{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_228/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_228","id":"gutenberg_228","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/228","summary":null,"tags":["Aeneas (Legendary character) -- Poetry","Best Books Ever Listings","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Classical Antiquity","Epic poetry, Latin -- Translations into English","Harvard Classics","Legends -- Rome -- Poetry","Poetry"],"text":"THE AENEID\n\n\n by Virgil\n\n Translated by John Dryden\n\n Contents\n\n BOOK I\n\n BOOK II\n\n BOOK III\n\n BOOK IV\n\n BOOK V\n\n BOOK VI\n\n BOOK VII\n\n BOOK VIII\n\n BOOK IX\n\n BOOK X\n\n BOOK XI\n\n BOOK XII\n\n\n\n\n BOOK I\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n The Trojans, after a seven years\u2019 voyage, set sail for Italy, but\n are overtaken by a dreadful storm, which Aeolus raises at the\n request of Juno. The tempest sinks one, and scatters the rest.\n Neptune drives off the winds, and calms the sea. Aeneas, with his\n own ship and six more, arrives safe at an African port. Venus\n complains to Jupiter of her son\u2019s misfortunes. Jupiter comforts\n her, and sends Mercury to procure him a kind reception among the\n Carthaginians. Aeneas, going out to discover the country, meets\n his mother in the shape of a huntress, who conveys him in a cloud\n to Carthage, where he sees his friends whom he thought lost, and\n receives a kind entertainment from the queen. Dido, by device of\n Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and, after some\n discourse with him, desires the history of his adventures since\n the siege of Troy, which is the subject of the two following\n books.\n\n\n Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc\u2019d by fate,\n And haughty Juno\u2019s unrelenting hate,\n Expell\u2019d and exil\u2019d, left the Trojan shore.\n Long labours, both by sea and land, he bore,\n And in the doubtful war, before he won\n The Latian realm, and built the destin\u2019d town;\n His banish\u2019d gods restor\u2019d to rites divine,\n And settled sure succession in his line,\n From whence the race of Alban fathers come,\n And the long glories of majestic Rome.\n O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;\n What goddess was provok\u2019d, and whence her hate;\n For what offence the Queen of Heav\u2019n began\n To persecute so brave, so just a man;\n Involv\u2019d his anxious life in endless cares,\n Expos\u2019d to wants, and hurried into wars!\n Can heav\u2019nly minds such high resentment show,\n Or exercise their spite in human woe?\n\n Against the Tiber\u2019s mouth, but far away,\n An ancient town was seated on the sea;\n A Tyrian colony; the people made\n Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:\n Carthage the name; belov\u2019d by Juno more\n Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.\n Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav\u2019n were kind,\n The seat of awful empire she design\u2019d.\n Yet she had heard an ancient rumour fly,\n (Long cited by the people of the sky,)\n That times to come should see the Trojan race\n Her Carthage ruin, and her tow\u2019rs deface;\n Nor thus confin\u2019d, the yoke of sov\u2019reign sway\n Should on the necks of all the nations lay.\n She ponder\u2019d this, and fear\u2019d it was in fate;\n Nor could forget the war she wag\u2019d of late\n For conqu\u2019ring Greece against the Trojan state.\n Besides, long causes working in her mind,\n And secret seeds of envy, lay behind;\n Deep graven in her heart the doom remain\u2019d\n Of partial Paris, and her form disdain\u2019d;\n The grace bestow\u2019d on ravish\u2019d Ganymed,\n Electra\u2019s glories, and her injur\u2019d bed.\n Each was a cause alone; and all combin\u2019d\n To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.\n For this, far distant from the Latian coast\n She drove the remnants of the Trojan host;\n And sev\u2019n long years th\u2019 unhappy wand\u2019ring train\n Were toss\u2019d by storms, and scatter\u2019d thro\u2019 the main.\n Such time, such toil, requir\u2019d the Roman name,\n Such length of labour for so vast a frame.\n\n Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars,\n Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores,\n Ent\u2019ring with cheerful shouts the wat\u2019ry reign,\n And plowing frothy furrows in the main;\n When, lab\u2019ring still with endless discontent,\n The Queen of Heav\u2019n did thus her fury vent:\n\n \u201cThen am I vanquish\u2019d? must I yield?\u201d said she,\n \u201cAnd must the Trojans reign in Italy?\n So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force;\n Nor can my pow\u2019r divert their happy course.\n Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen,\n The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?\n She, for the fault of one offending foe,\n The bolts of Jove himself presum\u2019d to throw:\n With whirlwinds from beneath she toss\u2019d the ship,\n And bare expos\u2019d the bosom of the deep;\n Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game,\n The wretch, yet hissing with her father\u2019s flame,\n She strongly seiz\u2019d, and with a burning wound\n Transfix\u2019d, and naked, on a rock she bound.\n But I, who walk in awful state above,\n The majesty of heav\u2019n, the sister wife of Jove,\n For length of years my fruitless force employ\n Against the thin remains of ruin\u2019d Troy!\n What nations now to Juno\u2019s pow\u2019r will pray,\n Or off\u2019rings on my slighted altars lay?\u201d\n\n Thus rag\u2019d the goddess; and, with fury fraught.\n The restless regions of the storms she sought,\n Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,\n The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne,\n With pow\u2019r imperial curbs the struggling winds,\n And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.\n This way and that th\u2019 impatient captives tend,\n And, pressing for release, the mountains rend.\n High in his hall th\u2019 undaunted monarch stands,\n And shakes his scepter, and their rage commands;\n Which did he not, their unresisted sway\n Would sweep the world before them in their way;\n Earth, air, and seas thro\u2019 empty space would roll,\n And heav\u2019n would fly before the driving soul.\n In fear of this, the Father of the Gods\n Confin\u2019d their fury to those dark abodes,\n And lock\u2019d \u2019em safe within, oppress\u2019d with mountain loads;\n Impos\u2019d a king, with arbitrary sway,\n To loose their fetters, or their force allay.\n To whom the suppliant queen her pray\u2019rs address\u2019d,\n And thus the tenor of her suit express\u2019d:\n\n \u201cO Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav\u2019n\n The pow\u2019r of tempests and of winds has giv\u2019n;\n Thy force alone their fury can restrain,\n And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main.\n A race of wand\u2019ring slaves, abhorr\u2019d by me,\n With prosp\u2019rous passage cut the Tuscan sea;\n To fruitful Italy their course they steer,\n And for their vanquish\u2019d gods design new temples there.\n Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies;\n Sink or disperse my fatal enemies.\n Twice sev\u2019n, the charming daughters of the main,\n Around my person wait, and bear my train:\n Succeed my wish, and second my design;\n The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine,\n And make thee father of a happy line.\u201d\n\n To this the god: \u201c\u2019Tis yours, O queen, to will\n The work which duty binds me to fulfil.\n These airy kingdoms, and this wide command,\n Are all the presents of your bounteous hand:\n Yours is my sov\u2019reign\u2019s grace; and, as your guest,\n I sit with gods at their celestial feast;\n Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue;\n Dispose of empire, which I hold from you.\u201d\n\n He said, and hurl\u2019d against the mountain side\n His quiv\u2019ring spear, and all the god applied.\n The raging winds rush thro\u2019 the hollow wound,\n And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground;\n Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep,\n Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.\n South, East, and West with mix\u2019d confusion roar,\n And roll the foaming billows to the shore.\n The cables crack; the sailors\u2019 fearful cries\n Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;\n And heav\u2019n itself is ravish\u2019d from their eyes.\n Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue;\n Then flashing fires the transient light renew;\n The face of things a frightful image bears,\n And present death in various forms appears.\n Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,\n With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief;\n And, \u201cThrice and four times happy those,\u201d he cried,\n \u201cThat under Ilian walls before their parents died!\n Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train!\n Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,\n And lie by noble Hector on the plain,\n Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields\n Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields\n Of heroes, whose dismember\u2019d hands yet bear\n The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!\u201d\n\n Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,\n Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,\n And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise,\n And mount the tossing vessels to the skies:\n Nor can the shiv\u2019ring oars sustain the blow;\n The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;\n While those astern, descending down the steep,\n Thro\u2019 gaping waves behold the boiling deep.\n Three ships were hurried by the southern blast,\n And on the secret shelves with fury cast.\n Those hidden rocks th\u2019 Ausonian sailors knew:\n They call\u2019d them Altars, when they rose in view,\n And show\u2019d their spacious backs above the flood.\n Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,\n Dash\u2019d on the shallows of the moving sand,\n And in mid ocean left them moor\u2019d a-land.\n Orontes\u2019 bark, that bore the Lycian crew,\n (A horrid sight!) ev\u2019n in the hero\u2019s view,\n From stem to stern by waves was overborne:\n The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn,\n Was headlong hurl\u2019d; thrice round the ship was toss\u2019d,\n Then bulg\u2019d at once, and in the deep was lost;\n And here and there above the waves were seen\n Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men.\n The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,\n And suck\u2019d thro\u2019 loosen\u2019d planks the rushing sea.\n Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old,\n Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,\n Endur\u2019d not less; their ships, with gaping seams,\n Admit the deluge of the briny streams.\n\n Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound\n Of raging billows breaking on the ground.\n Displeas\u2019d, and fearing for his wat\u2019ry reign,\n He rear\u2019d his awful head above the main,\n Serene in majesty; then roll\u2019d his eyes\n Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.\n He saw the Trojan fleet dispers\u2019d, distress\u2019d,\n By stormy winds and wintry heav\u2019n oppress\u2019d.\n Full well the god his sister\u2019s envy knew,\n And what her aims and what her arts pursue.\n He summon\u2019d Eurus and the western blast,\n And first an angry glance on both he cast;\n Then thus rebuk\u2019d: \u201cAudacious winds! from whence\n This bold attempt, this rebel insolence?\n Is it for you to ravage seas and land,\n Unauthoriz\u2019d by my supreme command?\n To raise such mountains on the troubled main?\n Whom I\u2014but first \u2019tis fit the billows to restrain;\n And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign.\n Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear,\n The realms of ocean and the fields of air\n Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me\n The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea.\n His pow\u2019r to hollow caverns is confin\u2019d:\n There let him reign, the jailer of the wind,\n With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call,\n And boast and bluster in his empty hall.\u201d\n He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth\u2019d the sea,\n Dispell\u2019d the darkness, and restor\u2019d the day.\n Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train\n Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main,\n Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands:\n The god himself with ready trident stands,\n And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands;\n Then heaves them off the shoals. Where\u2019er he guides\n His finny coursers and in triumph rides,\n The waves unruffle and the sea subsides.\n As, when in tumults rise th\u2019 ignoble crowd,\n Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud;\n And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly,\n And all the rustic arms that fury can supply:\n If then some grave and pious man appear,\n They hush their noise, and lend a list\u2019ning ear;\n He soothes with sober words their angry mood,\n And quenches their innate desire of blood:\n So, when the Father of the Flood appears,\n And o\u2019er the seas his sov\u2019reign trident rears,\n Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains,\n High on his chariot, and, with loosen\u2019d reins,\n Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains.\n The weary Trojans ply their shatter\u2019d oars\n To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores.\n\n Within a long recess there lies a bay:\n An island shades it from the rolling sea,\n And forms a port secure for ships to ride;\n Broke by the jutting land, on either side,\n In double streams the briny waters glide.\n Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene\n Appears above, and groves for ever green:\n A grot is form\u2019d beneath, with mossy seats,\n To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats.\n Down thro\u2019 the crannies of the living walls\n The crystal streams descend in murm\u2019ring falls:\n No haulsers need to bind the vessels here,\n Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear.\n Sev\u2019n ships within this happy harbour meet,\n The thin remainders of the scatter\u2019d fleet.\n The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes,\n Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish\u2019d repose.\n\n First, good Achates, with repeated strokes\n Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes:\n Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither\u2019d leaves\n The dying sparkles in their fall receives:\n Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise,\n And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies.\n The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around\n The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground:\n Some dry their corn, infected with the brine,\n Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine.\n Aeneas climbs the mountain\u2019s airy brow,\n And takes a prospect of the seas below,\n If Capys thence, or Antheus he could spy,\n Or see the streamers of Caicus fly.\n No vessels were in view; but, on the plain,\n Three beamy stags command a lordly train\n Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng\n Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along.\n He stood; and, while secure they fed below,\n He took the quiver and the trusty bow\n Achates us\u2019d to bear: the leaders first\n He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc\u2019d;\n Nor ceas\u2019d his arrows, till the shady plain\n Sev\u2019n mighty bodies with their blood distain.\n For the sev\u2019n ships he made an equal share,\n And to the port return\u2019d, triumphant from the war.\n The jars of gen\u2019rous wine (Acestes\u2019 gift,\n When his Trinacrian shores the navy left)\n He set abroach, and for the feast prepar\u2019d,\n In equal portions with the ven\u2019son shar\u2019d.\n Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief\n With cheerful words allay\u2019d the common grief:\n \u201cEndure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose\n To future good our past and present woes.\n With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried;\n Th\u2019 inhuman Cyclops and his den defied.\n What greater ills hereafter can you bear?\n Resume your courage and dismiss your care,\n An hour will come, with pleasure to relate\n Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.\n Thro\u2019 various hazards and events, we move\n To Latium and the realms foredoom\u2019d by Jove.\n Call\u2019d to the seat (the promise of the skies)\n Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise,\n Endure the hardships of your present state;\n Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate.\u201d\n\n These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;\n His outward smiles conceal\u2019d his inward smart.\n The jolly crew, unmindful of the past,\n The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste.\n Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil;\n The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil;\n Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil.\n Stretch\u2019d on the grassy turf, at ease they dine,\n Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with\n wine.\n Their hunger thus appeas\u2019d, their care attends\n The doubtful fortune of their absent friends:\n Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess,\n Whether to deem \u2019em dead, or in distress.\n Above the rest, Aeneas mourns the fate\n Of brave Orontes, and th\u2019 uncertain state\n Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus.\n The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus.\n\n When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys\n Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas,\n At length on Libyan realms he fix\u2019d his eyes:\n Whom, pond\u2019ring thus on human miseries,\n When Venus saw, she with a lowly look,\n Not free from tears, her heav\u2019nly sire bespoke:\n\n \u201cO King of Gods and Men! whose awful hand\n Disperses thunder on the seas and land,\n Disposing all with absolute command;\n How could my pious son thy pow\u2019r incense?\n Or what, alas! is vanish\u2019d Troy\u2019s offence?\n Our hope of Italy not only lost,\n On various seas by various tempests toss\u2019d,\n But shut from ev\u2019ry shore, and barr\u2019d from ev\u2019ry coast.\n You promis\u2019d once, a progeny divine\n Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line,\n In after times should hold the world in awe,\n And to the land and ocean give the law.\n How is your doom revers\u2019d, which eas\u2019d my care\n When Troy was ruin\u2019d in that cruel war?\n Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now,\n When Fortune still pursues her former blow,\n What can I hope? What worse can still succeed?\n What end of labours has your will decreed?\n Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts,\n Could pass secure, and pierce th\u2019 Illyrian coasts,\n Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves\n And thro\u2019 nine channels disembogues his waves.\n At length he founded Padua\u2019s happy seat,\n And gave his Trojans a secure retreat;\n There fix\u2019d their arms, and there renew\u2019d their name,\n And there in quiet rules, and crown\u2019d with fame.\n But we, descended from your sacred line,\n Entitled to your heav\u2019n and rites divine,\n Are banish\u2019d earth; and, for the wrath of one,\n Remov\u2019d from Latium and the promis\u2019d throne.\n Are these our scepters? these our due rewards?\n And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?\u201d\n\n To whom the Father of th\u2019 immortal race,\n Smiling with that serene indulgent face,\n With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies,\n First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies:\n\n \u201cDaughter, dismiss thy fears; to thy desire\n The fates of thine are fix\u2019d, and stand entire.\n Thou shalt behold thy wish\u2019d Lavinian walls;\n And, ripe for heav\u2019n, when fate Aeneas calls,\n Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me:\n No councils have revers\u2019d my firm decree.\n And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state,\n Know, I have search\u2019d the mystic rolls of Fate:\n Thy son (nor is th\u2019 appointed season far)\n In Italy shall wage successful war,\n Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,\n And sov\u2019reign laws impose, and cities build,\n Till, after ev\u2019ry foe subdued, the sun\n Thrice thro\u2019 the signs his annual race shall run:\n This is his time prefix\u2019d. Ascanius then,\n Now call\u2019d Iulus, shall begin his reign.\n He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear,\n Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer,\n And, with hard labour, Alba Longa build.\n The throne with his succession shall be fill\u2019d\n Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen\n Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen,\n Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes,\n Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose.\n The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain:\n Then Romulus his grandsire\u2019s throne shall gain,\n Of martial tow\u2019rs the founder shall become,\n The people Romans call, the city Rome.\n To them no bounds of empire I assign,\n Nor term of years to their immortal line.\n Ev\u2019n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,\n Earth, seas, and heav\u2019n, and Jove himself turmoils;\n At length aton\u2019d, her friendly pow\u2019r shall join,\n To cherish and advance the Trojan line.\n The subject world shall Rome\u2019s dominion own,\n And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown.\n An age is ripening in revolving fate\n When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state,\n And sweet revenge her conqu\u2019ring sons shall call,\n To crush the people that conspir\u2019d her fall.\n Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise,\n Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies\n Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils,\n Our heav\u2019n, the just reward of human toils,\n Securely shall repay with rites divine;\n And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine.\n Then dire debate and impious war shall cease,\n And the stern age be soften\u2019d into peace:\n Then banish\u2019d Faith shall once again return,\n And Vestal fires in hallow\u2019d temples burn;\n And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain\n The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain.\n Janus himself before his fane shall wait,\n And keep the dreadful issues of his gate,\n With bolts and iron bars: within remains\n Imprison\u2019d Fury, bound in brazen chains;\n High on a trophy rais\u2019d, of useless arms,\n He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms.\u201d\n\n He said, and sent Cyllenius with command\n To free the ports, and ope the Punic land\n To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,\n The queen might force them from her town and state.\n Down from the steep of heav\u2019n Cyllenius flies,\n And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies.\n Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,\n Performs his message, and displays his rod:\n The surly murmurs of the people cease;\n And, as the fates requir\u2019d, they give the peace:\n The queen herself suspends the rigid laws,\n The Trojans pities, and protects their cause.\n\n Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies:\n Care seiz\u2019d his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes.\n But, when the sun restor\u2019d the cheerful day,\n He rose, the coast and country to survey,\n Anxious and eager to discover more.\n It look\u2019d a wild uncultivated shore;\n But, whether humankind, or beasts alone\n Possess\u2019d the new-found region, was unknown.\n Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides:\n Tall trees surround the mountain\u2019s shady sides;\n The bending brow above a safe retreat provides.\n Arm\u2019d with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends,\n And true Achates on his steps attends.\n Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,\n Before his eyes his goddess mother stood:\n A huntress in her habit and her mien;\n Her dress a maid, her air confess\u2019d a queen.\n Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind;\n Loose was her hair, and wanton\u2019d in the wind;\n Her hand sustain\u2019d a bow; her quiver hung behind.\n She seem\u2019d a virgin of the Spartan blood:\n With such array Harpalyce bestrode\n Her Thracian courser and outstripp\u2019d the rapid flood.\n \u201cHo, strangers! have you lately seen,\u201d she said,\n \u201cOne of my sisters, like myself array\u2019d,\n Who cross\u2019d the lawn, or in the forest stray\u2019d?\n A painted quiver at her back she bore;\n Varied with spots, a lynx\u2019s hide she wore;\n And at full cry pursued the tusky boar.\u201d\n\n Thus Venus: thus her son replied again:\n \u201cNone of your sisters have we heard or seen,\n O virgin! or what other name you bear\n Above that style; O more than mortal fair!\n Your voice and mien celestial birth betray!\n If, as you seem, the sister of the day,\n Or one at least of chaste Diana\u2019s train,\n Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain;\n But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss\u2019d,\n What earth we tread, and who commands the coast?\n Then on your name shall wretched mortals call,\n And offer\u2019d victims at your altars fall.\u201d\n \u201cI dare not,\u201d she replied, \u201cassume the name\n Of goddess, or celestial honours claim:\n For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear,\n And purple buskins o\u2019er their ankles wear.\n Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are:\n A people rude in peace, and rough in war.\n The rising city, which from far you see,\n Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony.\n Phoenician Dido rules the growing state,\n Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother\u2019s hate.\n Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate;\n Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known\n For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne,\n Possess\u2019d fair Dido\u2019s bed; and either heart\n At once was wounded with an equal dart.\n Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid;\n Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway\u2019d:\n One who condemn\u2019d divine and human laws.\n Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause.\n The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth,\n With steel invades his brother\u2019s life by stealth;\n Before the sacred altar made him bleed,\n And long from her conceal\u2019d the cruel deed.\n Some tale, some new pretence, he daily coin\u2019d,\n To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.\n At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears\n Of her unhappy lord: the spectre stares,\n And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares.\n The cruel altars and his fate he tells,\n And the dire secret of his house reveals,\n Then warns the widow, with her household gods,\n To seek a refuge in remote abodes.\n Last, to support her in so long a way,\n He shows her where his hidden treasure lay.\n Admonish\u2019d thus, and seiz\u2019d with mortal fright,\n The queen provides companions of her flight:\n They meet, and all combine to leave the state,\n Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate.\n They seize a fleet, which ready rigg\u2019d they find;\n Nor is Pygmalion\u2019s treasure left behind.\n The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea\n With prosp\u2019rous winds; a woman leads the way.\n I know not, if by stress of weather driv\u2019n,\n Or was their fatal course dispos\u2019d by Heav\u2019n;\n At last they landed, where from far your eyes\n May view the turrets of new Carthage rise;\n There bought a space of ground, which Byrsa call\u2019d,\n From the bull\u2019s hide, they first inclos\u2019d, and wall\u2019d.\n But whence are you? what country claims your birth?\n What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?\u201d\n\n To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes,\n And deeply sighing, thus her son replies:\n \u201cCould you with patience hear, or I relate,\n O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate!\n Thro\u2019 such a train of woes if I should run,\n The day would sooner than the tale be done!\n From ancient Troy, by force expell\u2019d, we came,\n If you by chance have heard the Trojan name.\n On various seas by various tempests toss\u2019d,\n At length we landed on your Libyan coast.\n The good Aeneas am I call\u2019d, a name,\n While Fortune favour\u2019d, not unknown to fame.\n My household gods, companions of my woes,\n With pious care I rescued from our foes.\n To fruitful Italy my course was bent;\n And from the King of Heav\u2019n is my descent.\n With twice ten sail I cross\u2019d the Phrygian sea;\n Fate and my mother goddess led my way.\n Scarce sev\u2019n, the thin remainders of my fleet,\n From storms preserv\u2019d, within your harbour meet.\n Myself distress\u2019d, an exile, and unknown,\n Debarr\u2019d from Europe, and from Asia thrown,\n In Libyan deserts wander thus alone.\u201d\n\n His tender parent could no longer bear;\n But, interposing, sought to soothe his care.\n \u201cWhoe\u2019er you are, not unbelov\u2019d by Heav\u2019n,\n Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv\u2019n:\n Have courage: to the gods permit the rest,\n And to the queen expose your just request.\n Now take this earnest of success, for more:\n Your scatter\u2019d fleet is join\u2019d upon the shore;\n The winds are chang\u2019d, your friends from danger free;\n Or I renounce my skill in augury.\n Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move,\n And stoop with closing pinions from above;\n Whom late the bird of Jove had driv\u2019n along,\n And thro\u2019 the clouds pursued the scatt\u2019ring throng:\n Now, all united in a goodly team,\n They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream.\n As they, with joy returning, clap their wings,\n And ride the circuit of the skies in rings;\n Not otherwise your ships, and ev\u2019ry friend,\n Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend.\n No more advice is needful; but pursue\n The path before you, and the town in view.\u201d\n\n Thus having said, she turn\u2019d, and made appear\n Her neck refulgent, and dishevel\u2019d hair,\n Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach\u2019d the ground.\n And widely spread ambrosial scents around:\n In length of train descends her sweeping gown;\n And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known.\n The prince pursued the parting deity\n With words like these: \u201cAh! whither do you fly?\n Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son\n In borrow\u2019d shapes, and his embrace to shun;\n Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown;\n And still to speak in accents not your own.\u201d\n Against the goddess these complaints he made,\n But took the path, and her commands obey\u2019d.\n They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds\n With mists their persons, and involves in clouds,\n That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay,\n Or force to tell the causes of their way.\n This part perform\u2019d, the goddess flies sublime\n To visit Paphos and her native clime;\n Where garlands, ever green and ever fair,\n With vows are offer\u2019d, and with solemn pray\u2019r:\n A hundred altars in her temple smoke;\n A thousand bleeding hearts her pow\u2019r invoke.\n\n They climb the next ascent, and, looking down,\n Now at a nearer distance view the town.\n The prince with wonder sees the stately tow\u2019rs,\n Which late were huts and shepherds\u2019 homely bow\u2019rs,\n The gates and streets; and hears, from ev\u2019ry part,\n The noise and busy concourse of the mart.\n The toiling Tyrians on each other call\n To ply their labour: some extend the wall;\n Some build the citadel; the brawny throng\n Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along.\n Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground,\n Which, first design\u2019d, with ditches they surround.\n Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice\n Of holy senates, and elect by voice.\n Here some design a mole, while others there\n Lay deep foundations for a theatre;\n From marble quarries mighty columns hew,\n For ornaments of scenes, and future view.\n Such is their toil, and such their busy pains,\n As exercise the bees in flow\u2019ry plains,\n When winter past, and summer scarce begun,\n Invites them forth to labour in the sun;\n Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense\n Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense;\n Some at the gate stand ready to receive\n The golden burthen, and their friends relieve;\n All with united force, combine to drive\n The lazy drones from the laborious hive:\n With envy stung, they view each other\u2019s deeds;\n The fragrant work with diligence proceeds.\n \u201cThrice happy you, whose walls already rise!\u201d\n Aeneas said, and view\u2019d, with lifted eyes,\n Their lofty tow\u2019rs; then, ent\u2019ring at the gate,\n Conceal\u2019d in clouds (prodigious to relate)\n He mix\u2019d, unmark\u2019d, among the busy throng,\n Borne by the tide, and pass\u2019d unseen along.\n\n Full in the centre of the town there stood,\n Thick set with trees, a venerable wood.\n The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground,\n And digging here, a prosp\u2019rous omen found:\n From under earth a courser\u2019s head they drew,\n Their growth and future fortune to foreshew.\n This fated sign their foundress Juno gave,\n Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave.\n Sidonian Dido here with solemn state\n Did Juno\u2019s temple build, and consecrate,\n Enrich\u2019d with gifts, and with a golden shrine;\n But more the goddess made the place divine.\n On brazen steps the marble threshold rose,\n And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose:\n The rafters are with brazen cov\u2019rings crown\u2019d;\n The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound.\n What first Aeneas in this place beheld,\n Reviv\u2019d his courage, and his fear expell\u2019d.\n For while, expecting there the queen, he rais\u2019d\n His wond\u2019ring eyes, and round the temple gaz\u2019d,\n Admir\u2019d the fortune of the rising town,\n The striving artists, and their arts\u2019 renown;\n He saw, in order painted on the wall,\n Whatever did unhappy Troy befall:\n The wars that fame around the world had blown,\n All to the life, and ev\u2019ry leader known.\n There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies,\n And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies.\n He stopp\u2019d, and weeping said: \u201cO friend! ev\u2019n here\n The monuments of Trojan woes appear!\n Our known disasters fill ev\u2019n foreign lands:\n See there, where old unhappy Priam stands!\n Ev\u2019n the mute walls relate the warrior\u2019s fame,\n And Trojan griefs the Tyrians\u2019 pity claim.\u201d\n He said, his tears a ready passage find,\n Devouring what he saw so well design\u2019d,\n And with an empty picture fed his mind:\n For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield,\n And here the trembling Trojans quit the field,\n Pursued by fierce Achilles thro\u2019 the plain,\n On his high chariot driving o\u2019er the slain.\n The tents of Rhesus next, his grief renew,\n By their white sails betray\u2019d to nightly view;\n And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword\n The sentries slew, nor spar\u2019d their slumb\u2019ring lord,\n Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food\n Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood.\n Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied\n Achilles, and unequal combat tried;\n Then, where the boy disarm\u2019d, with loosen\u2019d reins,\n Was by his horses hurried o\u2019er the plains,\n Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg\u2019d around:\n The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound,\n With tracks of blood inscrib\u2019d the dusty ground.\n Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress\u2019d with woe,\n To Pallas\u2019 fane in long procession go,\n In hopes to reconcile their heav\u2019nly foe.\n They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair,\n And rich embroider\u2019d vests for presents bear;\n But the stern goddess stands unmov\u2019d with pray\u2019r.\n Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew\n The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.\n Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,\n The lifeless body of his son is sold.\n So sad an object, and so well express\u2019d,\n Drew sighs and groans from the griev\u2019d hero\u2019s breast,\n To see the figure of his lifeless friend,\n And his old sire his helpless hand extend.\n Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train,\n Mix\u2019d in the bloody battle on the plain;\n And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew,\n His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew.\n Penthisilea there, with haughty grace,\n Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:\n In their right hands a pointed dart they wield;\n The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield.\n Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws,\n Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,\n And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose.\n\n Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,\n Fix\u2019d on the walls with wonder and surprise,\n The beauteous Dido, with a num\u2019rous train\n And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.\n Such on Eurotas\u2019 banks, or Cynthus\u2019 height,\n Diana seems; and so she charms the sight,\n When in the dance the graceful goddess leads\n The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads:\n Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,\n She walks majestic, and she looks their queen;\n Latona sees her shine above the rest,\n And feeds with secret joy her silent breast.\n Such Dido was; with such becoming state,\n Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great.\n Their labour to her future sway she speeds,\n And passing with a gracious glance proceeds;\n Then mounts the throne, high plac\u2019d before the shrine:\n In crowds around, the swarming people join.\n She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,\n Hears and determines ev\u2019ry private cause;\n Their tasks in equal portions she divides,\n And, where unequal, there by lots decides.\n Another way by chance Aeneas bends\n His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,\n Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,\n And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,\n Whom late the tempest on the billows toss\u2019d,\n And widely scatter\u2019d on another coast.\n The prince, unseen, surpris\u2019d with wonder stands,\n And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands;\n But, doubtful of the wish\u2019d event, he stays,\n And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,\n Impatient till they told their present state,\n And where they left their ships, and what their fate,\n And why they came, and what was their request;\n For these were sent, commission\u2019d by the rest,\n To sue for leave to land their sickly men,\n And gain admission to the gracious queen.\n Ent\u2019ring, with cries they fill\u2019d the holy fane;\n Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:\n\n \u201cO Queen! indulg\u2019d by favour of the gods\n To found an empire in these new abodes,\n To build a town, with statutes to restrain\n The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign,\n We wretched Trojans, toss\u2019d on ev\u2019ry shore,\n From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.\n Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!\n Receive th\u2019 unhappy fugitives to grace,\n And spare the remnant of a pious race!\n We come not with design of wasteful prey,\n To drive the country, force the swains away:\n Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;\n The vanquish\u2019d dare not to such thoughts aspire.\n A land there is, Hesperia nam\u2019d of old;\n The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold\n Th\u2019 Oenotrians held it once, by common fame\n Now call\u2019d Italia, from the leader\u2019s name.\n To that sweet region was our voyage bent,\n When winds and ev\u2019ry warring element\n Disturb\u2019d our course, and, far from sight of land,\n Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand:\n The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar,\n Dispers\u2019d and dash\u2019d the rest upon the rocky shore.\n Those few you see escap\u2019d the storm, and fear,\n Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.\n What men, what monsters, what inhuman race,\n What laws, what barb\u2019rous customs of the place,\n Shut up a desert shore to drowning men,\n And drive us to the cruel seas again?\n If our hard fortune no compassion draws,\n Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,\n The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.\n Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord,\n Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword;\n Observant of the right, religious of his word.\n If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,\n Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair;\n Nor you, great queen, these offices repent,\n Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.\n We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,\n Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts.\n Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,\n Refitted from your woods with planks and oars,\n That, if our prince be safe, we may renew\n Our destin\u2019d course, and Italy pursue.\n But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain\n That thou art swallow\u2019d in the Libyan main,\n And if our young Iulus be no more,\n Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,\n That we to good Acestes may return,\n And with our friends our common losses mourn.\u201d\n Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew\n With cries and clamours his request renew.\n\n The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes,\n Ponder\u2019d the speech; then briefly thus replies:\n \u201cTrojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate,\n And doubts attending an unsettled state,\n Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes.\n Who has not heard the story of your woes,\n The name and fortune of your native place,\n The fame and valour of the Phrygian race?\n We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,\n Nor so remote from Phoebus\u2019 influence.\n Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,\n Or, driv\u2019n by tempests from your first intent,\n You seek the good Acestes\u2019 government,\n Your men shall be receiv\u2019d, your fleet repair\u2019d,\n And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard:\n Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow\u2019rs\n To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow\u2019rs,\n My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.\n And would to Heav\u2019n, the Storm, you felt, would bring\n On Carthaginian coasts your wand\u2019ring king.\n My people shall, by my command, explore\n The ports and creeks of ev\u2019ry winding shore,\n And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest\n Of so renown\u2019d and so desir\u2019d a guest.\u201d\n\n Rais\u2019d in his mind the Trojan hero stood,\n And long\u2019d to break from out his ambient cloud:\n Achates found it, and thus urg\u2019d his way:\n \u201cFrom whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?\n What more can you desire, your welcome sure,\n Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure?\n One only wants; and him we saw in vain\n Oppose the Storm, and swallow\u2019d in the main.\n Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid;\n The rest agrees with what your mother said.\u201d\n Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,\n The mists flew upward and dissolv\u2019d in day.\n\n The Trojan chief appear\u2019d in open sight,\n August in visage, and serenely bright.\n His mother goddess, with her hands divine,\n Had form\u2019d his curling locks, and made his temples shine,\n And giv\u2019n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace,\n And breath\u2019d a youthful vigour on his face;\n Like polish\u2019d ivory, beauteous to behold,\n Or Parian marble, when enchas\u2019d in gold:\n Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke,\n And thus with manly modesty he spoke:\n\n \u201cHe whom you seek am I; by tempests toss\u2019d,\n And sav\u2019d from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;\n Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,\n A prince that owes his life to you alone.\n Fair majesty, the refuge and redress\n Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress,\n You, who your pious offices employ\n To save the relics of abandon\u2019d Troy;\n Receive the shipwreck\u2019d on your friendly shore,\n With hospitable rites relieve the poor;\n Associate in your town a wand\u2019ring train,\n And strangers in your palace entertain:\n What thanks can wretched fugitives return,\n Who, scatter\u2019d thro\u2019 the world, in exile mourn?\n The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin\u2019d;\n If acts of mercy touch their heav\u2019nly mind,\n And, more than all the gods, your gen\u2019rous heart.\n Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!\n In you this age is happy, and this earth,\n And parents more than mortal gave you birth.\n While rolling rivers into seas shall run,\n And round the space of heav\u2019n the radiant sun;\n While trees the mountain tops with shades supply,\n Your honour, name, and praise shall never die.\n Whate\u2019er abode my fortune has assign\u2019d,\n Your image shall be present in my mind.\u201d\n Thus having said, he turn\u2019d with pious haste,\n And joyful his expecting friends embrac\u2019d:\n With his right hand Ilioneus was grac\u2019d,\n Serestus with his left; then to his breast\n Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press\u2019d;\n And so by turns descended to the rest.\n\n The Tyrian queen stood fix\u2019d upon his face,\n Pleas\u2019d with his motions, ravish\u2019d with his grace;\n Admir\u2019d his fortunes, more admir\u2019d the man;\n Then recollected stood, and thus began:\n \u201cWhat fate, O goddess-born; what angry pow\u2019rs\n Have cast you shipwreck\u2019d on our barren shores?\n Are you the great Aeneas, known to fame,\n Who from celestial seed your lineage claim?\n\n The same Aeneas whom fair Venus bore\n To fam\u2019d Anchises on th\u2019 Idaean shore?\n It calls into my mind, tho\u2019 then a child,\n When Teucer came, from Salamis exil\u2019d,\n And sought my father\u2019s aid, to be restor\u2019d:\n My father Belus then with fire and sword\n Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare,\n And, conqu\u2019ring, finish\u2019d the successful war.\n From him the Trojan siege I understood,\n The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood.\n Your foe himself the Dardan valour prais\u2019d,\n And his own ancestry from Trojans rais\u2019d.\n Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find,\n If not a costly welcome, yet a kind:\n For I myself, like you, have been distress\u2019d,\n Till Heav\u2019n afforded me this place of rest;\n Like you, an alien in a land unknown,\n I learn to pity woes so like my own.\u201d\n She said, and to the palace led her guest;\n Then offer\u2019d incense, and proclaim\u2019d a feast.\n Nor yet less careful for her absent friends,\n Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends;\n Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs,\n With bleating cries, attend their milky dams;\n And jars of gen\u2019rous wine and spacious bowls\n She gives, to cheer the sailors\u2019 drooping souls.\n Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls,\n And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls:\n On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine;\n With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine,\n And antique vases, all of gold emboss\u2019d\n (The gold itself inferior to the cost),\n Of curious work, where on the sides were seen\n The fights and figures of illustrious men,\n From their first founder to the present queen.\n\n The good Aeneas, whose paternal care\n Iulus\u2019 absence could no longer bear,\n Dispatch\u2019d Achates to the ships in haste,\n To give a glad relation of the past,\n And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy,\n Snatch\u2019d from the ruins of unhappy Troy:\n A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire;\n An upper vest, once Helen\u2019s rich attire,\n From Argos by the fam\u2019d adultress brought,\n With golden flow\u2019rs and winding foliage wrought,\n Her mother Leda\u2019s present, when she came\n To ruin Troy and set the world on flame;\n The scepter Priam\u2019s eldest daughter bore,\n Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore\n Of double texture, glorious to behold,\n One order set with gems, and one with gold.\n Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes,\n And in his diligence his duty shows.\n\n But Venus, anxious for her son\u2019s affairs,\n New counsels tries, and new designs prepares:\n That Cupid should assume the shape and face\n Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace;\n Should bring the presents, in her nephew\u2019s stead,\n And in Eliza\u2019s veins the gentle poison shed:\n For much she fear\u2019d the Tyrians, double-tongued,\n And knew the town to Juno\u2019s care belong\u2019d.\n These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke,\n And thus alarm\u2019d, to winged Love she spoke:\n \u201cMy son, my strength, whose mighty pow\u2019r alone\n Controls the Thund\u2019rer on his awful throne,\n To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies,\n And on thy succour and thy faith relies.\n Thou know\u2019st, my son, how Jove\u2019s revengeful wife,\n By force and fraud, attempts thy brother\u2019s life;\n And often hast thou mourn\u2019d with me his pains.\n Him Dido now with blandishment detains;\n But I suspect the town where Juno reigns.\n For this \u2019tis needful to prevent her art,\n And fire with love the proud Phoenician\u2019s heart:\n A love so violent, so strong, so sure,\n As neither age can change, nor art can cure.\n How this may be perform\u2019d, now take my mind:\n Ascanius by his father is design\u2019d\n To come, with presents laden, from the port,\n To gratify the queen, and gain the court.\n I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep,\n And, ravish\u2019d, in Idalian bow\u2019rs to keep,\n Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit\n May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat.\n Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace\n But only for a night\u2019s revolving space:\n Thyself a boy, assume a boy\u2019s dissembled face;\n That when, amidst the fervour of the feast,\n The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast,\n And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains,\n Thou may\u2019st infuse thy venom in her veins.\u201d\n The God of Love obeys, and sets aside\n His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride;\n He walks Iulus in his mother\u2019s sight,\n And in the sweet resemblance takes delight.\n\n The goddess then to young Ascanius flies,\n And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes:\n Lull\u2019d in her lap, amidst a train of Loves,\n She gently bears him to her blissful groves,\n Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head,\n And softly lays him on a flow\u2019ry bed.\n Cupid meantime assum\u2019d his form and face,\n Foll\u2019wing Achates with a shorter pace,\n And brought the gifts. The queen already sate\n Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state,\n High on a golden bed: her princely guest\n Was next her side; in order sate the rest.\n Then canisters with bread are heap\u2019d on high;\n Th\u2019 attendants water for their hands supply,\n And, having wash\u2019d, with silken towels dry.\n Next fifty handmaids in long order bore\n The censers, and with fumes the gods adore:\n Then youths, and virgins twice as many, join\n To place the dishes, and to serve the wine.\n The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast,\n Approach, and on the painted couches rest.\n All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze,\n But view the beauteous boy with more amaze,\n His rosy-colour\u2019d cheeks, his radiant eyes,\n His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god\u2019s disguise;\n Nor pass unprais\u2019d the vest and veil divine,\n Which wand\u2019ring foliage and rich flow\u2019rs entwine.\n But, far above the rest, the royal dame,\n (Already doom\u2019d to love\u2019s disastrous flame,)\n With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy,\n Beholds the presents, and admires the boy.\n The guileful god about the hero long,\n With children\u2019s play, and false embraces, hung;\n Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms\n With greedy pleasure, and devour\u2019d his charms.\n Unhappy Dido little thought what guest,\n How dire a god, she drew so near her breast;\n But he, not mindless of his mother\u2019s pray\u2019r,\n Works in the pliant bosom of the fair,\n And moulds her heart anew, and blots her former care.\n The dead is to the living love resign\u2019d;\n And all Aeneas enters in her mind.\n\n Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas\u2019d,\n The meat remov\u2019d, and ev\u2019ry guest was pleas\u2019d,\n The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown\u2019d,\n And thro\u2019 the palace cheerful cries resound.