperial curbs the struggling winds,
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80
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And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.
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81
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This way and that th' impatient captives tend,
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82
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And, pressing for release, the mountains rend.
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83
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High in his hall th' undaunted monarch stands,
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84
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And shakes his scepter, and their rage commands;
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85
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Which did he not, their unresisted sway
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86
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Would sweep the world before them in their way;
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87
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Earth, air, and seas thro' empty space would roll,
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88
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And heav'n would fly before the driving soul.
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89
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In fear of this, the Father of the Gods
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90
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Confin'd their fury to those dark abodes,
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91
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And lock'd 'em safe within, oppress'd with mountain loads;
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92
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Impos'd a king, with arbitrary sway,
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93
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To loose their fetters, or their force allay.
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94
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To whom the suppliant queen her pray'rs address'd,
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95
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And thus the tenor of her suit express'd:
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96
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"O Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav'n
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97
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The pow'r of tempests and of winds has giv'n;
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98
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Thy force alone their fury can restrain,
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99
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And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main-
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100
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A race of wand'ring slaves, abhorr'd by me,
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101
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With prosp'rous passage cut the Tuscan sea;
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102
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To fruitful Italy their course they steer,
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103
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And for their vanquish'd gods design new temples there.
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104
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Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies;
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105
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Sink or disperse my fatal enemies.
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106
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Twice sev'n, the charming daughters of the main,
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107
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Around my person wait, and bear my train:
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108
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Succeed my wish, and second my design;
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109
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The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine,
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110
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And make thee father of a happy line."
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111
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To this the god: "'T is yours, O queen, to will
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112
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The work which duty binds me to fulfil.
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113
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These airy kingdoms, and this wide command,
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114
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Are all the presents of your bounteous hand:
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115
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Yours is my sov'reign's grace; and, as your guest,
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116
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I sit with gods at their celestial feast;
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117
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Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue;
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118
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Dispose of empire, which I hold from you."
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119
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He said, and hurl'd against the mountain side
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120
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His quiv'ring spear, and all the god applied.
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121
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The raging winds rush thro' the hollow wound,
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122
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And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground;
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123
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Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep,
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124
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Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.
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125
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South, East, and West with mix'd confusion roar,
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126
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And roll the foaming billows to the shore.
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127
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The cables crack; the sailors' fearful cries
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128
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Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;
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129
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And heav'n itself is ravish'd from their eyes.
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130
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Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue;
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131
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Then flashing fires the transient light renew;
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132
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The face of things a frightful image bears,
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133
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And present death in various forms appears.
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134
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Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,
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135
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With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief;
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136
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And, "Thrice and four times happy those," he cried,
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137
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"That under Ilian walls before their parents died!
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138
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Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train!
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139
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Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,
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140
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And lie by noble Hector on the plain,
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141
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Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields
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142
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Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields
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143
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Of heroes, whose dismember'd hands yet bear
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144
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The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!"
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145
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Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,
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146
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Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,
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147
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And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise,
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148
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And mount the tossing vessels to the skies:
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149
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Nor can the shiv'ring oars sustain the blow;
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150
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The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;
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151
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While those astern, descending down the steep,
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152
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Thro' gaping waves behold the boiling deep.
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153
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Three ships were hurried by the southern blast,
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154
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And on the secret shelves with fury cast.
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155
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Those hidden rocks th' Ausonian sailors knew:
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156
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They call'd them Altars, when they rose in view,
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157
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And show'd their spacious backs above the flood.
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158
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Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,
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159
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Dash'd on the shallows of the moving sand,
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160
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And in mid ocean left them moor'd aland.
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161
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Orontes' bark, that bore the Lycian crew,
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162
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(A horrid sight!) ev'n in the hero's view,
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163
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From stem to stern by waves was overborne:
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164
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The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn,
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165
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Was headlong hurl'd; thrice round the ship was toss'd,
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166
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Then bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost;
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167
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And here and there above the waves were seen
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168
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Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men.
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169
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The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,
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170
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And suck'd thro' loosen'd planks the rushing sea.
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171
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Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old,
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172
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Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,
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173
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Endur'd not less; their ships, with gaping seams,
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174
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Admit the deluge of the briny streams.
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175
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Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound
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176
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Of raging billows breaking on the ground.
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177
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Displeas'd, and fearing for his wat'ry reign,
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178
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He rear'd his awful head above the main,
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179
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Serene in majesty; then roll'd his eyes
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180
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Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.
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181
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He saw the Trojan fleet dispers'd, distress'd,
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182
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By stormy winds and wintry heav'n oppress'd.
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183
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Full well the god his sister's envy knew,
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184
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And what her aims and what her arts pursue.
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185
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He summon'd Eurus and the western blast,
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186
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And first an angry glance on both he cast;
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187
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Then thus rebuk'd: "Audacious winds! from whence
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188
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This bold attempt, this rebel insolence?
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189
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Is it for you to ravage seas and land,
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190
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Unauthoriz'd by my supreme command?
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191
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To raise such mountains on the troubled main?
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192
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Whom I- but first 't is fit the billows to restrain;
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193
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And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign.
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194
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Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear-
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195
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The realms of ocean and the fields of air
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196
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Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me
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197
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The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea.
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198
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His pow'r to hollow caverns is confin'd:
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199
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There let him reign, the jailer of the wind,
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200
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With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call,
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201
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And boast and bluster in his empty hall."
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202
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He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth'd the sea,
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203
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Dispell'd the darkness, and restor'd the day.
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204
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Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train
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205
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Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main,
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206
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Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands:
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207
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The god himself with ready trident stands,
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208
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And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands;
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209
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Then heaves them off the shoals. Where'er he guides
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210
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His finny coursers and in triumph rides,
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211
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The waves unruffle and the sea subsides.
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212
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As, when in tumults rise th' ignoble crowd,
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213
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Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud;
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214
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And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly,
|
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215
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And all the rustic arms that fury can supply:
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216
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If then some grave and pious man appear,
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217
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They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear;
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218
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He soothes with sober words their angry mood,
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219
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And quenches their innate desire of blood:
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220
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So, when the Father of the Flood appears,
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221
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And o'er the seas his sov'reign trident rears,
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222
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Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains,
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223
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High on his chariot, and, with loosen'd reins,
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224
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Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains.