\n From gilded roofs depending lamps display\n Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day.\n A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine,\n The queen commanded to be crown\u2019d with wine:\n The bowl that Belus us\u2019d, and all the Tyrian line.\n Then, silence thro\u2019 the hall proclaim\u2019d, she spoke:\n \u201cO hospitable Jove! we thus invoke,\n With solemn rites, thy sacred name and pow\u2019r;\n Bless to both nations this auspicious hour!\n So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line\n In lasting concord from this day combine.\n Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer,\n And gracious Juno, both be present here!\n And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address\n To Heav\u2019n with mine, to ratify the peace.\u201d\n The goblet then she took, with nectar crown\u2019d\n (Sprinkling the first libations on the ground,)\n And rais\u2019d it to her mouth with sober grace;\n Then, sipping, offer\u2019d to the next in place.\n \u2019Twas Bitias whom she call\u2019d, a thirsty soul;\n He took the challenge, and embrac\u2019d the bowl,\n With pleasure swill\u2019d the gold, nor ceas\u2019d to draw,\n Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw.\n The goblet goes around: Iopas brought\n His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught:\n The various labours of the wand\u2019ring moon,\n And whence proceed th\u2019 eclipses of the sun;\n Th\u2019 original of men and beasts; and whence\n The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense,\n And fix\u2019d and erring stars dispose their influence;\n What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays\n The summer nights and shortens winter days.\n With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song:\n Those peals are echo\u2019d by the Trojan throng.\n Th\u2019 unhappy queen with talk prolong\u2019d the night,\n And drank large draughts of love with vast delight;\n Of Priam much enquir\u2019d, of Hector more;\n Then ask\u2019d what arms the swarthy Memnon wore,\n What troops he landed on the Trojan shore;\n The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse,\n And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force;\n At length, as fate and her ill stars requir\u2019d,\n To hear the series of the war desir\u2019d.\n \u201cRelate at large, my godlike guest,\u201d she said,\n \u201cThe Grecian stratagems, the town betray\u2019d:\n The fatal issue of so long a war,\n Your flight, your wand\u2019rings, and your woes, declare;\n For, since on ev\u2019ry sea, on ev\u2019ry coast,\n Your men have been distress\u2019d, your navy toss\u2019d,\n Sev\u2019n times the sun has either tropic view\u2019d,\n The winter banish\u2019d, and the spring renew\u2019d.\u201d\n\n\n\n BOOK II\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Aeneas relates how the city of Troy was taken, after a ten years\u2019\n siege, by the treachery of Sinon, and the stratagem of a wooden\n horse. He declares the fixed resolution he had taken not to\n survive the ruin of his country, and the various adventures he\n met with in defence of it. At last, having been before advised by\n Hector\u2019s ghost, and now by the appearance of his mother Venus, he\n is prevailed upon to leave the town, and settle his household\n gods in another country. In order to this, he carries off his\n father on his shoulders, and leads his little son by the hand,\n his wife following behind. When he comes to the place appointed\n for the general rendezvous, he finds a great confluence of\n people, but misses his wife, whose ghost afterwards appears to\n him, and tells him the land which was designed for him.\n\n\n All were attentive to the godlike man,\n When from his lofty couch he thus began:\n \u201cGreat queen, what you command me to relate\n Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:\n An empire from its old foundations rent,\n And ev\u2019ry woe the Trojans underwent;\n A peopled city made a desert place;\n All that I saw, and part of which I was:\n Not ev\u2019n the hardest of our foes could hear,\n Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear.\n And now the latter watch of wasting night,\n And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;\n But, since you take such int\u2019rest in our woe,\n And Troy\u2019s disastrous end desire to know,\n I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell\n What in our last and fatal night befell.\n\n \u201cBy destiny compell\u2019d, and in despair,\n The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,\n And by Minerva\u2019s aid a fabric rear\u2019d,\n Which like a steed of monstrous height appear\u2019d:\n The sides were plank\u2019d with pine; they feign\u2019d it made\n For their return, and this the vow they paid.\n Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side\n Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:\n With inward arms the dire machine they load,\n And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.\n In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle\n (While Fortune did on Priam\u2019s empire smile)\n Renown\u2019d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,\n Where ships expos\u2019d to wind and weather lay.\n There was their fleet conceal\u2019d. We thought, for Greece\n Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.\n The Trojans, coop\u2019d within their walls so long,\n Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,\n Like swarming bees, and with delight survey\n The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:\n The quarters of the sev\u2019ral chiefs they show\u2019d;\n Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode;\n Here join\u2019d the battles; there the navy rode.\n Part on the pile their wond\u2019ring eyes employ:\n The pile by Pallas rais\u2019d to ruin Troy.\n Thymoetes first (\u2019tis doubtful whether hir\u2019d,\n Or so the Trojan destiny requir\u2019d)\n Mov\u2019d that the ramparts might be broken down,\n To lodge the monster fabric in the town.\n But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,\n The fatal present to the flames designed,\n Or to the wat\u2019ry deep; at least to bore\n The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.\n The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide,\n With noise say nothing, and in parts divide.\n Laocoon, follow\u2019d by a num\u2019rous crowd,\n Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:\n \u2018O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns?\n What more than madness has possess\u2019d your brains?\n Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?\n And are Ulysses\u2019 arts no better known?\n This hollow fabric either must inclose,\n Within its blind recess, our secret foes;\n Or \u2019tis an engine rais\u2019d above the town,\n T\u2019 o\u2019erlook the walls, and then to batter down.\n Somewhat is sure design\u2019d, by fraud or force:\n Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.\u2019\n Thus having said, against the steed he threw\n His forceful spear, which, hissing as it flew,\n Pierc\u2019d thro\u2019 the yielding planks of jointed wood,\n And trembling in the hollow belly stood.\n The sides, transpierc\u2019d, return a rattling sound,\n And groans of Greeks inclos\u2019d come issuing thro\u2019 the wound\n And, had not Heav\u2019n the fall of Troy design\u2019d,\n Or had not men been fated to be blind,\n Enough was said and done t\u2019inspire a better mind.\n Then had our lances pierc\u2019d the treach\u2019rous wood,\n And Ilian tow\u2019rs and Priam\u2019s empire stood.\n Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring\n A captive Greek, in bands, before the king;\n Taken to take; who made himself their prey,\n T\u2019 impose on their belief, and Troy betray;\n Fix\u2019d on his aim, and obstinately bent\n To die undaunted, or to circumvent.\n About the captive, tides of Trojans flow;\n All press to see, and some insult the foe.\n Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis\u2019d;\n Behold a nation in a man compris\u2019d.\n Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm\u2019d and bound;\n He star\u2019d, and roll\u2019d his haggard eyes around,\n Then said: \u2018Alas! what earth remains, what sea\n Is open to receive unhappy me?\n What fate a wretched fugitive attends,\n Scorn\u2019d by my foes, abandon\u2019d by my friends?\u2019\n He said, and sigh\u2019d, and cast a rueful eye:\n Our pity kindles, and our passions die.\n We cheer the youth to make his own defence,\n And freely tell us what he was, and whence:\n What news he could impart, we long to know,\n And what to credit from a captive foe.\n\n \u201cHis fear at length dismiss\u2019d, he said: \u2018Whate\u2019er\n My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere:\n I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim;\n Greece is my country, Sinon is my name.\n Tho\u2019 plung\u2019d by Fortune\u2019s pow\u2019r in misery,\n \u2019Tis not in Fortune\u2019s pow\u2019r to make me lie.\n If any chance has hither brought the name\n Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame,\n Who suffer\u2019d from the malice of the times,\n Accus\u2019d and sentenc\u2019d for pretended crimes,\n Because these fatal wars he would prevent;\n Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament;\n Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare\n Of other means, committed to his care,\n His kinsman and companion in the war.\n While Fortune favour\u2019d, while his arms support\n The cause, and rul\u2019d the counsels, of the court,\n I made some figure there; nor was my name\n Obscure, nor I without my share of fame.\n But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts,\n Had made impression in the people\u2019s hearts,\n And forg\u2019d a treason in my patron\u2019s name\n (I speak of things too far divulg\u2019d by fame),\n My kinsman fell. Then I, without support,\n In private mourn\u2019d his loss, and left the court.\n Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate\n With silent grief, but loudly blam\u2019d the state,\n And curs\u2019d the direful author of my woes.\n \u2019Twas told again; and hence my ruin rose.\n I threaten\u2019d, if indulgent Heav\u2019n once more\n Would land me safely on my native shore,\n His death with double vengeance to restore.\n This mov\u2019d the murderer\u2019s hate; and soon ensued\n Th\u2019 effects of malice from a man so proud.\n Ambiguous rumours thro\u2019 the camp he spread,\n And sought, by treason, my devoted head;\n New crimes invented; left unturn\u2019d no stone,\n To make my guilt appear, and hide his own;\n Till Calchas was by force and threat\u2019ning wrought:\n But why\u2014why dwell I on that anxious thought?\n If on my nation just revenge you seek,\n And \u2019tis t\u2019 appear a foe, t\u2019 appear a Greek;\n Already you my name and country know;\n Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow:\n My death will both the kingly brothers please,\n And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.\u2019\n This fair unfinish\u2019d tale, these broken starts,\n Rais\u2019d expectations in our longing hearts:\n Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts.\n His former trembling once again renew\u2019d,\n With acted fear, the villain thus pursued:\n\n \u201c\u2018Long had the Grecians (tir\u2019d with fruitless care,\n And wearied with an unsuccessful war)\n Resolv\u2019d to raise the siege, and leave the town;\n And, had the gods permitted, they had gone;\n But oft the wintry seas and southern winds\n Withstood their passage home, and chang\u2019d their minds.\n Portents and prodigies their souls amaz\u2019d;\n But most, when this stupendous pile was rais\u2019d:\n Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen,\n And thunders rattled thro\u2019 a sky serene.\n Dismay\u2019d, and fearful of some dire event,\n Eurypylus t\u2019 enquire their fate was sent.\n He from the gods this dreadful answer brought:\n\n \u201cO Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought,\n Your passage with a virgin\u2019s blood was bought:\n So must your safe return be bought again,\n And Grecian blood once more atone the main.\u201d\n The spreading rumour round the people ran;\n All fear\u2019d, and each believ\u2019d himself the man.\n Ulysses took th\u2019 advantage of their fright;\n Call\u2019d Calchas, and produc\u2019d in open sight:\n Then bade him name the wretch, ordain\u2019d by fate\n The public victim, to redeem the state.\n Already some presag\u2019d the dire event,\n And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant.\n For twice five days the good old seer withstood\n Th\u2019 intended treason, and was dumb to blood,\n Till, tir\u2019d, with endless clamours and pursuit\n Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute;\n But, as it was agreed, pronounc\u2019d that I\n Was destin\u2019d by the wrathful gods to die.\n All prais\u2019d the sentence, pleas\u2019d the storm should fall\n On one alone, whose fury threaten\u2019d all.\n The dismal day was come; the priests prepare\n Their leaven\u2019d cakes, and fillets for my hair.\n I follow\u2019d nature\u2019s laws, and must avow\n I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow.\n Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay,\n Secure of safety when they sail\u2019d away.\n But now what further hopes for me remain,\n To see my friends, or native soil, again;\n My tender infants, or my careful sire,\n Whom they returning will to death require;\n Will perpetrate on them their first design,\n And take the forfeit of their heads for mine?\n Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move,\n If there be faith below, or gods above,\n If innocence and truth can claim desert,\n Ye Trojans, from an injur\u2019d wretch avert.\u2019\n\n \u201cFalse tears true pity move; the king commands\n To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands:\n Then adds these friendly words: \u2018Dismiss thy fears;\n Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs.\n But truly tell, was it for force or guile,\n Or some religious end, you rais\u2019d the pile?\u2019\n Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts,\n This well-invented tale for truth imparts:\n \u2018Ye lamps of heav\u2019n!\u2019 he said, and lifted high\n His hands now free, \u2018thou venerable sky!\n Inviolable pow\u2019rs, ador\u2019d with dread!\n Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head!\n Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled!\n Be all of you adjur\u2019d; and grant I may,\n Without a crime, th\u2019 ungrateful Greeks betray,\n Reveal the secrets of the guilty state,\n And justly punish whom I justly hate!\n But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave,\n If I, to save myself, your empire save.\n The Grecian hopes, and all th\u2019 attempts they made,\n Were only founded on Minerva\u2019s aid.\n But from the time when impious Diomede,\n And false Ulysses, that inventive head,\n Her fatal image from the temple drew,\n The sleeping guardians of the castle slew,\n Her virgin statue with their bloody hands\n Polluted, and profan\u2019d her holy bands;\n From thence the tide of fortune left their shore,\n And ebb\u2019d much faster than it flow\u2019d before:\n Their courage languish\u2019d, as their hopes decay\u2019d;\n And Pallas, now averse, refus\u2019d her aid.\n Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare\n Her alter\u2019d mind and alienated care.\n When first her fatal image touch\u2019d the ground,\n She sternly cast her glaring eyes around,\n That sparkled as they roll\u2019d, and seem\u2019d to threat:\n Her heav\u2019nly limbs distill\u2019d a briny sweat.\n Thrice from the ground she leap\u2019d, was seen to wield\n Her brandish\u2019d lance, and shake her horrid shield.\n Then Calchas bade our host for flight\n And hope no conquest from the tedious war,\n Till first they sail\u2019d for Greece; with pray\u2019rs besought\n Her injur\u2019d pow\u2019r, and better omens brought.\n And now their navy plows the wat\u2019ry main,\n Yet soon expect it on your shores again,\n With Pallas pleas\u2019d; as Calchas did ordain.\n But first, to reconcile the blue-ey\u2019d maid\n For her stol\u2019n statue and her tow\u2019r betray\u2019d,\n Warn\u2019d by the seer, to her offended name\n We rais\u2019d and dedicate this wondrous frame,\n So lofty, lest thro\u2019 your forbidden gates\n It pass, and intercept our better fates:\n For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost;\n And Troy may then a new Palladium boast;\n For so religion and the gods ordain,\n That, if you violate with hands profane\n Minerva\u2019s gift, your town in flames shall burn,\n (Which omen, O ye gods, on Grecia turn!)\n But if it climb, with your assisting hands,\n The Trojan walls, and in the city stands;\n Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn,\n And the reverse of fate on us return.\u2019\n\n \u201cWith such deceits he gain\u2019d their easy hearts,\n Too prone to credit his perfidious arts.\n What Diomede, nor Thetis\u2019 greater son,\n A thousand ships, nor ten years\u2019 siege, had done:\n False tears and fawning words the city won.\n\n \u201cA greater omen, and of worse portent,\n Did our unwary minds with fear torment,\n Concurring to produce the dire event.\n Laocoon, Neptune\u2019s priest by lot that year,\n With solemn pomp then sacrific\u2019d a steer;\n When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied\n Two serpents, rank\u2019d abreast, the seas divide,\n And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide.\n Their flaming crests above the waves they show;\n Their bellies seem to burn the seas below;\n Their speckled tails advance to steer their course,\n And on the sounding shore the flying billows force.\n And now the strand, and now the plain they held;\n Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fill\u2019d;\n Their nimble tongues they brandish\u2019d as they came,\n And lick\u2019d their hissing jaws, that sputter\u2019d flame.\n We fled amaz\u2019d; their destin\u2019d way they take,\n And to Laocoon and his children make;\n And first around the tender boys they wind,\n Then with their sharpen\u2019d fangs their limbs and bodies grind.\n The wretched father, running to their aid\n With pious haste, but vain, they next invade;\n Twice round his waist their winding volumes roll\u2019d;\n And twice about his gasping throat they fold.\n The priest thus doubly chok\u2019d, their crests divide,\n And tow\u2019ring o\u2019er his head in triumph ride.\n With both his hands he labours at the knots;\n His holy fillets the blue venom blots;\n His roaring fills the flitting air around.\n Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound,\n He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies,\n And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies.\n Their tasks perform\u2019d, the serpents quit their prey,\n And to the tow\u2019r of Pallas make their way:\n Couch\u2019d at her feet, they lie protected there\n By her large buckler and protended spear.\n Amazement seizes all; the gen\u2019ral cry\n Proclaims Laocoon justly doom\u2019d to die,\n Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,\n And dared to violate the sacred wood.\n All vote t\u2019 admit the steed, that vows be paid\n And incense offer\u2019d to th\u2019 offended maid.\n A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare;\n Some hoisting levers, some the wheels prepare\n And fasten to the horse\u2019s feet; the rest\n With cables haul along th\u2019 unwieldly beast.\n Each on his fellow for assistance calls;\n At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls,\n Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown\u2019d,\n And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around.\n Thus rais\u2019d aloft, and then descending down,\n It enters o\u2019er our heads, and threats the town.\n O sacred city, built by hands divine!\n O valiant heroes of the Trojan line!\n Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound\n Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound.\n Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate,\n We haul along the horse in solemn state;\n Then place the dire portent within the tow\u2019r.\n Cassandra cried, and curs\u2019d th\u2019 unhappy hour;\n Foretold our fate; but, by the god\u2019s decree,\n All heard, and none believ\u2019d the prophecy.\n With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste,\n In jollity, the day ordain\u2019d to be the last.\n Meantime the rapid heav\u2019ns roll\u2019d down the light,\n And on the shaded ocean rush\u2019d the night;\n Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held,\n But easy sleep their weary limbs compell\u2019d.\n The Grecians had embark\u2019d their naval pow\u2019rs\n From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores,\n Safe under covert of the silent night,\n And guided by th\u2019 imperial galley\u2019s light;\n When Sinon, favour\u2019d by the partial gods,\n Unlock\u2019d the horse, and op\u2019d his dark abodes;\n Restor\u2019d to vital air our hidden foes,\n Who joyful from their long confinement rose.\n Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide,\n And dire Ulysses down the cable slide:\n Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste;\n Nor was the Podalirian hero last,\n Nor injur\u2019d Menelaus, nor the fam\u2019d\n Epeus, who the fatal engine fram\u2019d.\n A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join\n T\u2019 invade the town, oppress\u2019d with sleep and wine.\n Those few they find awake first meet their fate;\n Then to their fellows they unbar the gate.\n\n \u201c\u2019Twas in the dead of night, when sleep repairs\n Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares,\n When Hector\u2019s ghost before my sight appears:\n A bloody shroud he seem\u2019d, and bath\u2019d in tears;\n Such as he was, when, by Pelides slain,\n Thessalian coursers dragg\u2019d him o\u2019er the plain.\n Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust\n Thro\u2019 the bor\u2019d holes; his body black with dust;\n Unlike that Hector who return\u2019d from toils\n Of war, triumphant, in Aeacian spoils,\n Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire,\n And launch\u2019d against their navy Phrygian fire.\n His hair and beard stood stiffen\u2019d with his gore;\n And all the wounds he for his country bore\n Now stream\u2019d afresh, and with new purple ran.\n I wept to see the visionary man,\n And, while my trance continued, thus began:\n \u2018O light of Trojans, and support of Troy,\n Thy father\u2019s champion, and thy country\u2019s joy!\n O, long expected by thy friends! from whence\n Art thou so late return\u2019d for our defence?\n Do we behold thee, wearied as we are\n With length of labours, and with toils of war?\n After so many fun\u2019rals of thy own\n Art thou restor\u2019d to thy declining town?\n But say, what wounds are these? What new disgrace\n Deforms the manly features of thy face?\u2019\n\n \u201cTo this the spectre no reply did frame,\n But answer\u2019d to the cause for which he came,\n And, groaning from the bottom of his breast,\n This warning in these mournful words express\u2019d:\n \u2018O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight,\n The flames and horrors of this fatal night.\n The foes already have possess\u2019d the wall;\n Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.\n Enough is paid to Priam\u2019s royal name,\n More than enough to duty and to fame.\n If by a mortal hand my father\u2019s throne\n Could be defended, \u2019twas by mine alone.\n Now Troy to thee commends her future state,\n And gives her gods companions of thy fate:\n From their assistance walls expect,\n Which, wand\u2019ring long, at last thou shalt erect.\u2019\n He said, and brought me, from their blest abodes,\n The venerable statues of the gods,\n With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir,\n The wreaths and relics of th\u2019 immortal fire.\n\n \u201cNow peals of shouts come thund\u2019ring from afar,\n Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war:\n The noise approaches, tho\u2019 our palace stood\n Aloof from streets, encompass\u2019d with a wood.\n Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th\u2019 alarms\n Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms.\n Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay,\n But mount the terrace, thence the town survey,\n And hearken what the frightful sounds convey.\n Thus, when a flood of fire by wind is borne,\n Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn;\n Or deluges, descending on the plains,\n Sweep o\u2019er the yellow ear, destroy the pains\n Of lab\u2019ring oxen and the peasant\u2019s gains;\n Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away\n Flocks, folds, and trees, and undistinguish\u2019d prey:\n The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far\n The wasteful ravage of the wat\u2019ry war.\n Then Hector\u2019s faith was manifestly clear\u2019d,\n And Grecian frauds in open light appear\u2019d.\n The palace of Deiphobus ascends\n In smoky flames, and catches on his friends.\n Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright\n With splendour not their own, and shine with Trojan light.\n New clamours and new clangours now arise,\n The sound of trumpets mix\u2019d with fighting cries.\n With frenzy seiz\u2019d, I run to meet th\u2019 alarms,\n Resolv\u2019d on death, resolv\u2019d to die in arms,\n But first to gather friends, with them t\u2019 oppose\n If fortune favour\u2019d, and repel the foes;\n Spurr\u2019d by my courage, by my country fir\u2019d,\n With sense of honour and revenge inspir\u2019d.\n\n \u201cPantheus, Apollo\u2019s priest, a sacred name,\n Had scap\u2019d the Grecian swords, and pass\u2019d the flame:\n With relics loaden, to my doors he fled,\n And by the hand his tender grandson led.\n \u2018What hope, O Pantheus? whither can we run?\n Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?\u2019\n Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan:\n \u2018Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town!\n The fatal day, th\u2019 appointed hour, is come,\n When wrathful Jove\u2019s irrevocable doom\n Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands.\n The fire consumes the town, the foe commands;\n And armed hosts, an unexpected force,\n Break from the bowels of the fatal horse.\n Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about\n The flames; and foes for entrance press without,\n With thousand others, whom I fear to name,\n More than from Argos or Mycenae came.\n To sev\u2019ral posts their parties they divide;\n Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide:\n The bold they kill, th\u2019 unwary they surprise;\n Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies.\n The warders of the gate but scarce maintain\n Th\u2019 unequal combat, and resist in vain.\u2019\n\n \u201cI heard; and Heav\u2019n, that well-born souls inspires,\n Prompts me thro\u2019 lifted swords and rising fires\n To run where clashing arms and clamour calls,\n And rush undaunted to defend the walls.\n Ripheus and Iph\u2019itas by my side engage,\n For valour one renown\u2019d, and one for age.\n Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew\n My motions and my mien, and to my party drew;\n With young Coroebus, who by love was led\n To win renown and fair Cassandra\u2019s bed,\n And lately brought his troops to Priam\u2019s aid,\n Forewarn\u2019d in vain by the prophetic maid.\n Whom when I saw resolv\u2019d in arms to fall,\n And that one spirit animated all:\n \u2018Brave souls!\u2019 said I, \u2018but brave, alas! in vain:\n Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain.\n You see the desp\u2019rate state of our affairs,\n And heav\u2019n\u2019s protecting pow\u2019rs are deaf to pray\u2019rs.\n The passive gods behold the Greeks defile\n Their temples, and abandon to the spoil\n Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire\n To save a sinking town, involv\u2019d in fire.\n Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:\n Despair of life the means of living shows.\u2019\n So bold a speech incourag\u2019d their desire\n Of death, and added fuel to their fire.\n\n \u201cAs hungry wolves, with raging appetite,\n Scour thro\u2019 the fields, nor fear the stormy night;\n Their whelps at home expect the promis\u2019d food,\n And long to temper their dry chaps in blood:\n So rush\u2019d we forth at once; resolv\u2019d to die,\n Resolv\u2019d, in death, the last extremes to try.\n We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare\n Th\u2019 unequal combat in the public square:\n Night was our friend; our leader was despair.\n What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night?\n What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright?\n An ancient and imperial city falls:\n The streets are fill\u2019d with frequent funerals;\n Houses and holy temples float in blood,\n And hostile nations make a common flood.\n Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn,\n The vanquish\u2019d triumph, and the victors mourn.\n Ours take new courage from despair and night:\n Confus\u2019d the fortune is, confus\u2019d the fight.\n All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears;\n And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.\n Androgeos fell among us, with his band,\n Who thought us Grecians newly come to land.\n \u2018From whence,\u2019 said he, \u2018my friends, this long delay?\n You loiter, while the spoils are borne away:\n Our ships are laden with the Trojan store;\n And you, like truants, come too late ashore.\u2019\n He said, but soon corrected his mistake,\n Found, by the doubtful answers which we make:\n Amaz\u2019d, he would have shunn\u2019d th\u2019 unequal fight;\n But we, more num\u2019rous, intercept his flight.\n As when some peasant, in a bushy brake,\n Has with unwary footing press\u2019d a snake;\n He starts aside, astonish\u2019d, when he spies\n His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes;\n So from our arms surpris\u2019d Androgeos flies.\n In vain; for him and his we compass\u2019d round,\n Possess\u2019d with fear, unknowing of the ground,\n And of their lives an easy conquest found.\n Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil\u2019d.\n Coroebus then, with youthful hopes beguil\u2019d,\n Swoln with success, and a daring mind,\n This new invention fatally design\u2019d.\n \u2018My friends,\u2019 said he, \u2018since Fortune shows the way,\n \u2019Tis fit we should th\u2019 auspicious guide obey.\n For what has she these Grecian arms bestow\u2019d,\n But their destruction, and the Trojans\u2019 good?\n Then change we shields, and their devices bear:\n Let fraud supply the want of force in war.\n They find us arms.\u2019 This said, himself he dress\u2019d\n In dead Androgeos\u2019 spoils, his upper vest,\n His painted buckler, and his plumy crest.\n Thus Ripheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train,\n Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain.\n Mix\u2019d with the Greeks, we go with ill presage,\n Flatter\u2019d with hopes to glut our greedy rage;\n Unknown, assaulting whom we blindly meet,\n And strew with Grecian carcasses the street.\n Thus while their straggling parties we defeat,\n Some to the shore and safer ships retreat;\n And some, oppress\u2019d with more ignoble fear,\n Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there.\n\n \u201cBut, ah! what use of valour can be made,\n When heav\u2019n\u2019s propitious pow\u2019rs refuse their aid!\n Behold the royal prophetess, the fair\n Cassandra, dragg\u2019d by her dishevel\u2019d hair,\n Whom not Minerva\u2019s shrine, nor sacred bands,\n In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands:\n On heav\u2019n she cast her eyes, she sigh\u2019d, she cried,\n (\u2019Twas all she could) her tender arms were tied.\n So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear;\n But, fir\u2019d with rage, distracted with despair,\n Amid the barb\u2019rous ravishers he flew:\n Our leader\u2019s rash example we pursue.\n But storms of stones, from the proud temple\u2019s height,\n Pour down, and on our batter\u2019d helms alight:\n We from our friends receiv\u2019d this fatal blow,\n Who thought us Grecians, as we seem\u2019d in show.\n They aim at the mistaken crests, from high;\n And ours beneath the pond\u2019rous ruin lie.\n Then, mov\u2019d with anger and disdain, to see\n Their troops dispers\u2019d, the royal virgin free,\n The Grecians rally, and their pow\u2019rs unite,\n With fury charge us, and renew the fight.\n The brother kings with Ajax join their force,\n And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse.\n\n \u201cThus, when the rival winds their quarrel try,\n Contending for the kingdom of the sky,\n South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne;\n The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn:\n Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise,\n And, mix\u2019d with ooze and sand, pollute the skies.\n The troops we squander\u2019d first again appear\n From several quarters, and enclose the rear.\n They first observe, and to the rest betray,\n Our diff\u2019rent speech; our borrow\u2019d arms survey.\n Oppress\u2019d with odds, we fall; Coroebus first,\n At Pallas\u2019 altar, by Peneleus pierc\u2019d.\n Then Ripheus follow\u2019d, in th\u2019 unequal fight;\n Just of his word, observant of the right:\n Heav\u2019n thought not so. Dymas their fate attends,\n With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends.\n Nor, Pantheus, thee, thy mitre, nor the bands\n Of awful Phoebus, sav\u2019d from impious hands.\n Ye Trojan flames, your testimony bear,\n What I perform\u2019d, and what I suffer\u2019d there;\n No sword avoiding in the fatal strife,\n Expos\u2019d to death, and prodigal of life;\n Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault:\n I strove to have deserv\u2019d the death I sought.\n But, when I could not fight, and would have died,\n Borne off to distance by the growing tide,\n Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence,\n With Pelias wounded, and without defence.\n New clamours from th\u2019 invested palace ring:\n We run to die, or disengage the king.\n So hot th\u2019 assault, so high the tumult rose,\n While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose\n As all the Dardan and Argolic race\n Had been contracted in that narrow space;\n Or as all Ilium else were void of fear,\n And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there.\n Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes,\n Secure advancing, to the turrets rose:\n Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold,\n Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold;\n Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th\u2019 ascent,\n While with their right they seize the battlement.\n From their demolish\u2019d tow\u2019rs the Trojans throw\n Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe;\n And heavy beams and rafters from the sides\n (Such arms their last necessity provides)\n And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high,\n The marks of state and ancient royalty.\n The guards below, fix\u2019d in the pass, attend\n The charge undaunted, and the gate defend.\n Renew\u2019d in courage with recover\u2019d breath,\n A second time we ran to tempt our death,\n To clear the palace from the foe, succeed\n The weary living, and revenge the dead.\n\n \u201cA postern door, yet unobserv\u2019d and free,\n Join\u2019d by the length of a blind gallery,\n To the king\u2019s closet led: a way well known\n To Hector\u2019s wife, while Priam held the throne,\n Thro\u2019 which she brought Astyanax, unseen,\n To cheer his grandsire and his grandsire\u2019s queen.\n Thro\u2019 this we pass, and mount the tow\u2019r, from whence\n With unavailing arms the Trojans make defence.\n From this the trembling king had oft descried\n The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride.\n Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew,\n Then, wrenching with our hands, th\u2019 assault renew;\n And, where the rafters on the columns meet,\n We push them headlong with our arms and feet.\n The lightning flies not swifter than the fall,\n Nor thunder louder than the ruin\u2019d wall:\n Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath\n Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death.\n Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent;\n We cease not from above, nor they below relent.\n Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threat\u2019ning loud,\n With glitt\u2019ring arms conspicuous in the crowd.\n So shines, renew\u2019d in youth, the crested snake,\n Who slept the winter in a thorny brake,\n And, casting off his slough when spring returns,\n Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns;\n Restor\u2019d with poisonous herbs, his ardent sides\n Reflect the sun; and rais\u2019d on spires he rides;\n High o\u2019er the grass, hissing he rolls along,\n And brandishes by fits his forky tongue.\n Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon,\n His father\u2019s charioteer, together run\n To force the gate; the Scyrian infantry\n Rush on in crowds, and the barr\u2019d passage free.\n Ent\u2019ring the court, with shouts the skies they rend;\n And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend.\n Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows,\n And with his ax repeated strokes bestows\n On the strong doors; then all their shoulders ply,\n Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly.\n He hews apace; the double bars at length\n Yield to his ax and unresisted strength.\n A mighty breach is made: the rooms conceal\u2019d\n Appear, and all the palace is reveal\u2019d;\n The halls of audience, and of public state,\n And where the lonely queen in secret sate.\n Arm\u2019d soldiers now by trembling maids are seen,\n With not a door, and scarce a space, between.\n The house is fill\u2019d with loud laments and cries,\n And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies;\n The fearful matrons run from place to place,\n And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace.\n The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies,\n And all his father sparkles in his eyes;\n Nor bars, nor fighting guards, his force sustain:\n The bars are broken, and the guards are slain.\n In rush the Greeks, and all the apartments fill;\n Those few defendants whom they find, they kill.\n Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood\n Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood;\n Bears down the dams with unresisted sway,\n And sweeps the cattle and the cots away.\n These eyes beheld him when he march\u2019d between\n The brother kings: I saw th\u2019 unhappy queen,\n The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood,\n To stain his hallow\u2019d altar with his brood.\n The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he,\n So large a promise, of a progeny),\n The posts, of plated gold, and hung with spoils,\n Fell the reward of the proud victor\u2019s toils.\n Where\u2019er the raging fire had left a space,\n The Grecians enter and possess the place.\n\n \u201cPerhaps you may of Priam\u2019s fate enquire.\n He, when he saw his regal town on fire,\n His ruin\u2019d palace, and his ent\u2019ring foes,\n On ev\u2019ry side inevitable woes,\n In arms, disus\u2019d, invests his limbs, decay\u2019d,\n Like them, with age; a late and useless aid.\n His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain;\n Loaded, not arm\u2019d, he creeps along with pain,\n Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain!\n Uncover\u2019d but by heav\u2019n, there stood in view\n An altar; near the hearth a laurel grew,\n Dodder\u2019d with age, whose boughs encompass round\n The household gods, and shade the holy ground.\n Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train\n Of dames, for shelter sought, but sought in vain.\n Driv\u2019n like a flock of doves along the sky,\n Their images they hug, and to their altars fly.\n The Queen, when she beheld her trembling lord,\n And hanging by his side a heavy sword,\n \u2018What rage,\u2019 she cried, \u2018has seiz\u2019d my husband\u2019s mind?\n What arms are these, and to what use design\u2019d?\n These times want other aids! Were Hector here,\n Ev\u2019n Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear.\n With us, one common shelter thou shalt find,\n Or in one common fate with us be join\u2019d.\u2019\n She said, and with a last salute embrac\u2019d\n The poor old man, and by the laurel plac\u2019d.\n Behold! Polites, one of Priam\u2019s sons,\n Pursued by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs.\n Thro\u2019 swords and foes, amaz\u2019d and hurt, he flies\n Thro\u2019 empty courts and open galleries.\n Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues,\n And often reaches, and his thrusts renews.\n The youth, transfix\u2019d, with lamentable cries,\n Expires before his wretched parent\u2019s eyes:\n Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw,\n The fear of death gave place to nature\u2019s law;\n And, shaking more with anger than with age,\n \u2018The gods,\u2019 said he, \u2018requite thy brutal rage!\n As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must,\n If there be gods in heav\u2019n, and gods be just:\n Who tak\u2019st in wrongs an insolent delight;\n With a son\u2019s death t\u2019 infect a father\u2019s sight.\n Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire\n To call thee his; not he, thy vaunted sire,\n Thus us\u2019d my wretched age: the gods he fear\u2019d,\n The laws of nature and of nations heard.\n He cheer\u2019d my sorrows, and, for sums of gold,\n The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold;\n Pitied the woes a parent underwent,\n And sent me back in safety from his tent.\u2019\n\n \u201cThis said, his feeble hand a javelin threw,\n Which, flutt\u2019ring, seem\u2019d to loiter as it flew:\n Just, and but barely, to the mark it held,\n And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield.\n\n \u201cThen Pyrrhus thus: \u2018Go thou from me to fate,\n And to my father my foul deeds relate.\n Now die!\u2019 With that he dragg\u2019d the trembling sire,\n Slidd\u2019ring thro\u2019 clotter\u2019d blood and holy mire,\n (The mingled paste his murder\u2019d son had made,)\n Haul\u2019d from beneath the violated shade,\n And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid.\n His right hand held his bloody falchion bare,\n His left he twisted in his hoary hair;\n Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found:\n The lukewarm blood came rushing thro\u2019 the wound,\n And sanguine streams distain\u2019d the sacred ground.\n Thus Priam fell, and shar\u2019d one common fate\n With Troy in ashes, and his ruin\u2019d state:\n He, who the scepter of all Asia sway\u2019d,\n Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey\u2019d.\n On the bleak shore now lies th\u2019 abandon\u2019d king,\n A headless carcass, and a nameless thing.\n\n \u201cThen, not before, I felt my curdled blood\n Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood:\n My father\u2019s image fill\u2019d my pious mind,\n Lest equal years might equal fortune find.\n Again I thought on my forsaken wife,\n And trembled for my son\u2019s abandon\u2019d life.\n I look\u2019d about, but found myself alone,\n Deserted at my need! My friends were gone.\n Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress\u2019d,\n Leap\u2019d headlong from the heights; the flames consum\u2019d the rest.\n Thus, wand\u2019ring in my way, without a guide,\n The graceless Helen in the porch I spied\n Of Vesta\u2019s temple; there she lurk\u2019d alone;\n Muffled she sate, and, what she could, unknown:\n But, by the flames that cast their blaze around,\n That common bane of Greece and Troy I found.\n For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword;\n More dreads the vengeance of her injur\u2019d lord;\n Ev\u2019n by those gods who refug\u2019d her abhorr\u2019d.\n Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard,\n Resolv\u2019d to give her guilt the due reward:\n \u2018Shall she triumphant sail before the wind,\n And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind?\n Shall she her kingdom and her friends review,\n In state attended with a captive crew,\n While unreveng\u2019d the good old Priam falls,\n And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls?\n For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood\n Were swell\u2019d with bodies, and were drunk with blood?\n \u2019Tis true, a soldier can small honour gain,\n And boast no conquest, from a woman slain:\n Yet shall the fact not pass without applause,\n Of vengeance taken in so just a cause;\n The punish\u2019d crime shall set my soul at ease,\n And murm\u2019ring manes of my friends appease.\u2019\n Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light\n Spread o\u2019er the place; and, shining heav\u2019nly bright,\n My mother stood reveal\u2019d before my sight\n Never so radiant did her eyes appear;\n Not her own star confess\u2019d a light so clear:\n Great in her charms, as when on gods above\n She looks, and breathes herself into their love.\n She held my hand, the destin\u2019d blow to break;\n Then from her rosy lips began to speak:\n \u2018My son, from whence this madness, this neglect\n Of my commands, and those whom I protect?\n Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind\n Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind.\n Look if your helpless father yet survive,\n Or if Ascanius or Creusa live.\n Around your house the greedy Grecians err;\n And these had perish\u2019d in the nightly war,\n But for my presence and protecting care.\n Not Helen\u2019s face, nor Paris, was in fault;\n But by the gods was this destruction brought.\n Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve\n The mists and films that mortal eyes involve,\n Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see\n The shape of each avenging deity.\n Enlighten\u2019d thus, my just commands fulfil,\n Nor fear obedience to your mother\u2019s will.\n Where yon disorder\u2019d heap of ruin lies,\n Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise,\n Amid that smother Neptune holds his place,\n Below the wall\u2019s foundation drives his mace,\n And heaves the building from the solid base.\n Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands\n Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands,\n Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands.\n See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud,\n Bestrides the tow\u2019r, refulgent thro\u2019 the cloud:\n See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies,\n And arms against the town the partial deities.\n Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labour end:\n Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend:\n Haste; and a mother\u2019s care your passage shall befriend.\u2019\n She said, and swiftly vanish\u2019d from my sight,\n Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night.\n I look\u2019d, I listen\u2019d; dreadful sounds I hear;\n And the dire forms of hostile gods appear.\n Troy sunk in flames I saw, nor could prevent;\n And Ilium from its old foundations rent;\n Rent like a mountain ash, which dar\u2019d the winds,\n And stood the sturdy strokes of lab\u2019ring hinds.\n About the roots the cruel ax resounds;\n The stumps are pierc\u2019d with oft-repeated wounds:\n The war is felt on high; the nodding crown\n Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honours down.\n To their united force it yields, tho\u2019 late,\n And mourns with mortal groans th\u2019 approaching fate:\n The roots no more their upper load sustain;\n But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro\u2019 the plain.\n\n \u201cDescending thence, I scape thro\u2019 foes and fire:\n Before the goddess, foes and flames retire.\n Arriv\u2019d at home, he, for whose only sake,\n Or most for his, such toils I undertake,\n The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight,\n I purpos\u2019d to secure on Ida\u2019s height,\n Refus\u2019d the journey, resolute to die\n And add his fun\u2019rals to the fate of Troy,\n Rather than exile and old age sustain.\n \u2018Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev\u2019ry vein.\n Had Heav\u2019n decreed that I should life enjoy,\n Heav\u2019n had decreed to save unhappy Troy.\n \u2019Tis, sure, enough, if not too much, for one,\n Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown.\n Make haste to save the poor remaining crew,\n And give this useless corpse a long adieu.\n These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath;\n At least the pitying foes will aid my death,\n To take my spoils, and leave my body bare:\n As for my sepulcher, let Heav\u2019n take care.\n \u2019Tis long since I, for my celestial wife\n Loath\u2019d by the gods, have dragg\u2019d a ling\u2019ring life;\n Since ev\u2019ry hour and moment I expire,\n Blasted from heav\u2019n by Jove\u2019s avenging fire.\u2019\n This oft repeated, he stood fix\u2019d to die:\n Myself, my wife, my son, my family,\n Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry.\n \u2018What, will he still persist, on death resolve,\n And in his ruin all his house involve!\u2019\n He still persists his reasons to maintain;\n Our pray\u2019rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain.\n\n \u201cUrg\u2019d by despair, again I go to try\n The fate of arms, resolv\u2019d in fight to die:\n \u2018What hope remains, but what my death must give?\n Can I, without so dear a father, live?\n You term it prudence, what I baseness call:\n Could such a word from such a parent fall?\n If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain,\n That nothing should of ruin\u2019d Troy remain,\n And you conspire with Fortune to be slain,\n The way to death is wide, th\u2019 approaches near:\n For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear,\n Reeking with Priam\u2019s blood: the wretch who slew\n The son (inhuman) in the father\u2019s view,\n And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew.\n O goddess mother, give me back to Fate;\n Your gift was undesir\u2019d, and came too late!\n Did you, for this, unhappy me convey\n Thro\u2019 foes and fires, to see my house a prey?\n Shall I my father, wife, and son behold,\n Welt\u2019ring in blood, each other\u2019s arms infold?\n Haste! gird my sword, tho\u2019 spent and overcome:\n \u2019Tis the last summons to receive our doom.\n I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call!\n Not unreveng\u2019d the foe shall see my fall.\n Restore me to the yet unfinish\u2019d fight:\n My death is wanting to conclude the night.\u2019\n Arm\u2019d once again, my glitt\u2019ring sword I wield,\n While th\u2019 other hand sustains my weighty shield,\n And forth I rush to seek th\u2019 abandon\u2019d field.\n I went; but sad Creusa stopp\u2019d my way,\n And cross the threshold in my passage lay,\n Embrac\u2019d my knees, and, when I would have gone,\n Shew\u2019d me my feeble sire and tender son:\n \u2018If death be your design, at least,\u2019 said she,\n \u2018Take us along to share your destiny.\n If any farther hopes in arms remain,\n This place, these pledges of your love, maintain.\n To whom do you expose your father\u2019s life,\n Your son\u2019s, and mine, your now forgotten wife!\u2019\n While thus she fills the house with clam\u2019rous cries,\n Our hearing is diverted by our eyes:\n For, while I held my son, in the short space\n Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace;\n Strange to relate, from young Iulus\u2019 head\n A lambent flame arose, which gently spread\n Around his brows, and on his temples fed.\n Amaz\u2019d, with running water we prepare\n To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair;\n But old Anchises, vers\u2019d in omens, rear\u2019d\n His hands to heav\u2019n, and this request preferr\u2019d:\n \u2018If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend\n Thy will; if piety can pray\u2019rs commend,\n Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas\u2019d to send.\u2019\n Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear\n A peal of rattling thunder roll in air:\n There shot a streaming lamp along the sky,\n Which on the winged lightning seem\u2019d to fly;\n From o\u2019er the roof the blaze began to move,\n And, trailing, vanish\u2019d in th\u2019 Idaean grove.\n It swept a path in heav\u2019n, and shone a guide,\n Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died.\n\n \u201cThe good old man with suppliant hands implor\u2019d\n The gods\u2019 protection, and their star ador\u2019d.\n \u2018Now, now,\u2019 said he, \u2018my son, no more delay!\n I yield, I follow where Heav\u2019n shews the way.\n Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place,\n And guard this relic of the Trojan race,\n This tender child! These omens are your own,\n And you can yet restore the ruin\u2019d town.\n At least accomplish what your signs foreshow:\n I stand resign\u2019d, and am prepar\u2019d to go.\u2019\n\n \u201cHe said. The crackling flames appear on high.\n And driving sparkles dance along the sky.\n With Vulcan\u2019s rage the rising winds conspire,\n And near our palace roll the flood of fire.\n \u2018Haste, my dear father, (\u2019tis no time to wait,)\n And load my shoulders with a willing freight.\n Whate\u2019er befalls, your life shall be my care;\n One death, or one deliv\u2019rance, we will share.\n My hand shall lead our little son; and you,\n My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.\n Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands:\n Without the walls a ruin\u2019d temple stands,\n To Ceres hallow\u2019d once; a cypress nigh\n Shoots up her venerable head on high,\n By long religion kept; there bend your feet,\n And in divided parties let us meet.\n Our country gods, the relics, and the bands,\n Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands:\n In me \u2019tis impious holy things to bear,\n Red as I am with slaughter, new from war,\n Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt\n Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.\u2019\n Thus, ord\u2019ring all that prudence could provide,\n I clothe my shoulders with a lion\u2019s hide\n And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back,\n The welcome load of my dear father take;\n While on my better hand Ascanius hung,\n And with unequal paces tripp\u2019d along.\n Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray\n Thro\u2019 ev\u2019ry dark and ev\u2019ry devious way.\n I, who so bold and dauntless just before,\n The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore,\n At ev\u2019ry shadow now am seiz\u2019d with fear,\n Not for myself, but for the charge I bear;\n Till, near the ruin\u2019d gate arriv\u2019d at last,\n Secure, and deeming all the danger past,\n A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear.\n My father, looking thro\u2019 the shades, with fear,\n Cried out: \u2018Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh;\n Their swords and shining armour I descry.\u2019\n Some hostile god, for some unknown offence,\n Had sure bereft my mind of better sense;\n For, while thro\u2019 winding ways I took my flight,\n And sought the shelter of the gloomy night,\n Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell\n If by her fatal destiny she fell,\n Or weary sate, or wander\u2019d with affright;\n But she was lost for ever to my sight.\n I knew not, or reflected, till I meet\n My friends, at Ceres\u2019 now deserted seat.\n We met: not one was wanting; only she\n Deceiv\u2019d her friends, her son, and wretched me.\n\n \u201cWhat mad expressions did my tongue refuse!\n Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse!\n This was the fatal blow, that pain\u2019d me more\n Than all I felt from ruin\u2019d Troy before.\n Stung with my loss, and raving with despair,\n Abandoning my now forgotten care,\n Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft,\n My sire, my son, my country gods I left.\n In shining armour once again I sheathe\n My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death.\n Then headlong to the burning walls I run,\n And seek the danger I was forc\u2019d to shun.\n I tread my former tracks; thro\u2019 night explore\n Each passage, ev\u2019ry street I cross\u2019d before.\n All things were full of horror and affright,\n And dreadful ev\u2019n the silence of the night.\n Then to my father\u2019s house I make repair,\n With some small glimpse of hope to find her there.\n Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met;\n The house was fill\u2019d with foes, with flames beset.\n Driv\u2019n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire,\n Thro\u2019 air transported, to the roofs aspire.\n From thence to Priam\u2019s palace I resort,\n And search the citadel and desert court.\n Then, unobserv\u2019d, I pass by Juno\u2019s church:\n A guard of Grecians had possess\u2019d the porch;\n There Phoenix and Ulysses watch the prey,\n And thither all the wealth of Troy convey:\n The spoils which they from ransack\u2019d houses brought,\n And golden bowls from burning altars caught,\n The tables of the gods, the purple vests,\n The people\u2019s treasure, and the pomp of priests.\n A rank of wretched youths, with pinion\u2019d hands,\n And captive matrons, in long order stands.\n Then, with ungovern\u2019d madness, I proclaim,\n Thro\u2019 all the silent street, Creusa\u2019s name:\n Creusa still I call; at length she hears,\n And sudden thro\u2019 the shades of night appears.\n Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife,\n But a pale spectre, larger than the life.\n Aghast, astonish\u2019d, and struck dumb with fear,\n I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen\u2019d hair.\n Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief\n \u2018Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief.\n Desist, my much-lov\u2019d lord, t\u2019 indulge your pain;\n You bear no more than what the gods ordain.\n My fates permit me not from hence to fly;\n Nor he, the great controller of the sky.\n Long wand\u2019ring ways for you the pow\u2019rs decree;\n On land hard labours, and a length of sea.\n Then, after many painful years are past,\n On Latium\u2019s happy shore you shall be cast,\n Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds\n The flow\u2019ry meadows, and the feeding folds.\n There end your toils; and there your fates provide\n A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride:\n There fortune shall the Trojan line restore,\n And you for lost Creusa weep no more.\n Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame,\n Th\u2019 imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame;\n Or, stooping to the victor\u2019s lust, disgrace\n My goddess mother, or my royal race.\n And now, farewell! The parent of the gods\n Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes:\n I trust our common issue to your care.\u2019\n She said, and gliding pass\u2019d unseen in air.\n I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue;\n And thrice about her neck my arms I flung,\n And, thrice deceiv\u2019d, on vain embraces hung.\n Light as an empty dream at break of day,\n Or as a blast of wind, she rush\u2019d away.\n\n \u201cThus having pass\u2019d the night in fruitless pain,\n I to my longing friends return again,\n Amaz\u2019d th\u2019 augmented number to behold,\n Of men and matrons mix\u2019d, of young and old;\n A wretched exil\u2019d crew together brought,\n With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught,\n Resolv\u2019d, and willing, under my command,\n To run all hazards both of sea and land.\n The Morn began, from Ida, to display\n Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day:\n Before the gates the Grecians took their post,\n And all pretence of late relief was lost.\n I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire,\n And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire.\u201d\n\n\n\n BOOK III\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Aeneas proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet\n with which he sailed, and the success of his first voyage to\n Thrace. From thence he directs his course to Delos and asks the\n oracle what place the gods had appointed for his habitation. By a\n mistake of the oracle\u2019s answer, he settles in Crete. His\n household gods give him the true sense of the oracle in a dream.\n He follows their advice, and makes the best of his way for Italy.\n He is cast on several shores, and meets with very surprising\n adventures, till at length he lands on Sicily, where his father\n Anchises dies. This is the place which he was sailing from, when\n the tempest rose, and threw him upon the Carthaginian coast.\n\n\n When Heav\u2019n had overturn\u2019d the Trojan state\n And Priam\u2019s throne, by too severe a fate;\n When ruin\u2019d Troy became the Grecians\u2019 prey,\n And Ilium\u2019s lofty tow\u2019rs in ashes lay;\n Warn\u2019d by celestial omens, we retreat,\n To seek in foreign lands a happier seat.\n Near old Antandros, and at Ida\u2019s foot,\n The timber of the sacred groves we cut,\n And build our fleet; uncertain yet to find\n What place the gods for our repose assign\u2019d.\n Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring\n Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing,\n When old Anchises summon\u2019d all to sea:\n The crew my father and the Fates obey.\n With sighs and tears I leave my native shore,\n And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.\n My sire, my son, our less and greater gods,\n All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods.\n\n \u201cAgainst our coast appears a spacious land,\n Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command,\n Thracia the name; the people bold in war;\n Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,\n A hospitable realm while Fate was kind,\n With Troy in friendship and religion join\u2019d.\n I land; with luckless omens, then adore\n Their gods, and draw a line along the shore;\n I lay the deep foundations of a wall,\n And Aenos, nam\u2019d from me, the city call.\n To Dionaean Venus vows are paid,\n And all the pow\u2019rs that rising labours aid;\n A bull on Jove\u2019s imperial altar laid.\n Not far, a rising hillock stood in view;\n Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels grew.\n There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,\n And shade our altar with their leafy greens,\n I pull\u2019d a plant; with horror I relate\n A prodigy so strange and full of fate.\n The rooted fibers rose, and from the wound\n Black bloody drops distill\u2019d upon the ground.\n Mute and amaz\u2019d, my hair with terror stood;\n Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal\u2019d my blood.\n Mann\u2019d once again, another plant I try:\n That other gush\u2019d with the same sanguine dye.\n Then, fearing guilt for some offence unknown,\n With pray\u2019rs and vows the Dryads I atone,\n With all the sisters of the woods, and most\n The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast,\n That they, or he, these omens would avert,\n Release our fears, and better signs impart.\n Clear\u2019d, as I thought, and fully fix\u2019d at length\n To learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength:\n I bent my knees against the ground; once more\n The violated myrtle ran with gore.\n Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb\n Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,\n A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew\u2019d\n My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued:\n \u2018Why dost thou thus my buried body rend?\n O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend!\n Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood:\n The tears distil not from the wounded wood;\n But ev\u2019ry drop this living tree contains\n Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins.\n O fly from this unhospitable shore,\n Warn\u2019d by my fate; for I am Polydore!\n Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued,\n Again shoot upward, by my blood renew\u2019d.\u2019\n\n \u201cMy falt\u2019ring tongue and shiv\u2019ring limbs declare\n My horror, and in bristles rose my hair.\n When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent,\n Old Priam, fearful of the war\u2019s event,\n This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent:\n Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far\n From noise and tumults, and destructive war,\n Committed to the faithless tyrant\u2019s care;\n Who, when he saw the pow\u2019r of Troy decline,\n Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join;\n Broke ev\u2019ry bond of nature and of truth,\n And murder\u2019d, for his wealth, the royal youth.\n O sacred hunger of pernicious gold!\n What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?\n Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears,\n I call my father and the Trojan peers;\n Relate the prodigies of Heav\u2019n, require\n What he commands, and their advice desire.\n All vote to leave that execrable shore,\n Polluted with the blood of Polydore;\n But, ere we sail, his fun\u2019ral rites prepare,\n Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.\n In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,\n With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown\u2019d,\n With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.\n Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,\n And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.\n\n \u201cNow, when the raging storms no longer reign,\n But southern gales invite us to the main,\n We launch our vessels, with a prosp\u2019rous wind,\n And leave the cities and the shores behind.\n\n \u201cAn island in th\u2019 Aegaean main appears;\n Neptune and wat\u2019ry Doris claim it theirs.\n It floated once, till Phoebus fix\u2019d the sides\n To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides.\n Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore,\n With needful ease our weary limbs restore,\n And the Sun\u2019s temple and his town adore.\n\n \u201cAnius, the priest and king, with laurel crown\u2019d,\n His hoary locks with purple fillets bound,\n Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend,\n Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend;\n Invites him to his palace; and, in sign\n Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join.\n Then to the temple of the god I went,\n And thus, before the shrine, my vows present:\n \u2018Give, O Thymbraeus, give a resting place\n To the sad relics of the Trojan race;\n A seat secure, a region of their own,\n A lasting empire, and a happier town.\n Where shall we fix? where shall our labours end?\n Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?\n Let not my pray\u2019rs a doubtful answer find;\n But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.\u2019\n Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground,\n The laurels, and the lofty hills around;\n And from the tripos rush\u2019d a bellowing sound.\n Prostrate we fell; confess\u2019d the present god,\n Who gave this answer from his dark abode:\n \u2018Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth\n From which your ancestors derive their birth.\n The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race\n In her old bosom shall again embrace.\n Through the wide world th\u2019 Aeneian house shall reign,\n And children\u2019s children shall the crown sustain.\u2019\n Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose:\n A mighty tumult, mix\u2019d with joy, arose.\n\n \u201cAll are concern\u2019d to know what place the god\n Assign\u2019d, and where determin\u2019d our abode.\n My father, long revolving in his mind\n The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,\n Thus answer\u2019d their demands: \u2018Ye princes, hear\n Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear.\n The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame,\n Sacred of old to Jove\u2019s imperial name,\n In the mid ocean lies, with large command,\n And on its plains a hundred cities stand.\n Another Ida rises there, and we\n From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.\n From thence, as \u2019tis divulg\u2019d by certain fame,\n To the Rhoetean shores old Teucrus came;\n There fix\u2019d, and there the seat of empire chose,\n Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow\u2019rs arose.\n In humble vales they built their soft abodes,\n Till Cybele, the mother of the gods,\n With tinkling cymbals charm\u2019d th\u2019 Idaean woods,\n She secret rites and ceremonies taught,\n And to the yoke the savage lions brought.\n Let us the land which Heav\u2019n appoints, explore;\n Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore.\n If Jove assists the passage of our fleet,\n The third propitious dawn discovers Crete.\u2019\n Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid\n On smoking altars, to the gods he paid:\n A bull, to Neptune an oblation due,\n Another bull to bright Apollo slew;\n A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please,\n And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas.\n Ere this, a flying rumour had been spread\n That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled,\n Expell\u2019d and exil\u2019d; that the coast was free\n From foreign or domestic enemy.\n\n \u201cWe leave the Delian ports, and put to sea.\n By Naxos, fam\u2019d for vintage, make our way;\n Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight\n Of Paros\u2019 isle, with marble quarries white.\n We pass the scatter\u2019d isles of Cyclades,\n That, scarce distinguish\u2019d, seem to stud the seas.\n The shouts of sailors double near the shores;\n They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars.\n \u2018All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!\u2019 they cry,\n And swiftly thro\u2019 the foamy billows fly.\n Full on the promis\u2019d land at length we bore,\n With joy descending on the Cretan shore.\n With eager haste a rising town I frame,\n Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name:\n The name itself was grateful; I exhort\n To found their houses, and erect a fort.\n Our ships are haul\u2019d upon the yellow strand;\n The youth begin to till the labour\u2019d land;\n And I myself new marriages promote,\n Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot;\n When rising vapours choke the wholesome air,\n And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year;\n The trees devouring caterpillars burn;\n Parch\u2019d was the grass, and blighted was the corn:\n Nor \u2019scape the beasts; for Sirius, from on high,\n With pestilential heat infects the sky:\n My men, some fall, the rest in fevers fry.\n Again my father bids me seek the shore\n Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,\n To learn what end of woes we might expect,\n And to what clime our weary course direct.\n\n \u201c\u2019Twas night, when ev\u2019ry creature, void of cares,\n The common gift of balmy slumber shares:\n The statues of my gods (for such they seem\u2019d),\n Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem\u2019d,\n Before me stood, majestically bright,\n Full in the beams of Phoebe\u2019s ent\u2019ring light.\n Then thus they spoke, and eas\u2019d my troubled mind:\n \u2018What from the Delian god thou go\u2019st to find,\n He tells thee here, and sends us to relate.\n Those pow\u2019rs are we, companions of thy fate,\n Who from the burning town by thee were brought,\n Thy fortune follow\u2019d, and thy safety wrought.\n Thro\u2019 seas and lands as we thy steps attend,\n So shall our care thy glorious race befriend.\n An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain,\n A town that o\u2019er the conquer\u2019d world shall reign.\n Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build;\n Nor let thy weary mind to labours yield:\n But change thy seat; for not the Delian god,\n Nor we, have giv\u2019n thee Crete for our abode.\n A land there is, Hesperia call\u2019d of old,\n The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold.\n Th\u2019 Oenotrians held it once, by later fame\n Now call\u2019d Italia, from the leader\u2019s name.\n Jasius there and Dardanus were born;\n From thence we came, and thither must return.\n Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet.\n Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.\u2019\n\n \u201cAstonish\u2019d at their voices and their sight,\n (Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night;\n I saw, I knew their faces, and descried,\n In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;)\n I started from my couch; a clammy sweat\n On all my limbs and shiv\u2019ring body sate.\n To heav\u2019n I lift my hands with pious haste,\n And sacred incense in the flames I cast.\n Thus to the gods their perfect honours done,\n More cheerful, to my good old sire I run,\n And tell the pleasing news. In little space\n He found his error of the double race;\n Not, as before he deem\u2019d, deriv\u2019d from Crete;\n No more deluded by the doubtful seat:\n Then said: \u2018O son, turmoil\u2019d in Trojan fate!\n Such things as these Cassandra did relate.\n This day revives within my mind what she\n Foretold of Troy renew\u2019d in Italy,\n And Latian lands; but who could then have thought\n That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought,\n Or who believ\u2019d what mad Cassandra taught?\n Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.\u2019\n\n \u201cHe said; and we with glad consent obey,\n Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind,\n We spread our sails before the willing wind.\n Now from the sight of land our galleys move,\n With only seas around and skies above;\n When o\u2019er our heads descends a burst of rain,\n And night with sable clouds involves the main;\n The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise;\n The scatter\u2019d fleet is forc\u2019d to sev\u2019ral ways;\n The face of heav\u2019n is ravish\u2019d from our eyes,\n And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies.\n Cast from our course, we wander in the dark.\n No stars to guide, no point of land to mark.\n Ev\u2019n Palinurus no distinction found\n Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign\u2019d around.\n Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays,\n Without distinction, and three sunless days;\n The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds,\n We view a rising land, like distant clouds;\n The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight,\n And curling smoke ascending from their height.\n The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply;\n From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly.\n At length I land upon the Strophades,\n Safe from the danger of the stormy seas.\n Those isles are compass\u2019d by th\u2019 Ionian main,\n The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign,\n Forc\u2019d by the winged warriors to repair\n To their old homes, and leave their costly fare.\n Monsters more fierce offended Heav\u2019n ne\u2019er sent\n From hell\u2019s abyss, for human punishment:\n With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene,\n Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean;\n With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean.\n\n \u201cWe landed at the port, and soon beheld\n Fat herds of oxen graze the flow\u2019ry field,\n And wanton goats without a keeper stray\u2019d.\n With weapons we the welcome prey invade,\n Then call the gods for partners of our feast,\n And Jove himself, the chief invited guest.\n We spread the tables on the greensward ground;\n We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round;\n When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry,\n And clatt\u2019ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly;\n They snatch the meat, defiling all they find,\n And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind.\n Close by a hollow rock, again we sit,\n New dress the dinner, and the beds refit,\n Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade,\n Where tufted trees a native arbour made.\n Again the holy fires on altars burn;\n And once again the rav\u2019nous birds return,\n Or from the dark recesses where they lie,\n Or from another quarter of the sky;\n With filthy claws their odious meal repeat,\n And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat.\n I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,\n And with the hellish nation wage the war.\n They, as commanded, for the fight provide,\n And in the grass their glitt\u2019ring weapons hide;\n Then, when along the crooked shore we hear\n Their clatt\u2019ring wings, and saw the foes appear,\n Misenus sounds a charge: we take th\u2019 alarm,\n And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm.\n In this new kind of combat all employ\n Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy.\n In vain, the fated skin is proof to wounds;\n And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds.\n At length rebuff\u2019d, they leave their mangled prey,\n And their stretch\u2019d pinions to the skies display.\n Yet one remain\u2019d, the messenger of Fate:\n High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate,\n And thus her dismal errand did relate:\n \u2018What! not contented with our oxen slain,\n Dare you with Heav\u2019n an impious war maintain,\n And drive the Harpies from their native reign?\n Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind\n What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design\u2019d,\n And I, the Furies\u2019 queen, from both relate:\n You seek th\u2019 Italian shores, foredoom\u2019d by fate:\n Th\u2019 Italian shores are granted you to find,\n And a safe passage to the port assign\u2019d.\n But know, that ere your promis\u2019d walls you build,\n My curses shall severely be fulfill\u2019d.\n Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed,\n Reduc\u2019d to grind the plates on which you feed.\u2019\n She said, and to the neighb\u2019ring forest flew.\n Our courage fails us, and our fears renew.\n Hopeless to win by war, to pray\u2019rs we fall,\n And on th\u2019 offended Harpies humbly call,\n And whether gods or birds obscene they were,\n Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer.\n But old Anchises, off\u2019ring sacrifice,\n And lifting up to heav\u2019n his hands and eyes,\n Ador\u2019d the greater gods: \u2018Avert,\u2019 said he,\n \u2018These omens; render vain this prophecy,\n And from th\u2019 impending curse a pious people free!\u2019\n\n \u201cThus having said, he bids us put to sea;\n We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey,\n And soon with swelling sails pursue the wat\u2019ry way.\n Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear;\n And next by rocky Neritos we steer:\n We fly from Ithaca\u2019s detested shore,\n And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore.\n At length Leucate\u2019s cloudy top appears,\n And the Sun\u2019s temple, which the sailor fears.\n Resolv\u2019d to breathe a while from labour past,\n Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast,\n And joyful to the little city haste.\n Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay\n To Jove, the guide and patron of our way.\n The customs of our country we pursue,\n And Trojan games on Actian shores renew.\n Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil,\n And exercise the wrastlers\u2019 noble toil;\n Pleas\u2019d to have sail\u2019d so long before the wind,\n And left so many Grecian towns behind.\n The sun had now fulfill\u2019d his annual course,\n And Boreas on the seas display\u2019d his force:\n I fix\u2019d upon the temple\u2019s lofty door\n The brazen shield which vanquish\u2019d Abas bore;\n The verse beneath my name and action speaks:\n \u2018These arms Aeneas took from conqu\u2019ring Greeks.\u2019\n Then I command to weigh; the seamen ply\n Their sweeping oars; the smoking billows fly.\n The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost,\n And skimm\u2019d along Epirus\u2019 rocky coast.\n\n \u201cThen to Chaonia\u2019s port our course we bend,\n And, landed, to Buthrotus\u2019 heights ascend.\n Here wondrous things were loudly blaz\u2019d fame:\n How Helenus reviv\u2019d the Trojan name,\n And reign\u2019d in Greece; that Priam\u2019s captive son\n Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne;\n And fair Andromache, restor\u2019d by fate,\n Once more was happy in a Trojan mate.\n I leave my galleys riding in the port,\n And long to see the new Dardanian court.\n By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate,\n Then solemniz\u2019d her former husband\u2019s fate.\n Green altars, rais\u2019d of turf, with gifts she crown\u2019d,\n And sacred priests in order stand around,\n And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound.\n The grove itself resembles Ida\u2019s wood;\n And Simois seem\u2019d the well-dissembled flood.\n But when at nearer distance she beheld\n My shining armour and my Trojan shield,\n Astonish\u2019d at the sight, the vital heat\n Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat:\n She faints, she falls, and scarce recov\u2019ring strength,\n Thus, with a falt\u2019ring tongue, she speaks at length:\n\n \u201c\u2018Are you alive, O goddess-born?\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Or if a ghost, then where is Hector\u2019s shade?\u2019\n At this, she cast a loud and frightful cry.\n With broken words I made this brief reply:\n \u2018All of me that remains appears in sight;\n I live, if living be to loathe the light.\n No phantom; but I drag a wretched life,\n My fate resembling that of Hector\u2019s wife.\n What have you suffer\u2019d since you lost your lord?\n By what strange blessing are you now restor\u2019d?\n Still are you Hector\u2019s? or is Hector fled,\n And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus\u2019 bed?\u2019\n With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone,\n After a modest pause she thus begun:\n\n \u201c\u2018O only happy maid of Priam\u2019s race,\n Whom death deliver\u2019d from the foes\u2019 embrace!\n Commanded on Achilles\u2019 tomb to die,\n Not forc\u2019d, like us, to hard captivity,\n Or in a haughty master\u2019s arms to lie.\n In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne,\n Endur\u2019d the victor\u2019s lust, sustain\u2019d the scorn:\n Thus I submitted to the lawless pride\n Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride.\n Cloy\u2019d with possession, he forsook my bed,\n And Helen\u2019s lovely daughter sought to wed;\n Then me to Trojan Helenus resign\u2019d,\n And his two slaves in equal marriage join\u2019d;\n Till young Orestes, pierc\u2019d with deep despair,\n And longing to redeem the promis\u2019d fair,\n Before Apollo\u2019s altar slew the ravisher.\n By Pyrrhus\u2019 death the kingdom we regain\u2019d:\n At least one half with Helenus remain\u2019d.\n Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls,\n And names from Pergamus his rising walls.\n But you, what fates have landed on our coast?\n What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss\u2019d?\n Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy,\n Sav\u2019d from the ruins of unhappy Troy?\n O tell me how his mother\u2019s loss he bears,\n What hopes are promis\u2019d from his blooming years,\n How much of Hector in his face appears?\u2019\n She spoke; and mix\u2019d her speech with mournful cries,\n And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes.\n\n \u201cAt length her lord descends upon the plain,\n In pomp, attended with a num\u2019rous train;\n Receives his friends, and to the city leads,\n And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.\n Proceeding on, another Troy I see,\n Or, in less compass, Troy\u2019s epitome.\n A riv\u2019let by the name of Xanthus ran,\n And I embrace the Scaean gate again.\n My friends in porticoes were entertain\u2019d,\n And feasts and pleasures thro\u2019 the city reign\u2019d.\n The tables fill\u2019d the spacious hall around,\n And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crown\u2019d.\n Two days we pass\u2019d in mirth, till friendly gales,\n Blown from the south supplied our swelling sails.\n Then to the royal seer I thus began:\n \u2018O thou, who know\u2019st, beyond the reach of man,\n The laws of heav\u2019n, and what the stars decree;\n Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy,\n From his own tripod, and his holy tree;\n Skill\u2019d in the wing\u2019d inhabitants of air,\n What auspices their notes and flights declare:\n O say; for all religious rites portend\n A happy voyage, and a prosp\u2019rous end;\n And ev\u2019ry power and omen of the sky\n Direct my course for destin\u2019d Italy;\n But only dire Celaeno, from the gods,\n A dismal famine fatally forebodes:\n O say what dangers I am first to shun,\n What toils vanquish, and what course to run.\u2019\n\n \u201cThe prophet first with sacrifice adores\n The greater gods; their pardon then implores;\n Unbinds the fillet from his holy head;\n To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led,\n Full of religious doubts and awful dread.\n Then, with his god possess\u2019d, before the shrine,\n These words proceeded from his mouth divine:\n \u2018O goddess-born, (for Heav\u2019n\u2019s appointed will,\n With greater auspices of good than ill,\n Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs;\n Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,)\n Of many things some few I shall explain,\n Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main,\n And how at length the promis\u2019d shore to gain.\n The rest the fates from Helenus conceal,\n And Juno\u2019s angry pow\u2019r forbids to tell.\n First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh,\n Will far from your deluded wishes fly;\n Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy:\n For you must cruise along Sicilian shores,\n And stem the currents with your struggling oars;\n Then round th\u2019 Italian coast your navy steer;\n And, after this, to Circe\u2019s island veer;\n And, last, before your new foundations rise,\n Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies.\n Now mark the signs of future ease and rest,\n And bear them safely treasur\u2019d in thy breast.\n When, in the shady shelter of a wood,\n And near the margin of a gentle flood,\n Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground,\n With thirty sucking young encompass\u2019d round;\n The dam and offspring white as falling snow:\n These on thy city shall their name bestow,\n And there shall end thy labours and thy woe.\n Nor let the threaten\u2019d famine fright thy mind,\n For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find.\n Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent,\n Which fronts from far th\u2019 Epirian continent:\n Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess\u2019d;\n The salvage Locrians here the shores infest;\n There fierce Idomeneus his city builds,\n And guards with arms the Salentinian fields;\n And on the mountain\u2019s brow Petilia stands,\n Which Philoctetes with his troops commands.\n Ev\u2019n when thy fleet is landed on the shore,\n And priests with holy vows the gods adore,\n Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,\n Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice.\n These rites and customs to the rest commend,\n That to your pious race they may descend.\n\n \u2018When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits\n For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits\n Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way,\n Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea:\n Veer starboard sea and land. Th\u2019 Italian shore\n And fair Sicilia\u2019s coast were one, before\n An earthquake caus\u2019d the flaw: the roaring tides\n The passage broke that land from land divides;\n And where the lands retir\u2019d, the rushing ocean rides.\n Distinguish\u2019d by the straits, on either hand,\n Now rising cities in long order stand,\n And fruitful fields: so much can time invade\n The mould\u2019ring work that beauteous Nature made.\n Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides:\n Charybdis roaring on the left presides,\n And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides;\n Then spouts them from below: with fury driv\u2019n,\n The waves mount up and wash the face of heav\u2019n.\n But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,\n The sinking vessel in her eddy draws,\n Then dashes on the rocks. A human face,\n And virgin bosom, hides her tail\u2019s disgrace:\n Her parts obscene below the waves descend,\n With dogs inclos\u2019d, and in a dolphin end.\n \u2019Tis safer, then, to bear aloof to sea,\n And coast Pachynus, tho\u2019 with more delay,\n Than once to view misshapen Scylla near,\n And the loud yell of wat\u2019ry wolves to hear.\n\n \u201c\u2018Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,\n And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true,\n Do not this precept of your friend forget,\n Which therefore more than once I must repeat:\n Above the rest, great Juno\u2019s name adore;\n Pay vows to Juno; Juno\u2019s aid implore.\n Let gifts be to the mighty queen design\u2019d,\n And mollify with pray\u2019rs her haughty mind.\n Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free,\n And you shall safe descend on Italy.\n Arriv\u2019d at Cumae, when you view the flood\n Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood,\n The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find,\n Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin\u2019d.\n She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits,\n The notes and names, inscrib\u2019d, to leafs commits.\n What she commits to leafs, in order laid,\n Before the cavern\u2019s entrance are display\u2019d:\n Unmov\u2019d they lie; but, if a blast of wind\n Without, or vapours issue from behind,\n The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air,\n And she resumes no more her museful care,\n Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter\u2019d verse,\n Nor sets in order what the winds disperse.\n Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid\n The madness of the visionary maid,\n And with loud curses leave the mystic shade.\n\n \u201c\u2018Think it not loss of time a while to stay,\n Tho\u2019 thy companions chide thy long delay;\n Tho\u2019 summon\u2019d to the seas, tho\u2019 pleasing gales\n Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails:\n But beg the sacred priestess to relate\n With willing words, and not to write thy fate.\n The fierce Italian people she will show,\n And all thy wars, and all thy future woe,\n And what thou may\u2019st avoid, and what must undergo.\n She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind,\n And teach thee how the happy shores to find.\n This is what Heav\u2019n allows me to relate:\n Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate,\n And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.\u2019\n\n \u201cThis when the priest with friendly voice declar\u2019d,\n He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar\u2019d:\n Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want\n With heavy gold, and polish\u2019d elephant;\n Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board,\n And ev\u2019ry ship with sums of silver stor\u2019d.\n A trusty coat of mail to me he sent,\n Thrice chain\u2019d with gold, for use and ornament;\n The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest,\n That flourish\u2019d with a plume and waving crest.\n Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends;\n And large recruits he to my navy sends:\n Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores;\n Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars.\n Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails,\n Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales.\n\n \u201cThe prophet bless\u2019d the parting crew, and last,\n With words like these, his ancient friend embrac\u2019d:\n \u2018Old happy man, the care of gods above,\n Whom heav\u2019nly Venus honour\u2019d with her love,\n And twice preserv\u2019d thy life, when Troy was lost,\n Behold from far the wish\u2019d Ausonian coast:\n There land; but take a larger compass round,\n For that before is all forbidden ground.\n The shore that Phoebus has design\u2019d for you,\n At farther distance lies, conceal\u2019d from view.\n Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes,\n Blest in a son, and favour\u2019d by the gods:\n For I with useless words prolong your stay,\n When southern gales have summon\u2019d you away.\u2019\n\n \u201cNor less the queen our parting thence deplor\u2019d,\n Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord.\n A noble present to my son she brought,\n A robe with flow\u2019rs on golden tissue wrought,\n A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside\n Of precious texture, and of Asian pride.\n \u2018Accept,\u2019 she said, \u2018these monuments of love,\n Which in my youth with happier hands I wove:\n Regard these trifles for the giver\u2019s sake;\n \u2019Tis the last present Hector\u2019s wife can make.\n Thou call\u2019st my lost Astyanax to mind;\n In thee his features and his form I find:\n His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame;\n Such were his motions; such was all his frame;\n And ah! had Heav\u2019n so pleas\u2019d, his years had been the same.\u2019\n\n \u201cWith tears I took my last adieu, and said:\n \u2018Your fortune, happy pair, already made,\n Leaves you no farther wish. My diff\u2019rent state,\n Avoiding one, incurs another fate.\n To you a quiet seat the gods allow:\n You have no shores to search, no seas to plow,\n Nor fields of flying Italy to chase:\n (Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!)\n You see another Simois, and enjoy\n The labour of your hands, another Troy,\n With better auspice than her ancient tow\u2019rs,\n And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow\u2019rs.\n If e\u2019er the gods, whom I with vows adore,\n Conduct my steps to Tiber\u2019s happy shore;\n If ever I ascend the Latian throne,\n And build a city I may call my own;\n As both of us our birth from Troy derive,\n So let our kindred lines in concord live,\n And both in acts of equal friendship strive.\n Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same:\n The double Troy shall differ but in name;\n That what we now begin may never end,\n But long to late posterity descend.\u2019\n\n \u201cNear the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore;\n The shortest passage to th\u2019 Italian shore.\n Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light,\n And hills were hid in dusky shades of night:\n We land, and, on the bosom of the ground,\n A safe retreat and a bare lodging found.\n Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep\n Their watches, and the rest securely sleep.\n The night, proceeding on with silent pace,\n Stood in her noon, and view\u2019d with equal face\n Her steepy rise and her declining race.\n Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy\n The face of heav\u2019n, and the nocturnal sky;\n And listen\u2019d ev\u2019ry breath of air to try;\n Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course,\n The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat\u2019ry force;\n And both the Bears is careful to behold,\n And bright Orion, arm\u2019d with burnish\u2019d gold.\n Then, when he saw no threat\u2019ning tempest nigh,\n But a sure promise of a settled sky,\n He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep,\n Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep.\n\n \u201cAnd now the rising morn with rosy light\n Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight;\n When we from far, like bluish mists, descry\n The hills, and then the plains, of Italy.\n Achates first pronounc\u2019d the joyful sound;\n Then, \u2018Italy!\u2019 the cheerful crew rebound.\n My sire Anchises crown\u2019d a cup with wine,\n And, off\u2019ring, thus implor\u2019d the pow\u2019rs divine:\n \u2018Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas,\n And you who raging winds and waves appease,\n Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp\u2019rous wind,\n And smooth our passage to the port assign\u2019d!\u2019\n The gentle gales their flagging force renew,\n And now the happy harbour is in view.\n Minerva\u2019s temple then salutes our sight,\n Plac\u2019d, as a landmark, on the mountain\u2019s height.\n We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore;\n The curling waters round the galleys roar.\n The land lies open to the raging east,\n Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress\u2019d,\n Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain,\n And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.\n The port lies hid within; on either side\n Two tow\u2019ring rocks the narrow mouth divide.\n The temple, which aloft we view\u2019d before,\n To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore.\n Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld\n Were four white steeds that cropp\u2019d the flow\u2019ry field.\n \u2018War, war is threaten\u2019d from this foreign ground,\u2019\n My father cried, \u2018where warlike steeds are found.\n Yet, since reclaim\u2019d to chariots they submit,\n And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit,\n Peace may succeed to war.\u2019 Our way we bend\n To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend;\n There prostrate to the fierce Virago pray,\n Whose temple was the landmark of our way.\n Each with a Phrygian mantle veil\u2019d his head,\n And all commands of Helenus obey\u2019d,\n And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid.\n These dues perform\u2019d, we stretch our sails, and stand\n To sea, forsaking that suspected land.\n\n \u201cFrom hence Tarentum\u2019s bay appears in view,\n For Hercules renown\u2019d, if fame be true.\n Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands;\n Caulonian tow\u2019rs, and Scylacaean strands,\n For shipwrecks fear\u2019d. Mount Aetna thence we spy,\n Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky.\n Far off we hear the waves with surly sound\n Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound.\n The billows break upon the sounding strand,\n And roll the rising tide, impure with sand.\n Then thus Anchises, in experience old:\n \u2018\u2019Tis that Charybdis which the seer foretold,\n And those the promis\u2019d rocks! Bear off to sea!\u2019\n With haste the frighted mariners obey.\n First Palinurus to the larboard veer\u2019d;\n Then all the fleet by his example steer\u2019d.\n To heav\u2019n aloft on ridgy waves we ride,\n Then down to hell descend, when they divide;\n And thrice our galleys knock\u2019d the stony ground,\n And thrice the hollow rocks return\u2019d the sound,\n And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around.\n The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun;\n And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run.\n The port capacious, and secure from wind,\n Is to the foot of thund\u2019ring Aetna join\u2019d.\n By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high;\n By turns hot embers from her entrails fly,\n And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky.\n Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown,\n And, shiver\u2019d by the force, come piecemeal down.\n Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow,\n Fed from the fiery springs that boil below.\n Enceladus, they say, transfix\u2019d by Jove,\n With blasted limbs came tumbling from above;\n And, where he fell, th\u2019 avenging father drew\n This flaming hill, and on his body threw.\n As often as he turns his weary sides,\n He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides.\n In shady woods we pass the tedious night,\n Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright,\n Of which no cause is offer\u2019d to the sight;\n For not one star was kindled in the sky,\n Nor could the moon her borrow\u2019d light supply;\n For misty clouds involv\u2019d the firmament,\n The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent.\n\n \u201cScarce had the rising sun the day reveal\u2019d,\n Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell\u2019d,\n When from the woods there bolts, before our sight,\n Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite,\n So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan,\n So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man.\n This thing, all tatter\u2019d, seem\u2019d from far t\u2019implore\n Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.\n We look behind, then view his shaggy beard;\n His clothes were tagg\u2019d with thorns, and filth his limbs\n besmear\u2019d;\n The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face,\n Appear\u2019d a Greek, and such indeed he was.\n He cast on us, from far, a frightful view,\n Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew;\n Stood still, and paus\u2019d; then all at once began\n To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran.\n Soon as approach\u2019d, upon his knees he falls,\n And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls:\n \u2018Now, by the pow\u2019rs above, and what we share\n From Nature\u2019s common gift, this vital air,\n O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more;\n But bear me far from this unhappy shore.\n \u2019Tis true, I am a Greek, and farther own,\n Among your foes besieg\u2019d th\u2019 imperial town.\n For such demerits if my death be due,\n No more for this abandon\u2019d life I sue;\n This only favour let my tears obtain,\n To throw me headlong in the rapid main:\n Since nothing more than death my crime demands,\n I die content, to die by human hands.\u2019\n He said, and on his knees my knees embrac\u2019d:\n I bade him boldly tell his fortune past,\n His present state, his lineage, and his name,\n Th\u2019 occasion of his fears, and whence he came.\n The good Anchises rais\u2019d him with his hand;\n Who, thus encourag\u2019d, answer\u2019d our demand:\n \u2018From Ithaca, my native soil, I came\n To Troy; and Achaemenides my name.\n Me my poor father with Ulysses sent;\n (O had I stay\u2019d, with poverty content!)\n But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen\n Left me forsaken in the Cyclops\u2019 den.\n The cave, tho\u2019 large, was dark; the dismal floor\n Was pav\u2019d with mangled limbs and putrid gore.\n Our monstrous host, of more than human size,\n Erects his head, and stares within the skies;\n Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue.\n Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view!\n The joints of slaughter\u2019d wretches are his food;\n And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood.\n These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand\n He seiz\u2019d two captives of our Grecian band;\n Stretch\u2019d on his back, he dash\u2019d against the stones\n Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones:\n With spouting blood the purple pavement swims,\n While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs.\n\n \u201c\u2018Not unreveng\u2019d Ulysses bore their fate,\n Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state;\n For, gorg\u2019d with flesh, and drunk with human wine\n While fast asleep the giant lay supine,\n Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw\n His indigested foam, and morsels raw;\n We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround\n The monstrous body, stretch\u2019d along the ground:\n Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand\n To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.\n Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye;\n For only one did the vast frame supply;\n But that a globe so large, his front it fill\u2019d,\n Like the sun\u2019s disk or like a Grecian shield.\n The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends:\n This vengeance follow\u2019d for our slaughter\u2019d friends.\n But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly!\n Your cables cut, and on your oars rely!\n Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears,\n A hundred more this hated island bears:\n Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep;\n Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep;\n Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep\n And now three moons their sharpen\u2019d horns renew,\n Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view,\n I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,\n And in deserted caverns lodge by night;\n Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see\n Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree:\n From far I hear his thund\u2019ring voice resound,\n And trampling feet that shake the solid ground.\n Cornels and salvage berries of the wood,\n And roots and herbs, have been my meager food.\n While all around my longing eyes I cast,\n I saw your happy ships appear at last.\n On those I fix\u2019d my hopes, to these I run;\n \u2019Tis all I ask, this cruel race to shun;\n What other death you please, yourselves bestow.\u2019\n\n \u201cScarce had he said, when on the mountain\u2019s brow\n We saw the giant shepherd stalk before\n His following flock, and leading to the shore:\n A monstrous bulk, deform\u2019d, depriv\u2019d of sight;\n His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright.\n His pond\u2019rous whistle from his neck descends;\n His woolly care their pensive lord attends:\n This only solace his hard fortune sends.\n Soon as he reach\u2019d the shore and touch\u2019d the waves,\n From his bor\u2019d eye the gutt\u2019ring blood he laves:\n He gnash\u2019d his teeth, and groan\u2019d; thro\u2019 seas he strides,\n And scarce the topmost billows touch\u2019d his sides.\n\n \u201cSeiz\u2019d with a sudden fear, we run to sea,\n The cables cut, and silent haste away;\n The well-deserving stranger entertain;\n Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main.\n The giant harken\u2019d to the dashing sound:\n But, when our vessels out of reach he found,\n He strided onward, and in vain essay\u2019d\n Th\u2019 Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.\n With that he roar\u2019d aloud: the dreadful cry\n Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly\n Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy.\n The neighb\u2019ring Aetna trembling all around,\n The winding caverns echo to the sound.\n His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar,\n And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore.\n We saw their stern distorted looks, from far,\n And one-eyed glance, that vainly threaten\u2019d war:\n A dreadful council, with their heads on high;\n (The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;)\n Not yielding to the tow\u2019ring tree of Jove,\n Or tallest cypress of Diana\u2019s grove.\n New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail;\n We tug at ev\u2019ry oar, and hoist up ev\u2019ry sail,\n And take th\u2019 advantage of the friendly gale.\n Forewarn\u2019d by Helenus, we strive to shun\n Charybdis\u2019 gulf, nor dare to Scylla run.\n An equal fate on either side appears:\n We, tacking to the left, are free from fears;\n For, from Pelorus\u2019 point, the North arose,\n And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows.\n His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way\n By Thapsus and Megara\u2019s winding bay.\n This passage Achaemenides had shown,\n Tracing the course which he before had run.\n\n \u201cRight o\u2019er against Plemmyrium\u2019s wat\u2019ry strand,\n There lies an isle once call\u2019d th\u2019 Ortygian land.\n Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found\n From Greece a secret passage under ground,\n By love to beauteous Arethusa led;\n And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed.\n As Helenus enjoin\u2019d, we next adore\n Diana\u2019s name, protectress of the shore.\n With prosp\u2019rous gales we pass the quiet sounds\n Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds.\n Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey\n The rocky shore extended to the sea.\n The town of Camarine from far we see,\n And fenny lake, undrain\u2019d by fate\u2019s decree.\n In sight of the Geloan fields we pass,\n And the large walls, where mighty Gela was;\n Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown\u2019d,\n Long for the race of warlike steeds renown\u2019d.