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225
|
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The weary Trojans ply their shatter'd oars
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226
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To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores.
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227
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Within a long recess there lies a bay:
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228
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An island shades it from the rolling sea,
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229
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And forms a port secure for ships to ride;
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230
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Broke by the jutting land, on either side,
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231
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In double streams the briny waters glide.
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232
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Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene
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233
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Appears above, and groves for ever green:
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234
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A grot is form'd beneath, with mossy seats,
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235
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To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats.
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236
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Down thro' the crannies of the living walls
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237
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The crystal streams descend in murm'ring falls:
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238
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No haulsers need to bind the vessels here,
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239
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Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear.
|
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240
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Sev'n ships within this happy harbor meet,
|
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241
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The thin remainders of the scatter'd fleet.
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242
|
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The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes,
|
|
243
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Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish'd repose.
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|
244
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First, good Achates, with repeated strokes
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245
|
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Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes:
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246
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Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither'd leaves
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247
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The dying sparkles in their fall receives:
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|
248
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Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise,
|
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249
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And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies.
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250
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|
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The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around
|
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251
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The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground:
|
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252
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Some dry their corn, infected with the brine,
|
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253
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Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine.
|
|
254
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|
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Aeneas climbs the mountain's airy brow,
|
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255
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And takes a prospect of the seas below,
|
|
256
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|
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If Capys thence, or Antheus he could spy,
|
|
257
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|
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Or see the streamers of Caicus fly.
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|
258
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No vessels were in view; but, on the plain,
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259
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Three beamy stags command a lordly train
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260
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Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng
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261
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Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along.
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262
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He stood; and, while secure they fed below,
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263
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He took the quiver and the trusty bow
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264
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Achates us'd to bear: the leaders first
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265
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He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc'd;
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266
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Nor ceas'd his arrows, till the shady plain
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267
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Sev'n mighty bodies with their blood distain.
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268
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For the sev'n ships he made an equal share,
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269
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And to the port return'd, triumphant from the war.
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270
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The jars of gen'rous wine (Acestes' gift,
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271
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When his Trinacrian shores the navy left)
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272
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He set abroach, and for the feast prepar'd,
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273
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In equal portions with the ven'son shar'd.
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274
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Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief
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275
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With cheerful words allay'd the common grief:
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276
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"Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose
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277
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To future good our past and present woes.
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278
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With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried;
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279
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Th' inhuman Cyclops and his den defied.
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280
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What greater ills hereafter can you bear?
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281
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Resume your courage and dismiss your care,
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282
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An hour will come, with pleasure to relate
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283
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Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
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284
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Thro' various hazards and events, we move
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285
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To Latium and the realms foredoom'd by Jove.
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286
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Call'd to the seat (the promise of the skies)
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287
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Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise,
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288
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Endure the hardships of your present state;
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289
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Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate."
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290
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These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;
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291
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His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart.
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292
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The jolly crew, unmindful of the past,
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293
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The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste.
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294
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Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil;
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295
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The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil;
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296
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Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil.
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297
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Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at ease they dine,
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298
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Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with
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299
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wine.
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300
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|
Their hunger thus appeas'd, their care attends
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301
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The doubtful fortune of their absent friends:
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302
|
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Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess,
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303
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Whether to deem 'em dead, or in distress.
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304
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Above the rest, Aeneas mourns the fate
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305
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Of brave Orontes, and th' uncertain state
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306
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Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus.
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307
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The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus.
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| |
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308
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When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys
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309
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Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas,
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310
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At length on Libyan realms he fix'd his eyes-
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311
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Whom, pond'ring thus on human miseries,
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312
|
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|
When Venus saw, she with a lowly look,
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313
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Not free from tears, her heav'nly sire bespoke:
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314
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"O King of Gods and Men! whose awful hand
|
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315
|
|
|
Disperses thunder on the seas and land,
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316
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Disposing all with absolute command;
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317
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How could my pious son thy pow'r incense?
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318
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|
Or what, alas! is vanish'd Troy's offense?
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319
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Our hope of Italy not only lost,
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320
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|
On various seas by various tempests toss'd,
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321
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But shut from ev'ry shore, and barr'd from ev'ry coast.
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322
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You promis'd once, a progeny divine
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323
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|
Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line,
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324
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|
In after times should hold the world in awe,
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|
325
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|
|
And to the land and ocean give the law.
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326
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|
|
How is your doom revers'd, which eas'd my care
|
|
327
|
|
|
When Troy was ruin'd in that cruel war?
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328
|
|
|
Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now,
|
|
329
|
|
|
When Fortune still pursues her former blow,
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330
|
|
|
What can I hope? What worse can still succeed?
|
|
331
|
|
|
What end of labors has your will decreed?
|
|
332
|
|
|
Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts,
|
|
333
|
|
|
Could pass secure, and pierce th' Illyrian coasts,
|
|
334
|
|
|
Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves
|
|
335
|
|
|
And thro' nine channels disembogues his waves.
|
|
336
|
|
|
At length he founded Padua's happy seat,
|
|
337
|
|
|
And gave his Trojans a secure retreat;
|
|
338
|
|
|
There fix'd their arms, and there renew'd their name,
|
|
339
|
|
|
And there in quiet rules, and crown'd with fame.
|
|
340
|
|
|
But we, descended from your sacred line,
|
|
341
|
|
|
Entitled to your heav'n and rites divine,
|
|
342
|
|
|
Are banish'd earth; and, for the wrath of one,
|
|
343
|
|
|
Remov'd from Latium and the promis'd throne.
|
|
344
|
|
|
Are these our scepters? these our due rewards?
|
|
345
|
|
|
And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?"
|
| |
|
346
|
|
|
To whom the Father of th' immortal race,
|
|
347
|
|
|
Smiling with that serene indulgent face,
|
|
348
|
|
|
With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies,
|
|
349
|
|
|
First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies:
|
| |
|
350
|
|
|
"Daughter, dismiss thy fears; to thy desire
|
|
351
|
|
|
The fates of thine are fix'd, and stand entire.
|
|
352
|
|
|
Thou shalt behold thy wish'd Lavinian walls;
|
|
353
|
|
|
And, ripe for heav'n, when fate Aeneas calls,
|
|
354
|
|
|
Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me:
|
|
355
|
|
|
No councils have revers'd my firm decree.
|
|
356
|
|
|
And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state,
|
|
357
|
|
|
Know, I have search'd the mystic rolls of Fate:
|
|
358
|
|
|
Thy son (nor is th' appointed season far)
|
|
359
|
|
|
In Italy shall wage successful war,
|
|
360
|
|
|
Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,
|
|
361
|
|
|
And sov'reign laws impose, and cities build,
|
|
362
|
|
|
Till, after ev'ry foe subdued, the sun
|
|
363
|
|
|
Thrice thro' the signs his annual race shall run:
|
|
364
|
|
|
This is his time prefix'd. Ascanius then,
|
|
365
|
|
|
Now call'd Iulus, shall begin his reign.
|
|
366
|
|
|
He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear,
|
|
367
|
|
|
Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer,
|
|
368
|
|
|
And, with hard labor, Alba Longa build.
|
|
369
|
|
|
The throne with his succession shall be fill'd
|
|
370
|
|
|
Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen
|
|
371
|
|
|
Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen,
|
|
372
|
|
|
Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes,
|
|
373
|
|
|
Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose.
|
|
374
|
|
|
The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain:
|
|
375
|
|
|
Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain,
|
|
376
|
|
|
Of martial tow'rs the founder shall become,
|
|
377
|
|
|
The people Romans call, the city Rome.
|
|
378
|
|
|
To them no bounds of empire I assign,
|
|
379
|
|
|
Nor term of years to their immortal line.
|
|
380
|
|
|
Ev'n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,
|
|
381
|
|
|
Earth, seas, and heav'n, and Jove himself turmoils;
|
|
382
|
|
|
At length aton'd, her friendly pow'r shall join,
|
|
383
|
|
|
To cherish and advance the Trojan line.
|
|
384
|
|
|
The subject world shall Rome's dominion own,
|
|
385
|
|
|
And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown.
|
|
386
|
|
|
An age is ripening in revolving fate
|
|
387
|
|
|
When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state,
|
|
388
|
|
|
And sweet revenge her conqu'ring sons shall call,
|
|
389
|
|
|
To crush the people that conspir'd her fall.
|
|
390
|
|
|
Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise,
|
|
391
|
|
|
Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies
|
|
392
|
|
|
Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils,
|
|
393
|
|
|
Our heav'n, the just reward of human toils,
|
|
394
|
|
|
Securely shall repay with rites divine;
|
|
395
|
|
|
And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine.
|
|
396
|
|
|
Then dire debate and impious war shall cease,
|
|
397
|
|
|
And the stern age be soften'd into peace:
|
|
398
|
|
|
Then banish'd Faith shall once again return,
|
|
399
|
|
|
And Vestal fires in hallow'd temples burn;
|
|
400
|
|
|
And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain
|
|
401
|
|
|
The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain.
|
|
402
|
|
|
Janus himself before his fane shall wait,
|
|
403
|
|
|
And keep the dreadful issues of his gate,
|
|
404
|
|
|
With bolts and iron bars: within remains
|
|
405
|
|
|
Imprison'd Fury, bound in brazen chains;
|
|
406
|
|
|
High on a trophy rais'd, of useless arms,
|
|
407
|
|
|
He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms."
|
| |
|
408
|
|
|
He said, and sent Cyllenius with command
|
|
409
|
|
|
To free the ports, and ope the Punic land
|
|
410
|
|
|
To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,
|
|
411
|
|
|
The queen might force them from her town and state.
|
|
412
|
|
|
Down from the steep of heav'n Cyllenius flies,
|
|
413
|
|
|
And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies.
|
|
414
|
|
|
Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,
|
|
415
|
|
|
Performs his message, and displays his rod:
|
|
416
|
|
|
The surly murmurs of the people cease;
|
|
417
|
|
|
And, as the fates requir'd, they give the peace:
|
|
418
|
|
|
The queen herself suspends the rigid laws,
|
|
419
|
|
|
The Trojans pities, and protects their cause.
|
| |
|
420
|
|
|
Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies:
|
|
421
|
|
|
Care seiz'd his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes.
|
|
422
|
|
|
But, when the sun restor'd the cheerful day,
|
|
423
|
|
|
He rose, the coast and country to survey,
|
|
424
|
|
|
Anxious and eager to discover more.
|
|
425
|
|
|
It look'd a wild uncultivated shore;
|
|
426
|
|
|
But, whether humankind, or beasts alone
|
|
427
|
|
|
Possess'd the new-found region, was unknown.
|
|
428
|
|
|
Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides:
|
|
429
|
|
|
Tall trees surround the mountain's shady sides;
|
|
430
|
|
|
The bending brow above a safe retreat provides.
|
|
431
|
|
|
Arm'd with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends,
|
|
432
|
|
|
And true Achates on his steps attends.
|
|
433
|
|
|
Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,
|
|
434
|
|
|
Before his eyes his goddess mother stood:
|
|
435
|
|
|
A huntress in her habit and her mien;
|
|
436
|
|
|
Her dress a maid, her air confess'd a queen.
|
|
437
|
|
|
Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind;
|
|
438
|
|
|
Loose was her hair, and wanton'd in the wind;
|
|
439
|
|
|
Her hand sustain'd a bow; her quiver hung behind.
|
|
440
|
|
|
She seem'd a virgin of the Spartan blood:
|
|
441
|
|
|
With such array Harpalyce bestrode
|
|
442
|
|
|
Her Thracian courser and outstripp'd the rapid flood.
|
|
443
|
|
|
"Ho, strangers! have you lately seen," she said,
|
|
444
|
|
|
"One of my sisters, like myself array'd,
|
|
445
|
|
|
Who cross'd the lawn, or in the forest stray'd?
|
|
446
|
|
|
A painted quiver at her back she bore;
|
|
447
|
|
|
Varied with spots, a lynx's hide she wore;
|
|
448
|
|
|
And at full cry pursued the tusky boar."
|
| |
|
449
|
|
|
Thus Venus: thus her son replied again:
|
|
450
|
|
|
"None of your sisters have we heard or seen,
|
|
451
|
|
|
O virgin! or what other name you bear
|
|
452
|
|
|
Above that style- O more than mortal fair!