\n We pass\u2019d Selinus, and the palmy land,\n And widely shun the Lilybaean strand,\n Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand.\n At length on shore the weary fleet arriv\u2019d,\n Which Drepanum\u2019s unhappy port receiv\u2019d.\n Here, after endless labours, often toss\u2019d\n By raging storms, and driv\u2019n on ev\u2019ry coast,\n My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost:\n Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain,\n Sav\u2019d thro\u2019 a thousand toils, but sav\u2019d in vain\n The prophet, who my future woes reveal\u2019d,\n Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal\u2019d;\n And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill\n Denounc\u2019d all else, was silent of the ill.\n This my last labour was. Some friendly god\n From thence convey\u2019d us to your blest abode.\u201d\n\n Thus, to the list\u2019ning queen, the royal guest\n His wand\u2019ring course and all his toils express\u2019d;\n And here concluding, he retir\u2019d to rest.\n\n\n\n BOOK IV\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Dido discovers to her sister her passion for Aeneas, and her\n thoughts of marrying him. She prepares a hunting match for his\n entertainment. Juno, by Venus\u2019 consent, raises a storm, which\n separates the hunters, and drives Aeneas and Dido into the same\n cave, where their marriage is supposed to be completed. Jupiter\n despatches Mercury to Aeneas, to warn him from Carthage. Aeneas\n secretly prepares for his voyage. Dido finds out his design, and,\n to put a stop to it, makes use of her own and her sister\u2019s\n entreaties, and discovers all the variety of passions that are\n incident to a neglected lover. When nothing could prevail upon\n him, she contrives her own death, with which this book concludes.\n\n\n But anxious cares already seiz\u2019d the queen:\n She fed within her veins a flame unseen;\n The hero\u2019s valour, acts, and birth inspire\n Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire.\n His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart,\n Improve the passion, and increase the smart.\n Now, when the purple morn had chas\u2019d away\n The dewy shadows, and restor\u2019d the day,\n Her sister first with early care she sought,\n And thus in mournful accents eas\u2019d her thought:\n\n \u201cMy dearest Anna, what new dreams affright\n My lab\u2019ring soul! what visions of the night\n Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast\n With strange ideas of our Trojan guest!\n His worth, his actions, and majestic air,\n A man descended from the gods declare.\n Fear ever argues a degenerate kind;\n His birth is well asserted by his mind.\n Then, what he suffer\u2019d, when by Fate betray\u2019d!\n What brave attempts for falling Troy he made!\n Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke,\n That, were I not resolv\u2019d against the yoke\n Of hapless marriage, never to be curst\n With second love, so fatal was my first,\n To this one error I might yield again;\n For, since Sichaeus was untimely slain,\n This only man is able to subvert\n The fix\u2019d foundations of my stubborn heart.\n And, to confess my frailty, to my shame,\n Somewhat I find within, if not the same,\n Too like the sparkles of my former flame.\n But first let yawning earth a passage rend,\n And let me thro\u2019 the dark abyss descend;\n First let avenging Jove, with flames from high,\n Drive down this body to the nether sky,\n Condemn\u2019d with ghosts in endless night to lie,\n Before I break the plighted faith I gave!\n No! he who had my vows shall ever have;\n For, whom I lov\u2019d on earth, I worship in the grave.\u201d\n\n She said: the tears ran gushing from her eyes,\n And stopp\u2019d her speech. Her sister thus replies:\n \u201cO dearer than the vital air I breathe,\n Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath,\n Condemn\u2019d to waste in woes your lonely life,\n Without the joys of mother or of wife?\n Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,\n Are known or valued by the ghosts below?\n I grant that, while your sorrows yet were green,\n It well became a woman, and a queen,\n The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect,\n To scorn Hyarbas, and his love reject,\n With all the Libyan lords of mighty name;\n But will you fight against a pleasing flame!\n This little spot of land, which Heav\u2019n bestows,\n On ev\u2019ry side is hemm\u2019d with warlike foes;\n Gaetulian cities here are spread around,\n And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound;\n Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land,\n And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand;\n Barcaean troops besiege the narrow shore,\n And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more.\n Propitious Heav\u2019n, and gracious Juno, lead\n This wand\u2019ring navy to your needful aid:\n How will your empire spread, your city rise,\n From such a union, and with such allies?\n Implore the favour of the pow\u2019rs above,\n And leave the conduct of the rest to love.\n Continue still your hospitable way,\n And still invent occasions of their stay,\n Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat,\n And planks and oars repair their shatter\u2019d fleet.\u201d\n\n These words, which from a friend and sister came,\n With ease resolv\u2019d the scruples of her fame,\n And added fury to the kindled flame.\n Inspir\u2019d with hope, the project they pursue;\n On ev\u2019ry altar sacrifice renew:\n A chosen ewe of two years old they pay\n To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Day;\n Preferring Juno\u2019s pow\u2019r, for Juno ties\n The nuptial knot and makes the marriage joys.\n The beauteous queen before her altar stands,\n And holds the golden goblet in her hands.\n A milk-white heifer she with flow\u2019rs adorns,\n And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns;\n And, while the priests with pray\u2019r the gods invoke,\n She feeds their altars with Sabaean smoke,\n With hourly care the sacrifice renews,\n And anxiously the panting entrails views.\n What priestly rites, alas! what pious art,\n What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart!\n A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,\n Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.\n\n Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves,\n From street to street the raving Dido roves.\n So when the watchful shepherd, from the blind,\n Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind,\n Distracted with her pain she flies the woods,\n Bounds o\u2019er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods,\n With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart\n Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart.\n And now she leads the Trojan chief along\n The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng;\n Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town,\n Which love, without his labour, makes his own.\n This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand\u2019ring guest;\n Her falt\u2019ring tongue forbids to speak the rest.\n When day declines, and feasts renew the night,\n Still on his face she feeds her famish\u2019d sight;\n She longs again to hear the prince relate\n His own adventures and the Trojan fate.\n He tells it o\u2019er and o\u2019er; but still in vain,\n For still she begs to hear it once again.\n The hearer on the speaker\u2019s mouth depends,\n And thus the tragic story never ends.\n\n Then, when they part, when Phoebe\u2019s paler light\n Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite,\n She last remains, when ev\u2019ry guest is gone,\n Sits on the bed he press\u2019d, and sighs alone;\n Absent, her absent hero sees and hears;\n Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears,\n And seeks the father\u2019s image in the child,\n If love by likeness might be so beguil\u2019d.\n\n Meantime the rising tow\u2019rs are at a stand;\n No labours exercise the youthful band,\n Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know;\n The mole is left unfinish\u2019d to the foe;\n The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie,\n Short of their promis\u2019d heighth, that seem\u2019d to threat the sky,\n\n But when imperial Juno, from above,\n Saw Dido fetter\u2019d in the chains of love,\n Hot with the venom which her veins inflam\u2019d,\n And by no sense of shame to be reclaim\u2019d,\n With soothing words to Venus she begun:\n \u201cHigh praises, endless honours, you have won,\n And mighty trophies, with your worthy son!\n Two gods a silly woman have undone!\n Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect\n This rising city, which my hands erect:\n But shall celestial discord never cease?\n \u2019Tis better ended in a lasting peace.\n You stand possess\u2019d of all your soul desir\u2019d:\n Poor Dido with consuming love is fir\u2019d.\n Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join;\n So Dido shall be yours, Aeneas mine:\n One common kingdom, one united line.\n Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey,\n And lofty Carthage for a dow\u2019r convey.\u201d\n Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried,\n Which would the scepter of the world misguide\n To Libyan shores, thus artfully replied:\n \u201cWho, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose,\n And such alliance and such gifts refuse,\n If Fortune with our joint desires comply?\n The doubt is all from Jove and destiny;\n Lest he forbid, with absolute command,\n To mix the people in one common land.\n Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line\n In lasting leagues and sure succession join?\n But you, the partner of his bed and throne,\n May move his mind; my wishes are your own.\u201d\n\n \u201cMine,\u201d said imperial Juno, \u201cbe the care;\n Time urges, now, to perfect this affair:\n Attend my counsel, and the secret share.\n When next the Sun his rising light displays,\n And gilds the world below with purple rays,\n The queen, Aeneas, and the Tyrian court\n Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort.\n There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around,\n And cheerful horns from side to side resound,\n A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain\n With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain;\n The fearful train shall take their speedy flight,\n Dispers\u2019d, and all involv\u2019d in gloomy night;\n One cave a grateful shelter shall afford\n To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.\n I will myself the bridal bed prepare,\n If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there:\n So shall their loves be crown\u2019d with due delights,\n And Hymen shall be present at the rites.\u201d\n The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles\n At her vain project, and discover\u2019d wiles.\n\n The rosy morn was risen from the main,\n And horns and hounds awake the princely train:\n They issue early thro\u2019 the city gate,\n Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait,\n With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force\n Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse.\n The Tyrian peers and officers of state\n For the slow queen in antechambers wait;\n Her lofty courser, in the court below,\n Who his majestic rider seems to know,\n Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground,\n And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around.\n The queen at length appears; on either hand\n The brawny guards in martial order stand.\n A flow\u2019r\u2019d simar with golden fringe she wore,\n And at her back a golden quiver bore;\n Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains,\n A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.\n Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,\n Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase.\n But far above the rest in beauty shines\n The great Aeneas, the troop he joins;\n Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost\n Of wint\u2019ry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast,\n When to his native Delos he resorts,\n Ordains the dances, and renews the sports;\n Where painted Scythians, mix\u2019d with Cretan bands,\n Before the joyful altars join their hands:\n Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below\n The merry madness of the sacred show.\n Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose;\n A golden fillet binds his awful brows;\n His quiver sounds: not less the prince is seen\n In manly presence, or in lofty mien.\n\n Now had they reach\u2019d the hills, and storm\u2019d the seat\n Of salvage beasts, in dens, their last retreat.\n The cry pursues the mountain goats: they bound\n From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground;\n Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train,\n In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain,\n And a long chase in open view maintain.\n The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides,\n Spurs thro\u2019 the vale, and these and those outrides.\n His horse\u2019s flanks and sides are forc\u2019d to feel\n The clanking lash, and goring of the steel.\n Impatiently he views the feeble prey,\n Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way,\n And rather would the tusky boar attend,\n Or see the tawny lion downward bend.\n\n Meantime, the gath\u2019ring clouds obscure the skies:\n From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;\n The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours\n A wintry deluge down, and sounding show\u2019rs.\n The company, dispers\u2019d, to converts ride,\n And seek the homely cots, or mountain\u2019s hollow side.\n The rapid rains, descending from the hills,\n To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.\n The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides,\n One common cavern in her bosom hides.\n Then first the trembling earth the signal gave,\n And flashing fires enlighten all the cave;\n Hell from below, and Juno from above,\n And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love.\n From this ill-omen\u2019d hour in time arose\n Debate and death, and all succeeding woes.\n\n The queen, whom sense of honour could not move,\n No longer made a secret of her love,\n But call\u2019d it marriage, by that specious name\n To veil the crime and sanctify the shame.\n\n The loud report thro\u2019 Libyan cities goes.\n Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows:\n Swift from the first; and ev\u2019ry moment brings\n New vigour to her flights, new pinions to her wings.\n Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;\n Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.\n Inrag\u2019d against the gods, revengeful Earth\n Produc\u2019d her last of the Titanian birth.\n Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste:\n A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.\n As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,\n So many piercing eyes inlarge her sight;\n Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong,\n And ev\u2019ry mouth is furnish\u2019d with a tongue,\n And round with list\u2019ning ears the flying plague is hung.\n She fills the peaceful universe with cries;\n No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes;\n By day, from lofty tow\u2019rs her head she shews,\n And spreads thro\u2019 trembling crowds disastrous news;\n With court informers haunts, and royal spies;\n Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with\n lies.\n\n Talk is her business, and her chief delight\n To tell of prodigies and cause affright.\n She fills the people\u2019s ears with Dido\u2019s name,\n Who, lost to honour and the sense of shame,\n Admits into her throne and nuptial bed\n A wand\u2019ring guest, who from his country fled:\n Whole days with him she passes in delights,\n And wastes in luxury long winter nights,\n Forgetful of her fame and royal trust,\n Dissolv\u2019d in ease, abandon\u2019d to her lust.\n\n The goddess widely spreads the loud report,\n And flies at length to King Hyarba\u2019s court.\n When first possess\u2019d with this unwelcome news\n Whom did he not of men and gods accuse?\n This prince, from ravish\u2019d Garamantis born,\n A hundred temples did with spoils adorn,\n In Ammon\u2019s honour, his celestial sire;\n A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire;\n And, thro\u2019 his vast dominions, priests ordain\u2019d,\n Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain\u2019d.\n The gates and columns were with garlands crown\u2019d,\n And blood of victim beasts enrich\u2019d the ground.\n\n He, when he heard a fugitive could move\n The Tyrian princess, who disdain\u2019d his love,\n His breast with fury burn\u2019d, his eyes with fire,\n Mad with despair, impatient with desire;\n Then on the sacred altars pouring wine,\n He thus with pray\u2019rs implor\u2019d his sire divine:\n \u201cGreat Jove! propitious to the Moorish race,\n Who feast on painted beds, with off\u2019rings grace\n Thy temples, and adore thy pow\u2019r divine\n With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine,\n Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain\n Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign?\n Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance?\n Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance?\n A wand\u2019ring woman builds, within our state,\n A little town, bought at an easy rate;\n She pays me homage, and my grants allow\n A narrow space of Libyan lands to plow;\n Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led,\n Admits a banish\u2019d Trojan to her bed!\n And now this other Paris, with his train\n Of conquer\u2019d cowards, must in Afric reign!\n (Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess,\n Their locks with oil perfum\u2019d, their Lydian dress.)\n He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame;\n And I, rejected I, adore an empty name.\u201d\n\n His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr\u2019d,\n And held his altar\u2019s horns. The mighty Thund\u2019rer heard;\n Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found\n The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown\u2019d,\n Lost in their loves, insensible of shame,\n And both forgetful of their better fame.\n He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends,\n By whom his menacing command he sends:\n \u201cGo, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky;\n Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly:\n There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days\n In slothful riot and inglorious ease,\n Nor minds the future city, giv\u2019n by fate.\n To him this message from my mouth relate:\n \u2018Not so fair Venus hop\u2019d, when twice she won\n Thy life with pray\u2019rs, nor promis\u2019d such a son.\n Hers was a hero, destin\u2019d to command\n A martial race, and rule the Latian land,\n Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw,\n And on the conquer\u2019d world impose the law.\u2019\n If glory cannot move a mind so mean,\n Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean,\n Yet why should he defraud his son of fame,\n And grudge the Romans their immortal name!\n What are his vain designs! what hopes he more\n From his long ling\u2019ring on a hostile shore,\n Regardless to redeem his honour lost,\n And for his race to gain th\u2019 Ausonian coast!\n Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake;\n With this command the slumb\u2019ring warrior wake.\u201d\n\n Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds\n His flying feet, and mounts the western winds:\n And, whether o\u2019er the seas or earth he flies,\n With rapid force they bear him down the skies.\n But first he grasps within his awful hand\n The mark of sov\u2019reign pow\u2019r, his magic wand;\n With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves;\n With this he drives them down the Stygian waves;\n With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight,\n And eyes, tho\u2019 clos\u2019d in death, restores to light.\n Thus arm\u2019d, the god begins his airy race,\n And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space;\n Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies,\n Whose brawny back supports the starry skies;\n Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown\u2019d,\n Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapours bound.\n Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin\n The founts of rolling streams their race begin;\n A beard of ice on his large breast depends.\n Here, pois\u2019d upon his wings, the god descends:\n Then, rested thus, he from the tow\u2019ring height\n Plung\u2019d downward, with precipitated flight,\n Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood.\n As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food,\n Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show;\n By turns they dance aloft, and dive below:\n Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies,\n And near the surface of the water flies,\n Till, having pass\u2019d the seas, and cross\u2019d the sands,\n He clos\u2019d his wings, and stoop\u2019d on Libyan lands:\n Where shepherds once were hous\u2019d in homely sheds,\n Now tow\u2019rs within the clouds advance their heads.\n Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince\n New ramparts raising for the town\u2019s defence.\n A purple scarf, with gold embroider\u2019d o\u2019er,\n (Queen Dido\u2019s gift,) about his waist he wore;\n A sword, with glitt\u2019ring gems diversified,\n For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side.\n\n Then thus, with winged words, the god began,\n Resuming his own shape: \u201cDegenerate man,\n Thou woman\u2019s property, what mak\u2019st thou here,\n These foreign walls and Tyrian tow\u2019rs to rear,\n Forgetful of thy own? All-pow\u2019rful Jove,\n Who sways the world below and heav\u2019n above,\n Has sent me down with this severe command:\n What means thy ling\u2019ring in the Libyan land?\n If glory cannot move a mind so mean,\n Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean,\n Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir:\n The promis\u2019d crown let young Ascanius wear,\n To whom th\u2019 Ausonian scepter, and the state\n Of Rome\u2019s imperial name is ow\u2019d by fate.\u201d\n So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight,\n Involv\u2019d in clouds, and vanish\u2019d out of sight.\n\n The pious prince was seiz\u2019d with sudden fear;\n Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair.\n Revolving in his mind the stern command,\n He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land.\n What should he say? or how should he begin?\n What course, alas! remains to steer between\n Th\u2019 offended lover and the pow\u2019rful queen?\n This way and that he turns his anxious mind,\n And all expedients tries, and none can find.\n Fix\u2019d on the deed, but doubtful of the means,\n After long thought, to this advice he leans:\n Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair\n The fleet, and ship their men with silent care;\n Some plausible pretence he bids them find,\n To colour what in secret he design\u2019d.\n Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose,\n Before the love-sick lady heard the news;\n And move her tender mind, by slow degrees,\n To suffer what the sov\u2019reign pow\u2019r decrees:\n Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say.\n They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey.\n\n But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise:\n (What arts can blind a jealous woman\u2019s eyes!)\n She was the first to find the secret fraud,\n Before the fatal news was blaz\u2019d abroad.\n Love the first motions of the lover hears,\n Quick to presage, and ev\u2019n in safety fears.\n Nor impious Fame was wanting to report\n The ships repair\u2019d, the Trojans\u2019 thick resort,\n And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court.\n Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound,\n And impotent of mind, she roves the city round.\n Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear,\n When, from afar, their nightly god they hear,\n And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy spear.\n At length she finds the dear perfidious man;\n Prevents his form\u2019d excuse, and thus began:\n \u201cBase and ungrateful! could you hope to fly,\n And undiscover\u2019d scape a lover\u2019s eye?\n Nor could my kindness your compassion move.\n Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love?\n Or is the death of a despairing queen\n Not worth preventing, tho\u2019 too well foreseen?\n Ev\u2019n when the wintry winds command your stay,\n You dare the tempests, and defy the sea.\n False as you are, suppose you were not bound\n To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound;\n Were Troy restor\u2019d, and Priam\u2019s happy reign,\n Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main?\n See whom you fly! am I the foe you shun?\n Now, by those holy vows, so late begun,\n By this right hand, (since I have nothing more\n To challenge, but the faith you gave before;)\n I beg you by these tears too truly shed,\n By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed;\n If ever Dido, when you most were kind,\n Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch\u2019d your mind;\n By these my pray\u2019rs, if pray\u2019rs may yet have place,\n Pity the fortunes of a falling race.\n For you I have provok\u2019d a tyrant\u2019s hate,\n Incens\u2019d the Libyan and the Tyrian state;\n For you alone I suffer in my fame,\n Bereft of honour, and expos\u2019d to shame.\n Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest?\n (That only name remains of all the rest!)\n What have I left? or whither can I fly?\n Must I attend Pygmalion\u2019s cruelty,\n Or till Hyarba shall in triumph lead\n A queen that proudly scorn\u2019d his proffer\u2019d bed?\n Had you deferr\u2019d, at least, your hasty flight,\n And left behind some pledge of our delight,\n Some babe to bless the mother\u2019s mournful sight,\n Some young Aeneas, to supply your place,\n Whose features might express his father\u2019s face;\n I should not then complain to live bereft\n Of all my husband, or be wholly left.\u201d\n\n Here paus\u2019d the queen. Unmov\u2019d he holds his eyes,\n By Jove\u2019s command; nor suffer\u2019d love to rise,\n Tho\u2019 heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies:\n \u201cFair queen, you never can enough repeat\n Your boundless favours, or I own my debt;\n Nor can my mind forget Eliza\u2019s name,\n While vital breath inspires this mortal frame.\n This only let me speak in my defence:\n I never hop\u2019d a secret flight from hence,\n Much less pretended to the lawful claim\n Of sacred nuptials, or a husband\u2019s name.\n For, if indulgent Heav\u2019n would leave me free,\n And not submit my life to fate\u2019s decree,\n My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore,\n Those relics to review, their dust adore,\n And Priam\u2019s ruin\u2019d palace to restore.\n But now the Delphian oracle commands,\n And fate invites me to the Latian lands.\n That is the promis\u2019d place to which I steer,\n And all my vows are terminated there.\n If you, a Tyrian, and a stranger born,\n With walls and tow\u2019rs a Libyan town adorn,\n Why may not we, like you, a foreign race,\n Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place?\n As often as the night obscures the skies\n With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise,\n Anchises\u2019 angry ghost in dreams appears,\n Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears;\n And young Ascanius justly may complain\n Of his defrauded and destin\u2019d reign.\n Ev\u2019n now the herald of the gods appear\u2019d:\n Waking I saw him, and his message heard.\n From Jove he came commission\u2019d, heav\u2019nly bright\n With radiant beams, and manifest to sight\n (The sender and the sent I both attest)\n These walls he enter\u2019d, and those words express\u2019d.\n Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command;\n Forc\u2019d by my fate, I leave your happy land.\u201d\n\n Thus while he spoke, already she began,\n With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man;\n From head to foot survey\u2019d his person o\u2019er,\n Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore:\n \u201cFalse as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn!\n Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born,\n But hewn from harden\u2019d entrails of a rock!\n And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck!\n Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear?\n Did he once look, or lent a list\u2019ning ear,\n Sigh\u2019d when I sobb\u2019d, or shed one kindly tear?\n All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind,\n So foul, that, which is worse, \u2019tis hard to find.\n Of man\u2019s injustice why should I complain?\n The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain\n Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies,\n Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes;\n Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!\n Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more!\n I sav\u2019d the shipwreck\u2019d exile on my shore;\n With needful food his hungry Trojans fed;\n I took the traitor to my throne and bed:\n Fool that I was\u2014\u2014 \u2019tis little to repeat\n The rest, I stor\u2019d and rigg\u2019d his ruin\u2019d fleet.\n I rave, I rave! A god\u2019s command he pleads,\n And makes Heav\u2019n accessary to his deeds.\n Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god,\n Now Hermes is employ\u2019d from Jove\u2019s abode,\n To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state\n Of heav\u2019nly pow\u2019rs were touch\u2019d with human fate!\n But go! thy flight no longer I detain;\n Go seek thy promis\u2019d kingdom thro\u2019 the main!\n Yet, if the heav\u2019ns will hear my pious vow,\n The faithless waves, not half so false as thou,\n Or secret sands, shall sepulchers afford\n To thy proud vessels, and their perjur\u2019d lord.\n Then shalt thou call on injur\u2019d Dido\u2019s name:\n Dido shall come in a black sulph\u2019ry flame,\n When death has once dissolv\u2019d her mortal frame;\n Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep:\n Her angry ghost, arising from the deep,\n Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep.\n At least my shade thy punishment shall know,\n And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below.\u201d\n\n Abruptly here she stops; then turns away\n Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day.\n Amaz\u2019d he stood, revolving in his mind\n What speech to frame, and what excuse to find.\n Her fearful maids their fainting mistress led,\n And softly laid her on her ivory bed.\n\n But good Aeneas, tho\u2019 he much desir\u2019d\n To give that pity which her grief requir\u2019d;\n Tho\u2019 much he mourn\u2019d, and labour\u2019d with his love,\n Resolv\u2019d at length, obeys the will of Jove;\n Reviews his forces: they with early care\n Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare.\n The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride,\n And well-calk\u2019d galleys in the harbour ride.\n Then oaks for oars they fell\u2019d; or, as they stood,\n Of its green arms despoil\u2019d the growing wood,\n Studious of flight. The beach is cover\u2019d o\u2019er\n With Trojan bands, that blacken all the shore:\n On ev\u2019ry side are seen, descending down,\n Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town.\n Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants,\n Fearful of winter, and of future wants,\n T\u2019 invade the corn, and to their cells convey\n The plunder\u2019d forage of their yellow prey.\n The sable troops, along the narrow tracks,\n Scarce bear the weighty burthen on their backs:\n Some set their shoulders to the pond\u2019rous grain;\n Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train;\n All ply their sev\u2019ral tasks, and equal toil sustain.\n\n What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore,\n When, from the tow\u2019r, she saw the cover\u2019d shore,\n And heard the shouts of sailors from afar,\n Mix\u2019d with the murmurs of the wat\u2019ry war!\n All-pow\u2019rful Love! what changes canst thou cause\n In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!\n Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends:\n To pray\u2019rs and mean submissions she descends.\n No female arts or aids she left untried,\n Nor counsels unexplor\u2019d, before she died.\n \u201cLook, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea;\n They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh.\n The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind,\n Invoke the sea gods, and invite the wind.\n Could I have thought this threat\u2019ning blow so near,\n My tender soul had been forewarn\u2019d to bear.\n But do not you my last request deny;\n With yon perfidious man your int\u2019rest try,\n And bring me news, if I must live or die.\n You are his fav\u2019rite; you alone can find\n The dark recesses of his inmost mind:\n In all his trusted secrets you have part,\n And know the soft approaches to his heart.\n Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe;\n Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go,\n Nor did my fleet against his friends employ,\n Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy,\n Nor mov\u2019d with hands profane his father\u2019s dust:\n Why should he then reject a suit so just!\n Whom does he shun, and whither would he fly!\n Can he this last, this only pray\u2019r deny!\n Let him at least his dang\u2019rous flight delay,\n Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea.\n The nuptials he disclaims I urge no more:\n Let him pursue the promis\u2019d Latian shore.\n A short delay is all I ask him now;\n A pause of grief, an interval from woe,\n Till my soft soul be temper\u2019d to sustain\n Accustom\u2019d sorrows, and inur\u2019d to pain.\n If you in pity grant this one request,\n My death shall glut the hatred of his breast.\u201d\n This mournful message pious Anna bears,\n And seconds with her own her sister\u2019s tears:\n But all her arts are still employ\u2019d in vain;\n Again she comes, and is refus\u2019d again.\n His harden\u2019d heart nor pray\u2019rs nor threat\u2019nings move;\n Fate, and the god, had stopp\u2019d his ears to love.\n\n As, when the winds their airy quarrel try,\n Justling from ev\u2019ry quarter of the sky,\n This way and that the mountain oak they bend,\n His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend;\n With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground;\n The hollow valleys echo to the sound:\n Unmov\u2019d, the royal plant their fury mocks,\n Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks;\n Far as he shoots his tow\u2019ring head on high,\n So deep in earth his fix\u2019d foundations lie.\n No less a storm the Trojan hero bears;\n Thick messages and loud complaints he hears,\n And bandied words, still beating on his ears.\n Sighs, groans, and tears proclaim his inward pains;\n But the firm purpose of his heart remains.\n\n The wretched queen, pursued by cruel fate,\n Begins at length the light of heav\u2019n to hate,\n And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees,\n To hasten on the death her soul decrees:\n Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine,\n She pours in sacrifice the purple wine,\n The purple wine is turn\u2019d to putrid blood,\n And the white offer\u2019d milk converts to mud.\n This dire presage, to her alone reveal\u2019d,\n From all, and ev\u2019n her sister, she conceal\u2019d.\n A marble temple stood within the grove,\n Sacred to death, and to her murder\u2019d love;\n That honour\u2019d chapel she had hung around\n With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown\u2019d:\n Oft, when she visited this lonely dome,\n Strange voices issued from her husband\u2019s tomb;\n She thought she heard him summon her away,\n Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay.\n Hourly \u2019tis heard, when with a boding note\n The solitary screech owl strains her throat,\n And, on a chimney\u2019s top, or turret\u2019s height,\n With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night.\n Besides, old prophecies augment her fears;\n And stern Aeneas in her dreams appears,\n Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone,\n To wander in her sleep, thro\u2019 ways unknown,\n Guideless and dark; or, in a desert plain,\n To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain:\n Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear,\n He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear;\n Or mad Orestes, when his mother\u2019s ghost\n Full in his face infernal torches toss\u2019d,\n And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight,\n Flies o\u2019er the stage, surpris\u2019d with mortal fright;\n The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight.\n\n Now, sinking underneath a load of grief,\n From death alone she seeks her last relief;\n The time and means resolv\u2019d within her breast,\n She to her mournful sister thus address\u2019d\n (Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears,\n And a false vigour in her eyes appears):\n \u201cRejoice!\u201d she said. \u201cInstructed from above,\n My lover I shall gain, or lose my love.\n Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun,\n Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run:\n There a Massylian priestess I have found,\n Honour\u2019d for age, for magic arts renown\u2019d:\n Th\u2019 Hesperian temple was her trusted care;\n \u2019Twas she supplied the wakeful dragon\u2019s fare.\n She poppy seeds in honey taught to steep,\n Reclaim\u2019d his rage, and sooth\u2019d him into sleep.\n She watch\u2019d the golden fruit; her charms unbind\n The chains of love, or fix them on the mind:\n She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry,\n Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.\n The yawning earth rebellows to her call,\n Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall.\n Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part,\n How loth I am to try this impious art!\n Within the secret court, with silent care,\n Erect a lofty pile, expos\u2019d in air:\n Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest,\n Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest.\n Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac\u2019d,\n Where I my ruin in his arms embrac\u2019d:\n All relics of the wretch are doom\u2019d to fire;\n For so the priestess and her charms require.\u201d\n\n Thus far she said, and farther speech forbears;\n A mortal paleness in her face appears:\n Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find\n The secret fun\u2019ral in these rites design\u2019d;\n Nor thought so dire a rage possess\u2019d her mind.\n Unknowing of a train conceal\u2019d so well,\n She fear\u2019d no worse than when Sichaeus fell;\n Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear,\n Within the secret court, expos\u2019d in air.\n The cloven holms and pines are heap\u2019d on high,\n And garlands on the hollow spaces lie.\n Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath,\n And ev\u2019ry baleful green denoting death.\n The queen, determin\u2019d to the fatal deed,\n The spoils and sword he left, in order spread,\n And the man\u2019s image on the nuptial bed.\n\n And now (the sacred altars plac\u2019d around)\n The priestess enters, with her hair unbound,\n And thrice invokes the pow\u2019rs below the ground.\n Night, Erebus, and Chaos she proclaims,\n And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names,\n And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round\n With feign\u2019d Avernian drops the hallow\u2019d ground;\n Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe\u2019s light,\n With brazen sickles reap\u2019d at noon of night;\n Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl,\n And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal,\n Robbing the mother\u2019s love. The destin\u2019d queen\n Observes, assisting at the rites obscene;\n A leaven\u2019d cake in her devoted hands\n She holds, and next the highest altar stands:\n One tender foot was shod, her other bare;\n Girt was her gather\u2019d gown, and loose her hair.\n Thus dress\u2019d, she summon\u2019d, with her dying breath,\n The heav\u2019ns and planets conscious of her death,\n And ev\u2019ry pow\u2019r, if any rules above,\n Who minds, or who revenges, injur\u2019d love.\n\n \u201c\u2019Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close\n Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose:\n The winds no longer whisper thro\u2019 the woods,\n Nor murm\u2019ring tides disturb the gentle floods.\n The stars in silent order mov\u2019d around;\n And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground\n The flocks and herds, and party-colour\u2019d fowl,\n Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool,\n Stretch\u2019d on the quiet earth, securely lay,\n Forgetting the past labours of the day.\n All else of nature\u2019s common gift partake:\n Unhappy Dido was alone awake.\n Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find;\n Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind.\n Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart;\n Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.\n\n Then thus she said within her secret mind:\n \u201cWhat shall I do? what succour can I find?\n Become a suppliant to Hyarba\u2019s pride,\n And take my turn, to court and be denied?\n Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,\n Forsake an empire, and attend a foe?\n Himself I refug\u2019d, and his train reliev\u2019d;\n \u2019Tis true; but am I sure to be receiv\u2019d?\n Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place!\n Laomedon still lives in all his race!\n Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew,\n Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue?\n What force have I but those whom scarce before\n I drew reluctant from their native shore?\n Will they again embark at my desire,\n Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre?\n Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,\n And take the fortune thou thyself hast made.\n Your pity, sister, first seduc\u2019d my mind,\n Or seconded too well what I design\u2019d.\n These dear-bought pleasures had I never known,\n Had I continued free, and still my own;\n Avoiding love, I had not found despair,\n But shar\u2019d with salvage beasts the common air.\n Like them, a lonely life I might have led,\n Not mourn\u2019d the living, nor disturb\u2019d the dead.\u201d\n These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast.\n On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.\n Resolv\u2019d to sail, in sleep he pass\u2019d the night;\n And order\u2019d all things for his early flight.\n\n To whom once more the winged god appears;\n His former youthful mien and shape he wears,\n And with this new alarm invades his ears:\n \u201cSleep\u2019st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou drown\n Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town,\n Beset with foes; nor hear\u2019st the western gales\n Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails?\n She harbours in her heart a furious hate,\n And thou shalt find the dire effects too late;\n Fix\u2019d on revenge, and obstinate to die.\n Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow\u2019r to fly.\n The sea with ships will soon be cover\u2019d o\u2019er,\n And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore.\n Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies,\n And sail before the purple morn arise.\n Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?\n Woman\u2019s a various and a changeful thing.\u201d\n Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight\n Aloft in air unseen, and mix\u2019d with night.\n\n Twice warn\u2019d by the celestial messenger,\n The pious prince arose with hasty fear;\n Then rous\u2019d his drowsy train without delay:\n \u201cHaste to your banks; your crooked anchors weigh,\n And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea.\n A god commands: he stood before my sight,\n And urg\u2019d us once again to speedy flight.\n O sacred pow\u2019r, what pow\u2019r soe\u2019er thou art,\n To thy blest orders I resign my heart.\n Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands,\n And prosper the design thy will commands.\u201d\n He said: and, drawing forth his flaming sword,\n His thund\u2019ring arm divides the many-twisted cord.\n An emulating zeal inspires his train:\n They run; they snatch; they rush into the main.\n With headlong haste they leave the desert shores,\n And brush the liquid seas with lab\u2019ring oars.\n\n Aurora now had left her saffron bed,\n And beams of early light the heav\u2019ns o\u2019erspread,\n When, from a tow\u2019r, the queen, with wakeful eyes,\n Saw day point upward from the rosy skies.\n She look\u2019d to seaward; but the sea was void,\n And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried.\n Stung with despite, and furious with despair,\n She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair.\n \u201cAnd shall th\u2019 ungrateful traitor go,\u201d she said,\n \u201cMy land forsaken, and my love betray\u2019d?\n Shall we not arm? not rush from ev\u2019ry street,\n To follow, sink, and burn his perjur\u2019d fleet?\n Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe!\n Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row!\n What have I said? where am I? Fury turns\n My brain; and my distemper\u2019d bosom burns.\n Then, when I gave my person and my throne,\n This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown.\n See now the promis\u2019d faith, the vaunted name,\n The pious man, who, rushing thro\u2019 the flame,\n Preserv\u2019d his gods, and to the Phrygian shore\n The burthen of his feeble father bore!\n I should have torn him piecemeal; strow\u2019d in floods\n His scatter\u2019d limbs, or left expos\u2019d in woods;\n Destroy\u2019d his friends and son; and, from the fire,\n Have set the reeking boy before the sire.\n Events are doubtful, which on battles wait:\n Yet where\u2019s the doubt, to souls secure of fate?\n My Tyrians, at their injur\u2019d queen\u2019s command,\n Had toss\u2019d their fires amid the Trojan band;\n At once extinguish\u2019d all the faithless name;\n And I myself, in vengeance of my shame,\n Had fall\u2019n upon the pile, to mend the fun\u2019ral flame.\n Thou Sun, who view\u2019st at once the world below;\n Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow;\n Thou Hecate hearken from thy dark abodes!\n Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods,\n All pow\u2019rs invok\u2019d with Dido\u2019s dying breath,\n Attend her curses and avenge her death!\n If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands,\n Th\u2019 ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands,\n Yet let a race untam\u2019d, and haughty foes,\n His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose:\n Oppress\u2019d with numbers in th\u2019 unequal field,\n His men discourag\u2019d, and himself expell\u2019d,\n Let him for succour sue from place to place,\n Torn from his subjects, and his son\u2019s embrace.\n First, let him see his friends in battle slain,\n And their untimely fate lament in vain;\n And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease,\n On hard conditions may he buy his peace:\n Nor let him then enjoy supreme command;\n But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand,\n And lie unburied on the barren sand!\n These are my pray\u2019rs, and this my dying will;\n And you, my Tyrians, ev\u2019ry curse fulfil.\n Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim,\n Against the prince, the people, and the name.\n These grateful off\u2019rings on my grave bestow;\n Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know!\n Now, and from hence, in ev\u2019ry future age,\n When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage\n Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood,\n With fire and sword pursue the perjur\u2019d brood;\n Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos\u2019d to theirs;\n And the same hate descend on all our heirs!\u201d\n\n This said, within her anxious mind she weighs\n The means of cutting short her odious days.\n Then to Sichaeus\u2019 nurse she briefly said\n (For, when she left her country, hers was dead):\n \u201cGo, Barce, call my sister. Let her care\n The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare;\n The sheep, and all th\u2019 atoning off\u2019rings bring,\n Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring\n With living drops; then let her come, and thou\n With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow.\n Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove,\n And end the cares of my disastrous love;\n Then cast the Trojan image on the fire,\n And, as that burns, my passions shall expire.\u201d\n\n The nurse moves onward, with officious care,\n And all the speed her aged limbs can bear.\n But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv\u2019d,\n Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv\u2019d.\n With livid spots distinguish\u2019d was her face;\n Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos\u2019d her pace;\n Ghastly she gaz\u2019d, with pain she drew her breath,\n And nature shiver\u2019d at approaching death.\n\n Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass\u2019d,\n And mounts the fun\u2019ral pile with furious haste;\n Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind\n (Not for so dire an enterprise design\u2019d).\n But when she view\u2019d the garments loosely spread,\n Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed,\n She paus\u2019d, and with a sigh the robes embrac\u2019d;\n Then on the couch her trembling body cast,\n Repress\u2019d the ready tears, and spoke her last:\n \u201cDear pledges of my love, while Heav\u2019n so pleas\u2019d,\n Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas\u2019d:\n My fatal course is finish\u2019d; and I go,\n A glorious name, among the ghosts below.\n A lofty city by my hands is rais\u2019d,\n Pygmalion punish\u2019d, and my lord appeas\u2019d.\n What could my fortune have afforded more,\n Had the false Trojan never touch\u2019d my shore!\u201d\n Then kiss\u2019d the couch; and, \u201cMust I die,\u201d she said,\n \u201cAnd unreveng\u2019d? \u2019Tis doubly to be dead!\n Yet ev\u2019n this death with pleasure I receive:\n On any terms, \u2019tis better than to live.\n These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view;\n These boding omens his base flight pursue!\u201d\n\n She said, and struck; deep enter\u2019d in her side\n The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed:\n Clogg\u2019d in the wound the cruel weapon stands;\n The spouting blood came streaming on her hands.\n Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke,\n And with loud cries the sounding palace shook.\n Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled,\n And thro\u2019 the town the dismal rumour spread.\n First from the frighted court the yell began;\n Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran:\n The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries\n Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies.\n Not less the clamour, than if ancient Tyre,\n Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire,\n The rolling ruin, with their lov\u2019d abodes,\n Involv\u2019d the blazing temples of their gods.\n\n Her sister hears; and, furious with despair,\n She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair,\n And, calling on Eliza\u2019s name aloud,\n Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.\n \u201cWas all that pomp of woe for this prepar\u2019d;\n These fires, this fun\u2019ral pile, these altars rear\u2019d?\n Was all this train of plots contriv\u2019d,\u201d said she,\n \u201cAll only to deceive unhappy me?\n Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend\n To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend?\n Thy summon\u2019d sister, and thy friend, had come;\n One sword had serv\u2019d us both, one common tomb:\n Was I to raise the pile, the pow\u2019rs invoke,\n Not to be present at the fatal stroke?\n At once thou hast destroy\u2019d thyself and me,\n Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony!\n Bring water; bathe the wound; while I in death\n Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath.\u201d\n This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste,\n And in her arms the gasping queen embrac\u2019d;\n Her temples chaf\u2019d; and her own garments tore,\n To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore.\n Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head,\n And, fainting thrice, fell grov\u2019ling on the bed;\n Thrice op\u2019d her heavy eyes, and sought the light,\n But, having found it, sicken\u2019d at the sight,\n And clos\u2019d her lids at last in endless night.\n\n Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain\n A death so ling\u2019ring, and so full of pain,\n Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife\n Of lab\u2019ring nature, and dissolve her life.\n For since she died, not doom\u2019d by Heav\u2019n\u2019s decree,\n Or her own crime, but human casualty,\n And rage of love, that plung\u2019d her in despair,\n The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair,\n Which Proserpine and they can only know;\n Nor made her sacred to the shades below.\n Downward the various goddess took her flight,\n And drew a thousand colours from the light;\n Then stood above the dying lover\u2019s head,\n And said: \u201cI thus devote thee to the dead.\n This off\u2019ring to th\u2019 infernal gods I bear.\u201d\n Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair:\n The struggling soul was loos\u2019d, and life dissolv\u2019d in air.