|
|
453
|
|
|
Your voice and mien celestial birth betray!
|
|
454
|
|
|
If, as you seem, the sister of the day,
|
|
455
|
|
|
Or one at least of chaste Diana's train,
|
|
456
|
|
|
Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain;
|
|
457
|
|
|
But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss'd,
|
|
458
|
|
|
What earth we tread, and who commands the coast?
|
|
459
|
|
|
Then on your name shall wretched mortals call,
|
|
460
|
|
|
And offer'd victims at your altars fall."
|
|
461
|
|
|
"I dare not," she replied, "assume the name
|
|
462
|
|
|
Of goddess, or celestial honors claim:
|
|
463
|
|
|
For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear,
|
|
464
|
|
|
And purple buskins o'er their ankles wear.
|
|
465
|
|
|
Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are-
|
|
466
|
|
|
A people rude in peace, and rough in war.
|
|
467
|
|
|
The rising city, which from far you see,
|
|
468
|
|
|
Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony.
|
|
469
|
|
|
Phoenician Dido rules the growing state,
|
|
470
|
|
|
Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother's hate.
|
|
471
|
|
|
Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate;
|
|
472
|
|
|
Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known
|
|
473
|
|
|
For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne,
|
|
474
|
|
|
Possess'd fair Dido's bed; and either heart
|
|
475
|
|
|
At once was wounded with an equal dart.
|
|
476
|
|
|
Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid;
|
|
477
|
|
|
Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway'd:
|
|
478
|
|
|
One who condemn'd divine and human laws.
|
|
479
|
|
|
Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause.
|
|
480
|
|
|
The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth,
|
|
481
|
|
|
With steel invades his brother's life by stealth;
|
|
482
|
|
|
Before the sacred altar made him bleed,
|
|
483
|
|
|
And long from her conceal'd the cruel deed.
|
|
484
|
|
|
Some tale, some new pretense, he daily coin'd,
|
|
485
|
|
|
To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.
|
|
486
|
|
|
At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears
|
|
487
|
|
|
Of her unhappy lord: the specter stares,
|
|
488
|
|
|
And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares.
|
|
489
|
|
|
The cruel altars and his fate he tells,
|
|
490
|
|
|
And the dire secret of his house reveals,
|
|
491
|
|
|
Then warns the widow, with her household gods,
|
|
492
|
|
|
To seek a refuge in remote abodes.
|
|
493
|
|
|
Last, to support her in so long a way,
|
|
494
|
|
|
He shows her where his hidden treasure lay.
|
|
495
|
|
|
Admonish'd thus, and seiz'd with mortal fright,
|
|
496
|
|
|
The queen provides companions of her flight:
|
|
497
|
|
|
They meet, and all combine to leave the state,
|
|
498
|
|
|
Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate.
|
|
499
|
|
|
They seize a fleet, which ready rigg'd they find;
|
|
500
|
|
|
Nor is Pygmalion's treasure left behind.
|
|
501
|
|
|
The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea
|
|
502
|
|
|
With prosp'rous winds; a woman leads the way.
|
|
503
|
|
|
I know not, if by stress of weather driv'n,
|
|
504
|
|
|
Or was their fatal course dispos'd by Heav'n;
|
|
505
|
|
|
At last they landed, where from far your eyes
|
|
506
|
|
|
May view the turrets of new Carthage rise;
|
|
507
|
|
|
There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa call'd,
|
|
508
|
|
|
From the bull's hide) they first inclos'd, and wall'd.
|
|
509
|
|
|
But whence are you? what country claims your birth?
|
|
510
|
|
|
What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?"
|
| |
|
511
|
|
|
To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes,
|
|
512
|
|
|
And deeply sighing, thus her son replies:
|
|
513
|
|
|
"Could you with patience hear, or I relate,
|
|
514
|
|
|
O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate!
|
|
515
|
|
|
Thro' such a train of woes if I should run,
|
|
516
|
|
|
The day would sooner than the tale be done!
|
|
517
|
|
|
From ancient Troy, by force expell'd, we came-
|
|
518
|
|
|
If you by chance have heard the Trojan name.
|
|
519
|
|
|
On various seas by various tempests toss'd,
|
|
520
|
|
|
At length we landed on your Libyan coast.
|
|
521
|
|
|
The good Aeneas am I call'd- a name,
|
|
522
|
|
|
While Fortune favor'd, not unknown to fame.
|
|
523
|
|
|
My household gods, companions of my woes,
|
|
524
|
|
|
With pious care I rescued from our foes.
|
|
525
|
|
|
To fruitful Italy my course was bent;
|
|
526
|
|
|
And from the King of Heav'n is my descent.
|
|
527
|
|
|
With twice ten sail I cross'd the Phrygian sea;
|
|
528
|
|
|
Fate and my mother goddess led my way.
|
|
529
|
|
|
Scarce sev'n, the thin remainders of my fleet,
|
|
530
|
|
|
From storms preserv'd, within your harbor meet.
|
|
531
|
|
|
Myself distress'd, an exile, and unknown,
|
|
532
|
|
|
Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown,
|
|
533
|
|
|
In Libyan desarts wander thus alone."
|
| |
|
534
|
|
|
His tender parent could no longer bear;
|
|
535
|
|
|
But, interposing, sought to soothe his care.
|
|
536
|
|
|
"Whoe'er you are- not unbelov'd by Heav'n,
|
|
537
|
|
|
Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv'n-
|
|
538
|
|
|
Have courage: to the gods permit the rest,
|
|
539
|
|
|
And to the queen expose your just request.
|
|
540
|
|
|
Now take this earnest of success, for more:
|
|
541
|
|
|
Your scatter'd fleet is join'd upon the shore;
|
|
542
|
|
|
The winds are chang'd, your friends from danger free;
|
|
543
|
|
|
Or I renounce my skill in augury.
|
|
544
|
|
|
Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move,
|
|
545
|
|
|
And stoop with closing pinions from above;
|
|
546
|
|
|
Whom late the bird of Jove had driv'n along,
|
|
547
|
|
|
And thro' the clouds pursued the scatt'ring throng:
|
|
548
|
|
|
Now, all united in a goodly team,
|
|
549
|
|
|
They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream.
|
|
550
|
|
|
As they, with joy returning, clap their wings,
|
|
551
|
|
|
And ride the circuit of the skies in rings;
|
|
552
|
|
|
Not otherwise your ships, and ev'ry friend,
|
|
553
|
|
|
Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend.
|
|
554
|
|
|
No more advice is needful; but pursue
|
|
555
|
|
|
The path before you, and the town in view."
|
| |
|
556
|
|
|
Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear
|
|
557
|
|
|
Her neck refulgent, and dishevel'd hair,
|
|
558
|
|
|
Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground.
|
|
559
|
|
|
And widely spread ambrosial scents around:
|
|
560
|
|
|
In length of train descends her sweeping gown;
|
|
561
|
|
|
And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known.
|
|
562
|
|
|
The prince pursued the parting deity
|
|
563
|
|
|
With words like these: "Ah! whither do you fly?
|
|
564
|
|
|
Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son
|
|
565
|
|
|
In borrow'd shapes, and his embrace to shun;
|
|
566
|
|
|
Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown;
|
|
567
|
|
|
And still to speak in accents not your own."
|
|
568
|
|
|
Against the goddess these complaints he made,
|
|
569
|
|
|
But took the path, and her commands obey'd.
|
|
570
|
|
|
They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds
|
|
571
|
|
|
With mists their persons, and involves in clouds,
|
|
572
|
|
|
That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay,
|
|
573
|
|
|
Or force to tell the causes of their way.
|
|
574
|
|
|
This part perform'd, the goddess flies sublime
|
|
575
|
|
|
To visit Paphos and her native clime;
|
|
576
|
|
|
Where garlands, ever green and ever fair,
|
|
577
|
|
|
With vows are offer'd, and with solemn pray'r:
|
|
578
|
|
|
A hundred altars in her temple smoke;
|
|
579
|
|
|
A thousand bleeding hearts her pow'r invoke.
|
| |
|
580
|
|
|
They climb the next ascent, and, looking down,
|
|
581
|
|
|
Now at a nearer distance view the town.
|
|
582
|
|
|
The prince with wonder sees the stately tow'rs,
|
|
583
|
|
|
Which late were huts and shepherds' homely bow'rs,
|
|
584
|
|
|
The gates and streets; and hears, from ev'ry part,
|
|
585
|
|
|
The noise and busy concourse of the mart.
|
|
586
|
|
|
The toiling Tyrians on each other call
|
|
587
|
|
|
To ply their labor: some extend the wall;
|
|
588
|
|
|
Some build the citadel; the brawny throng
|
|
589
|
|
|
Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along.
|
|
590
|
|
|
Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground,
|
|
591
|
|
|
Which, first design'd, with ditches they surround.
|
|
592
|
|
|
Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice
|
|
593
|
|
|
Of holy senates, and elect by voice.
|
|
594
|
|
|
Here some design a mole, while others there
|
|
595
|
|
|
Lay deep foundations for a theater;
|
|
596
|
|
|
From marble quarries mighty columns hew,
|
|
597
|
|
|
For ornaments of scenes, and future view.
|
|
598
|
|
|
Such is their toil, and such their busy pains,
|
|
599
|
|
|
As exercise the bees in flow'ry plains,
|
|
600
|
|
|
When winter past, and summer scarce begun,
|
|
601
|
|
|
Invites them forth to labor in the sun;
|
|
602
|
|
|
Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense
|
|
603
|
|
|
Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense;
|
|
604
|
|
|
Some at the gate stand ready to receive
|
|
605
|
|
|
The golden burthen, and their friends relieve;
|
|
606
|
|
|
All with united force, combine to drive
|
|
607
|
|
|
The lazy drones from the laborious hive:
|
|
608
|
|
|
With envy stung, they view each other's deeds;
|
|
609
|
|
|
The fragrant work with diligence proceeds.
|
|
610
|
|
|
"Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!"
|
|
611
|
|
|
Aeneas said, and view'd, with lifted eyes,
|
|
612
|
|
|
Their lofty tow'rs; then, entiring at the gate,
|
|
613
|
|
|
Conceal'd in clouds (prodigious to relate)
|
|
614
|
|
|
He mix'd, unmark'd, among the busy throng,
|
|
615
|
|
|
Borne by the tide, and pass'd unseen along.
|
| |
|
616
|
|
|
Full in the center of the town there stood,
|
|
617
|
|
|
Thick set with trees, a venerable wood.
|
|
618
|
|
|
The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground,
|
|
619
|
|
|
And digging here, a prosp'rous omen found:
|
|
620
|
|
|
From under earth a courser's head they drew,
|
|
621
|
|
|
Their growth and future fortune to foreshew.
|
|
622
|
|
|
This fated sign their foundress Juno gave,
|
|
623
|
|
|
Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave.
|
|
624
|
|
|
Sidonian Dido here with solemn state
|
|
625
|
|
|
Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate,
|
|
626
|
|
|
Enrich'd with gifts, and with a golden shrine;
|
|
627
|
|
|
But more the goddess made the place divine.
|
|
628
|
|
|
On brazen steps the marble threshold rose,
|
|
629
|
|
|
And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose:
|
|
630
|
|
|
The rafters are with brazen cov'rings crown'd;
|
|
631
|
|
|
The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound.
|
|
632
|
|
|
What first Aeneas this place beheld,
|
|
633
|
|
|
Reviv'd his courage, and his fear expell'd.
|
|
634
|
|
|
For while, expecting there the queen, he rais'd
|
|
635
|
|
|
His wond'ring eyes, and round the temple gaz'd,
|
|
636
|
|
|
Admir'd the fortune of the rising town,
|
|
637
|
|
|
The striving artists, and their arts' renown;
|
|
638
|
|
|
He saw, in order painted on the wall,
|
|
639
|
|
|
Whatever did unhappy Troy befall:
|
|
640
|
|
|
The wars that fame around the world had blown,
|
|
641
|
|
|
All to the life, and ev'ry leader known.
|
|
642
|
|
|
There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies,
|
|
643
|
|
|
And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies.
|
|
644
|
|
|
He stopp'd, and weeping said: "O friend! ev'n here
|
|
645
|
|
|
The monuments of Trojan woes appear!