\n\n\n\n BOOK V\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Aeneas, setting sail from Afric, is driven by a storm on the\n coast of Sicily, where he is hospitably received by his friend\n Acestes, king of part of the island, and born of Trojan\n parentage. He applies himself to celebrate the memory of his\n father with divine honours, and accordingly institues funeral\n games, and appoints prizes for those who should conquer in them.\n While the ceremonies are performing, Juno sends Iris to persuade\n the Trojan woman to burn the ships, who, upon her instigation,\n set fire to them: which burned four, and would have consumed the\n rest, had not Jupiter, by a miraculous shower extinguished it.\n Upon this, Aeneas, by the advice of one of his generals, and a\n vision of his father, builds a city for the women, old men, and\n others, who were either unfit for war, or weary of the voyage,\n and sails for Italy. Venus procures of Neptune a safe voyage for\n him and all his men, excepting only his pilot Palinurus, who was\n unfortunately lost.\n\n\n Meantime the Trojan cuts his wat\u2019ry way,\n Fix\u2019d on his voyage, thro\u2019 the curling sea;\n Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze,\n Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze.\n The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind\n The fate of Dido from the fire divin\u2019d;\n He knew the stormy souls of womankind,\n What secret springs their eager passions move,\n How capable of death for injur\u2019d love.\n Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw;\n Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw.\n Now seas and skies their prospect only bound;\n An empty space above, a floating field around.\n But soon the heav\u2019ns with shadows were o\u2019erspread;\n A swelling cloud hung hov\u2019ring o\u2019er their head:\n Livid it look\u2019d, the threat\u2019ning of a storm:\n Then night and horror ocean\u2019s face deform.\n The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud:\n \u201cWhat gusts of weather from that gath\u2019ring cloud\n My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars,\n Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars;\n Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind.\u201d\n The frighted crew perform the task assign\u2019d.\n Then, to his fearless chief: \u201cNot Heav\u2019n,\u201d said he,\n \u201cTho\u2019 Jove himself should promise Italy,\n Can stem the torrent of this raging sea.\n Mark how the shifting winds from west arise,\n And what collected night involves the skies!\n Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea,\n Much less against the tempest force their way.\n \u2019Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.\n Not far from hence, if I observ\u2019d aright\n The southing of the stars, and polar light,\n Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores\n In safety we may reach with struggling oars.\u201d\n Aeneas then replied: \u201cToo sure I find\n We strive in vain against the seas and wind:\n Now shift your sails; what place can please me more\n Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore,\n Whose hallow\u2019d earth Anchises\u2019 bones contains,\n And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?\u201d\n The course resolv\u2019d, before the western wind\n They scud amain, and make the port assign\u2019d.\n Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand,\n Beheld the fleet descending on the land;\n And, not unmindful of his ancient race,\n Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace,\n And held the hero in a strict embrace.\n Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore,\n And either hand a pointed jav\u2019lin bore.\n His mother was a dame of Dardan blood;\n His sire Crinisus, a Sicilian flood.\n He welcomes his returning friends ashore\n With plenteous country cates and homely store.\n\n Now, when the following morn had chas\u2019d away\n The flying stars, and light restor\u2019d the day,\n Aeneas call\u2019d the Trojan troops around,\n And thus bespoke them from a rising ground:\n \u201cOffspring of heav\u2019n, divine Dardanian race!\n The sun, revolving thro\u2019 th\u2019 ethereal space,\n The shining circle of the year has fill\u2019d,\n Since first this isle my father\u2019s ashes held:\n And now the rising day renews the year;\n A day for ever sad, for ever dear.\n This would I celebrate with annual games,\n With gifts on altars pil\u2019d, and holy flames,\n Tho\u2019 banish\u2019d to Gaetulia\u2019s barren sands,\n Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands:\n But since this happy storm our fleet has driv\u2019n\n (Not, as I deem, without the will of Heav\u2019n)\n Upon these friendly shores and flow\u2019ry plains,\n Which hide Anchises and his blest remains,\n Let us with joy perform his honours due,\n And pray for prosp\u2019rous winds, our voyage to renew;\n Pray, that in towns and temples of our own,\n The name of great Anchises may be known,\n And yearly games may spread the gods\u2019 renown.\n Our sports Acestes, of the Trojan race,\n With royal gifts ordain\u2019d, is pleas\u2019d to grace:\n Two steers on ev\u2019ry ship the king bestows;\n His gods and ours shall share your equal vows.\n Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn\n Shall with unclouded light the skies adorn,\n That day with solemn sports I mean to grace:\n Light galleys on the seas shall run a wat\u2019ry race;\n Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend,\n And others try the twanging bow to bend;\n The strong, with iron gauntlets arm\u2019d, shall stand\n Oppos\u2019d in combat on the yellow sand.\n Let all be present at the games prepar\u2019d,\n And joyful victors wait the just reward.\n But now assist the rites, with garlands crown\u2019d.\u201d\n He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound.\n Then Helymus, by his example led,\n And old Acestes, each adorn\u2019d his head;\n Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,\n His temples tied, and all the Trojan race.\n\n Aeneas then advanc\u2019d amidst the train,\n By thousands follow\u2019d thro\u2019 the flow\u2019ry plain,\n To great Anchises\u2019 tomb; which when he found,\n He pour\u2019d to Bacchus, on the hallow\u2019d ground,\n Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more,\n And two from offer\u2019d bulls of purple gore,\n With roses then the sepulcher he strow\u2019d\n And thus his father\u2019s ghost bespoke aloud:\n \u201cHail, O ye holy manes! hail again,\n Paternal ashes, now review\u2019d in vain!\n The gods permitted not, that you, with me,\n Should reach the promis\u2019d shores of Italy,\n Or Tiber\u2019s flood, what flood soe\u2019er it be.\u201d\n Scarce had he finish\u2019d, when, with speckled pride,\n A serpent from the tomb began to glide;\n His hugy bulk on sev\u2019n high volumes roll\u2019d;\n Blue was his breadth of back, but streak\u2019d with scaly gold:\n Thus riding on his curls, he seem\u2019d to pass\n A rolling fire along, and singe the grass.\n More various colours thro\u2019 his body run,\n Than Iris when her bow imbibes the sun.\n Betwixt the rising altars, and around,\n The sacred monster shot along the ground;\n With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass\u2019d,\n And with his lolling tongue assay\u2019d the taste:\n Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest\n Within the hollow tomb retir\u2019d to rest.\n The pious prince, surpris\u2019d at what he view\u2019d,\n The fun\u2019ral honours with more zeal renew\u2019d,\n Doubtful if this place\u2019s genius were,\n Or guardian of his father\u2019s sepulcher.\n Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew;\n As many swine, and steers of sable hue;\n New gen\u2019rous wine he from the goblets pour\u2019d.\n And call\u2019d his father\u2019s ghost, from hell restor\u2019d.\n The glad attendants in long order come,\n Off\u2019ring their gifts at great Anchises\u2019 tomb:\n Some add more oxen: some divide the spoil;\n Some place the chargers on the grassy soil;\n Some blow the fires, and offered entrails broil.\n\n Now came the day desir\u2019d. The skies were bright\n With rosy luster of the rising light:\n The bord\u2019ring people, rous\u2019d by sounding fame\n Of Trojan feasts and great Acestes\u2019 name,\n The crowded shore with acclamations fill,\n Part to behold, and part to prove their skill.\n And first the gifts in public view they place,\n Green laurel wreaths, and palm, the victors\u2019 grace:\n Within the circle, arms and tripods lie,\n Ingots of gold and silver, heap\u2019d on high,\n And vests embroider\u2019d, of the Tyrian dye.\n The trumpet\u2019s clangour then the feast proclaims,\n And all prepare for their appointed games.\n Four galleys first, which equal rowers bear,\n Advancing, in the wat\u2019ry lists appear.\n The speedy Dolphin, that outstrips the wind,\n Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind:\n Gyas the vast Chimaera\u2019s bulk commands,\n Which rising, like a tow\u2019ring city stands;\n Three Trojans tug at ev\u2019ry lab\u2019ring oar;\n Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore;\n Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar.\n Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race,\n In the great Centaur took the leading place;\n Cloanthus on the sea-green Scylla stood,\n From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood.\n\n Far in the sea, against the foaming shore,\n There stands a rock: the raging billows roar\n Above his head in storms; but, when \u2019tis clear,\n Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear.\n In peace below the gentle waters run;\n The cormorants above lie basking in the sun.\n On this the hero fix\u2019d an oak in sight,\n The mark to guide the mariners aright.\n To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars;\n Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores.\n The lots decide their place. Above the rest,\n Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest;\n The common crew with wreaths of poplar boughs\n Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows:\n Besmear\u2019d with oil, their naked shoulders shine.\n All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign:\n They gripe their oars; and ev\u2019ry panting breast\n Is rais\u2019d by turns with hope, by turns with fear depress\u2019d.\n The clangour of the trumpet gives the sign;\n At once they start, advancing in a line:\n With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies;\n Lash\u2019d with their oars, the smoky billows rise;\n Sparkles the briny main, and the vex\u2019d ocean fries.\n Exact in time, with equal strokes they row:\n At once the brushing oars and brazen prow\n Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths below.\n Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race,\n Invade the field with half so swift a pace;\n Not the fierce driver with more fury lends\n The sounding lash, and, ere the stroke descends,\n Low to the wheels his pliant body bends.\n The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide,\n And aid with eager shouts the favour\u2019d side.\n Cries, murmurs, clamours, with a mixing sound,\n From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound.\n\n Amidst the loud applauses of the shore,\n Gyas outstripp\u2019d the rest, and sprung before:\n Cloanthus, better mann\u2019d, pursued him fast,\n But his o\u2019er-masted galley check\u2019d his haste.\n The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine\n With equal oars, advancing in a line;\n And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead,\n And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead;\n Now board to board the rival vessels row,\n The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below.\n They reach\u2019d the mark; proud Gyas and his train\n In triumph rode, the victors of the main;\n But, steering round, he charg\u2019d his pilot stand\n More close to shore, and skim along the sand.\n \u201cLet others bear to sea!\u201d Menoetes heard;\n But secret shelves too cautiously he fear\u2019d,\n And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he steer\u2019d.\n With louder cries the captain call\u2019d again:\n \u201cBear to the rocky shore, and shun the main.\u201d\n He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw\n The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw.\n Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood,\n And in a closer compass plow\u2019d the flood.\n He pass\u2019d the mark; and, wheeling, got before:\n Gyas blasphem\u2019d the gods, devoutly swore,\n Cried out for anger, and his hair he tore.\n Mindless of others\u2019 lives (so high was grown\n His rising rage) and careless of his own,\n The trembling dotard to the deck he drew;\n Then hoisted up, and overboard he threw:\n This done, he seiz\u2019d the helm; his fellows cheer\u2019d,\n Turn\u2019d short upon the shelfs, and madly steer\u2019d.\n\n Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears,\n Clogg\u2019d with his clothes, and cumber\u2019d with his years:\n Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain.\n The crowd, that saw him fall and float again,\n Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laugh\u2019d,\n To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught.\n The following Centaur, and the Dolphin\u2019s crew,\n Their vanish\u2019d hopes of victory renew;\n While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race,\n To reach the mark. Sergesthus takes the place;\n Mnestheus pursues; and while around they wind,\n Comes up, not half his galley\u2019s length behind;\n Then, on the deck, amidst his mates appear\u2019d,\n And thus their drooping courages he cheer\u2019d:\n \u201cMy friends, and Hector\u2019s followers heretofore,\n Exert your vigour; tug the lab\u2019ring oar;\n Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquer\u2019d crew,\n Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew.\n In this, our common int\u2019rest, let me find\n That strength of hand, that courage of the mind,\n As when you stemm\u2019d the strong Malean flood,\n And o\u2019er the Syrtes\u2019 broken billows row\u2019d.\n I seek not now the foremost palm to gain;\n Tho\u2019 yet\u2014\u2014But, ah! that haughty wish is vain!\n Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain.\n But to be last, the lags of all the race!\n Redeem yourselves and me from that disgrace.\u201d\n Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row\n At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow.\n The sea beneath \u2019em sinks; their lab\u2019ring sides\n Are swell\u2019d, and sweat runs gutt\u2019ring down in tides.\n Chance aids their daring with unhop\u2019d success;\n Sergesthus, eager with his beak to press\n Betwixt the rival galley and the rock,\n Shuts up th\u2019 unwieldly Centaur in the lock.\n The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock,\n Her oars she shiver\u2019d, and her head she broke.\n The trembling rowers from their banks arise,\n And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize.\n With iron poles they heave her off the shores,\n And gather from the sea their floating oars.\n The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds,\n Urge their success, and call the willing winds;\n Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way\n In larger compass on the roomy sea.\n As, when the dove her rocky hold forsakes,\n Rous\u2019d in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes;\n The cavern rings with clatt\u2019ring; out she flies,\n And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies:\n At first she flutters; but at length she springs\n To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings:\n So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea;\n And, flying with a force, that force assists his way.\n Sergesthus in the Centaur soon he pass\u2019d,\n Wedg\u2019d in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast.\n In vain the victor he with cries implores,\n And practices to row with shatter\u2019d oars.\n Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies:\n The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize.\n Unvanquish\u2019d Scylla now alone remains;\n Her he pursues, and all his vigour strains.\n Shouts from the fav\u2019ring multitude arise;\n Applauding Echo to the shouts replies;\n Shouts, wishes, and applause run rattling thro\u2019 the skies.\n These clamours with disdain the Scylla heard,\n Much grudg\u2019d the praise, but more the robb\u2019d reward:\n Resolv\u2019d to hold their own, they mend their pace,\n All obstinate to die, or gain the race.\n Rais\u2019d with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran;\n For they can conquer, who believe they can.\n Both urge their oars, and fortune both supplies,\n And both perhaps had shar\u2019d an equal prize;\n When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands,\n And succour from the wat\u2019ry pow\u2019rs demands:\n \u201cGods of the liquid realms, on which I row!\n If, giv\u2019n by you, the laurel bind my brow,\n Assist to make me guilty of my vow!\n A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain;\n His offer\u2019d entrails cast into the main,\n And ruddy wine, from golden goblets thrown,\n Your grateful gift and my return shall own.\u201d\n The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus, from below,\n With virgin Panopea, heard his vow;\n And old Portunus, with his breadth of hand,\n Push\u2019d on, and sped the galley to the land.\n Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies,\n And, darting to the port, obtains the prize.\n\n The herald summons all, and then proclaims\n Cloanthus conqu\u2019ror of the naval games.\n The prince with laurel crowns the victor\u2019s head,\n And three fat steers are to his vessel led,\n The ship\u2019s reward; with gen\u2019rous wine beside,\n And sums of silver, which the crew divide.\n The leaders are distinguish\u2019d from the rest;\n The victor honour\u2019d with a nobler vest,\n Where gold and purple strive in equal rows,\n And needlework its happy cost bestows.\n There Ganymede is wrought with living art,\n Chasing thro\u2019 Ida\u2019s groves the trembling hart:\n Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue;\n When from aloft descends, in open view,\n The bird of Jove, and, sousing on his prey,\n With crooked talons bears the boy away.\n In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes,\n His guards behold him soaring thro\u2019 the skies,\n And dogs pursue his flight with imitated cries.\n\n Mnestheus the second victor was declar\u2019d;\n And, summon\u2019d there, the second prize he shar\u2019d.\n A coat of mail, brave Demoleus bore,\n More brave Aeneas from his shoulders tore,\n In single combat on the Trojan shore:\n This was ordain\u2019d for Mnestheus to possess;\n In war for his defence, for ornament in peace.\n Rich was the gift, and glorious to behold,\n But yet so pond\u2019rous with its plates of gold,\n That scarce two servants could the weight sustain;\n Yet, loaded thus, Demoleus o\u2019er the plain\n Pursued and lightly seiz\u2019d the Trojan train.\n The third, succeeding to the last reward,\n Two goodly bowls of massy silver shar\u2019d,\n With figures prominent, and richly wrought,\n And two brass caldrons from Dodona brought.\n\n Thus all, rewarded by the hero\u2019s hands,\n Their conqu\u2019ring temples bound with purple bands;\n And now Sergesthus, clearing from the rock,\n Brought back his galley shatter\u2019d with the shock.\n Forlorn she look\u2019d, without an aiding oar,\n And, houted by the vulgar, made to shore.\n As when a snake, surpris\u2019d upon the road,\n Is crush\u2019d athwart her body by the load\n Of heavy wheels; or with a mortal wound\n Her belly bruis\u2019d, and trodden to the ground:\n In vain, with loosen\u2019d curls, she crawls along;\n Yet, fierce above, she brandishes her tongue;\n Glares with her eyes, and bristles with her scales;\n But, groveling in the dust, her parts unsound she trails:\n So slowly to the port the Centaur tends,\n But, what she wants in oars, with sails amends.\n Yet, for his galley sav\u2019d, the grateful prince\n Is pleas\u2019d th\u2019 unhappy chief to recompense.\n Pholoe, the Cretan slave, rewards his care,\n Beauteous herself, with lovely twins as fair.\n\n From thence his way the Trojan hero bent\n Into the neighb\u2019ring plain, with mountains pent,\n Whose sides were shaded with surrounding wood.\n Full in the midst of this fair valley stood\n A native theatre, which, rising slow\n By just degrees, o\u2019erlook\u2019d the ground below.\n High on a sylvan throne the leader sate;\n A num\u2019rous train attend in solemn state.\n Here those that in the rapid course delight,\n Desire of honour and the prize invite.\n The rival runners without order stand;\n The Trojans mix\u2019d with the Sicilian band.\n First Nisus, with Euryalus, appears;\n Euryalus a boy of blooming years,\n With sprightly grace and equal beauty crown\u2019d;\n Nisus, for friendship to the youth renown\u2019d.\n Diores next, of Priam\u2019s royal race,\n Then Salius joined with Patron, took their place;\n But Patron in Arcadia had his birth,\n And Salius his from Arcananian earth;\n Then two Sicilian youths, the names of these,\n Swift Helymus, and lovely Panopes:\n Both jolly huntsmen, both in forest bred,\n And owning old Acestes for their head;\n With sev\u2019ral others of ignobler name,\n Whom time has not deliver\u2019d o\u2019er to fame.\n\n To these the hero thus his thoughts explain\u2019d,\n In words which gen\u2019ral approbation gain\u2019d:\n \u201cOne common largess is for all design\u2019d,\n The vanquish\u2019d and the victor shall be join\u2019d,\n Two darts of polish\u2019d steel and Gnosian wood,\n A silver-studded ax alike bestow\u2019d.\n The foremost three have olive wreaths decreed:\n The first of these obtains a stately steed,\n Adorn\u2019d with trappings; and the next in fame,\n The quiver of an Amazonian dame,\n With feather\u2019d Thracian arrows well supplied:\n A golden belt shall gird his manly side,\n Which with a sparkling diamond shall be tied.\n The third this Grecian helmet shall content.\u201d\n He said. To their appointed base they went;\n With beating hearts th\u2019 expected sign receive,\n And, starting all at once, the barrier leave.\n Spread out, as on the winged winds, they flew,\n And seiz\u2019d the distant goal with greedy view.\n Shot from the crowd, swift Nisus all o\u2019erpass\u2019d;\n Nor storms, nor thunder, equal half his haste.\n The next, but tho\u2019 the next, yet far disjoin\u2019d,\n Came Salius, and Euryalus behind;\n Then Helymus, whom young Diores plied,\n Step after step, and almost side by side,\n His shoulders pressing; and, in longer space,\n Had won, or left at least a dubious race.\n\n Now, spent, the goal they almost reach at last,\n When eager Nisus, hapless in his haste,\n Slipp\u2019d first, and, slipping, fell upon the plain,\n Soak\u2019d with the blood of oxen newly slain.\n The careless victor had not mark\u2019d his way;\n But, treading where the treach\u2019rous puddle lay,\n His heels flew up; and on the grassy floor\n He fell, besmear\u2019d with filth and holy gore.\n Not mindless then, Euryalus, of thee,\n Nor of the sacred bonds of amity,\n He strove th\u2019 immediate rival\u2019s hope to cross,\n And caught the foot of Salius as he rose.\n So Salius lay extended on the plain;\n Euryalus springs out, the prize to gain,\n And leaves the crowd: applauding peals attend\n The victor to the goal, who vanquish\u2019d by his friend.\n Next Helymus; and then Diores came,\n By two misfortunes made the third in fame.\n\n But Salius enters, and, exclaiming loud\n For justice, deafens and disturbs the crowd;\n Urges his cause may in the court be heard;\n And pleads the prize is wrongfully conferr\u2019d.\n But favour for Euryalus appears;\n His blooming beauty, with his tender tears,\n Had brib\u2019d the judges for the promis\u2019d prize.\n Besides, Diores fills the court with cries,\n Who vainly reaches at the last reward,\n If the first palm on Salius be conferr\u2019d.\n Then thus the prince: \u201cLet no disputes arise:\n Where fortune plac\u2019d it, I award the prize.\n But fortune\u2019s errors give me leave to mend,\n At least to pity my deserving friend.\u201d\n He said, and, from among the spoils, he draws\n (Pond\u2019rous with shaggy mane and golden paws)\n A lion\u2019s hide: to Salius this he gives.\n Nisus with envy sees the gift, and grieves.\n \u201cIf such rewards to vanquish\u2019d men are due.\u201d\n He said, \u201cand falling is to rise by you,\n What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim,\n Who merited the first rewards and fame?\n In falling, both an equal fortune tried;\n Would fortune for my fall so well provide!\u201d\n With this he pointed to his face, and show\u2019d\n His hand and all his habit smear\u2019d with blood.\n Th\u2019 indulgent father of the people smil\u2019d,\n And caus\u2019d to be produc\u2019d an ample shield,\n Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought,\n Long since from Neptune\u2019s bars in triumph brought.\n This giv\u2019n to Nisus, he divides the rest,\n And equal justice in his gifts express\u2019d.\n\n The race thus ended, and rewards bestow\u2019d,\n Once more the prince bespeaks th\u2019 attentive crowd:\n \u201cIf there be here, whose dauntless courage dare\n In gauntlet fight, with limbs and body bare,\n His opposite sustain in open view,\n Stand forth the champion, and the games renew.\n Two prizes I propose, and thus divide:\n A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied,\n Shall be the portion of the conqu\u2019ring chief;\n A sword and helm shall cheer the loser\u2019s grief.\u201d\n\n Then haughty Dares in the lists appears;\n Stalking he strides, his head erected bears:\n His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield,\n And loud applauses echo thro\u2019 the field.\n Dares alone in combat us\u2019d to stand\n The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand;\n The same, at Hector\u2019s fun\u2019rals, undertook\n Gigantic Butes, of th\u2019 Amycian stock,\n And, by the stroke of his resistless hand,\n Stretch\u2019d the vast bulk upon the yellow sand.\n Such Dares was; and such he strode along,\n And drew the wonder of the gazing throng.\n His brawny back and ample breast he shows,\n His lifted arms around his head he throws,\n And deals in whistling air his empty blows.\n His match is sought; but, thro\u2019 the trembling band,\n Not one dares answer to the proud demand.\n Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes\n Already he devours the promis\u2019d prize.\n He claims the bull with awless insolence,\n And having seiz\u2019d his horns, accosts the prince:\n \u201cIf none my matchless valour dares oppose,\n How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?\n Permit me, chief, permit without delay,\n To lead this uncontended gift away.\u201d\n The crowd assents, and with redoubled cries\n For the proud challenger demands the prize.\n\n Acestes, fir\u2019d with just disdain, to see\n The palm usurp\u2019d without a victory,\n Reproach\u2019d Entellus thus, who sate beside,\n And heard and saw, unmov\u2019d, the Trojan\u2019s pride:\n \u201cOnce, but in vain, a champion of renown,\n So tamely can you bear the ravish\u2019d crown,\n A prize in triumph borne before your sight,\n And shun, for fear, the danger of the fight?\n Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name,\n The god who taught your thund\u2019ring arm the game?\n Where now your baffled honour? Where the spoil\n That fill\u2019d your house, and fame that fill\u2019d our isle?\u201d\n Entellus, thus: \u201cMy soul is still the same,\n Unmov\u2019d with fear, and mov\u2019d with martial fame;\n But my chill blood is curdled in my veins,\n And scarce the shadow of a man remains.\n O could I turn to that fair prime again,\n That prime of which this boaster is so vain,\n The brave, who this decrepid age defies,\n Should feel my force, without the promis\u2019d prize.\u201d\n\n He said; and, rising at the word, he threw\n Two pond\u2019rous gauntlets down in open view;\n Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield,\n And sheathe his hands with in the listed field.\n With fear and wonder seiz\u2019d, the crowd beholds\n The gloves of death, with sev\u2019n distinguish\u2019d folds\n Of tough bull hides; the space within is spread\n With iron, or with loads of heavy lead:\n Dares himself was daunted at the sight,\n Renounc\u2019d his challenge, and refus\u2019d to fight.\n Astonish\u2019d at their weight, the hero stands,\n And pois\u2019d the pond\u2019rous engines in his hands.\n \u201cWhat had your wonder,\u201d said Entellus, \u201cbeen,\n Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen,\n Or view\u2019d the stern debate on this unhappy green!\n These which I bear your brother Eryx bore,\n Still mark\u2019d with batter\u2019d brains and mingled gore.\n With these he long sustain\u2019d th\u2019 Herculean arm;\n And these I wielded while my blood was warm,\n This languish\u2019d frame while better spirits fed,\n Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time o\u2019ersnow\u2019d my head.\n But if the challenger these arms refuse,\n And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use;\n If great Aeneas and Acestes join\n In his request, these gauntlets I resign;\n Let us with equal arms perform the fight,\n And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right.\u201d\n\n This said, Entellus for the strife prepares;\n Stripp\u2019d of his quilted coat, his body bares;\n Compos\u2019d of mighty bones and brawn he stands,\n A goodly tow\u2019ring object on the sands.\n Then just Aeneas equal arms supplied,\n Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied.\n Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent,\n Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent;\n Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar;\n With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war.\n One on his youth and pliant limbs relies;\n One on his sinews and his giant size.\n The last is stiff with age, his motion slow;\n He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro,\n And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow.\n Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike;\n Their ways are diff\u2019rent, but their art alike.\n Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around\n Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound.\n A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies,\n And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes.\n Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws\n A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws.\n Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground,\n But with his warping body wards the wound.\n His hand and watchful eye keep even pace;\n While Dares traverses and shifts his place,\n And, like a captain who beleaguers round\n Some strong-built castle on a rising ground,\n Views all th\u2019 approaches with observing eyes:\n This and that other part in vain he tries,\n And more on industry than force relies.\n With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe;\n But Dares watch\u2019d the motion from below,\n And slipp\u2019d aside, and shunn\u2019d the long descending blow.\n Entellus wastes his forces on the wind,\n And, thus deluded of the stroke design\u2019d,\n Headlong and heavy fell; his ample breast\n And weighty limbs his ancient mother press\u2019d.\n So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood\n On Ida\u2019s height, or Erymanthus\u2019 wood,\n Torn from the roots. The diff\u2019ring nations rise,\n And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies,\n Acestus runs with eager haste, to raise\n The fall\u2019n companion of his youthful days.\n Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return\u2019d;\n With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn\u2019d.\n Disdain and conscious virtue fir\u2019d his breast,\n And with redoubled force his foe he press\u2019d.\n He lays on load with either hand, amain,\n And headlong drives the Trojan o\u2019er the plain;\n Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows;\n But storms of strokes descend about his brows,\n A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows.\n But now the prince, who saw the wild increase\n Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease,\n And bounds Entellus\u2019 wrath, and bids the peace.\n First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came,\n And sooth\u2019d his sorrow for the suffer\u2019d shame.\n \u201cWhat fury seiz\u2019d my friend? The gods,\u201d said he,\n \u201cTo him propitious, and averse to thee,\n Have giv\u2019n his arm superior force to thine.\n \u2019Tis madness to contend with strength divine.\u201d\n The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore\n His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore:\n His mouth and nostrils pour\u2019d a purple flood,\n And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood.\n Faintly he stagger\u2019d thro\u2019 the hissing throng,\n And hung his head, and trail\u2019d his legs along.\n The sword and casque are carried by his train;\n But with his foe the palm and ox remain.\n\n The champion, then, before Aeneas came,\n Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame:\n \u201cO goddess-born, and you, Dardanian host,\n Mark with attention, and forgive my boast;\n Learn what I was, by what remains; and know\n From what impending fate you sav\u2019d my foe.\u201d\n Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull;\n And, on his ample forehead aiming full,\n The deadly stroke, descending, pierc\u2019d the skull.\n Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound,\n But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground.\n Then, thus: \u201cIn Dares\u2019 stead I offer this.\n Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice;\n Take the last gift my wither\u2019d arms can yield:\n Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field.\u201d\n\n This done, Aeneas orders, for the close,\n The strife of archers with contending bows.\n The mast Sergesthus\u2019 shatter\u2019d galley bore\n With his own hands he raises on the shore.\n A flutt\u2019ring dove upon the top they tie,\n The living mark at which their arrows fly.\n The rival archers in a line advance,\n Their turn of shooting to receive from chance.\n A helmet holds their names; the lots are drawn:\n On the first scroll was read Hippocoon.\n The people shout. Upon the next was found\n Young Mnestheus, late with naval honours crown\u2019d.\n The third contain\u2019d Eurytion\u2019s noble name,\n Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame,\n Whom Pallas urg\u2019d the treaty to confound,\n And send among the Greeks a feather\u2019d wound.\n Acestes in the bottom last remain\u2019d,\n Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain\u2019d.\n Soon all with vigour bend their trusty bows,\n And from the quiver each his arrow chose.\n Hippocoon\u2019s was the first: with forceful sway\n It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way.\n Fix\u2019d in the mast the feather\u2019d weapon stands:\n The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands,\n And the tree trembled, and the shouting cries\n Of the pleas\u2019d people rend the vaulted skies.\n Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove,\n With lifted eyes, and took his aim above,\n But made a glancing shot, and missed the dove;\n Yet miss\u2019d so narrow, that he cut the cord\n Which fasten\u2019d by the foot the flitting bird.\n The captive thus releas\u2019d, away she flies,\n And beats with clapping wings the yielding skies.\n His bow already bent, Eurytion stood;\n And, having first invok\u2019d his brother god,\n His winged shaft with eager haste he sped.\n The fatal message reach\u2019d her as she fled:\n She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground,\n And renders back the weapon in the wound.\n Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains,\n Without a prize to gratify his pains.\n Yet, shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show\n An archer\u2019s art, and boast his twanging bow.\n The feather\u2019d arrow gave a dire portent,\n And latter augurs judge from this event.\n Chaf\u2019d by the speed, it fir\u2019d; and, as it flew,\n A trail of following flames ascending drew:\n Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way;\n Across the skies as falling meteors play,\n And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay.\n The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare,\n And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray\u2019r.\n The Dardan prince put on a smiling face,\n And strain\u2019d Acestes with a close embrace;\n Then, hon\u2019ring him with gifts above the rest,\n Turn\u2019d the bad omen, nor his fears confess\u2019d.\n \u201cThe gods,\u201d said he, \u201cthis miracle have wrought,\n And order\u2019d you the prize without the lot.\n Accept this goblet, rough with figur\u2019d gold,\n Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old:\n This pledge of ancient amity receive,\n Which to my second sire I justly give.\u201d\n He said, and, with the trumpets\u2019 cheerful sound,\n Proclaim\u2019d him victor, and with laurel-crown\u2019d.\n Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize,\n Tho\u2019 he transfix\u2019d the pigeon in the skies.\n Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac\u2019d;\n The third was his whose arrow pierc\u2019d the mast.\n\n The chief, before the games were wholly done,\n Call\u2019d Periphantes, tutor to his son,\n And whisper\u2019d thus: \u201cWith speed Ascanius find;\n And, if his childish troop be ready join\u2019d,\n On horseback let him grace his grandsire\u2019s day,\n And lead his equals arm\u2019d in just array.\u201d\n He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears.\n The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears.\n And now the noble youths, of form divine,\n Advance before their fathers, in a line;\n The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine.\n\n Thus marching on in military pride,\n Shouts of applause resound from side to side.\n Their casques adorn\u2019d with laurel wreaths they wear,\n Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear.\n Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore;\n Their chains of burnish\u2019d gold hung down before.\n Three graceful troops they form\u2019d upon the green;\n Three graceful leaders at their head were seen;\n Twelve follow\u2019d ev\u2019ry chief, and left a space between.\n The first young Priam led; a lovely boy,\n Whose grandsire was th\u2019 unhappy king of Troy;\n His race in after times was known to fame,\n New honours adding to the Latian name;\n And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became.\n White were the fetlocks of his feet before,\n And on his front a snowy star he bore.\n Then beauteous Atys, with Iulus bred,\n Of equal age, the second squadron led.\n The last in order, but the first in place,\n First in the lovely features of his face,\n Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed,\n Queen Dido\u2019s gift, and of the Tyrian breed.\n Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains,\n With golden bits adorn\u2019d, and purple reins.\n\n The pleas\u2019d spectators peals of shouts renew,\n And all the parents in the children view;\n Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace,\n And hopes and fears alternate in their face.\n\n Th\u2019 unfledg\u2019d commanders and their martial train\n First make the circuit of the sandy plain\n Around their sires, and, at th\u2019 appointed sign,\n Drawn up in beauteous order, form a line.\n The second signal sounds, the troop divides\n In three distinguish\u2019d parts, with three distinguish\u2019d guides\n Again they close, and once again disjoin;\n In troop to troop oppos\u2019d, and line to line.\n They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar\n With harmless rage and well-dissembled war.\n Then in a round the mingled bodies run:\n Flying they follow, and pursuing shun;\n Broken, they break; and, rallying, they renew\n In other forms the military shew.\n At last, in order, undiscern\u2019d they join,\n And march together in a friendly line.\n And, as the Cretan labyrinth of old,\n With wand\u2019ring ways and many a winding fold,\n Involv\u2019d the weary feet, without redress,\n In a round error, which denied recess;\n So fought the Trojan boys in warlike play,\n Turn\u2019d and return\u2019d, and still a diff\u2019rent way.\n Thus dolphins in the deep each other chase\n In circles, when they swim around the wat\u2019ry race.\n This game, these carousels, Ascanius taught;\n And, building Alba, to the Latins brought;\n Shew\u2019d what he learn\u2019d: the Latin sires impart\n To their succeeding sons the graceful art;\n From these imperial Rome receiv\u2019d the game,\n Which Troy, the youths the Trojan troop, they name.\n\n Thus far the sacred sports they celebrate:\n But Fortune soon resum\u2019d her ancient hate;\n For, while they pay the dead his annual dues,\n Those envied rites Saturnian Juno views;\n And sends the goddess of the various bow,\n To try new methods of revenge below;\n Supplies the winds to wing her airy way,\n Where in the port secure the navy lay.\n Swiftly fair Iris down her arch descends,\n And, undiscern\u2019d, her fatal voyage ends.\n She saw the gath\u2019ring crowd; and, gliding thence,\n The desert shore, and fleet without defence.\n The Trojan matrons, on the sands alone,\n With sighs and tears Anchises\u2019 death bemoan;\n Then, turning to the sea their weeping eyes,\n Their pity to themselves renews their cries.\n \u201cAlas!\u201d said one, \u201cwhat oceans yet remain\n For us to sail! what labours to sustain!\u201d\n All take the word, and, with a gen\u2019ral groan,\n Implore the gods for peace, and places of their own.\n\n The goddess, great in mischief, views their pains,\n And in a woman\u2019s form her heav\u2019nly limbs restrains.\n In face and shape old Beroe she became,\n Doryclus\u2019 wife, a venerable dame,\n Once blest with riches, and a mother\u2019s name.\n Thus chang\u2019d, amidst the crying crowd she ran,\n Mix\u2019d with the matrons, and these words began:\n \u201cO wretched we, whom not the Grecian pow\u2019r,\n Nor flames, destroy\u2019d, in Troy\u2019s unhappy hour!\n O wretched we, reserv\u2019d by cruel fate,\n Beyond the ruins of the sinking state!\n Now sev\u2019n revolving years are wholly run,\n Since this improsp\u2019rous voyage we begun;\n Since, toss\u2019d from shores to shores, from lands to lands,\n Inhospitable rocks and barren sands,\n Wand\u2019ring in exile thro\u2019 the stormy sea,\n We search in vain for flying Italy.\n Now cast by fortune on this kindred land,\n What should our rest and rising walls withstand,\n Or hinder here to fix our banish\u2019d band?\n O country lost, and gods redeem\u2019d in vain,\n If still in endless exile we remain!\n Shall we no more the Trojan walls renew,\n Or streams of some dissembled Simois view!\n Haste, join with me, th\u2019 unhappy fleet consume!\n Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom.\n In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands\n (For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands:\n \u2018With these,\u2019 said she, \u2018these wand\u2019ring ships destroy:\n These are your fatal seats, and this your Troy.\u2019\n Time calls you now; the precious hour employ:\n Slack not the good presage, while Heav\u2019n inspires\n Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires.\n See! Neptune\u2019s altars minister their brands:\n The god is pleas\u2019d; the god supplies our hands.\u201d\n Then from the pile a flaming fire she drew,\n And, toss\u2019d in air, amidst the galleys threw.\n\n Wrapp\u2019d in amaze, the matrons wildly stare:\n Then Pyrgo, reverenc\u2019d for her hoary hair,\n Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam\u2019s num\u2019rous race:\n \u201cNo Beroe this, tho\u2019 she belies her face!\n What terrors from her frowning front arise!\n Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes!\n What rays around her heav\u2019nly face are seen!\n Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien!\n Beroe but now I left, whom, pin\u2019d with pain,\n Her age and anguish from these rites detain,\u201d\n She said. The matrons, seiz\u2019d with new amaze,\n Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze.\n They fear, and hope, and neither part obey:\n They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way.\n The goddess, having done her task below,\n Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow.\n Struck with the sight, and seiz\u2019d with rage divine,\n The matrons prosecute their mad design:\n They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands,\n The food of altars; fires and flaming brands.\n Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste,\n And smoking torches, on the ships they cast.\n The flame, unstopp\u2019d at first, more fury gains,\n And Vulcan rides at large with loosen\u2019d reins:\n Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars,\n And seizes, in this way, the banks and crackling oars.\n Eumelus was the first the news to bear,\n While yet they crowd the rural theatre.\n Then, what they hear, is witness\u2019d by their eyes:\n A storm of sparkles and of flames arise.\n Ascanius took th\u2019 alarm, while yet he led\n His early warriors on his prancing steed,\n And, spurring on, his equals soon o\u2019erpass\u2019d;\n Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste.\n Soon as the royal youth appear\u2019d in view,\n He sent his voice before him as he flew:\n \u201cWhat madness moves you, matrons, to destroy\n The last remainders of unhappy Troy!\n Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn,\n And on your friends your fatal fury turn.\n Behold your own Ascanius!\u201d While he said,\n He drew his glitt\u2019ring helmet from his head,\n In which the youths to sportful arms he led.\n By this, Aeneas and his train appear;\n And now the women, seiz\u2019d with shame and fear,\n Dispers\u2019d, to woods and caverns take their flight,\n Abhor their actions, and avoid the light;\n Their friends acknowledge, and their error find,\n And shake the goddess from their alter\u2019d mind.\n\n Not so the raging fires their fury cease,\n But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace,\n Work on their way amid the smould\u2019ring tow,\n Sure in destruction, but in motion slow.\n The silent plague thro\u2019 the green timber eats,\n And vomits out a tardy flame by fits.\n Down to the keels, and upward to the sails,\n The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;\n Nor buckets pour\u2019d, nor strength of human hand,\n Can the victorious element withstand.\n\n The pious hero rends his robe, and throws\n To heav\u2019n his hands, and with his hands his vows.\n \u201cO Jove,\u201d he cried, \u201cif pray\u2019rs can yet have place;\n If thou abhorr\u2019st not all the Dardan race;\n If any spark of pity still remain;\n If gods are gods, and not invok\u2019d in vain;\n Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train!\n Yet from the flames our burning vessels free,\n Or let thy fury fall alone on me!\n At this devoted head thy thunder throw,\n And send the willing sacrifice below!\u201d\n\n Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise:\n From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;\n Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain;\n Heav\u2019n bellies downward, and descends in rain.\n Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent,\n Which, hissing thro\u2019 the planks, the flames prevent,\n And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone\n Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone.\n\n But doubtful thoughts the hero\u2019s heart divide;\n If he should still in Sicily reside,\n Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main,\n In hope the promis\u2019d Italy to gain.\n Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone\n The will of Heav\u2019n by Pallas was foreshown;\n Vers\u2019d in portents, experienc\u2019d, and inspir\u2019d\n To tell events, and what the fates requir\u2019d;\n Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin\u2019d,\n With cheerful words reliev\u2019d his lab\u2019ring mind:\n \u201cO goddess-born, resign\u2019d in ev\u2019ry state,\n With patience bear, with prudence push your fate.\n By suff\u2019ring well, our Fortune we subdue;\n Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue.\n Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind;\n To him disclose the secrets of your mind:\n Trust in his hands your old and useless train;\n Too num\u2019rous for the ships which yet remain:\n The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease,\n The dames who dread the dangers of the seas,\n With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand\n The shock of battle with your foes by land.\n Here you may build a common town for all,\n And, from Acestes\u2019 name, Acesta call.\u201d\n The reasons, with his friend\u2019s experience join\u2019d,\n Encourag\u2019d much, but more disturb\u2019d his mind.\n\n \u2019Twas dead of night; when to his slumb\u2019ring eyes\n His father\u2019s shade descended from the skies,\n And thus he spoke: \u201cO more than vital breath,\n Lov\u2019d while I liv\u2019d, and dear ev\u2019n after death;\n O son, in various toils and troubles toss\u2019d,\n The King of Heav\u2019n employs my careful ghost\n On his commands: the god, who sav\u2019d from fire\n Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire.\n The wholesome counsel of your friend receive,\n And here the coward train and woman leave:\n The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare,\n Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war.\n The stern Italians will their courage try;\n Rough are their manners, and their minds are high.\n But first to Pluto\u2019s palace you shall go,\n And seek my shade among the blest below:\n For not with impious ghosts my soul remains,\n Nor suffers with the damn\u2019d perpetual pains,\n But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains.\n The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey,\n And blood of offer\u2019d victims free the way.\n There shall you know what realms the gods assign,\n And learn the fates and fortunes of your line.\n But now, farewell! I vanish with the night,\n And feel the blast of heav\u2019n\u2019s approaching light.\u201d\n He said, and mix\u2019d with shades, and took his airy flight.\n \u201cWhither so fast?\u201d the filial duty cried;\n \u201cAnd why, ah why, the wish\u2019d embrace denied?\u201d\n\n He said, and rose; as holy zeal inspires,\n He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires;\n His country gods and Vesta then adores\n With cakes and incense, and their aid implores.\n Next, for his friends and royal host he sent,\n Reveal\u2019d his vision, and the gods\u2019 intent,\n With his own purpose. All, without delay,\n The will of Jove, and his desires obey.\n They list with women each degenerate name,\n Who dares not hazard life for future fame.\n These they cashier: the brave remaining few,\n Oars, banks, and cables, half consum\u2019d, renew.\n The prince designs a city with the plow;\n The lots their sev\u2019ral tenements allow.\n This part is nam\u2019d from Ilium, that from Troy,\n And the new king ascends the throne with joy;\n A chosen senate from the people draws;\n Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws.\n Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin\n A rising temple to the Paphian queen.\n Anchises, last, is honour\u2019d as a god;\n A priest is added, annual gifts bestow\u2019d,\n And groves are planted round his blest abode.\n Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown\u2019d;\n And fumes of incense in the fanes abound.\n Then from the south arose a gentle breeze\n That curl\u2019d the smoothness of the glassy seas;\n The rising winds a ruffling gale afford,\n And call the merry mariners aboard.\n\n Now loud laments along the shores resound,\n Of parting friends in close embraces bound.\n The trembling women, the degenerate train,\n Who shunn\u2019d the frightful dangers of the main,\n Ev\u2019n those desire to sail, and take their share\n Of the rough passage and the promis\u2019d war:\n Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends\n To their new master\u2019s care his fearful friends.\n On Eryx\u2019s altars three fat calves he lays;\n A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas;\n Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs.\n High on the deck the godlike hero stands,\n With olive crown\u2019d, a charger in his hands;\n Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine,\n And pour\u2019d the sacrifice of purple wine.\n Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie,\n And brush the buxom seas, and o\u2019er the billows fly.\n\n Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears,\n To Neptune thus address\u2019d, with tender tears:\n \u201cThe pride of Jove\u2019s imperious queen, the rage,\n The malice which no suff\u2019rings can assuage,\n Compel me to these pray\u2019rs; since neither fate,\n Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate:\n Ev\u2019n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife;\n Still vanquish\u2019d, yet she still renews the strife.\n As if \u2019twere little to consume the town\n Which aw\u2019d the world, and wore th\u2019 imperial crown,\n She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains,\n And gnaws, ev\u2019n to the bones, the last remains.\n Let her the causes of her hatred tell;\n But you can witness its effects too well.\n You saw the storm she rais\u2019d on Libyan floods,\n That mix\u2019d the mounting billows with the clouds;\n When, bribing Aeolus, she shook the main,\n And mov\u2019d rebellion in your wat\u2019ry reign.\n With fury she possess\u2019d the Dardan dames,\n To burn their fleet with execrable flames,\n And forc\u2019d Aeneas, when his ships were lost,\n To leave his foll\u2019wers on a foreign coast.\n For what remains, your godhead I implore,\n And trust my son to your protecting pow\u2019r.\n If neither Jove\u2019s nor Fate\u2019s decree withstand,\n Secure his passage to the Latian land.