|
|
646
|
|
|
Our known disasters fill ev'n foreign lands:
|
|
647
|
|
|
See there, where old unhappy Priam stands!
|
|
648
|
|
|
Ev'n the mute walls relate the warrior's fame,
|
|
649
|
|
|
And Trojan griefs the Tyrians' pity claim."
|
|
650
|
|
|
He said (his tears a ready passage find),
|
|
651
|
|
|
Devouring what he saw so well design'd,
|
|
652
|
|
|
And with an empty picture fed his mind:
|
|
653
|
|
|
For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield,
|
|
654
|
|
|
And here the trembling Trojans quit the field,
|
|
655
|
|
|
Pursued by fierce Achilles thro' the plain,
|
|
656
|
|
|
On his high chariot driving o'er the slain.
|
|
657
|
|
|
The tents of Rhesus next his grief renew,
|
|
658
|
|
|
By their white sails betray'd to nightly view;
|
|
659
|
|
|
And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword
|
|
660
|
|
|
The sentries slew, nor spar'd their slumb'ring lord,
|
|
661
|
|
|
Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food
|
|
662
|
|
|
Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood.
|
|
663
|
|
|
Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied
|
|
664
|
|
|
Achilles, and unequal combat tried;
|
|
665
|
|
|
Then, where the boy disarm'd, with loosen'd reins,
|
|
666
|
|
|
Was by his horses hurried o'er the plains,
|
|
667
|
|
|
Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg'd around:
|
|
668
|
|
|
The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound,
|
|
669
|
|
|
With tracks of blood inscrib'd the dusty ground.
|
|
670
|
|
|
Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe,
|
|
671
|
|
|
To Pallas' fane in long procession go,
|
|
672
|
|
|
In hopes to reconcile their heav'nly foe.
|
|
673
|
|
|
They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair,
|
|
674
|
|
|
And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear;
|
|
675
|
|
|
But the stern goddess stands unmov'd with pray'r.
|
|
676
|
|
|
Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew
|
|
677
|
|
|
The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.
|
|
678
|
|
|
Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,
|
|
679
|
|
|
The lifeless body of his son is sold.
|
|
680
|
|
|
So sad an object, and so well express'd,
|
|
681
|
|
|
Drew sighs and groans from the griev'd hero's breast,
|
|
682
|
|
|
To see the figure of his lifeless friend,
|
|
683
|
|
|
And his old sire his helpless hand extend.
|
|
684
|
|
|
Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train,
|
|
685
|
|
|
Mix'd in the bloody battle on the plain;
|
|
686
|
|
|
And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew,
|
|
687
|
|
|
His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew.
|
|
688
|
|
|
Penthisilea there, with haughty grace,
|
|
689
|
|
|
Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:
|
|
690
|
|
|
In their right hands a pointed dart they wield;
|
|
691
|
|
|
The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield.
|
|
692
|
|
|
Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws,
|
|
693
|
|
|
Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,
|
|
694
|
|
|
And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose.
|
| |
|
695
|
|
|
Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,
|
|
696
|
|
|
Fix'd on the walls with wonder and surprise,
|
|
697
|
|
|
The beauteous Dido, with a num'rous train
|
|
698
|
|
|
And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.
|
|
699
|
|
|
Such on Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' height,
|
|
700
|
|
|
Diana seems; and so she charms the sight,
|
|
701
|
|
|
When in the dance the graceful goddess leads
|
|
702
|
|
|
The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads:
|
|
703
|
|
|
Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,
|
|
704
|
|
|
She walks majestic, and she looks their queen;
|
|
705
|
|
|
Latona sees her shine above the rest,
|
|
706
|
|
|
And feeds with secret joy her silent breast.
|
|
707
|
|
|
Such Dido was; with such becoming state,
|
|
708
|
|
|
Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great.
|
|
709
|
|
|
Their labor to her future sway she speeds,
|
|
710
|
|
|
And passing with a gracious glance proceeds;
|
|
711
|
|
|
Then mounts the throne, high plac'd before the shrine:
|
|
712
|
|
|
In crowds around, the swarming people join.
|
|
713
|
|
|
She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,
|
|
714
|
|
|
Hears and determines ev'ry private cause;
|
|
715
|
|
|
Their tasks in equal portions she divides,
|
|
716
|
|
|
And, where unequal, there by lots decides.
|
|
717
|
|
|
Another way by chance Aeneas bends
|
|
718
|
|
|
His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,
|
|
719
|
|
|
Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,
|
|
720
|
|
|
And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,
|
|
721
|
|
|
Whom late the tempest on the billows toss'd,
|
|
722
|
|
|
And widely scatter'd on another coast.
|
|
723
|
|
|
The prince, unseen, surpris'd with wonder stands,
|
|
724
|
|
|
And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands;
|
|
725
|
|
|
But, doubtful of the wish'd event, he stays,
|
|
726
|
|
|
And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,
|
|
727
|
|
|
Impatient till they told their present state,
|
|
728
|
|
|
And where they left their ships, and what their fate,
|
|
729
|
|
|
And why they came, and what was their request;
|
|
730
|
|
|
For these were sent, commission'd by the rest,
|
|
731
|
|
|
To sue for leave to land their sickly men,
|
|
732
|
|
|
And gain admission to the gracious queen.
|
|
733
|
|
|
Ent'ring, with cries they fill'd the holy fane;
|
|
734
|
|
|
Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:
|
| |
|
735
|
|
|
"O queen! indulg'd by favor of the gods
|
|
736
|
|
|
To found an empire in these new abodes,
|
|
737
|
|
|
To build a town, with statutes to restrain
|
|
738
|
|
|
The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign,
|
|
739
|
|
|
We wretched Trojans, toss'd on ev'ry shore,
|
|
740
|
|
|
From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.
|
|
741
|
|
|
Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!
|
|
742
|
|
|
Receive th' unhappy fugitives to grace,
|
|
743
|
|
|
And spare the remnant of a pious race!
|
|
744
|
|
|
We come not with design of wasteful prey,
|
|
745
|
|
|
To drive the country, force the swains away:
|
|
746
|
|
|
Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;
|
|
747
|
|
|
The vanquish'd dare not to such thoughts aspire.