\u201d\n\n Then thus the mighty Ruler of the Main:\n \u201cWhat may not Venus hope from Neptune\u2019s reign?\n My kingdom claims your birth; my late defence\n Of your indanger\u2019d fleet may claim your confidence.\n Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare\n How much your lov\u2019d Aeneas is my care.\n Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest.\n Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press\u2019d,\n And drove before him headlong on the plain,\n And dash\u2019d against the walls the trembling train;\n When floods were fill\u2019d with bodies of the slain;\n When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way,\n Stood up on ridges to behold the sea;\n New heaps came tumbling in, and chok\u2019d his way;\n When your Aeneas fought, but fought with odds\n Of force unequal, and unequal gods;\n I spread a cloud before the victor\u2019s sight,\n Sustain\u2019d the vanquish\u2019d, and secur\u2019d his flight;\n Ev\u2019n then secur\u2019d him, when I sought with joy\n The vow\u2019d destruction of ungrateful Troy.\n My will\u2019s the same: fair goddess, fear no more,\n Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore;\n Their lives are giv\u2019n; one destin\u2019d head alone\n Shall perish, and for multitudes atone.\u201d\n Thus having arm\u2019d with hopes her anxious mind,\n His finny team Saturnian Neptune join\u2019d,\n Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws,\n And to the loosen\u2019d reins permits the laws.\n High on the waves his azure car he guides;\n Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides,\n And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides.\n The tempests fly before their father\u2019s face,\n Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace,\n And monster whales before their master play,\n And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat\u2019ry way.\n The marshal\u2019d pow\u2019rs in equal troops divide\n To right and left; the gods his better side\n Inclose, and on the worse the Nymphs and Nereids ride.\n\n Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude,\n Within the hero\u2019s mind his joys renew\u2019d.\n He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display;\n The cheerful crew with diligence obey;\n They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea.\n Ahead of all the master pilot steers;\n And, as he leads, the following navy veers.\n The steeds of Night had travel\u2019d half the sky,\n The drowsy rowers on their benches lie,\n When the soft God of Sleep, with easy flight,\n Descends, and draws behind a trail of light.\n Thou, Palinurus, art his destin\u2019d prey;\n To thee alone he takes his fatal way.\n Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears;\n And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears.\n Then thus the traitor god began his tale:\n \u201cThe winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale;\n The ships, without thy care, securely sail.\n Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I\n Will take the rudder and thy room supply.\u201d\n To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep:\n \u201cMe dost thou bid to trust the treach\u2019rous deep,\n The harlot smiles of her dissembling face,\n And to her faith commit the Trojan race?\n Shall I believe the Siren South again,\n And, oft betray\u2019d, not know the monster main?\u201d\n He said: his fasten\u2019d hands the rudder keep,\n And, fix\u2019d on heav\u2019n, his eyes repel invading sleep.\n The god was wroth, and at his temples threw\n A branch in Lethe dipp\u2019d, and drunk with Stygian dew:\n The pilot, vanquish\u2019d by the pow\u2019r divine,\n Soon clos\u2019d his swimming eyes, and lay supine.\n Scarce were his limbs extended at their length,\n The god, insulting with superior strength,\n Fell heavy on him, plung\u2019d him in the sea,\n And, with the stern, the rudder tore away.\n Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main,\n Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain.\n The victor daemon mounts obscure in air,\n While the ship sails without the pilot\u2019s care.\n On Neptune\u2019s faith the floating fleet relies;\n But what the man forsook, the god supplies,\n And o\u2019er the dang\u2019rous deep secure the navy flies;\n Glides by the Sirens\u2019 cliffs, a shelfy coast,\n Long infamous for ships and sailors lost,\n And white with bones. Th\u2019 impetuous ocean roars,\n And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores.\n The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found\n The tossing vessel sail\u2019d on shoaly ground.\n Sure of his pilot\u2019s loss, he takes himself\n The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf.\n Inly he griev\u2019d, and, groaning from the breast,\n Deplor\u2019d his death; and thus his pain express\u2019d:\n \u201cFor faith repos\u2019d on seas, and on the flatt\u2019ring sky,\n Thy naked corpse is doom\u2019d on shores unknown to lie.\u201d\n\n\n\n BOOK VI\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n The Sibyl foretells Aeneas the adventures he should meet with in\n Italy. She attends him to hell; describing to him the various\n scenes of that place, and conducting him to his father Anchises,\n who instructs him in those sublime mysteries, of the soul of the\n world, and the transmigration; and shows him that glorious race\n of heroes, which was to descend from him and his posterity.\n\n\n He said, and wept; then spread his sails before\n The winds, and reach\u2019d at length the Cumaean shore:\n Their anchors dropp\u2019d, his crew the vessels moor.\n They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land,\n And greet with greedy joy th\u2019 Italian strand.\n Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed;\n Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed,\n Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods,\n Or trace thro\u2019 valleys the discover\u2019d floods.\n Thus, while their sev\u2019ral charges they fulfil,\n The pious prince ascends the sacred hill\n Where Phoebus is ador\u2019d; and seeks the shade\n Which hides from sight his venerable maid.\n Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode;\n Thence full of fate returns, and of the god.\n Thro\u2019 Trivia\u2019s grove they walk; and now behold,\n And enter now, the temple roof\u2019d with gold.\n When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore,\n His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore,\n (The first who sail\u2019d in air,) \u2019tis sung by Fame,\n To the Cumaean coast at length he came,\n And here alighting, built this costly frame.\n Inscrib\u2019d to Phoebus, here he hung on high\n The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky:\n Then o\u2019er the lofty gate his art emboss\u2019d\n Androgeos\u2019 death, and off\u2019rings to his ghost;\n Sev\u2019n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet\n The fate appointed by revengeful Crete.\n And next to those the dreadful urn was plac\u2019d,\n In which the destin\u2019d names by lots were cast:\n The mournful parents stand around in tears,\n And rising Crete against their shore appears.\n There too, in living sculpture, might be seen\n The mad affection of the Cretan queen;\n Then how she cheats her bellowing lover\u2019s eye;\n The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny,\n The lower part a beast, a man above,\n The monument of their polluted love.\n Not far from thence he grav\u2019d the wondrous maze,\n A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways:\n Here dwells the monster, hid from human view,\n Not to be found, but by the faithful clue;\n Till the kind artist, mov\u2019d with pious grief,\n Lent to the loving maid this last relief,\n And all those erring paths describ\u2019d so well\n That Theseus conquer\u2019d and the monster fell.\n Here hapless Icarus had found his part,\n Had not the father\u2019s grief restrain\u2019d his art.\n He twice assay\u2019d to cast his son in gold;\n Twice from his hands he dropp\u2019d the forming mould.\n\n All this with wond\u2019ring eyes Aeneas view\u2019d;\n Each varying object his delight renew\u2019d:\n Eager to read the rest, Achates came,\n And by his side the mad divining dame,\n The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name.\n \u201cTime suffers not,\u201d she said, \u201cto feed your eyes\n With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice.\n Sev\u2019n bullocks, yet unyok\u2019d, for Phoebus choose,\n And for Diana sev\u2019n unspotted ewes.\u201d\n This said, the servants urge the sacred rites,\n While to the temple she the prince invites.\n A spacious cave, within its farmost part,\n Was hew\u2019d and fashion\u2019d by laborious art\n Thro\u2019 the hill\u2019s hollow sides: before the place,\n A hundred doors a hundred entries grace;\n As many voices issue, and the sound\n Of Sybil\u2019s words as many times rebound.\n Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries:\n \u201cThis is the time; enquire your destinies.\n He comes; behold the god!\u201d Thus while she said,\n (And shiv\u2019ring at the sacred entry stay\u2019d,)\n Her colour chang\u2019d; her face was not the same,\n And hollow groans from her deep spirit came.\n Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess\u2019d\n Her trembling limbs, and heav\u2019d her lab\u2019ring breast.\n Greater than humankind she seem\u2019d to look,\n And with an accent more than mortal spoke.\n Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll;\n When all the god came rushing on her soul.\n Swiftly she turn\u2019d, and, foaming as she spoke:\n \u201cWhy this delay?\u201d she cried; \u201cthe pow\u2019rs invoke!\n Thy pray\u2019rs alone can open this abode;\n Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god.\u201d\n\n She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear,\n O\u2019erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear.\n The prince himself, with awful dread possess\u2019d,\n His vows to great Apollo thus address\u2019d:\n \u201cIndulgent god, propitious pow\u2019r to Troy,\n Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy,\n Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart\n Pierc\u2019d the proud Grecian\u2019s only mortal part:\n Thus far, by fate\u2019s decrees and thy commands,\n Thro\u2019 ambient seas and thro\u2019 devouring sands,\n Our exil\u2019d crew has sought th\u2019 Ausonian ground;\n And now, at length, the flying coast is found.\n Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place,\n With fury has pursued her wand\u2019ring race.\n Here cease, ye pow\u2019rs, and let your vengeance end:\n Troy is no more, and can no more offend.\n And thou, O sacred maid, inspir\u2019d to see\n Th\u2019 event of things in dark futurity;\n Give me what Heav\u2019n has promis\u2019d to my fate,\n To conquer and command the Latian state;\n To fix my wand\u2019ring gods, and find a place\n For the long exiles of the Trojan race.\n Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear\n To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray\u2019r;\n And annual rites, and festivals, and games,\n Shall be perform\u2019d to their auspicious names.\n Nor shalt thou want thy honours in my land;\n For there thy faithful oracles shall stand,\n Preserv\u2019d in shrines; and ev\u2019ry sacred lay,\n Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey:\n All shall be treasur\u2019d by a chosen train\n Of holy priests, and ever shall remain.\n But O! commit not thy prophetic mind\n To flitting leaves, the sport of ev\u2019ry wind,\n Lest they disperse in air our empty fate;\n Write not, but, what the pow\u2019rs ordain, relate.\u201d\n\n Struggling in vain, impatient of her load,\n And lab\u2019ring underneath the pond\u2019rous god,\n The more she strove to shake him from her breast,\n With more and far superior force he press\u2019d;\n Commands his entrance, and, without control,\n Usurps her organs and inspires her soul.\n Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors\n Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars\n Within the cave, and Sibyl\u2019s voice restores:\n \u201cEscap\u2019d the dangers of the wat\u2019ry reign,\n Yet more and greater ills by land remain.\n The coast, so long desir\u2019d (nor doubt th\u2019 event),\n Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach\u2019d, repent.\n Wars, horrid wars, I view; a field of blood,\n And Tiber rolling with a purple flood.\n Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there:\n A new Achilles shall in arms appear,\n And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno\u2019s hate,\n Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.\n To what strange nations shalt not thou resort,\n Driv\u2019n to solicit aid at ev\u2019ry court!\n The cause the same which Ilium once oppress\u2019d;\n A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.\n But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes,\n The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose.\n The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown\n From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town.\u201d\n\n Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke,\n And the resisting air the thunder broke;\n The cave rebellow\u2019d, and the temple shook.\n Th\u2019 ambiguous god, who rul\u2019d her lab\u2019ring breast,\n In these mysterious words his mind express\u2019d;\n Some truths reveal\u2019d, in terms involv\u2019d the rest.\n At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas\u2019d,\n And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas\u2019d.\n Then thus the chief: \u201cNo terror to my view,\n No frightful face of danger can be new.\n Inur\u2019d to suffer, and resolv\u2019d to dare,\n The Fates, without my pow\u2019r, shall be without my care.\n This let me crave, since near your grove the road\n To hell lies open, and the dark abode\n Which Acheron surrounds, th\u2019 innavigable flood;\n Conduct me thro\u2019 the regions void of light,\n And lead me longing to my father\u2019s sight.\n For him, a thousand dangers I have sought,\n And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought,\n Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought.\n He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried,\n And wrath of Heav\u2019n, my still auspicious guide,\n And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied.\n Oft, since he breath\u2019d his last, in dead of night\n His reverend image stood before my sight;\n Enjoin\u2019d to seek, below, his holy shade;\n Conducted there by your unerring aid.\n But you, if pious minds by pray\u2019rs are won,\n Oblige the father, and protect the son.\n Yours is the pow\u2019r; nor Proserpine in vain\n Has made you priestess of her nightly reign.\n If Orpheus, arm\u2019d with his enchanting lyre,\n The ruthless king with pity could inspire,\n And from the shades below redeem his wife;\n If Pollux, off\u2019ring his alternate life,\n Could free his brother, and can daily go\n By turns aloft, by turns descend below:\n Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend,\n Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend?\n Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came;\n My mother greater, my descent the same.\u201d\n So pray\u2019d the Trojan prince, and, while he pray\u2019d,\n His hand upon the holy altar laid.\n\n Then thus replied the prophetess divine:\n \u201cO goddess-born of great Anchises\u2019 line,\n The gates of hell are open night and day;\n Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:\n But to return, and view the cheerful skies,\n In this the task and mighty labour lies.\n To few great Jupiter imparts this grace,\n And those of shining worth and heav\u2019nly race.\n Betwixt those regions and our upper light,\n Deep forests and impenetrable night\n Possess the middle space: th\u2019 infernal bounds\n Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds.\n But if so dire a love your soul invades,\n As twice below to view the trembling shades;\n If you so hard a toil will undertake,\n As twice to pass th\u2019 innavigable lake;\n Receive my counsel. In the neighb\u2019ring grove\n There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove\n Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night\n Conceal the happy plant from human sight.\n One bough it bears; but wondrous to behold!\n The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold:\n This from the vulgar branches must be torn,\n And to fair Proserpine the present borne,\n Ere leave be giv\u2019n to tempt the nether skies.\n The first thus rent a second will arise,\n And the same metal the same room supplies.\n Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see\n The lurking gold upon the fatal tree:\n Then rend it off, as holy rites command;\n The willing metal will obey thy hand,\n Following with ease, if favour\u2019d by thy fate,\n Thou art foredoom\u2019d to view the Stygian state:\n If not, no labour can the tree constrain;\n And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain.\n Besides, you know not, while you here attend,\n Th\u2019 unworthy fate of your unhappy friend:\n Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost,\n Depriv\u2019d of fun\u2019ral rites, pollutes your host.\n Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead,\n Two sable sheep around his hearse be led;\n Then, living turfs upon his body lay:\n This done, securely take the destin\u2019d way,\n To find the regions destitute of day.\u201d\n\n She said, and held her peace. Aeneas went\n Sad from the cave, and full of discontent,\n Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant.\n Achates, the companion of his breast,\n Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress\u2019d.\n Walking, they talk\u2019d, and fruitlessly divin\u2019d\n What friend the priestess by those words design\u2019d.\n But soon they found an object to deplore:\n Misenus lay extended on the shore;\n Son of the God of Winds: none so renown\u2019d\n The warrior trumpet in the field to sound;\n With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms,\n And rouse to dare their fate in honourable arms.\n He serv\u2019d great Hector, and was ever near,\n Not with his trumpet only, but his spear.\n But by Pelides\u2019 arms when Hector fell,\n He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well.\n Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more,\n He now provokes the sea gods from the shore;\n With envy Triton heard the martial sound,\n And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown\u2019d;\n Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand:\n The gazing crowd around the body stand.\n All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate,\n And hastens to perform the funeral state.\n In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear;\n The basis broad below, and top advanc\u2019d in air.\n An ancient wood, fit for the work design\u2019d,\n (The shady covert of the salvage kind,)\n The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied;\n Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow\u2019ring pride\n Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke,\n And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak.\n Huge trunks of trees, fell\u2019d from the steepy crown\n Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down.\n Arm\u2019d like the rest the Trojan prince appears,\n And by his pious labour urges theirs.\n\n Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind\n The ways to compass what his wish design\u2019d,\n He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove,\n And then with vows implor\u2019d the Queen of Love:\n \u201cO may thy pow\u2019r, propitious still to me,\n Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree,\n In this deep forest; since the Sibyl\u2019s breath\n Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus\u2019 death.\u201d\n Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight,\n Two doves, descending from their airy flight,\n Secure upon the grassy plain alight.\n He knew his mother\u2019s birds; and thus he pray\u2019d:\n \u201cBe you my guides, with your auspicious aid,\n And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found,\n Whose glitt\u2019ring shadow gilds the sacred ground.\n And thou, great parent, with celestial care,\n In this distress be present to my pray\u2019r!\u201d\n Thus having said, he stopp\u2019d with watchful sight,\n Observing still the motions of their flight,\n What course they took, what happy signs they shew.\n They fed, and, flutt\u2019ring, by degrees withdrew\n Still farther from the place, but still in view:\n Hopping and flying, thus they led him on\n To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun\n They wing\u2019d their flight aloft; then, stooping low,\n Perch\u2019d on the double tree that bears the golden bough.\n Thro\u2019 the green leafs the glitt\u2019ring shadows glow;\n As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe,\n Where the proud mother views her precious brood,\n And happier branches, which she never sow\u2019d.\n Such was the glitt\u2019ring; such the ruddy rind,\n And dancing leaves, that wanton\u2019d in the wind.\n He seiz\u2019d the shining bough with griping hold,\n And rent away, with ease, the ling\u2019ring gold;\n Then to the Sibyl\u2019s palace bore the prize.\n Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes,\n To dead Misenus pay his obsequies.\n First, from the ground a lofty pile they rear,\n Of pitch trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir:\n The fabric\u2019s front with cypress twigs they strew,\n And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew.\n The topmost part his glitt\u2019ring arms adorn;\n Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne,\n Are pour\u2019d to wash his body, joint by joint,\n And fragrant oils the stiffen\u2019d limbs anoint.\n With groans and cries Misenus they deplore:\n Then on a bier, with purple cover\u2019d o\u2019er,\n The breathless body, thus bewail\u2019d, they lay,\n And fire the pile, their faces turn\u2019d away:\n Such reverend rites their fathers us\u2019d to pay.\n Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw,\n And fat of victims, which his friends bestow.\n These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour;\n Then on the living coals red wine they pour;\n And, last, the relics by themselves dispose,\n Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose.\n Old Corynaeus compass\u2019d thrice the crew,\n And dipp\u2019d an olive branch in holy dew;\n Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud\n Invok\u2019d the dead, and then dismissed the crowd.\n But good Aeneas order\u2019d on the shore\n A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore,\n A soldier\u2019s falchion, and a seaman\u2019s oar.\n Thus was his friend interr\u2019d; and deathless fame\n Still to the lofty cape consigns his name.\n These rites perform\u2019d, the prince, without delay,\n Hastes to the nether world his destin\u2019d way.\n Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went\n From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent;\n And here th\u2019 access a gloomy grove defends,\n And there th\u2019 unnavigable lake extends,\n O\u2019er whose unhappy waters, void of light,\n No bird presumes to steer his airy flight;\n Such deadly stenches from the depths arise,\n And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies.\n From hence the Grecian bards their legends make,\n And give the name Avernus to the lake.\n Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught,\n For sacrifice the pious hero brought.\n The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns;\n Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns,\n Invoking Hecate hither to repair:\n A pow\u2019rful name in hell and upper air.\n The sacred priests with ready knives bereave\n The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive\n The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night\n (The sable wool without a streak of white)\n Aeneas offers; and, by fate\u2019s decree,\n A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee,\n With holocausts he Pluto\u2019s altar fills;\n Sev\u2019n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills;\n Then on the broiling entrails oil he pours;\n Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours.\n Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun,\n Nor ended till the next returning sun.\n Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance,\n And howling dogs in glimm\u2019ring light advance,\n Ere Hecate came. \u201cFar hence be souls profane!\u201d\n The Sibyl cried, \u201cand from the grove abstain!\n Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford;\n Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword.\u201d\n She said, and pass\u2019d along the gloomy space;\n The prince pursued her steps with equal pace.\n\n Ye realms, yet unreveal\u2019d to human sight,\n Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,\n Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate\n The mystic wonders of your silent state!\n\n Obscure they went thro\u2019 dreary shades, that led\n Along the waste dominions of the dead.\n Thus wander travelers in woods by night,\n By the moon\u2019s doubtful and malignant light,\n When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies,\n And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes.\n\n Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell,\n Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell,\n And pale Diseases, and repining Age,\n Want, Fear, and Famine\u2019s unresisted rage;\n Here Toils, and Death, and Death\u2019s half-brother, Sleep,\n Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep;\n With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind,\n Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind;\n The Furies\u2019 iron beds; and Strife, that shakes\n Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes.\n Full in the midst of this infernal road,\n An elm displays her dusky arms abroad:\n The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head,\n And empty dreams on ev\u2019ry leaf are spread.\n Of various forms unnumber\u2019d spectres more,\n Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door.\n Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands,\n And Briareus with all his hundred hands;\n Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame;\n And vain Chimaera vomits empty flame.\n The chief unsheath\u2019d his shining steel, prepar\u2019d,\n Tho\u2019 seiz\u2019d with sudden fear, to force the guard,\n Off\u2019ring his brandish\u2019d weapon at their face;\n Had not the Sibyl stopp\u2019d his eager pace,\n And told him what those empty phantoms were:\n Forms without bodies, and impassive air.\n Hence to deep Acheron they take their way,\n Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay,\n Are whirl\u2019d aloft, and in Cocytus lost.\n There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast:\n A sordid god: down from his hoary chin\n A length of beard descends, uncomb\u2019d, unclean;\n His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;\n A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.\n He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers;\n The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears.\n He look\u2019d in years; yet in his years were seen\n A youthful vigour and autumnal green.\n An airy crowd came rushing where he stood,\n Which fill\u2019d the margin of the fatal flood:\n Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids,\n And mighty heroes\u2019 more majestic shades,\n And youths, intomb\u2019d before their fathers\u2019 eyes,\n With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries.\n Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods,\n Or fowls, by winter forc\u2019d, forsake the floods,\n And wing their hasty flight to happier lands;\n Such, and so thick, the shiv\u2019ring army stands,\n And press for passage with extended hands.\n Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore:\n The rest he drove to distance from the shore.\n The hero, who beheld with wond\u2019ring eyes\n The tumult mix\u2019d with shrieks, laments, and cries,\n Ask\u2019d of his guide, what the rude concourse meant;\n Why to the shore the thronging people bent;\n What forms of law among the ghosts were us\u2019d;\n Why some were ferried o\u2019er, and some refus\u2019d.\n\n \u201cSon of Anchises, offspring of the gods,\u201d\n The Sibyl said, \u201cyou see the Stygian floods,\n The sacred stream which heav\u2019n\u2019s imperial state\n Attests in oaths, and fears to violate.\n The ghosts rejected are th\u2019 unhappy crew\n Depriv\u2019d of sepulchers and fun\u2019ral due:\n The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host,\n He ferries over to the farther coast;\n Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves\n With such whose bones are not compos\u2019d in graves.\n A hundred years they wander on the shore;\n At length, their penance done, are wafted o\u2019er.\u201d\n The Trojan chief his forward pace repress\u2019d,\n Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast,\n He saw his friends, who, whelm\u2019d beneath the waves,\n Their fun\u2019ral honours claim\u2019d, and ask\u2019d their quiet graves.\n The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew,\n And the brave leader of the Lycian crew,\n Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met;\n The sailors master\u2019d, and the ship o\u2019erset.\n\n Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press\u2019d,\n Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest,\n Who, while he steering view\u2019d the stars, and bore\n His course from Afric to the Latian shore,\n Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix\u2019d his view,\n And scarcely thro\u2019 the gloom the sullen shadow knew.\n Then thus the prince: \u201cWhat envious pow\u2019r, O friend,\n Brought your lov\u2019d life to this disastrous end?\n For Phoebus, ever true in all he said,\n Has in your fate alone my faith betray\u2019d.\n The god foretold you should not die, before\n You reach\u2019d, secure from seas, th\u2019 Italian shore.\n Is this th\u2019 unerring pow\u2019r?\u201d The ghost replied;\n \u201cNor Phoebus flatter\u2019d, nor his answers lied;\n Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep:\n But, while the stars and course of heav\u2019n I keep,\n My wearied eyes were seiz\u2019d with fatal sleep.\n I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain\u2019d\n Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain\u2019d.\n Now by the winds and raging waves I swear,\n Your safety, more than mine, was then my care;\n Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost,\n Your ship should run against the rocky coast.\n Three blust\u2019ring nights, borne by the southern blast,\n I floated, and discover\u2019d land at last:\n High on a mounting wave my head I bore,\n Forcing my strength, and gath\u2019ring to the shore.\n Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz\u2019d\n The craggy cliffs, and my tir\u2019d members eas\u2019d.\n While, cumber\u2019d with my dropping clothes, I lay,\n The cruel nation, covetous of prey,\n Stain\u2019d with my blood th\u2019 unhospitable coast;\n And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss\u2019d:\n Which O avert, by yon ethereal light,\n Which I have lost for this eternal night!\n Or, if by dearer ties you may be won,\n By your dead sire, and by your living son,\n Redeem from this reproach my wand\u2019ring ghost;\n Or with your navy seek the Velin coast,\n And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose;\n Or, if a nearer way your mother shows,\n Without whose aid you durst not undertake\n This frightful passage o\u2019er the Stygian lake,\n Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o\u2019er\n To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore.\u201d\n Scarce had he said, the prophetess began:\n \u201cWhat hopes delude thee, miserable man?\n Think\u2019st thou, thus unintomb\u2019d, to cross the floods,\n To view the Furies and infernal gods,\n And visit, without leave, the dark abodes?\n Attend the term of long revolving years;\n Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears.\n This comfort of thy dire misfortune take:\n The wrath of Heav\u2019n, inflicted for thy sake,\n With vengeance shall pursue th\u2019 inhuman coast,\n Till they propitiate thy offended ghost,\n And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray\u2019r;\n And Palinurus\u2019 name the place shall bear.\u201d\n This calm\u2019d his cares; sooth\u2019d with his future fame,\n And pleas\u2019d to hear his propagated name.\n\n Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw:\n Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw;\n Observ\u2019d their passage thro\u2019 the shady wood,\n And mark\u2019d their near approaches to the flood.\n Then thus he call\u2019d aloud, inflam\u2019d with wrath:\n \u201cMortal, whate\u2019er, who this forbidden path\n In arms presum\u2019st to tread, I charge thee, stand,\n And tell thy name, and bus\u2019ness in the land.\n Know this, the realm of night; the Stygian shore:\n My boat conveys no living bodies o\u2019er;\n Nor was I pleas\u2019d great Theseus once to bear,\n Who forc\u2019d a passage with his pointed spear,\n Nor strong Alcides, men of mighty fame,\n And from th\u2019 immortal gods their lineage came.\n In fetters one the barking porter tied,\n And took him trembling from his sov\u2019reign\u2019s side:\n Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride.\u201d\n To whom the Sibyl thus: \u201cCompose thy mind;\n Nor frauds are here contriv\u2019d, nor force design\u2019d.\n Still may the dog the wand\u2019ring troops constrain\n Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train,\n And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain.\n The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove,\n Much fam\u2019d for arms, and more for filial love,\n Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove.\n If neither piety, nor Heav\u2019n\u2019s command,\n Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand,\n This fatal present shall prevail at least.\u201d\n Then shew\u2019d the shining bough, conceal\u2019d within her vest.\n No more was needful: for the gloomy god\n Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod;\n Admir\u2019d the destin\u2019d off\u2019ring to his queen;\n A venerable gift, so rarely seen.\n His fury thus appeas\u2019d, he puts to land;\n The ghosts forsake their seats at his command:\n He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight;\n The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight.\n Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides;\n The pressing water pours within her sides.\n His passengers at length are wafted o\u2019er,\n Expos\u2019d, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore.\n\n No sooner landed, in his den they found\n The triple porter of the Stygian sound,\n Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear\n His crested snakes, and arm\u2019d his bristling hair.\n The prudent Sibyl had before prepar\u2019d\n A sop, in honey steep\u2019d, to charm the guard;\n Which, mix\u2019d with pow\u2019rful drugs, she cast before\n His greedy grinning jaws, just op\u2019d to roar.\n With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight,\n With hunger press\u2019d, devours the pleasing bait.\n Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave;\n He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave.\n The keeper charm\u2019d, the chief without delay\n Pass\u2019d on, and took th\u2019 irremeable way.\n Before the gates, the cries of babes new born,\n Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn,\n Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws\n Condemn\u2019d to die, when traitors judg\u2019d their cause.\n Nor want they lots, nor judges to review\n The wrongful sentence, and award a new.\n Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears;\n And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears.\n Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls,\n Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls.\n The next, in place and punishment, are they\n Who prodigally throw their souls away;\n Fools, who, repining at their wretched state,\n And loathing anxious life, suborn\u2019d their fate.\n With late repentance now they would retrieve\n The bodies they forsook, and wish to live;\n Their pains and poverty desire to bear,\n To view the light of heav\u2019n, and breathe the vital air:\n But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose,\n And with circling streams the captive souls inclose.\n\n Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear\n So call\u2019d from lovers that inhabit there.\n The souls whom that unhappy flame invades,\n In secret solitude and myrtle shades\n Make endless moans, and, pining with desire,\n Lament too late their unextinguish\u2019d fire.\n Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found,\n Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound\n Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there,\n With Phaedra\u2019s ghost, a foul incestuous pair.\n There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves,\n Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves:\n Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man,\n But ending in the sex she first began.\n Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood,\n Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath\u2019d in blood;\n Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew,\n Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view,\n (Doubtful as he who sees, thro\u2019 dusky night,\n Or thinks he sees, the moon\u2019s uncertain light,)\n With tears he first approach\u2019d the sullen shade;\n And, as his love inspir\u2019d him, thus he said:\n \u201cUnhappy queen! then is the common breath\n Of rumour true, in your reported death,\n And I, alas! the cause? By Heav\u2019n, I vow,\n And all the pow\u2019rs that rule the realms below,\n Unwilling I forsook your friendly state,\n Commanded by the gods, and forc\u2019d by fate.\n Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might\n Have sent me to these regions void of light,\n Thro\u2019 the vast empire of eternal night.\n Nor dar\u2019d I to presume, that, press\u2019d with grief,\n My flight should urge you to this dire relief.\n Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows:\n \u2019Tis the last interview that fate allows!\u201d\n In vain he thus attempts her mind to move\n With tears, and pray\u2019rs, and late-repenting love.\n Disdainfully she look\u2019d; then turning round,\n But fix\u2019d her eyes unmov\u2019d upon the ground,\n And what he says and swears, regards no more\n Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar;\n But whirl\u2019d away, to shun his hateful sight,\n Hid in the forest and the shades of night;\n Then sought Sichaeus thro\u2019 the shady grove,\n Who answer\u2019d all her cares, and equal\u2019d all her love.\n\n Some pious tears the pitying hero paid,\n And follow\u2019d with his eyes the flitting shade,\n Then took the forward way, by fate ordain\u2019d,\n And, with his guide, the farther fields attain\u2019d,\n Where, sever\u2019d from the rest, the warrior souls remain\u2019d.\n Tydeus he met, with Meleager\u2019s race,\n The pride of armies, and the soldiers\u2019 grace;\n And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face.\n Of Trojan chiefs he view\u2019d a num\u2019rous train,\n All much lamented, all in battle slain;\n Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest,\n Antenor\u2019s sons, and Ceres\u2019 sacred priest.\n And proud Idaeus, Priam\u2019s charioteer,\n Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear.\n The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend\n And with unwearied eyes behold their friend;\n Delight to hover near, and long to know\n What bus\u2019ness brought him to the realms below.\n But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon\u2019s train,\n When his refulgent arms flash\u2019d thro\u2019 the shady plain,\n Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear,\n As when his thund\u2019ring sword and pointed spear\n Drove headlong to their ships, and glean\u2019d the routed rear.\n They rais\u2019d a feeble cry, with trembling notes;\n But the weak voice deceiv\u2019d their gasping throats.\n\n Here Priam\u2019s son, Deiphobus, he found,\n Whose face and limbs were one continued wound:\n Dishonest, with lopp\u2019d arms, the youth appears,\n Spoil\u2019d of his nose, and shorten\u2019d of his ears.\n He scarcely knew him, striving to disown\n His blotted form, and blushing to be known;\n And therefore first began: \u201cO Teucer\u2019s race,\n Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface?\n What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace?\n \u2019Twas fam\u2019d, that in our last and fatal night\n Your single prowess long sustain\u2019d the fight,\n Till tir\u2019d, not forc\u2019d, a glorious fate you chose,\n And fell upon a heap of slaughter\u2019d foes.\n But, in remembrance of so brave a deed,\n A tomb and fun\u2019ral honours I decreed;\n Thrice call\u2019d your manes on the Trojan plains:\n The place your armour and your name retains.\n Your body too I sought, and, had I found,\n Design\u2019d for burial in your native ground.\u201d\n\n The ghost replied: \u201cYour piety has paid\n All needful rites, to rest my wand\u2019ring shade;\n But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife,\n To Grecian swords betray\u2019d my sleeping life.\n These are the monuments of Helen\u2019s love:\n The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above.\n You know in what deluding joys we pass\u2019d\n The night that was by Heav\u2019n decreed our last:\n For, when the fatal horse, descending down,\n Pregnant with arms, o\u2019erwhelm\u2019d th\u2019 unhappy town\n She feign\u2019d nocturnal orgies; left my bed,\n And, mix\u2019d with Trojan dames, the dances led\n Then, waving high her torch, the signal made,\n Which rous\u2019d the Grecians from their ambuscade.\n With watching overworn, with cares oppress\u2019d,\n Unhappy I had laid me down to rest,\n And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess\u2019d.\n Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid,\n And from beneath my head my sword convey\u2019d;\n The door unlatch\u2019d, and, with repeated calls,\n Invites her former lord within my walls.\n Thus in her crime her confidence she plac\u2019d,\n And with new treasons would redeem the past.\n What need I more? Into the room they ran,\n And meanly murder\u2019d a defenceless man.\n Ulysses, basely born, first led the way.\n Avenging pow\u2019rs! with justice if I pray,\n That fortune be their own another day!\n But answer you; and in your turn relate,\n What brought you, living, to the Stygian state:\n Driv\u2019n by the winds and errors of the sea,\n Or did you Heav\u2019n\u2019s superior doom obey?\n Or tell what other chance conducts your way,\n To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats,\n Tumults and torments of th\u2019 infernal seats.\u201d\n\n While thus in talk the flying hours they pass,\n The sun had finish\u2019d more than half his race:\n And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent\n The little time of stay which Heav\u2019n had lent;\n But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay:\n \u201cNight rushes down, and headlong drives the day:\n \u2019Tis here, in different paths, the way divides;\n The right to Pluto\u2019s golden palace guides;\n The left to that unhappy region tends,\n Which to the depth of Tartarus descends;\n The seat of night profound, and punish\u2019d fiends.\u201d\n Then thus Deiphobus: \u201cO sacred maid,\n Forbear to chide, and be your will obey\u2019d!\n Lo! to the secret shadows I retire,\n To pay my penance till my years expire.\n Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown\u2019d,\n And born to better fates than I have found.\u201d\n He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn\u2019d\n To secret shadows, and in silence mourn\u2019d.\n\n The hero, looking on the left, espied\n A lofty tow\u2019r, and strong on ev\u2019ry side\n With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds,\n Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds;\n And, press\u2019d betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds\n Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais\u2019d on high\n With adamantine columns, threats the sky.\n Vain is the force of man, and Heav\u2019n\u2019s as vain,\n To crush the pillars which the pile sustain.\n Sublime on these a tow\u2019r of steel is rear\u2019d;\n And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward,\n Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day,\n Observant of the souls that pass the downward way.\n From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains\n Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains.\n The Trojan stood astonish\u2019d at their cries,\n And ask\u2019d his guide from whence those yells arise;\n And what the crimes, and what the tortures were,\n And loud laments that rent the liquid air.\n\n She thus replied: \u201cThe chaste and holy race\n Are all forbidden this polluted place.\n But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods,\n Then led me trembling thro\u2019 these dire abodes,\n And taught the tortures of th\u2019 avenging gods.\n These are the realms of unrelenting fate;\n And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state.\n He hears and judges each committed crime;\n Enquires into the manner, place, and time.\n The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal,\n Loth to confess, unable to conceal,\n From the first moment of his vital breath,\n To his last hour of unrepenting death.\n Straight, o\u2019er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes\n The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes,\n And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes.\n Then, of itself, unfolds th\u2019 eternal door;\n With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar.\n You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost\n Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post.\n More formidable Hydra stands within,\n Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin.\n The gaping gulf low to the centre lies,\n And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies.\n The rivals of the gods, the Titan race,\n Here, sing\u2019d with lightning, roll within th\u2019 unfathom\u2019d space.\n Here lie th\u2019 Alaean twins, (I saw them both,)\n Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth,\n Who dar\u2019d in fight the Thund\u2019rer to defy,\n Affect his heav\u2019n, and force him from the sky.\n Salmoneus, suff\u2019ring cruel pains, I found,\n For emulating Jove; the rattling sound\n Of mimic thunder, and the glitt\u2019ring blaze\n Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays.\n Thro\u2019 Elis and the Grecian towns he flew;\n Th\u2019 audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew:\n He wav\u2019d a torch aloft, and, madly vain,\n Sought godlike worship from a servile train.\n Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass\n O\u2019er hollow arches of resounding brass,\n To rival thunder in its rapid course,\n And imitate inimitable force!\n But he, the King of Heav\u2019n, obscure on high,\n Bar\u2019d his red arm, and, launching from the sky\n His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke,\n Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook.\n There Tityus was to see, who took his birth\n From heav\u2019n, his nursing from the foodful earth.\n Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace,\n Infold nine acres of infernal space.\n A rav\u2019nous vulture, in his open\u2019d side,\n Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried;\n Still for the growing liver digg\u2019d his breast;\n The growing liver still supplied the feast;\n Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains:\n Th\u2019 immortal hunger lasts, th\u2019 immortal food remains.\n Ixion and Perithous I could name,\n And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame.\n High o\u2019er their heads a mould\u2019ring rock is plac\u2019d,\n That promises a fall, and shakes at ev\u2019ry blast.\n They lie below, on golden beds display\u2019d;\n And genial feasts with regal pomp are made.\n The Queen of Furies by their sides is set,\n And snatches from their mouths th\u2019 untasted meat,\n Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears,\n Tossing her torch, and thund\u2019ring in their ears.\n Then they, who brothers\u2019 better claim disown,\n Expel their parents, and usurp the throne;\n Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold,\n Sit brooding on unprofitable gold;\n Who dare not give, and ev\u2019n refuse to lend\n To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend.\n Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train\n Of lustful youths, for foul adult\u2019ry slain:\n Hosts of deserters, who their honour sold,\n And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold.\n All these within the dungeon\u2019s depth remain,\n Despairing pardon, and expecting pain.\n Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know\n Their process, or the forms of law below.\n Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along,\n And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung\n Unhappy Theseus, doom\u2019d for ever there,\n Is fix\u2019d by fate on his eternal chair;\n And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries\n (Could warning make the world more just or wise):\n \u2018Learn righteousness, and dread th\u2019 avenging deities.\u2019\n To tyrants others have their country sold,\n Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold;\n Some have old laws repeal\u2019d, new statutes made,\n Not as the people pleas\u2019d, but as they paid;\n With incest some their daughters\u2019 bed profan\u2019d:\n All dar\u2019d the worst of ills, and, what they dar\u2019d, attain\u2019d.\n Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,\n And throats of brass, inspir\u2019d with iron lungs,\n I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,\n Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.\n But let us haste our voyage to pursue:\n The walls of Pluto\u2019s palace are in view;\n The gate, and iron arch above it, stands\n On anvils labour\u2019d by the Cyclops\u2019 hands.\n Before our farther way the Fates allow,\n Here must we fix on high the golden bough.\u201d\n\n She said, and thro\u2019 the gloomy shades they pass\u2019d,\n And chose the middle path. Arriv\u2019d at last,\n The prince with living water sprinkled o\u2019er\n His limbs and body; then approach\u2019d the door,\n Possess\u2019d the porch, and on the front above\n He fix\u2019d the fatal bough requir\u2019d by Pluto\u2019s love.\n These holy rites perform\u2019d, they took their way\n Where long extended plains of pleasure lay:\n The verdant fields with those of heav\u2019n may vie,\n With ether vested, and a purple sky;\n The blissful seats of happy souls below.\n Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know;\n Their airy limbs in sports they exercise,\n And on the green contend the wrestler\u2019s prize.\n Some in heroic verse divinely sing;\n Others in artful measures led the ring.\n The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest,\n There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest;\n His flying fingers, and harmonious quill,\n Strikes sev\u2019n distinguish\u2019d notes, and sev\u2019n at once they fill.\n Here found they Teucer\u2019s old heroic race,\n Born better times and happier years to grace.\n Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy\n Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy.\n The chief beheld their chariots from afar,\n Their shining arms, and coursers train\u2019d to war:\n Their lances fix\u2019d in earth, their steeds around,\n Free from their harness, graze the flow\u2019ry ground.\n The love of horses which they had, alive,\n And care of chariots, after death survive.\n Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain;\n Some did the song, and some the choir maintain,\n Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po\n Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below.\n Here patriots live, who, for their country\u2019s good,\n In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood:\n Priests of unblemish\u2019d lives here make abode,\n And poets worthy their inspiring god;\n And searching wits, of more mechanic parts,\n Who grac\u2019d their age with new-invented arts:\n Those who to worth their bounty did extend,\n And those who knew that bounty to commend.\n The heads of these with holy fillets bound,\n And all their temples were with garlands crown\u2019d.\n\n To these the Sibyl thus her speech address\u2019d,\n And first to him surrounded by the rest\n Tow\u2019ring his height, and ample was his breast;\n \u201cSay, happy souls, divine Musaeus, say,\n Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way\n To find the hero, for whose only sake\n We sought the dark abodes, and cross\u2019d the bitter lake?\u201d\n To this the sacred poet thus replied:\n \u201cIn no fix\u2019d place the happy souls reside.\n In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds,\n By crystal streams, that murmur thro\u2019 the meads:\n But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend;\n The path conducts you to your journey\u2019s end.\u201d\n This said, he led them up the mountain\u2019s brow,\n And shews them all the shining fields below.\n They wind the hill, and thro\u2019 the blissful meadows go.\n\n But old Anchises, in a flow\u2019ry vale,\n Review\u2019d his muster\u2019d race, and took the tale:\n Those happy spirits, which, ordain\u2019d by fate,\n For future beings and new bodies wait.\n With studious thought observ\u2019d th\u2019 illustrious throng,\n In nature\u2019s order as they pass\u2019d along:\n Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care,\n In peaceful senates and successful war.\n He, when Aeneas on the plain appears,\n Meets him with open arms, and falling tears.\n \u201cWelcome,\u201d he said, \u201cthe gods\u2019 undoubted race!\n O long expected to my dear embrace!\n Once more \u2019tis giv\u2019n me to behold your face!\n The love and pious duty which you pay\n Have pass\u2019d the perils of so hard a way.\n \u2019Tis true, computing times, I now believ\u2019d\n The happy day approach\u2019d; nor are my hopes deceiv\u2019d.\n What length of lands, what oceans have you pass\u2019d;\n What storms sustain\u2019d, and on what shores been cast?\n How have I fear\u2019d your fate! but fear\u2019d it most,\n When love assail\u2019d you, on the Libyan coast.\u201d\n To this, the filial duty thus replies:\n \u201cYour sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes\n Appear\u2019d, and often urg\u2019d this painful enterprise.\n After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea,\n My navy rides at anchor in the bay.\n But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun\n The dear embraces of your longing son!\u201d\n He said; and falling tears his face bedew:\n Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw;\n And thrice the flitting shadow slipp\u2019d away,\n Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day.\n\n Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees\n A sep\u2019rate grove, thro\u2019 which a gentle breeze\n Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro\u2019 the trees;\n And, just before the confines of the wood,\n The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood.\n About the boughs an airy nation flew,\n Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew;\n In summer\u2019s heat on tops of lilies feed,\n And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed:\n The winged army roams the fields around;\n The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound.\n Aeneas wond\u2019ring stood, then ask\u2019d the cause\n Which to the stream the crowding people draws.\n Then thus the sire: \u201cThe souls that throng the flood\n Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow\u2019d:\n In Lethe\u2019s lake they long oblivion taste,\n Of future life secure, forgetful of the past.\n Long has my soul desir\u2019d this time and place,\n To set before your sight your glorious race,\n That this presaging joy may fire your mind\n To seek the shores by destiny design\u2019d.\u201d\n \u201cO father, can it be, that souls sublime\n Return to visit our terrestrial clime,\n And that the gen\u2019rous mind, releas\u2019d by death,\n Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?\u201d\n\n Anchises then, in order, thus begun\n To clear those wonders to his godlike son:\n \u201cKnow, first, that heav\u2019n, and earth\u2019s compacted frame,\n And flowing waters, and the starry flame,\n And both the radiant lights, one common soul\n Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole.\n This active mind, infus\u2019d thro\u2019 all the space,\n Unites and mingles with the mighty mass.\n Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,\n And birds of air, and monsters of the main.\n Th\u2019 ethereal vigour is in all the same,\n And every soul is fill\u2019d with equal flame;\n As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay\n Of mortal members, subject to decay,\n Blunt not the beams of heav\u2019n and edge of day.\n From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts,\n Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts,\n And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind,\n In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin\u2019d,\n Assert the native skies, or own its heav\u2019nly kind:\n Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains;\n But long-contracted filth ev\u2019n in the soul remains.\n The relics of inveterate vice they wear,\n And spots of sin obscene in ev\u2019ry face appear.\n For this are various penances enjoin\u2019d;\n And some are hung to bleach upon the wind,\n Some plung\u2019d in waters, others purg\u2019d in fires,\n Till all the dregs are drain\u2019d, and all the rust expires.\n All have their manes, and those manes bear:\n The few, so cleans\u2019d, to these abodes repair,\n And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air.\n Then are they happy, when by length of time\n The scurf is worn away of each committed crime;\n No speck is left of their habitual stains,\n But the pure ether of the soul remains.\n But, when a thousand rolling years are past,\n (So long their punishments and penance last,)\n Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,\n Compell\u2019d to drink the deep Lethaean flood,\n In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares\n Of their past labours, and their irksome years,\n That, unrememb\u2019ring of its former pain,\n The soul may suffer mortal flesh again.\u201d\n\n Thus having said, the father spirit leads\n The priestess and his son thro\u2019 swarms of shades,\n And takes a rising ground, from thence to see\n The long procession of his progeny.\n \u201cSurvey,\u201d pursued the sire, \u201cthis airy throng,\n As, offer\u2019d to thy view, they pass along.\n These are th\u2019 Italian names, which fate will join\n With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line.\n Observe the youth who first appears in sight,\n And holds the nearest station to the light,\n Already seems to snuff the vital air,\n And leans just forward, on a shining spear:\n Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race,\n But first in order sent, to fill thy place;\n An Alban name, but mix\u2019d with Dardan blood,\n Born in the covert of a shady wood:\n Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife,\n Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life.\n In Alba he shall fix his royal seat,\n And, born a king, a race of kings beget.\n Then Procas, honour of the Trojan name,\n Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame.\n A second Silvius after these appears;\n Silvius Aeneas, for thy name he bears;\n For arms and justice equally renown\u2019d,\n Who, late restor\u2019d, in Alba shall be crown\u2019d.\n How great they look! how vig\u2019rously they wield\n Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield!\n But they, who crown\u2019d with oaken wreaths appear,\n Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear;\n Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found;\n And raise Collatian tow\u2019rs on rocky ground.\n All these shall then be towns of mighty fame,\n Tho\u2019 now they lie obscure, and lands without a name.\n See Romulus the great, born to restore\n The crown that once his injur\u2019d grandsire wore.\n This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear,\n And like his sire in arms he shall appear.\n Two rising crests, his royal head adorn;\n Born from a god, himself to godhead born:\n His sire already signs him for the skies,\n And marks the seat amidst the deities.\n Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come,\n Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome.\n Rome, whose ascending tow\u2019rs shall heav\u2019n invade,\n Involving earth and ocean in her shade;\n High as the Mother of the Gods in place,\n And proud, like her, of an immortal race.\n Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round,\n With golden turrets on her temples crown\u2019d;\n A hundred gods her sweeping train supply;\n Her offspring all, and all command the sky.\n\n \u201cNow fix your sight, and stand intent, to see\n Your Roman race, and Julian progeny.\n The mighty Caesar waits his vital hour,\n Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis\u2019d pow\u2019r.\n But next behold the youth of form divine,\n Caesar himself, exalted in his line;\n Augustus, promis\u2019d oft, and long foretold,\n Sent to the realm that Saturn rul\u2019d of old;\n Born to restore a better age of gold.\n Afric and India shall his pow\u2019r obey;\n He shall extend his propagated sway\n Beyond the solar year, without the starry way,\n Where Atlas turns the rolling heav\u2019ns around,\n And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown\u2019d.\n At his foreseen approach, already quake\n The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake:\n Their seers behold the tempest from afar,\n And threat\u2019ning oracles denounce the war.\n Nile hears him knocking at his sev\u2019nfold gates,\n And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew\u2019s fates.\n Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew,\n Not tho\u2019 the brazen-footed hind he slew,\n Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar,\n And dipp\u2019d his arrows in Lernaean gore;\n Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war,\n By tigers drawn triumphant in his car,\n From Nisus\u2019 top descending on the plains,\n With curling vines around his purple reins.\n And doubt we yet thro\u2019 dangers to pursue\n The paths of honour, and a crown in view?\n But what\u2019s the man, who from afar appears?\n His head with olive crown\u2019d, his hand a censer bears,\n His hoary beard and holy vestments bring\n His lost idea back: I know the Roman king.\n He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain,\n Call\u2019d from his mean abode a scepter to sustain.\n Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds,\n An active prince, and prone to martial deeds.\n He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare,\n Disus\u2019d to toils, and triumphs of the war.\n By dint of sword his crown he shall increase,\n And scour his armour from the rust of peace.\n Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air,\n But vain within, and proudly popular.\n Next view the Tarquin kings, th\u2019 avenging sword\n Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor\u2019d.\n He first renews the rods and ax severe,\n And gives the consuls royal robes to wear.\n His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain,\n And long for arbitrary lords again,\n With ignominy scourg\u2019d, in open sight,\n He dooms to death deserv\u2019d, asserting public right.\n Unhappy man, to break the pious laws\n Of nature, pleading in his children\u2019s cause!\n Howe\u2019er the doubtful fact is understood,\n \u2019Tis love of honour, and his country\u2019s good:\n The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.\n Behold Torquatus the same track pursue;\n And, next, the two devoted Decii view:\n The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home\n With standards well redeem\u2019d, and foreign foes o\u2019ercome\n The pair you see in equal armour shine,\n Now, friends below, in close embraces join;\n But, when they leave the shady realms of night,\n And, cloth\u2019d in bodies, breathe your upper light,\n With mortal hate each other shall pursue:\n What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue!\n From Alpine heights the father first descends;\n His daughter\u2019s husband in the plain attends:\n His daughter\u2019s husband arms his eastern friends.\n Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more;\n Nor stain your country with her children\u2019s gore!\n And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim,\n Thou, of my blood, who bear\u2019st the Julian name!\n Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,\n And to the Capitol his chariot guide,\n From conquer\u2019d Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.\n And yet another, fam\u2019d for warlike toils,\n On Argos shall impose the Roman laws,\n And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause;\n Shall drag in chains their Achillean race;\n Shall vindicate his ancestors\u2019 disgrace,\n And Pallas, for her violated place.\n Great Cato there, for gravity renown\u2019d,\n And conqu\u2019ring Cossus goes with laurels crown\u2019d.\n Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare\n The Scipios\u2019 worth, those thunderbolts of war,\n The double bane of Carthage? Who can see\n Without esteem for virtuous poverty,\n Severe Fabricius, or can cease t\u2019 admire\n The plowman consul in his coarse attire?\n Tir\u2019d as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;\n And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,\n Ordain\u2019d in war to save the sinking state,\n And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!\n Let others better mould the running mass\n Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,\n And soften into flesh a marble face;\n Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,\n And when the stars descend, and when they rise.\n But, Rome, \u2019tis thine alone, with awful sway,\n To rule mankind, and make the world obey,\n Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way;\n To tame the proud, the fetter\u2019d slave to free:\n These are imperial arts, and worthy thee.\u201d\n\n He paus\u2019d; and, while with wond\u2019ring eyes they view\u2019d\n The passing spirits, thus his speech renew\u2019d:\n \u201cSee great Marcellus! how, untir\u2019d in toils,\n He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!\n He, when his country, threaten\u2019d with alarms,\n Requires his courage and his conqu\u2019ring arms,\n Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;\n Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;\n Then to the Capitol in triumph move,\n And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove.\u201d\n Aeneas here beheld, of form divine,\n A godlike youth in glitt\u2019ring armour shine,\n With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;\n But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.\n He saw, and, wond\u2019ring, ask\u2019d his airy guide,\n What and of whence was he, who press\u2019d the hero\u2019s side:\n \u201cHis son, or one of his illustrious name?\n How like the former, and almost the same!\n Observe the crowds that compass him around;\n All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:\n But hov\u2019ring mists around his brows are spread,\n And night, with sable shades, involves his head.\u201d\n \u201cSeek not to know,\u201d the ghost replied with tears,\n \u201cThe sorrows of thy sons in future years.\n This youth (the blissful vision of a day)\n Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch\u2019d away.\n The gods too high had rais\u2019d the Roman state,\n Were but their gifts as permanent as great.\n What groans of men shall fill the Martian field!\n How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!\n What fun\u2019ral pomp shall floating Tiber see,\n When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!\n No youth shall equal hopes of glory give,\n No youth afford so great a cause to grieve;\n The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast,\n Admir\u2019d when living, and ador\u2019d when lost!\n Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!\n Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!\n No foe, unpunish\u2019d, in the fighting field\n Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield;\n Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force,\n When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.\n Ah! couldst thou break thro\u2019 fate\u2019s severe decree,\n A new Marcellus shall arise in thee!\n Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,\n Mix\u2019d with the purple roses of the spring;\n Let me with fun\u2019ral flow\u2019rs his body strow;\n This gift which parents to their children owe,\n This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!\u201d\n Thus having said, he led the hero round\n The confines of the blest Elysian ground;\n Which when Anchises to his son had shown,\n And fir\u2019d his mind to mount the promis\u2019d throne,\n He tells the future wars, ordain\u2019d by fate;\n The strength and customs of the Latian state;\n The prince, and people; and forearms his care\n With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.\n\n Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;\n Of polish\u2019d ivory this, that of transparent horn:\n True visions thro\u2019 transparent horn arise;\n Thro\u2019 polish\u2019d ivory pass deluding lies.\n Of various things discoursing as he pass\u2019d,\n Anchises hither bends his steps at last.\n Then, thro\u2019 the gate of iv\u2019ry, he dismiss\u2019d\n His valiant offspring and divining guest.\n Straight to the ships Aeneas took his way,\n Embark\u2019d his men, and skimm\u2019d along the sea,\n Still coasting, till he gain\u2019d Cajeta\u2019s bay.\n At length on oozy ground his galleys moor;\n Their heads are turn\u2019d to sea, their sterns to shore.\n\n\n\n BOOK VII\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n King Latinus entertains Aeneas, and promises him his only\n daughter, Lavinia, the heiress of his crown. Turnus, being in\n love with her, favoured by her mother, and by Juno and Alecto,\n breaks the treaty which was made, and engages in his quarrel\n Mezentius, Camilla, Messapus, and many other of the neighbouring\n princes; whose forces, and the names of their commanders are\n particularly related.\n\n\n And thou, O matron of immortal fame,\n Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;\n Cajeta still the place is call\u2019d from thee,\n The nurse of great Aeneas\u2019 infancy.\n Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia\u2019s plains;\n Thy name (\u2019tis all a ghost can have) remains.\n\n Now, when the prince her fun\u2019ral rites had paid,\n He plow\u2019d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display\u2019d.\n From land a gentle breeze arose by night,\n Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright,\n And the sea trembled with her silver light.\n Now near the shelves of Circe\u2019s shores they run,\n (Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)\n A dang\u2019rous coast: the goddess wastes her days\n In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays:\n In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,\n And cedar brands supply her father\u2019s light.\n From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,\n The roars of lions that refuse the chain,\n The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears,\n And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors\u2019 ears.\n These from their caverns, at the close of night,\n Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.\n Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe\u2019s pow\u2019r,\n (That watch\u2019d the moon and planetary hour,)\n With words and wicked herbs from humankind\n Had alter\u2019d, and in brutal shapes confin\u2019d.\n Which monsters lest the Trojans\u2019 pious host\n Should bear, or touch upon th\u2019 inchanted coast,\n Propitious Neptune steer\u2019d their course by night\n With rising gales that sped their happy flight.\n Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,\n And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.\n Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,\n And wav\u2019d her saffron streamer thro\u2019 the skies;\n When Thetis blush\u2019d in purple not her own,\n And from her face the breathing winds were blown,\n A sudden silence sate upon the sea,\n And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.\n The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood,\n Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:\n Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,\n With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,\n That drove the sand along, he took his way,\n And roll\u2019d his yellow billows to the sea.\n About him, and above, and round the wood,\n The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,\n That bath\u2019d within, or basked upon his side,\n To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.\n The captain gives command; the joyful train\n Glide thro\u2019 the gloomy shade, and leave the main.\n\n Now, Erato, thy poet\u2019s mind inspire,\n And fill his soul with thy celestial fire!\n Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings;\n Declare the past and present state of things,\n When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought,\n And how the rivals lov\u2019d, and how they fought.\n These are my theme, and how the war began,\n And how concluded by the godlike man:\n For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage,\n Which princes and their people did engage;\n And haughty souls, that, mov\u2019d with mutual hate,\n In fighting fields pursued and found their fate;\n That rous\u2019d the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms,\n And peaceful Italy involv\u2019d in arms.\n A larger scene of action is display\u2019d;\n And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh\u2019d.\n\n Latinus, old and mild, had long possess\u2019d\n The Latin scepter, and his people blest:\n His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame\n His mother; fair Marica was her name.\n But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew\n His birth from Saturn, if records be true.\n Thus King Latinus, in the third degree,\n Had Saturn author of his family.\n But this old peaceful prince, as Heav\u2019n decreed,\n Was blest with no male issue to succeed:\n His sons in blooming youth were snatch\u2019d by fate;\n One only daughter heir\u2019d the royal state.\n Fir\u2019d with her love, and with ambition led,\n The neighb\u2019ring princes court her nuptial bed.\n Among the crowd, but far above the rest,\n Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address\u2019d.\n Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien,\n Was first, and favour\u2019d by the Latian queen;\n With him she strove to join Lavinia\u2019s hand,\n But dire portents the purpos\u2019d match withstand.\n\n Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood\n A laurel\u2019s trunk, a venerable wood;\n Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair\n Was kept and cut with superstitious care.\n This plant Latinus, when his town he wall\u2019d,\n Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call\u2019d;\n And last, in honour of his new abode,\n He vow\u2019d the laurel to the laurel\u2019s god.\n It happen\u2019d once (a boding prodigy!)\n A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky,\n Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,\n Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight;\n There with their clasping feet together clung,\n And a long cluster from the laurel hung.\n An ancient augur prophesied from hence:\n \u201cBehold on Latian shores a foreign prince!\n From the same parts of heav\u2019n his navy stands,\n To the same parts on earth; his army lands;\n The town he conquers, and the tow\u2019r commands.\u201d\n\n Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire\n Before the gods, and stood beside her sire,\n Strange to relate, the flames, involv\u2019d in smoke\n Of incense, from the sacred altar broke,\n Caught her dishevel\u2019d hair and rich attire;\n Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire:\n From thence the fuming trail began to spread\n And lambent glories danc\u2019d about her head.\n This new portent the seer with wonder views,\n Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews:\n \u201cThe nymph, who scatters flaming fires around,\n Shall shine with honour, shall herself be crown\u2019d;\n But, caus\u2019d by her irrevocable fate,\n War shall the country waste, and change the state.\u201d\n\n Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent,\n For counsel to his father Faunus went,\n And sought the shades renown\u2019d for prophecy\n Which near Albunea\u2019s sulph\u2019rous fountain lie.\n To these the Latian and the Sabine land\n Fly, when distress\u2019d, and thence relief demand.\n The priest on skins of off\u2019rings takes his ease,\n And nightly visions in his slumber sees;\n A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears,\n And, flutt\u2019ring round his temples, deafs his ears:\n These he consults, the future fates to know,\n From pow\u2019rs above, and from the fiends below.\n Here, for the gods\u2019 advice, Latinus flies,\n Off\u2019ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice:\n Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir\u2019d,\n He laid beneath him, and to rest retir\u2019d.\n No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound,\n When, from above, a more than mortal sound\n Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke:\n \u201cSeek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke\n Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke.\n A foreign son upon thy shore descends,\n Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends.\n His race, in arms and arts of peace renown\u2019d,\n Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound:\n \u2019Tis theirs whate\u2019er the sun surveys around.\u201d\n These answers, in the silent night receiv\u2019d,\n The king himself divulg\u2019d, the land believ\u2019d:\n The fame thro\u2019 all the neighb\u2019ring nations flew,\n When now the Trojan navy was in view.\n\n Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread\n His table on the turf, with cakes of bread;\n And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed.\n They sate; and, (not without the god\u2019s command,)\n Their homely fare dispatch\u2019d, the hungry band\n Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour,\n To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.\n Ascanius this observ\u2019d, and smiling said:\n \u201cSee, we devour the plates on which we fed.\u201d\n The speech had omen, that the Trojan race\n Should find repose, and this the time and place.\n Aeneas took the word, and thus replies,\n Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes:\n \u201cAll hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods!\n Behold the destin\u2019d place of your abodes!\n For thus Anchises prophesied of old,\n And this our fatal place of rest foretold:\n \u2018When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat,\n By famine forc\u2019d, your trenchers you shall eat,\n Then ease your weary Trojans will attend,\n And the long labours of your voyage end.\n Remember on that happy coast to build,\n And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.\u2019\n This was that famine, this the fatal place\n Which ends the wand\u2019ring of our exil\u2019d race.\n Then, on tomorrow\u2019s dawn, your care employ,\n To search the land, and where the cities lie,\n And what the men; but give this day to joy.\n Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest,\n Call great Anchises to the genial feast:\n Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught;\n Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought.\u201d\n\n Thus having said, the hero bound his brows\n With leafy branches, then perform\u2019d his vows;\n Adoring first the genius of the place,\n Then Earth, the mother of the heav\u2019nly race,\n The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown,\n And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne,\n And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove,\n And last his sire below, and mother queen above.\n Then heav\u2019n\u2019s high monarch thunder\u2019d thrice aloud,\n And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud.\n Soon thro\u2019 the joyful camp a rumour flew,\n The time was come their city to renew.\n Then ev\u2019ry brow with cheerful green is crown\u2019d,\n The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round.\n\n When next the rosy morn disclos\u2019d the day,\n The scouts to sev\u2019ral parts divide their way,\n To learn the natives\u2019 names, their towns explore,\n The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore:\n Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands;\n Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands.\n The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways\n To found his empire, and his town to raise,\n A hundred youths from all his train selects,\n And to the Latian court their course directs,\n (The spacious palace where their prince resides,)\n And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides.\n They go commission\u2019d to require a peace,\n And carry presents to procure access.\n Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs\n His new-elected seat, and draws the lines.\n The Trojans round the place a rampire cast,\n And palisades about the trenches plac\u2019d.\n\n Meantime the train, proceeding on their way,\n From far the town and lofty tow\u2019rs survey;\n At length approach the walls. Without the gate,\n They see the boys and Latian youth debate\n The martial prizes on the dusty plain:\n Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein;\n Some bend the stubborn bow for victory,\n And some with darts their active sinews try.\n A posting messenger, dispatch\u2019d from hence,\n Of this fair troop advis\u2019d their aged prince,\n That foreign men of mighty stature came;\n Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name.\n The king ordains their entrance, and ascends\n His regal seat, surrounded by his friends.\n\n The palace built by Picus, vast and proud,\n Supported by a hundred pillars stood,\n And round incompass\u2019d with a rising wood.\n The pile o\u2019erlook\u2019d the town, and drew the sight;\n Surpris\u2019d at once with reverence and delight.\n There kings receiv\u2019d the marks of sov\u2019reign pow\u2019r;\n In state the monarchs march\u2019d; the lictors bore\n Their awful axes and the rods before.\n Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray\u2019r,\n And here the sacred senators repair;\n All at large tables, in long order set,\n A ram their off\u2019ring, and a ram their meat.\n Above the portal, carv\u2019d in cedar wood,\n Plac\u2019d in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood;\n Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high;\n And Italus, that led the colony;\n And ancient Janus, with his double face,\n And bunch of keys, the porter of the place.\n There good Sabinus, planter of the vines,\n On a short pruning hook his head reclines,\n And studiously surveys his gen\u2019rous wines;\n Then warlike kings, who for their country fought,\n And honourable wounds from battle brought.\n Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears,\n And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars,\n And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.\n Above the rest, as chief of all the band,\n Was Picus plac\u2019d, a buckler in his hand;\n His other wav\u2019d a long divining wand.\n Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate,\n Yet could not with his art avoid his fate:\n For Circe long had lov\u2019d the youth in vain,\n Till love, refus\u2019d, converted to disdain:\n Then, mixing pow\u2019rful herbs, with magic art,\n She chang\u2019d his form, who could not change his heart;\n Constrain\u2019d him in a bird, and made him fly,\n With party-colour\u2019d plumes, a chatt\u2019ring pie.\n\n In this high temple, on a chair of state,\n The seat of audience, old Latinus sate;\n Then gave admission to the Trojan train;\n And thus with pleasing accents he began:\n \u201cTell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own,\n Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown;\n Say what you seek, and whither were you bound:\n Were you by stress of weather cast aground?\n Such dangers as on seas are often seen,\n And oft befall to miserable men,\n Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay,\n Spent and disabled in so long a way?\n Say what you want: the Latians you shall find\n Not forc\u2019d to goodness, but by will inclin\u2019d;\n For, since the time of Saturn\u2019s holy reign,\n His hospitable customs we retain.\n I call to mind (but time the tale has worn)\n Th\u2019 Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho\u2019 born\n On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore,\n And Samothracia, Samos call\u2019d before.\n From Tuscan Coritum he claim\u2019d his birth;\n But after, when exempt from mortal earth,\n From thence ascended to his kindred skies,\n A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice.\u201d\n\n He said. Ilioneus made this reply:\n \u201cO king, of Faunus\u2019 royal family!\n Nor wintry winds to Latium forc\u2019d our way,\n Nor did the stars our wand\u2019ring course betray.\n Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound,\n The port, so long desir\u2019d, at length we found;\n From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell\u2019d;\n Great as the greatest that the sun beheld.\n The god began our line, who rules above;\n And, as our race, our king descends from Jove:\n And hither are we come, by his command,\n To crave admission in your happy land.\n How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour\u2019d,\n Our plains, our temples, and our town devour\u2019d;\n What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms\n Shook Asia\u2019s crown with European arms;\n Ev\u2019n such have heard, if any such there be,\n Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea;\n And such as, born beneath the burning sky\n And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie.\n From that dire deluge, thro\u2019 the wat\u2019ry waste,\n Such length of years, such various perils past,\n At last escap\u2019d, to Latium we repair,\n To beg what you without your want may spare:\n The common water, and the common air;\n Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes,\n Fit to receive and serve our banish\u2019d gods.\n Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace,\n Nor length of time our gratitude efface.\n Besides, what endless honour you shall gain,\n To save and shelter Troy\u2019s unhappy train!\n Now, by my sov\u2019reign, and his fate, I swear,\n Renown\u2019d for faith in peace, for force in war;\n Oft our alliance other lands desir\u2019d,\n And, what we seek of you, of us requir\u2019d.\n Despite not then, that in our hands we bear\n These holy boughs, and sue with words of pray\u2019r.\n Fate and the gods, by their supreme command,\n Have doom\u2019d our ships to seek the Latian land.\n To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends;\n Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends;\n Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force,\n And where Numicus opes his holy source.\n Besides, our prince presents, with his request,\n Some small remains of what his sire possess\u2019d.\n This golden charger, snatch\u2019d from burning Troy,\n Anchises did in sacrifice employ;\n This royal robe and this tiara wore\n Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore\n In full assemblies, and in solemn games;\n These purple vests were weav\u2019d by Dardan dames.\u201d\n\n Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll\u2019d around\n His eyes, and fix\u2019d a while upon the ground.\n Intent he seem\u2019d, and anxious in his breast;\n Not by the scepter mov\u2019d, or kingly vest,\n But pond\u2019ring future things of wondrous weight;\n Succession, empire, and his daughter\u2019s fate.\n On these he mus\u2019d within his thoughtful mind,\n And then revolv\u2019d what Faunus had divin\u2019d.\n This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed\n To share his scepter, and Lavinia\u2019s bed;\n This was the race that sure portents foreshew\n To sway the world, and land and sea subdue.\n At length he rais\u2019d his cheerful head, and spoke:\n \u201cThe pow\u2019rs,\u201d said he, \u201cthe pow\u2019rs we both invoke,\n To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be,\n And firm our purpose with their augury!\n Have what you ask; your presents I receive;\n Land, where and when you please, with ample leave;\n Partake and use my kingdom as your own;\n All shall be yours, while I command the crown:\n And, if my wish\u2019d alliance please your king,\n Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring.\n Then let him not a friend\u2019s embraces fear;\n The peace is made when I behold him here.\n Besides this answer, tell my royal guest,\n I add to his commands my own request:\n One only daughter heirs my crown and state,\n Whom not our oracles, nor Heav\u2019n, nor fate,\n Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join\n With any native of th\u2019 Ausonian line.\n A foreign son-in-law shall come from far\n (Such is our doom), a chief renown\u2019d in war,\n Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name,\n And thro\u2019 the conquer\u2019d world diffuse our fame.\n Himself to be the man the fates require,\n I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire.\u201d\n\n He said, and then on each bestow\u2019d a steed.\n Three hundred horses, in high stables fed,\n Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress\u2019d:\n Of these he chose the fairest and the best,\n To mount the Trojan troop. At his command\n The steeds caparison\u2019d with purple stand,\n With golden trappings, glorious to behold,\n And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold.\n Then to his absent guest the king decreed\n A pair of coursers born of heav\u2019nly breed,\n Who from their nostrils breath\u2019d ethereal fire;\n Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire,\n By substituting mares produc\u2019d on earth,\n Whose wombs conceiv\u2019d a more than mortal birth.\n These draw the chariot which Latinus sends,\n And the rich present to the prince commends.\n Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne,\n To their expecting lord with peace return.\n\n But jealous Juno, from Pachynus\u2019 height,\n As she from Argos took her airy flight,\n Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight.\n She saw the Trojan and his joyful train\n Descend upon the shore, desert the main,\n Design a town, and, with unhop\u2019d success,\n Th\u2019 embassadors return with promis\u2019d peace.\n Then, pierc\u2019d with pain, she shook her haughty head,\n Sigh\u2019d from her inward soul, and thus she said:\n \u201cO hated offspring of my Phrygian foes!\n O fates of Troy, which Juno\u2019s fates oppose!\n Could they not fall unpitied on the plain,\n But slain revive, and, taken, scape again?\n When execrable Troy in ashes lay,\n Thro\u2019 fires and swords and seas they forc\u2019d their way.\n Then vanquish\u2019d Juno must in vain contend,\n Her rage disarm\u2019d, her empire at an end.\n Breathless and tir\u2019d, is all my fury spent?\n Or does my glutted spleen at length relent?\n As if \u2019twere little from their town to chase,\n I thro\u2019 the seas pursued their exil\u2019d race;\n Ingag\u2019d the heav\u2019ns, oppos\u2019d the stormy main;\n But billows roar\u2019d, and tempests rag\u2019d in vain.\n What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done,\n When these they overpass, and those they shun?\n On Tiber\u2019s shores they land, secure of fate,\n Triumphant o\u2019er the storms and Juno\u2019s hate.\n Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe,\n And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia\u2019s wrath,\n Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon;\n What great offence had either people done?\n But I, the consort of the Thunderer,\n Have wag\u2019d a long and unsuccessful war,\n With various arts and arms in vain have toil\u2019d,\n And by a mortal man at length am foil\u2019d.\n If native pow\u2019r prevail not, shall I doubt\n To seek for needful succour from without?\n If Jove and Heav\u2019n my just desires deny,\n Hell shall the pow\u2019r of Heav\u2019n and Jove supply.\n Grant that the Fates have firm\u2019d, by their decree,\n The Trojan race to reign in Italy;\n At least I can defer the nuptial day,\n And with protracted wars the peace delay:\n With blood the dear alliance shall be bought,\n And both the people near destruction brought;\n So shall the son-in-law and father join,\n With ruin, war, and waste of either line.\n O fatal maid, thy marriage is endow\u2019d\n With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood!\n Bellona leads thee to thy lover\u2019s hand;\n Another queen brings forth another brand,\n To burn with foreign fires another land!\n A second Paris, diff\u2019ring but in name,\n Shall fire his country with a second flame.\u201d\n\n Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground,\n With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound,\n To rouse Alecto from th\u2019 infernal seat\n Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat.\n This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose;\n One who delights in wars and human woes.\n Ev\u2019n Pluto hates his own misshapen race;\n Her sister Furies fly her hideous face;\n So frightful are the forms the monster takes,\n So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes.\n Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite:\n \u201cO virgin daughter of eternal Night,\n Give me this once thy labour, to sustain\n My right, and execute my just disdain.\n Let not the Trojans, with a feign\u2019d pretence\n Of proffer\u2019d peace, delude the Latian prince.\n Expel from Italy that odious name,\n And let not Juno suffer in her fame.\n \u2019Tis thine to ruin realms, o\u2019erturn a state,\n Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate,\n And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate.\n Thy hand o\u2019er towns the fun\u2019ral torch displays,\n And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways.\n Now shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds\n Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds:\n Confound the peace establish\u2019d, and prepare\n Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war.\u201d\n\n Smear\u2019d as she was with black Gorgonian blood,\n The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood;\n And on her wicker wings, sublime thro\u2019 night,\n She to the Latian palace took her flight:\n There sought the queen\u2019s apartment, stood before\n The peaceful threshold, and besieg\u2019d the door.\n Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast\n Fir\u2019d with disdain for Turnus dispossess\u2019d,\n And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest.\n From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes\n Her darling plague, the fav\u2019rite of her snakes;\n With her full force she threw the poisonous dart,\n And fix\u2019d it deep within Amata\u2019s heart,\n That, thus envenom\u2019d, she might kindle rage,\n And sacrifice to strife her house and husband\u2019s age.\n Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims\n Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs;\n His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides,\n Now like a chain around her neck he rides,\n Now like a fillet to her head repairs,\n And with his circling volumes folds her hairs.\n At first the silent venom slid with ease,\n And seiz\u2019d her cooler senses by degrees;\n Then, ere th\u2019 infected mass was fir\u2019d too far,\n In plaintive accents she began the war,\n And thus bespoke her husband: \u201cShall,\u201d she said,\n \u201cA wand\u2019ring prince enjoy Lavinia\u2019s bed?\n If nature plead not in a parent\u2019s heart,\n Pity my tears, and pity her desert.\n I know, my dearest lord, the time will come,\n You\u2019d in vain, reverse your cruel doom;\n The faithless pirate soon will set to sea,\n And bear the royal virgin far away!\n A guest like him, a Trojan guest before,\n In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore,\n And ravish\u2019d Helen from her husband bore.\n Think on a king\u2019s inviolable word;\n And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord:\n To this false foreigner you give your throne,\n And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son.\n Resume your ancient care; and, if the god\n Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood,\n Know all are foreign, in a larger sense,\n Not born your subjects, or deriv\u2019d from hence.\n Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace,\n He springs from Inachus of Argive race.\u201d\n\n But when she saw her reasons idly spent,\n And could not move him from his fix\u2019d intent,\n She flew to rage; for now the snake possess\u2019d\n Her vital parts, and poison\u2019d all her breast;\n She raves, she runs with a distracted pace,\n And fills with horrid howls the public place.\n And, as young striplings whip the top for sport,\n On the smooth pavement of an empty court;\n The wooden engine flies and whirls about,\n Admir\u2019d, with clamours, of the beardless rout;\n They lash aloud; each other they provoke,\n And lend their little souls at ev\u2019ry stroke:\n Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows\n Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes.\n Nor yet content, she strains her malice more,\n And adds new ills to those contriv\u2019d before:\n She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng\n Of madding matrons, bears the bride along,\n Wand\u2019ring thro\u2019 woods and wilds, and devious ways,\n And with these arts the Trojan match delays.\n She feign\u2019d the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud,\n And to the buxom god the virgin vow\u2019d.\n \u201cEvoe! O Bacchus!\u201d thus began the song;\n And \u201cEvoe!\u201d answer\u2019d all the female throng.\n \u201cO virgin! worthy thee alone!\u201d she cried;\n \u201cO worthy thee alone!\u201d the crew replied.\n \u201cFor thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance,\n And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance.\u201d\n Like fury seiz\u2019d the rest; the progress known,\n All seek the mountains, and forsake the town:\n All, clad in skins of beasts, the jav\u2019lin bear,\n Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair,\n And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff\u2019ring air.\n The queen herself, inspir\u2019d with rage divine,\n Shook high above her head a flaming pine;\n Then roll\u2019d her haggard eyes around the throng,\n And sung, in Turnus\u2019 name, the nuptial song:\n \u201cIo, ye Latian dames! if any here\n Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear;\n If there be here,\u201d she said, \u201cwho dare maintain\n My right, nor think the name of mother vain;\n Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair,\n And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare.\u201d\n\n Amata\u2019s breast the Fury thus invades,\n And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades;\n Then, when she found her venom spread so far,\n The royal house embroil\u2019d in civil war,\n Rais\u2019d on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies,\n And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies.\n His town, as fame reports, was built of old\n By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold,\n Who fled her father\u2019s rage, and, with a train\n Of following Argives, thro\u2019 the stormy main,\n Driv\u2019n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign.\n \u2019Twas Ardua once; now Ardea\u2019s name it bears;\n Once a fair city, now consum\u2019d with years.\n Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay,\n Betwixt the confines of the night and day,\n Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside\n Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried\n The foulness of th\u2019 infernal form to hide.\n Propp\u2019d on a staff, she takes a trembling mien:\n Her face is furrow\u2019d, and her front obscene;\n Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws;\n Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws;\n Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound,\n Her temples with an olive wreath are crown\u2019d.\n Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane\n Of Juno, now she seem\u2019d, and thus began,\n Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man:\n \u201cShall Turnus then such endless toil sustain\n In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain?\n Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize,\n Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories?\n The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought,\n The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought.\n Go now, deluded man, and seek again\n New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain.\n Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize;\n Protect the Latians in luxurious ease.\n This dream all-pow\u2019rful Juno sends; I bear\n Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear.\n Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain;\n With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train:\n Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie\n In Tiber\u2019s mouth, with fire and sword destroy.\n The Latian king, unless he shall submit,\n Own his old promise, and his new forget;\n Let him, in arms, the pow\u2019r of Turnus prove,\n And learn to fear whom he disdains to love.\n For such is Heav\u2019n\u2019s command.\u201d The youthful prince\n With scorn replied, and made this bold defence:\n \u201cYou tell me, mother, what I knew before:\n The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore.\n I neither fear nor will provoke the war;\n My fate is Juno\u2019s most peculiar care.\n But time has made you dote, and vainly tell\n Of arms imagin\u2019d in your lonely cell.\n Go; be the temple and the gods your care;\n Permit to men the thought of peace and war.\u201d\n\n These haughty words Alecto\u2019s rage provoke,\n And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke.\n Her eyes grow stiffen\u2019d, and with sulphur burn;\n Her hideous looks and hellish form return;\n Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place,\n And open all the furies of her face:\n Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes,\n She cast him backward as he strove to rise,\n And, ling\u2019ring, sought to frame some new replies.\n High on her head she rears two twisted snakes,\n Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes;\n And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks:\n \u201cBehold whom time has made to dote, and tell\n Of arms imagin\u2019d in her lonely cell!\n Behold the Fates\u2019 infernal minister!\n War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear.\u201d\n\n Thus having said, her smould\u2019ring torch, impress\u2019d\n With her full force, she plung\u2019d into his breast.\n Aghast he wak\u2019d; and, starting from his bed,\n Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o\u2019erspread.\n \u201cArms! arms!\u201d he cries: \u201cmy sword and shield prepare!\u201d\n He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war.\n So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries,\n The bubbling waters from the bottom rise:\n Above the brims they force their fiery way;\n Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day.\n\n The peace polluted thus, a chosen band\n He first commissions to the Latian land,\n In threat\u2019ning embassy; then rais\u2019d the rest,\n To meet in arms th\u2019 intruding Trojan guest,\n To force the foes from the Lavinian shore,\n And Italy\u2019s indanger\u2019d peace restore.\n Himself alone an equal match he boasts,\n To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts.\n The gods invok\u2019d, the Rutuli prepare\n Their arms, and warn each other to the war.\n His beauty these, and those his blooming age,\n The rest his house and his own fame engage.\n\n While Turnus urges thus his enterprise,\n The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies;\n New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand,\n Which overlooks the vale with wide command;\n Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train,\n With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain,\n And pitch their toils around the shady plain.\n The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent,\n And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent.\n \u2019Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise\n High o\u2019er his front; his beams invade the skies.\n From this light cause th\u2019 infernal maid prepares\n The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars.\n\n The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred,\n Snatch\u2019d from his dams, and the tame youngling fed.\n Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring,\n Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king:\n Their sister Silvia cherish\u2019d with her care\n The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare\n To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied\n His tender neck, and comb\u2019d his silken hide,\n And bathed his body. Patient of command\n In time he grew, and, growing us\u2019d to hand,\n He waited at his master\u2019s board for food;\n Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood,\n Where grazing all the day, at night he came\n To his known lodgings, and his country dame.\n\n This household beast, that us\u2019d the woodland grounds,\n Was view\u2019d at first by the young hero\u2019s hounds,\n As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat\n In the cool waters, and to quench his heat.\n Ascanius young, and eager of his game,\n Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim;\n But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides,\n Which pierc\u2019d his bowels thro\u2019 his panting sides.\n The bleeding creature issues from the floods,\n Possess\u2019d with fear, and seeks his known abodes,\n His old familiar hearth and household gods.\n He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans,\n Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans.\n Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud\n For succour from the clownish neighbourhood:\n The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay\n In the close woody covert, urg\u2019d their way.\n One with a brand yet burning from the flame,\n Arm\u2019d with a knotty club another came:\n Whate\u2019er they catch or find, without their care,\n Their fury makes an instrument of war.\n Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast,\n Then clench\u2019d a hatchet in his horny fist,\n But held his hand from the descending stroke,\n And left his wedge within the cloven oak,\n To whet their courage and their rage provoke.\n And now the goddess, exercis\u2019d in ill,\n Who watch\u2019d an hour to work her impious will,\n Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn,\n Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne,\n Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around,\n And mountains, tremble at th\u2019 infernal sound.