|
|
748
|
|
|
A land there is, Hesperia nam'd of old;
|
|
749
|
|
|
The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold-
|
|
750
|
|
|
Th' Oenotrians held it once- by common fame
|
|
751
|
|
|
Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name.
|
|
752
|
|
|
To that sweet region was our voyage bent,
|
|
753
|
|
|
When winds and ev'ry warring element
|
|
754
|
|
|
Disturb'd our course, and, far from sight of land,
|
|
755
|
|
|
Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand:
|
|
756
|
|
|
The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar,
|
|
757
|
|
|
Dispers'd and dash'd the rest upon the rocky shore.
|
|
758
|
|
|
Those few you see escap'd the Storm, and fear,
|
|
759
|
|
|
Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.
|
|
760
|
|
|
What men, what monsters, what inhuman race,
|
|
761
|
|
|
What laws, what barb'rous customs of the place,
|
|
762
|
|
|
Shut up a desart shore to drowning men,
|
|
763
|
|
|
And drive us to the cruel seas again?
|
|
764
|
|
|
If our hard fortune no compassion draws,
|
|
765
|
|
|
Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,
|
|
766
|
|
|
The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.
|
|
767
|
|
|
Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord,
|
|
768
|
|
|
Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword;
|
|
769
|
|
|
Observant of the right, religious of his word.
|
|
770
|
|
|
If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,
|
|
771
|
|
|
Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair;
|
|
772
|
|
|
Nor you, great queen, these offices repent,
|
|
773
|
|
|
Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.
|
|
774
|
|
|
We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,
|
|
775
|
|
|
Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts.
|
|
776
|
|
|
Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,
|
|
777
|
|
|
Refitted from your woods with planks and oars,
|
|
778
|
|
|
That, if our prince be safe, we may renew
|
|
779
|
|
|
Our destin'd course, and Italy pursue.
|
|
780
|
|
|
But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain
|
|
781
|
|
|
That thou art swallow'd in the Libyan main,
|
|
782
|
|
|
And if our young Iulus be no more,
|
|
783
|
|
|
Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,
|
|
784
|
|
|
That we to good Acestes may return,
|
|
785
|
|
|
And with our friends our common losses mourn."
|
|
786
|
|
|
Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew
|
|
787
|
|
|
With cries and clamors his request renew.
|
| |
|
788
|
|
|
The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes,
|
|
789
|
|
|
Ponder'd the speech; then briefly thus replies:
|
|
790
|
|
|
"Trojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate,
|
|
791
|
|
|
And doubts attending an unsettled state,
|
|
792
|
|
|
Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes.
|
|
793
|
|
|
Who has not heard the story of your woes,
|
|
794
|
|
|
The name and fortune of your native place,
|
|
795
|
|
|
The fame and valor of the Phrygian race?
|
|
796
|
|
|
We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,
|
|
797
|
|
|
Nor so remote from Phoebus' influence.
|
|
798
|
|
|
Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,
|
|
799
|
|
|
Or, driv'n by tempests from your first intent,
|
|
800
|
|
|
You seek the good Acestes' government,
|
|
801
|
|
|
Your men shall be receiv'd, your fleet repair'd,
|
|
802
|
|
|
And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard:
|
|
803
|
|
|
Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow'rs
|
|
804
|
|
|
To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow'rs,
|
|
805
|
|
|
My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.
|
|
806
|
|
|
And would to Heav'n, the Storm, you felt, would bring
|
|
807
|
|
|
On Carthaginian coasts your wand'ring king.
|
|
808
|
|
|
My people shall, by my command, explore
|
|
809
|
|
|
The ports and creeks of ev'ry winding shore,
|
|
810
|
|
|
And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest
|
|
811
|
|
|
Of so renown'd and so desir'd a guest."
|
| |
|
812
|
|
|
Rais'd in his mind the Trojan hero stood,
|
|
813
|
|
|
And long'd to break from out his ambient cloud:
|
|
814
|
|
|
Achates found it, and thus urg'd his way:
|
|
815
|
|
|
"From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?
|
|
816
|
|
|
What more can you desire, your welcome sure,
|
|
817
|
|
|
Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure?
|
|
818
|
|
|
One only wants; and him we saw in vain
|
|
819
|
|
|
Oppose the Storm, and swallow'd in the main.
|
|
820
|
|
|
Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid;
|
|
821
|
|
|
The rest agrees with what your mother said."
|
|
822
|
|
|
Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,
|
|
823
|
|
|
The mists flew upward and dissolv'd in day.
|
| |
|
824
|
|
|
The Trojan chief appear'd in open sight,
|
|
825
|
|
|
August in visage, and serenely bright.
|
|
826
|
|
|
His mother goddess, with her hands divine,
|
|
827
|
|
|
Had form'd his curling locks, and made his temples shine,
|
|
828
|
|
|
And giv'n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace,
|
|
829
|
|
|
And breath'd a youthful vigor on his face;
|
|
830
|
|
|
Like polish'd ivory, beauteous to behold,
|
|
831
|
|
|
Or Parian marble, when enchas'd in gold:
|
|
832
|
|
|
Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke,
|
|
833
|
|
|
And thus with manly modesty he spoke:
|
| |
|
834
|
|
|
"He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss'd,
|
|
835
|
|
|
And sav'd from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;
|
|
836
|
|
|
Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,
|
|
837
|
|
|
A prince that owes his life to you alone.
|
|
838
|
|
|
Fair majesty, the refuge and redress
|
|
839
|
|
|
Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress,
|
|
840
|
|
|
You, who your pious offices employ
|
|
841
|
|
|
To save the relics of abandon'd Troy;
|
|
842
|
|
|
Receive the shipwreck'd on your friendly shore,
|
|
843
|
|
|
With hospitable rites relieve the poor;
|
|
844
|
|
|
Associate in your town a wand'ring train,
|
|
845
|
|
|
And strangers in your palace entertain:
|
|
846
|
|
|
What thanks can wretched fugitives return,
|
|
847
|
|
|
Who, scatter'd thro' the world, in exile mourn?
|
|
848
|
|
|
The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin'd;
|
|
849
|
|
|
If acts of mercy touch their heav'nly mind,
|
|
850
|
|
|
And, more than all the gods, your gen'rous heart.
|
|
851
|
|
|
Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
|
|
852
|
|
|
In you this age is happy, and this earth,
|
|
853
|
|
|
And parents more than mortal gave you birth.
|
|
854
|
|
|
While rolling rivers into seas shall run,
|
|
855
|
|
|
And round the space of heav'n the radiant sun;
|
|
856
|
|
|
While trees the mountain tops with shades supply,
|
|
857
|
|
|
Your honor, name, and praise shall never die.
|
|
858
|
|
|
Whate'er abode my fortune has assign'd,
|
|
859
|
|
|
Your image shall be present in my mind."
|
|
860
|
|
|
Thus having said, he turn'd with pious haste,
|
|
861
|
|
|
And joyful his expecting friends embrac'd:
|
|
862
|
|
|
With his right hand Ilioneus was grac'd,
|
|
863
|
|
|
Serestus with his left; then to his breast
|
|
864
|
|
|
Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press'd;
|
|
865
|
|
|
And so by turns descended to the rest.
|
| |
|
866
|
|
|
The Tyrian queen stood fix'd upon his face,
|
|
867
|
|
|
Pleas'd with his motions, ravish'd with his grace;
|
|
868
|
|
|
Admir'd his fortunes, more admir'd the man;
|
|
869
|
|
|
Then recollected stood, and thus began:
|
|
870
|
|
|
"What fate, O goddess-born; what angry pow'rs
|
|
871
|
|
|
Have cast you shipwrack'd on our barren shores?
|
|
872
|
|
|
Are you the great Aeneas, known to fame,
|
|
873
|
|
|
Who from celestial seed your lineage claim?
|
| |
|
874
|
|
|
The same Aeneas whom fair Venus bore
|
|
875
|
|
|
To fam'd Anchises on th' Idaean shore?
|
|
876
|
|
|
It calls into my mind, tho' then a child,
|
|
877
|
|
|
When Teucer came, from Salamis exil'd,
|
|
878
|
|
|
And sought my father's aid, to be restor'd:
|
|
879
|
|
|
My father Belus then with fire and sword
|
|
880
|
|
|
Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare,
|
|
881
|
|
|
And, conqu'ring, finish'd the successful war.
|
|
882
|
|
|
From him the Trojan siege I understood,
|
|
883
|
|
|
The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood.
|
|
884
|
|
|
Your foe himself the Dardan valor prais'd,
|
|
885
|
|
|
And his own ancestry from Trojans rais'd.
|
|
886
|
|
|
Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find,
|
|
887
|
|
|
If not a costly welcome, yet a kind:
|
|
888
|
|
|
For I myself, like you, have been distress'd,
|
|
889
|
|
|
Till Heav'n afforded me this place of rest;
|
|
890
|
|
|
Like you, an alien in a land unknown,
|
|
891
|
|
|
I learn to pity woes so like my own."
|
|
892
|
|
|
She said, and to the palace led her guest;
|
|
893
|
|
|
Then offer'd incense, and proclaim'd a feast.
|
|
894
|
|
|
Nor yet less careful for her absent friends,
|
|
895
|
|
|
Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends;
|
|
896
|
|
|
Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs,
|
|
897
|
|
|
With bleating cries, attend their milky dams;
|
|
898
|
|
|
And jars of gen'rous wine and spacious bowls
|
|
899
|
|
|
She gives, to cheer the sailors' drooping souls.
|
|
900
|
|
|
Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls,
|
|
901
|
|
|
And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls:
|
|
902
|
|
|
On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine;
|
|
903
|
|
|
With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine,
|
|
904
|
|
|
And antique vases, all of gold emboss'd
|
|
905
|
|
|
(The gold itself inferior to the cost),
|
|
906
|
|
|
Of curious work, where on the sides were seen
|
|
907
|
|
|
The fights and figures of illustrious men,
|
|
908
|
|
|
From their first founder to the present queen.
|
| |
|
909
|
|
|
The good Aeneas, paternal care
|
|
910
|
|
|
Iulus' absence could no longer bear,
|
|
911
|
|
|
Dispatch'd Achates to the ships in haste,
|
|
912
|
|
|
To give a glad relation of the past,
|
|
913
|
|
|
And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy,
|
|
914
|
|
|
Snatch'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy:
|
|
915
|
|
|
A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire;
|
|
916
|
|
|
An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire,
|
|
917
|
|
|
From Argos by the fam'd adultress brought,
|
|
918
|
|
|
With golden flow'rs and winding foliage wrought,
|
|
919
|
|
|
Her mother Leda's present, when she came
|
|
920
|
|
|
To ruin Troy and set the world on flame;
|
|
921
|
|
|
The scepter Priam's eldest daughter bore,
|
|
922
|
|
|
Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore
|
|
923
|
|
|
Of double texture, glorious to behold,
|
|
924
|
|
|
One order set with gems, and one with gold.
|
|
925
|
|
|
Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes,
|
|
926
|
|
|
And in his diligence his duty shows.
|
| |
|
927
|
|
|
But Venus, anxious for her son's affairs,
|
|
928
|
|
|
New counsels tries, and new designs prepares:
|
|
929
|
|
|
That Cupid should assume the shape and face
|
|
930
|
|
|
Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace;
|
|
931
|
|
|
Should bring the presents, in her nephew's stead,
|
|
932
|
|
|
And in Eliza's veins the gentle poison shed:
|
|
933
|
|
|
For much she fear'd the Tyrians, double-tongued,
|
|
934
|
|
|
And knew the town to Juno's care belong'd.
|
|
935
|
|
|
These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke,
|
|
936
|
|
|
And thus alarm'd, to winged Love she spoke:
|
|
937
|
|
|
"My son, my strength, whose mighty pow'r alone
|
|
938
|
|
|
Controls the Thund'rer on his awful throne,
|
|
939
|
|
|
To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies,
|
|
940
|
|
|
And on thy succor and thy faith relies.
|
|
941
|
|
|
Thou know'st, my son, how Jove's revengeful wife,
|
|
942
|
|
|
By force and fraud, attempts thy brother's life;
|
|
943
|
|
|
And often hast thou mourn'd with me his pains.
|
|
944
|
|
|
Him Dido now with blandishment detains;
|
|
945
|
|
|
But I suspect the town where Juno reigns.
|
|
946
|
|
|
For this 't is |