\n The sacred lake of Trivia from afar,\n The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar,\n Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war.\n Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess\u2019d,\n And strain their helpless infants to their breast.\n\n The clowns, a boist\u2019rous, rude, ungovern\u2019d crew,\n With furious haste to the loud summons flew.\n The pow\u2019rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain,\n With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain:\n Not theirs a raw and unexperienc\u2019d train,\n But a firm body of embattled men.\n At first, while fortune favour\u2019d neither side,\n The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried;\n But now, both parties reinforc\u2019d, the fields\n Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields.\n A shining harvest either host displays,\n And shoots against the sun with equal rays.\n Thus, when a black-brow\u2019d gust begins to rise,\n White foam at first on the curl\u2019d ocean fries;\n Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies;\n Till, by the fury of the storm full blown,\n The muddy bottom o\u2019er the clouds is thrown.\n First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus\u2019 eldest care,\n Pierc\u2019d with an arrow from the distant war:\n Fix\u2019d in his throat the flying weapon stood,\n And stopp\u2019d his breath, and drank his vital blood\n Huge heaps of slain around the body rise:\n Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies;\n A good old man, while peace he preach\u2019d in vain,\n Amidst the madness of th\u2019 unruly train:\n Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill\u2019d;\n His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till\u2019d.\n\n Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood\n The Fury bath\u2019d them in each other\u2019s blood;\n Then, having fix\u2019d the fight, exulting flies,\n And bears fulfill\u2019d her promise to the skies.\n To Juno thus she speaks: \u201cBehold! It is done,\n The blood already drawn, the war begun;\n The discord is complete; nor can they cease\n The dire debate, nor you command the peace.\n Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood\n Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood;\n Speak, and my pow\u2019r shall add this office more:\n The neighbr\u2019ing nations of th\u2019 Ausonian shore\n Shall hear the dreadful rumour, from afar,\n Of arm\u2019d invasion, and embrace the war.\u201d\n Then Juno thus: \u201cThe grateful work is done,\n The seeds of discord sow\u2019d, the war begun;\n Frauds, fears, and fury have possess\u2019d the state,\n And fix\u2019d the causes of a lasting hate.\n A bloody Hymen shall th\u2019 alliance join\n Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line:\n But thou with speed to night and hell repair;\n For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear\n Thy lawless wand\u2019ring walks in upper air.\n Leave what remains to me.\u201d Saturnia said:\n The sullen fiend her sounding wings display\u2019d,\n Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade.\n\n In midst of Italy, well known to fame,\n There lies a lake, Amsanctus is the name,\n Below the lofty mounts: on either side\n Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide.\n Full in the centre of the sacred wood\n An arm arises of the Stygian flood,\n Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound,\n Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around.\n Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell,\n And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell.\n To this infernal lake the Fury flies;\n Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab\u2019ring skies.\n\n Saturnian Juno now, with double care,\n Attends the fatal process of the war.\n The clowns, return\u2019d, from battle bear the slain,\n Implore the gods, and to their king complain.\n The corps of Almon and the rest are shown;\n Shrieks, clamours, murmurs, fill the frighted town.\n Ambitious Turnus in the press appears,\n And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears;\n Proclaims his private injuries aloud,\n A solemn promise made, and disavow\u2019d;\n A foreign son is sought, and a mix\u2019d mungril brood.\n Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear,\n In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear,\n And lead his dances with dishevel\u2019d hair,\n Increase the clamour, and the war demand,\n (Such was Amata\u2019s int\u2019rest in the land,)\n Against the public sanctions of the peace,\n Against all omens of their ill success.\n With fates averse, the rout in arms resort,\n To force their monarch, and insult the court.\n But, like a rock unmov\u2019d, a rock that braves\n The raging tempest and the rising waves,\n Propp\u2019d on himself he stands; his solid sides\n Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides:\n So stood the pious prince, unmov\u2019d, and long\n Sustain\u2019d the madness of the noisy throng.\n But, when he found that Juno\u2019s pow\u2019r prevail\u2019d,\n And all the methods of cool counsel fail\u2019d,\n He calls the gods to witness their offence,\n Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence.\n \u201cHurried by fate,\u201d he cries, \u201cand borne before\n A furious wind, we have the faithful shore.\n O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear\n The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war:\n Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate,\n And pray to Heav\u2019n for peace, but pray too late.\n For me, my stormy voyage at an end,\n I to the port of death securely tend.\n The fun\u2019ral pomp which to your kings you pay,\n Is all I want, and all you take away.\u201d\n He said no more, but, in his walls confin\u2019d,\n Shut out the woes which he too well divin\u2019d\n Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive,\n But left the helm, and let the vessel drive.\n\n A solemn custom was observ\u2019d of old,\n Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold,\n Their standard when in fighting fields they rear\n Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare\n The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war;\n Or from the boasting Parthians would regain\n Their eagles, lost in Carrhae\u2019s bloody plain.\n Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear,\n And still are worship\u2019d with religious fear)\n Before his temple stand: the dire abode,\n And the fear\u2019d issues of the furious god,\n Are fenc\u2019d with brazen bolts; without the gates,\n The wary guardian Janus doubly waits.\n Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars,\n The Roman consul their decree declares,\n And in his robes the sounding gates unbars.\n The youth in military shouts arise,\n And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies.\n These rites, of old by sov\u2019reign princes us\u2019d,\n Were the king\u2019s office; but the king refus\u2019d,\n Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar\n Of sacred peace, or loose th\u2019 imprison\u2019d war;\n But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms,\n Abhorr\u2019d the wicked ministry of arms.\n Then heav\u2019n\u2019s imperious queen shot down from high:\n At her approach the brazen hinges fly;\n The gates are forc\u2019d, and ev\u2019ry falling bar;\n And, like a tempest, issues out the war.\n\n The peaceful cities of th\u2019 Ausonian shore,\n Lull\u2019d in their ease, and undisturb\u2019d before,\n Are all on fire; and some, with studious care,\n Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare;\n Some their soft limbs in painful marches try,\n And war is all their wish, and arms the gen\u2019ral cry.\n Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part\n New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart:\n With joy they view the waving ensigns fly,\n And hear the trumpet\u2019s clangour pierce the sky.\n Five cities forge their arms: th\u2019 Atinian pow\u2019rs,\n Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty tow\u2019rs,\n Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town:\n All these of old were places of renown.\n Some hammer helmets for the fighting field;\n Some twine young sallows to support the shield;\n The croslet some, and some the cuishes mould,\n With silver plated, and with ductile gold.\n The rustic honours of the scythe and share\n Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war.\n Old falchions are new temper\u2019d in the fires;\n The sounding trumpet ev\u2019ry soul inspires.\n The word is giv\u2019n; with eager speed they lace\n The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace.\n The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied;\n The trusty weapon sits on ev\u2019ry side.\n\n And now the mighty labour is begun\n Ye Muses, open all your Helicon.\n Sing you the chiefs that sway\u2019d th\u2019 Ausonian land,\n Their arms, and armies under their command;\n What warriors in our ancient clime were bred;\n What soldiers follow\u2019d, and what heroes led.\n For well you know, and can record alone,\n What fame to future times conveys but darkly down.\n Mezentius first appear\u2019d upon the plain:\n Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain,\n Defying earth and heav\u2019n. Etruria lost,\n He brings to Turnus\u2019 aid his baffled host.\n The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire,\n Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire;\n To Turnus only second in the grace\n Of manly mien, and features of the face.\n A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred,\n With fates averse a thousand men he led:\n His sire unworthy of so brave a son;\n Himself well worthy of a happier throne.\n\n Next Aventinus drives his chariot round\n The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown\u2019d.\n Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field;\n His father\u2019s hydra fills his ample shield:\n A hundred serpents hiss about the brims;\n The son of Hercules he justly seems\n By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs;\n Of heav\u2019nly part, and part of earthly blood,\n A mortal woman mixing with a god.\n For strong Alcides, after he had slain\n The triple Geryon, drove from conquer\u2019d Spain\n His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led,\n On Tuscan Tiber\u2019s flow\u2019ry banks they fed.\n Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove\n The priestess Rhea found, and forc\u2019d to love.\n For arms, his men long piles and jav\u2019lins bore;\n And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore.\n Like Hercules himself his son appears,\n In salvage pomp; a lion\u2019s hide he wears;\n About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin;\n The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin.\n Thus, like the god his father, homely dress\u2019d,\n He strides into the hall, a horrid guest.\n\n Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came,\n (Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,)\n Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear:\n Arm\u2019d Argive horse they led, and in the front appear.\n Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain\u2019s height\n With rapid course descending to the fight;\n They rush along; the rattling woods give way;\n The branches bend before their sweepy sway.\n\n Nor was Praeneste\u2019s founder wanting there,\n Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber:\n Found in the fire, and foster\u2019d in the plains,\n A shepherd and a king at once he reigns,\n And leads to Turnus\u2019 aid his country swains.\n His own Praeneste sends a chosen band,\n With those who plow Saturnia\u2019s Gabine land;\n Besides the succour which cold Anien yields,\n The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields,\n Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene\u2014\n A num\u2019rous rout, but all of naked men:\n Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield,\n Nor drive the chariot thro\u2019 the dusty field,\n But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead,\n And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head;\n The left foot naked, when they march to fight,\n But in a bull\u2019s raw hide they sheathe the right.\n Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,)\n Secure of steel, and fated from the fire,\n In pomp appears, and with his ardour warms\n A heartless train, unexercis\u2019d in arms:\n The just Faliscans he to battle brings,\n And those who live where Lake Ciminius springs;\n And where Feronia\u2019s grove and temple stands,\n Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands.\n All these in order march, and marching sing\n The warlike actions of their sea-born king;\n Like a long team of snowy swans on high,\n Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky,\n When, homeward from their wat\u2019ry pastures borne,\n They sing, and Asia\u2019s lakes their notes return.\n Not one who heard their music from afar,\n Would think these troops an army train\u2019d to war,\n But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar,\n With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore.\n\n Then Clausus came, who led a num\u2019rous band\n Of troops embodied from the Sabine land,\n And, in himself alone, an army brought.\n \u2019Twas he, the noble Claudian race begot,\n The Claudian race, ordain\u2019d, in times to come,\n To share the greatness of imperial Rome.\n He led the Cures forth, of old renown,\n Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town,\n And all th\u2019 Eretian pow\u2019rs; besides a band\n That follow\u2019d from Velinum\u2019s dewy land,\n And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame,\n And mountaineers, that from Severus came,\n And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica,\n And those where yellow Tiber takes his way,\n And where Himella\u2019s wanton waters play.\n Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie\n By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli:\n The warlike aids of Horta next appear,\n And the cold Nursians come to close the rear,\n Mix\u2019d with the natives born of Latine blood,\n Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood.\n Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main,\n When pale Orion sets in wintry rain;\n Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise,\n Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies,\n Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around;\n Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground.\n\n High in his chariot then Halesus came,\n A foe by birth to Troy\u2019s unhappy name:\n From Agamemnon born\u2014to Turnus\u2019 aid\n A thousand men the youthful hero led,\n Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown\u2019d,\n And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground,\n And those who live by Sidicinian shores,\n And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars,\n Cales\u2019 and Osca\u2019s old inhabitants,\n And rough Saticulans, inur\u2019d to wants:\n Light demi-lances from afar they throw,\n Fasten\u2019d with leathern thongs, to gall the foe.\n Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear;\n And on their warding arm light bucklers bear.\n\n Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung,\n From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung,\n Who then in Teleboan Capri reign\u2019d;\n But that short isle th\u2019 ambitious youth disdain\u2019d,\n And o\u2019er Campania stretch\u2019d his ample sway,\n Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea;\n O\u2019er Batulum, and where Abella sees,\n From her high tow\u2019rs, the harvest of her trees.\n And these (as was the Teuton use of old)\n Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold;\n Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight;\n Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light.\n\n Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went,\n And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent.\n The rude Equicolae his rule obey\u2019d;\n Hunting their sport, and plund\u2019ring was their trade.\n In arms they plow\u2019d, to battle still prepar\u2019d:\n Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard.\n\n Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led,\n By King Archippus sent to Turnus\u2019 aid,\n And peaceful olives crown\u2019d his hoary head.\n His wand and holy words, the viper\u2019s rage,\n And venom\u2019d wounds of serpents could assuage.\n He, when he pleas\u2019d with powerful juice to steep\n Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep.\n But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art,\n To cure the wound giv\u2019n by the Dardan dart:\n Yet his untimely fate th\u2019 Angitian woods\n In sighs remurmur\u2019d to the Fucine floods.\n\n The son of fam\u2019d Hippolytus was there,\n Fam\u2019d as his sire, and, as his mother, fair;\n Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore,\n And nurs\u2019d his youth along the marshy shore,\n Where great Diana\u2019s peaceful altars flame,\n In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name.\n Hippolytus, as old records have said,\n Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed;\n But, when no female arts his mind could move,\n She turn\u2019d to furious hate her impious love.\n Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore,\n Another\u2019s crimes th\u2019 unhappy hunter bore,\n Glutting his father\u2019s eyes with guiltless gore.\n But chaste Diana, who his death deplor\u2019d,\n With Aesculapian herbs his life restor\u2019d.\n Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain,\n The dead inspir\u2019d with vital breath again,\n Struck to the centre, with his flaming dart,\n Th\u2019 unhappy founder of the godlike art.\n But Trivia kept in secret shades alone\n Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown;\n And call\u2019d him Virbius in th\u2019 Egerian grove,\n Where then he liv\u2019d obscure, but safe from Jove.\n For this, from Trivia\u2019s temple and her wood\n Are coursers driv\u2019n, who shed their master\u2019s blood,\n Affrighted by the monsters of the flood.\n His son, the second Virbius, yet retain\u2019d\n His father\u2019s art, and warrior steeds he rein\u2019d.\n\n Amid the troops, and like the leading god,\n High o\u2019er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode:\n A triple of plumes his crest adorn\u2019d,\n On which with belching flames Chimaera burn\u2019d:\n The more the kindled combat rises high\u2019r,\n The more with fury burns the blazing fire.\n Fair Io grac\u2019d his shield; but Io now\n With horns exalted stands, and seems to low\u2014\n A noble charge! Her keeper by her side,\n To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied;\n And on the brims her sire, the wat\u2019ry god,\n Roll\u2019d from a silver urn his crystal flood.\n A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields\n With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt\u2019ring shields;\n Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands,\n And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands;\n Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields,\n And the proud Labicans, with painted shields,\n And those who near Numician streams reside,\n And those whom Tiber\u2019s holy forests hide,\n Or Circe\u2019s hills from the main land divide;\n Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands,\n Or the black water of Pomptina stands.\n\n Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came,\n And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame;\n Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill\u2019d,\n She chose the nobler Pallas of the field.\n Mix\u2019d with the first, the fierce Virago fought,\n Sustain\u2019d the toils of arms, the danger sought,\n Outstripp\u2019d the winds in speed upon the plain,\n Flew o\u2019er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain:\n She swept the seas, and, as she skimm\u2019d along,\n Her flying feet unbath\u2019d on billows hung.\n Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise,\n Where\u2019er she passes, fix their wond\u2019ring eyes:\n Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight,\n Devour her o\u2019er and o\u2019er with vast delight;\n Her purple habit sits with such a grace\n On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face;\n Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown\u2019d,\n And in a golden caul the curls are bound.\n She shakes her myrtle jav\u2019lin; and, behind,\n Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind.\n\n\n\n BOOK VIII\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n The war being now begun, both the generals make all possible\n preparations. Turnus sends to Diomedes. Aeneas goes in person to\n beg succours from Evander and the Tuscans. Evander receives him\n kindly, furnishes him with men, and sends his son Pallas with\n him. Vulcan, at the request of Venus, makes arms for her son\n Aeneas, and draws on his shield the most memorable actions of his\n posterity.\n\n\n When Turnus had assembled all his pow\u2019rs,\n His standard planted on Laurentum\u2019s tow\u2019rs;\n When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar,\n Had giv\u2019n the signal of approaching war,\n Had rous\u2019d the neighing steeds to scour the fields,\n While the fierce riders clatter\u2019d on their shields;\n Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare\n To join th\u2019 allies, and headlong rush to war.\n Fierce Ufens, and Messapus, led the crowd,\n With bold Mezentius, who blasphem\u2019d aloud.\n These thro\u2019 the country took their wasteful course,\n The fields to forage, and to gather force.\n Then Venulus to Diomede they send,\n To beg his aid Ausonia to defend,\n Declare the common danger, and inform\n The Grecian leader of the growing storm:\n \u201cAeneas, landed on the Latian coast,\n With banish\u2019d gods, and with a baffled host,\n Yet now aspir\u2019d to conquest of the state,\n And claim\u2019d a title from the gods and fate;\n What num\u2019rous nations in his quarrel came,\n And how they spread his formidable name.\n What he design\u2019d, what mischief might arise,\n If fortune favour\u2019d his first enterprise,\n Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears,\n And common interest, was involv\u2019d in theirs.\u201d\n\n While Turnus and th\u2019 allies thus urge the war,\n The Trojan, floating in a flood of care,\n Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare.\n This way and that he turns his anxious mind;\n Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design\u2019d;\n Explores himself in vain, in ev\u2019ry part,\n And gives no rest to his distracted heart.\n So, when the sun by day, or moon by night,\n Strike on the polish\u2019d brass their trembling light,\n The glitt\u2019ring species here and there divide,\n And cast their dubious beams from side to side;\n Now on the walls, now on the pavement play,\n And to the ceiling flash the glaring day.\n\n \u2019Twas night; and weary nature lull\u2019d asleep\n The birds of air, and fishes of the deep,\n And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief\n Was laid on Tiber\u2019s banks, oppress\u2019d with grief,\n And found in silent slumber late relief.\n Then, thro\u2019 the shadows of the poplar wood,\n Arose the father of the Roman flood;\n An azure robe was o\u2019er his body spread,\n A wreath of shady reeds adorn\u2019d his head:\n Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear\u2019d,\n And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer\u2019d:\n \u201cUndoubted offspring of ethereal race,\n O long expected in this promis\u2019d place!\n Who thro\u2019 the foes hast borne thy banish\u2019d gods,\n Restor\u2019d them to their hearths, and old abodes;\n This is thy happy home, the clime where fate\n Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state.\n Fear not! The war shall end in lasting peace,\n And all the rage of haughty Juno cease.\n And that this nightly vision may not seem\n Th\u2019 effect of fancy, or an idle dream,\n A sow beneath an oak shall lie along,\n All white herself, and white her thirty young.\n When thirty rolling years have run their race,\n Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space,\n Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame,\n Which from this omen shall receive the name.\n Time shall approve the truth. For what remains,\n And how with sure success to crown thy pains,\n With patience next attend. A banish\u2019d band,\n Driv\u2019n with Evander from th\u2019 Arcadian land,\n Have planted here, and plac\u2019d on high their walls;\n Their town the founder Pallanteum calls,\n Deriv\u2019d from Pallas, his great-grandsire\u2019s name:\n But the fierce Latians old possession claim,\n With war infesting the new colony.\n These make thy friends, and on their aid rely.\n To thy free passage I submit my streams.\n Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams;\n And, when the setting stars are lost in day,\n To Juno\u2019s pow\u2019r thy just devotion pay;\n With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease:\n Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease.\n When thou return\u2019st victorious from the war,\n Perform thy vows to me with grateful care.\n The god am I, whose yellow water flows\n Around these fields, and fattens as it goes:\n Tiber my name; among the rolling floods\n Renown\u2019d on earth, esteem\u2019d among the gods.\n This is my certain seat. In times to come,\n My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome.\u201d\n\n He said, and plung\u2019d below. While yet he spoke,\n His dream Aeneas and his sleep forsook.\n He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies\n With purple blushing, and the day arise.\n Then water in his hollow palm he took\n From Tiber\u2019s flood, and thus the pow\u2019rs bespoke:\n \u201cLaurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed,\n And Father Tiber, in thy sacred bed\n Receive Aeneas, and from danger keep.\n Whatever fount, whatever holy deep,\n Conceals thy wat\u2019ry stores; where\u2019er they rise,\n And, bubbling from below, salute the skies;\n Thou, king of horned floods, whose plenteous urn\n Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn,\n For this thy kind compassion of our woes,\n Shalt share my morning song and ev\u2019ning vows.\n But, O be present to thy people\u2019s aid,\n And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!\u201d\n Thus having said, two galleys from his stores,\n With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars.\n Now on the shore the fatal swine is found.\n Wond\u2019rous to tell!\u2014She lay along the ground:\n Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung;\n She white herself, and white her thirty young.\n Aeneas takes the mother and her brood,\n And all on Juno\u2019s altar are bestow\u2019d.\n\n The foll\u2019wing night, and the succeeding day,\n Propitious Tiber smooth\u2019d his wat\u2019ry way:\n He roll\u2019d his river back, and pois\u2019d he stood,\n A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood.\n The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore,\n Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar.\n Shouts from the land give omen to their course,\n And the pitch\u2019d vessels glide with easy force.\n The woods and waters wonder at the gleam\n Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream.\n One summer\u2019s night and one whole day they pass\n Betwixt the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass.\n The fiery sun had finish\u2019d half his race,\n Look\u2019d back, and doubted in the middle space,\n When they from far beheld the rising tow\u2019rs,\n The tops of sheds, and shepherds\u2019 lowly bow\u2019rs,\n Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay,\n Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway.\n These cots (Evander\u2019s kingdom, mean and poor)\n The Trojan saw, and turn\u2019d his ships to shore.\n \u2019Twas on a solemn day: th\u2019 Arcadian states,\n The king and prince, without the city gates,\n Then paid their off\u2019rings in a sacred grove\n To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove.\n Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies,\n And fat of entrails on his altar fries.\n\n But, when they saw the ships that stemm\u2019d the flood,\n And glitter\u2019d thro\u2019 the covert of the wood,\n They rose with fear, and left th\u2019 unfinish\u2019d feast,\n Till dauntless Pallas reassur\u2019d the rest\n To pay the rites. Himself without delay\n A jav\u2019lin seiz\u2019d, and singly took his way;\n Then gain\u2019d a rising ground, and call\u2019d from far:\n \u201cResolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are;\n Your bus\u2019ness here; and bring you peace or war?\u201d\n High on the stern Aeneas took his stand,\n And held a branch of olive in his hand,\n While thus he spoke: \u201cThe Phrygians\u2019 arms you see,\n Expell\u2019d from Troy, provok\u2019d in Italy\n By Latian foes, with war unjustly made;\n At first affianc\u2019d, and at last betray\u2019d.\n This message bear: \u2018The Trojans and their chief\n Bring holy peace, and beg the king\u2019s relief.\u2019\n Struck with so great a name, and all on fire,\n The youth replies: \u201cWhatever you require,\n Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend.\n A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend.\u201d\n He said, and, downward hasting to the strand,\n Embrac\u2019d the stranger prince, and join\u2019d his hand.\n\n Conducted to the grove, Aeneas broke\n The silence first, and thus the king bespoke:\n \u201cBest of the Greeks, to whom, by fate\u2019s command,\n I bear these peaceful branches in my hand,\n Undaunted I approach you, tho\u2019 I know\n Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe;\n From Atreus tho\u2019 your ancient lineage came,\n And both the brother kings your kindred claim;\n Yet, my self-conscious worth, your high renown,\n Your virtue, thro\u2019 the neighb\u2019ring nations blown,\n Our fathers\u2019 mingled blood, Apollo\u2019s voice,\n Have led me hither, less by need than choice.\n Our founder Dardanus, as fame has sung,\n And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung:\n Electra from the loins of Atlas came;\n Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame.\n Your sire is Mercury, whom long before\n On cold Cyllene\u2019s top fair Maia bore.\n Maia the fair, on fame if we rely,\n Was Atlas\u2019 daughter, who sustains the sky.\n Thus from one common source our streams divide;\n Ours is the Trojan, yours th\u2019 Arcadian side.\n Rais\u2019d by these hopes, I sent no news before,\n Nor ask\u2019d your leave, nor did your faith implore;\n But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador.\n The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue\n The Trojan race, are equal foes to you.\n Our host expell\u2019d, what farther force can stay\n The victor troops from universal sway?\n Then will they stretch their pow\u2019r athwart the land,\n And either sea from side to side command.\n Receive our offer\u2019d faith, and give us thine;\n Ours is a gen\u2019rous and experienc\u2019d line:\n We want not hearts nor bodies for the war;\n In council cautious, and in fields we dare.\u201d\n\n He said; and while spoke, with piercing eyes\n Evander view\u2019d the man with vast surprise,\n Pleas\u2019d with his action, ravish\u2019d with his face:\n Then answer\u2019d briefly, with a royal grace:\n \u201cO valiant leader of the Trojan line,\n In whom the features of thy father shine,\n How I recall Anchises! how I see\n His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee!\n Long tho\u2019 it be, \u2019tis fresh within my mind,\n When Priam to his sister\u2019s court design\u2019d\n A welcome visit, with a friendly stay,\n And thro\u2019 th\u2019 Arcadian kingdom took his way.\n Then, past a boy, the callow down began\n To shade my chin, and call me first a man.\n I saw the shining train with vast delight,\n And Priam\u2019s goodly person pleas\u2019d my sight:\n But great Anchises, far above the rest,\n With awful wonder fir\u2019d my youthful breast.\n I long\u2019d to join in friendship\u2019s holy bands\n Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands.\n I first accosted him: I sued, I sought,\n And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought.\n He gave me, when at length constrain\u2019d to go,\n A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow,\n A vest embroider\u2019d, glorious to behold,\n And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold,\n Which my son\u2019s coursers in obedience hold.\n The league you ask, I offer, as your right;\n And, when tomorrow\u2019s sun reveals the light,\n With swift supplies you shall be sent away.\n Now celebrate with us this solemn day,\n Whose holy rites admit no long delay.\n Honour our annual feast; and take your seat,\n With friendly welcome, at a homely treat.\u201d\n Thus having said, the bowls remov\u2019d (for fear)\n The youths replac\u2019d, and soon restor\u2019d the cheer.\n On sods of turf he set the soldiers round:\n A maple throne, rais\u2019d higher from the ground,\n Receiv\u2019d the Trojan chief; and, o\u2019er the bed,\n A lion\u2019s shaggy hide for ornament they spread.\n The loaves were serv\u2019d in canisters; the wine\n In bowls; the priest renew\u2019d the rites divine:\n Broil\u2019d entrails are their food, and beef\u2019s continued chine.\n\n But when the rage of hunger was repress\u2019d,\n Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest:\n \u201cThese rites, these altars, and this feast, O king,\n From no vain fears or superstition spring,\n Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance,\n Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance;\n But, sav\u2019d from danger, with a grateful sense,\n The labours of a god we recompense.\n See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky,\n About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie;\n Such indigested ruin; bleak and bare,\n How desert now it stands, expos\u2019d in air!\n \u2019Twas once a robber\u2019s den, inclos\u2019d around\n With living stone, and deep beneath the ground.\n The monster Cacus, more than half a beast,\n This hold, impervious to the sun, possess\u2019d.\n The pavement ever foul with human gore;\n Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door.\n Vulcan this plague begot; and, like his sire,\n Black clouds he belch\u2019d, and flakes of livid fire.\n Time, long expected, eas\u2019d us of our load,\n And brought the needful presence of a god.\n Th\u2019 avenging force of Hercules, from Spain,\n Arriv\u2019d in triumph, from Geryon slain:\n Thrice liv\u2019d the giant, and thrice liv\u2019d in vain.\n His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove\n Near Tiber\u2019s bank, to graze the shady grove.\n Allur\u2019d with hope of plunder, and intent\n By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent,\n The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray\u2019d,\n Four oxen thence, and four fair kine convey\u2019d;\n And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen,\n He dragg\u2019d \u2019em backwards to his rocky den.\n The tracks averse a lying notice gave,\n And led the searcher backward from the cave.\n\n \u201cMeantime the herdsman hero shifts his place,\n To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass.\n The beasts, who miss\u2019d their mates, fill\u2019d all around\n With bellowings, and the rocks restor\u2019d the sound.\n One heifer, who had heard her love complain,\n Roar\u2019d from the cave, and made the project vain.\n Alcides found the fraud; with rage he shook,\n And toss\u2019d about his head his knotted oak.\n Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows\u2019 flight,\n He clomb, with eager haste, th\u2019 aerial height.\n Then first we saw the monster mend his pace;\n Fear in his eyes, and paleness in his face,\n Confess\u2019d the god\u2019s approach. Trembling he springs,\n As terror had increas\u2019d his feet with wings;\n Nor stay\u2019d for stairs; but down the depth he threw\n His body, on his back the door he drew\n (The door, a rib of living rock; with pains\n His father hew\u2019d it out, and bound with iron chains):\n He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos\u2019d,\n And bars and levers to his foe oppos\u2019d.\n The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast;\n The fierce avenger came with bounding haste;\n Survey\u2019d the mouth of the forbidden hold,\n And here and there his raging eyes he roll\u2019d.\n He gnash\u2019d his teeth; and thrice he compass\u2019d round\n With winged speed the circuit of the ground.\n Thrice at the cavern\u2019s mouth he pull\u2019d in vain,\n And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain.\n A pointed flinty rock, all bare and black,\n Grew gibbous from behind the mountain\u2019s back;\n Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night,\n Here built their nests, and hither wing\u2019d their flight.\n The leaning head hung threat\u2019ning o\u2019er the flood,\n And nodded to the left. The hero stood\n Adverse, with planted feet, and, from the right,\n Tugg\u2019d at the solid stone with all his might.\n Thus heav\u2019d, the fix\u2019d foundations of the rock\n Gave way; heav\u2019n echo\u2019d at the rattling shock.\n Tumbling, it chok\u2019d the flood: on either side\n The banks leap backward, and the streams divide;\n The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread,\n And trembling Tiber div\u2019d beneath his bed.\n The court of Cacus stands reveal\u2019d to sight;\n The cavern glares with new-admitted light.\n So the pent vapours, with a rumbling sound,\n Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground;\n A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high,\n The gods with hate beheld the nether sky:\n The ghosts repine at violated night,\n And curse th\u2019 invading sun, and sicken at the sight.\n The graceless monster, caught in open day,\n Inclos\u2019d, and in despair to fly away,\n Howls horrible from underneath, and fills\n His hollow palace with unmanly yells.\n The hero stands above, and from afar\n Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war.\n He, from his nostrils huge mouth, expires\n Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father\u2019s fires,\n Gath\u2019ring, with each repeated blast, the night,\n To make uncertain aim, and erring sight.\n The wrathful god then plunges from above,\n And, where in thickest waves the sparkles drove,\n There lights; and wades thro\u2019 fumes, and gropes his way,\n Half sing\u2019d, half stifled, till he grasps his prey.\n The monster, spewing fruitless flames, he found;\n He squeez\u2019d his throat; he writh\u2019d his neck around,\n And in a knot his crippled members bound;\n Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes:\n Roll\u2019d on a heap, the breathless robber lies.\n The doors, unbarr\u2019d, receive the rushing day,\n And thoro\u2019 lights disclose the ravish\u2019d prey.\n The bulls, redeem\u2019d, breathe open air again.\n Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den.\n The wond\u2019ring neighbourhood, with glad surprise,\n Behold his shagged breast, his giant size,\n His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish\u2019d eyes.\n From that auspicious day, with rites divine,\n We worship at the hero\u2019s holy shrine.\n Potitius first ordain\u2019d these annual vows:\n As priests, were added the Pinarian house,\n Who rais\u2019d this altar in the sacred shade,\n Where honours, ever due, for ever shall be paid.\n For these deserts, and this high virtue shown,\n Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown:\n Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood,\n And with deep draughts invoke our common god.\u201d\n\n This said, a double wreath Evander twin\u2019d,\n And poplars black and white his temples bind.\n Then brims his ample bowl. With like design\n The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine.\n Meantime the sun descended from the skies,\n And the bright evening star began to rise.\n And now the priests, Potitius at their head,\n In skins of beasts involv\u2019d, the long procession led;\n Held high the flaming tapers in their hands,\n As custom had prescrib\u2019d their holy bands;\n Then with a second course the tables load,\n And with full chargers offer to the god.\n The Salii sing, and cense his altars round\n With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound\n One choir of old, another of the young,\n To dance, and bear the burthen of the song.\n The lay records the labours, and the praise,\n And all th\u2019 immortal acts of Hercules:\n First, how the mighty babe, when swath\u2019d in bands,\n The serpents strangled with his infant hands;\n Then, as in years and matchless force he grew,\n Th\u2019 Oechalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew.\n Besides, a thousand hazards they relate,\n Procur\u2019d by Juno\u2019s and Eurystheus\u2019 hate:\n \u201cThy hands, unconquer\u2019d hero, could subdue\n The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew:\n Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood,\n Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood.\n The triple porter of the Stygian seat,\n With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet,\n And, seiz\u2019d with fear, forgot his mangled meat.\n Th\u2019 infernal waters trembled at thy sight;\n Thee, god, no face of danger could affright;\n Not huge Typhoeus, nor th\u2019 unnumber\u2019d snake,\n Increas\u2019d with hissing heads, in Lerna\u2019s lake.\n Hail, Jove\u2019s undoubted son! an added grace\n To heav\u2019n and the great author of thy race!\n Receive the grateful off\u2019rings which we pay,\n And smile propitious on thy solemn day!\u201d\n In numbers thus they sung; above the rest,\n The den and death of Cacus crown the feast.\n The woods to hollow vales convey the sound,\n The vales to hills, and hills the notes rebound.\n The rites perform\u2019d, the cheerful train retire.\n\n Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire,\n The Trojan pass\u2019d, the city to survey,\n And pleasing talk beguil\u2019d the tedious way.\n The stranger cast around his curious eyes,\n New objects viewing still, with new surprise;\n With greedy joy enquires of various things,\n And acts and monuments of ancient kings.\n Then thus the founder of the Roman tow\u2019rs:\n \u201cThese woods were first the seat of sylvan pow\u2019rs,\n Of Nymphs and Fauns, and salvage men, who took\n Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak.\n Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care\n Of lab\u2019ring oxen, or the shining share,\n Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain\u2019d to spare.\n Their exercise the chase; the running flood\n Supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food.\n Then Saturn came, who fled the pow\u2019r of Jove,\n Robb\u2019d of his realms, and banish\u2019d from above.\n The men, dispers\u2019d on hills, to towns he brought,\n And laws ordain\u2019d, and civil customs taught,\n And Latium call\u2019d the land where safe he lay\n From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway.\n With his mild empire, peace and plenty came;\n And hence the golden times deriv\u2019d their name.\n A more degenerate and discolour\u2019d age\n Succeeded this, with avarice and rage.\n Th\u2019 Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians came;\n And Saturn\u2019s empire often chang\u2019d the name.\n Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest,\n With arbitrary sway the land oppress\u2019d:\n For Tiber\u2019s flood was Albula before,\n Till, from the tyrant\u2019s fate, his name it bore.\n I last arriv\u2019d, driv\u2019n from my native home\n By fortune\u2019s pow\u2019r, and fate\u2019s resistless doom.\n Long toss\u2019d on seas, I sought this happy land,\n Warn\u2019d by my mother nymph, and call\u2019d by Heav\u2019n\u2019s command.\u201d\n\n Thus, walking on, he spoke, and shew\u2019d the gate,\n Since call\u2019d Carmental by the Roman state;\n Where stood an altar, sacred to the name\n Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame,\n Who to her son foretold th\u2019 Aenean race,\n Sublime in fame, and Rome\u2019s imperial place:\n Then shews the forest, which, in after times,\n Fierce Romulus for perpetrated crimes\n A sacred refuge made; with this, the shrine\n Where Pan below the rock had rites divine:\n Then tells of Argus\u2019 death, his murder\u2019d guest,\n Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest.\n Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads;\n Now roof\u2019d with gold, then thatch\u2019d with homely reeds.\n A reverent fear (such superstition reigns\n Among the rude) ev\u2019n then possess\u2019d the swains.\n Some god, they knew\u2014what god, they could not tell\u2014\n Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell.\n Th\u2019 Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw\n The mighty Thund\u2019rer with majestic awe,\n Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around,\n And scatter\u2019d tempests on the teeming ground.\n Then saw two heaps of ruins, (once they stood\n Two stately towns, on either side the flood,)\n Saturnia\u2019s and Janiculum\u2019s remains;\n And either place the founder\u2019s name retains.\n Discoursing thus together, they resort\n Where poor Evander kept his country court.\n They view\u2019d the ground of Rome\u2019s litigious hall;\n (Once oxen low\u2019d, where now the lawyers bawl;)\n Then, stooping, thro\u2019 the narrow gate they press\u2019d,\n When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest:\n \u201cMean as it is, this palace, and this door,\n Receiv\u2019d Alcides, then a conqueror.\n Dare to be poor; accept our homely food,\n Which feasted him, and emulate a god.\u201d\n Then underneath a lowly roof he led\n The weary prince, and laid him on a bed;\n The stuffing leaves, with hides of bears o\u2019erspread.\n Now night had shed her silver dews around,\n And with her sable wings embrac\u2019d the ground,\n When love\u2019s fair goddess, anxious for her son,\n (New tumults rising, and new wars begun,)\n Couch\u2019d with her husband in his golden bed,\n With these alluring words invokes his aid;\n And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move,\n Inspires each accent with the charms of love:\n \u201cWhile cruel fate conspir\u2019d with Grecian pow\u2019rs,\n To level with the ground the Trojan tow\u2019rs,\n I ask\u2019d not aid th\u2019 unhappy to restore,\n Nor did the succour of thy skill implore;\n Nor urg\u2019d the labours of my lord in vain,\n A sinking empire longer to sustain,\n Tho\u2019 much I ow\u2019d to Priam\u2019s house, and more\n The dangers of Aeneas did deplore.\n But now, by Jove\u2019s command, and fate\u2019s decree,\n His race is doom\u2019d to reign in Italy:\n With humble suit I beg thy needful art,\n O still propitious pow\u2019r, that rules my heart!\n A mother kneels a suppliant for her son.\n By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won\n To forge impenetrable shields, and grace\n With fated arms a less illustrious race.\n Behold, what haughty nations are combin\u2019d\n Against the relics of the Phrygian kind,\n With fire and sword my people to destroy,\n And conquer Venus twice, in conqu\u2019ring Troy.\u201d\n She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue,\n About her unresolving husband threw.\n Her soft embraces soon infuse desire;\n His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire;\n And all the godhead feels the wonted fire.\n Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies,\n Or forky lightnings flash along the skies.\n The goddess, proud of her successful wiles,\n And conscious of her form, in secret smiles.\n\n Then thus the pow\u2019r, obnoxious to her charms,\n Panting, and half dissolving in her arms:\n \u201cWhy seek you reasons for a cause so just,\n Or your own beauties or my love distrust?\n Long since, had you requir\u2019d my helpful hand,\n Th\u2019 artificer and art you might command,\n To labour arms for Troy: nor Jove, nor fate,\n Confin\u2019d their empire to so short a date.\n And, if you now desire new wars to wage,\n My skill I promise, and my pains engage.\n Whatever melting metals can conspire,\n Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire,\n Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove,\n And think no task is difficult to love.\u201d\n Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms,\n He snatch\u2019d the willing goddess to his arms;\n Till in her lap infus\u2019d, he lay possess\u2019d\n Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest.\n Now when the night her middle race had rode,\n And his first slumber had refresh\u2019d the god\u2014\n The time when early housewives leave the bed;\n When living embers on the hearth they spread,\n Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise;\u2014\n With yawning mouths, and with half-open\u2019d eyes,\n They ply the distaff by the winking light,\n And to their daily labour add the night:\n Thus frugally they earn their children\u2019s bread,\n And uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed\u2014\n Not less concern\u2019d, nor at a later hour,\n Rose from his downy couch the forging pow\u2019r.\n\n Sacred to Vulcan\u2019s name, an isle there lay,\n Betwixt Sicilia\u2019s coasts and Lipare,\n Rais\u2019d high on smoking rocks; and, deep below,\n In hollow caves the fires of Aetna glow.\n The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal;\n Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel,\n Are heard around; the boiling waters roar,\n And smoky flames thro\u2019 fuming tunnels soar.\n Hither the Father of the Fire, by night,\n Thro\u2019 the brown air precipitates his flight.\n On their eternal anvils here he found\n The brethren beating, and the blows go round.\n A load of pointless thunder now there lies\n Before their hands, to ripen for the skies:\n These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast;\n Consum\u2019d on mortals with prodigious waste.\n Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more,\n Of winged southern winds and cloudy store\n As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame;\n And fears are added, and avenging flame.\n Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair\n His broken axletrees and blunted war,\n And send him forth again with furbish\u2019d arms,\n To wake the lazy war with trumpets\u2019 loud alarms.\n The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold\n The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold.\n Full on the crest the Gorgon\u2019s head they place,\n With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face.\n\n \u201cMy sons,\u201d said Vulcan, \u201cset your tasks aside;\n Your strength and master-skill must now be tried.\n Arms for a hero forge; arms that require\n Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire.\u201d\n He said. They set their former work aside,\n And their new toils with eager haste divide.\n A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold,\n And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll\u2019d;\n Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare,\n Alone sufficient to sustain the war.\n Sev\u2019n orbs within a spacious round they close:\n One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows.\n The hissing steel is in the smithy drown\u2019d;\n The grot with beaten anvils groans around.\n By turns their arms advance, in equal time;\n By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime.\n They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs;\n The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs.\n\n While, at the Lemnian god\u2019s command, they urge\n Their labours thus, and ply th\u2019 Aeolian forge,\n The cheerful morn salutes Evander\u2019s eyes,\n And songs of chirping birds invite to rise.\n He leaves his lowly bed: his buskins meet\n Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet:\n He sets his trusty sword upon his side,\n And o\u2019er his shoulder throws a panther\u2019s hide.\n Two menial dogs before their master press\u2019d.\n Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest.\n Mindful of promis\u2019d aid, he mends his pace,\n But meets Aeneas in the middle space.\n Young Pallas did his father\u2019s steps attend,\n And true Achates waited on his friend.\n They join their hands; a secret seat they choose;\n Th\u2019 Arcadian first their former talk renews:\n \u201cUndaunted prince, I never can believe\n The Trojan empire lost, while you survive.\n Command th\u2019 assistance of a faithful friend;\n But feeble are the succours I can send.\n Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds;\n That other side the Latian state surrounds,\n Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds.\n But mighty nations I prepare, to join\n Their arms with yours, and aid your just design.\n You come, as by your better genius sent,\n And fortune seems to favour your intent.\n Not far from hence there stands a hilly town,\n Of ancient building, and of high renown,\n Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race,\n Who gave the name of Caere to the place,\n Once Agyllina call\u2019d. It flourish\u2019d long,\n In pride of wealth and warlike people strong,\n Till curs\u2019d Mezentius, in a fatal hour,\n Assum\u2019d the crown, with arbitrary pow\u2019r.\n What words can paint those execrable times,\n The subjects\u2019 suff\u2019rings, and the tyrant\u2019s crimes!\n That blood, those murders, O ye gods, replace\n On his own head, and on his impious race!\n The living and the dead at his command\n Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand,\n Till, chok\u2019d with stench, in loath\u2019d embraces tied,\n The ling\u2019ring wretches pin\u2019d away and died.\n Thus plung\u2019d in ills, and meditating more\u2014\n The people\u2019s patience, tir\u2019d, no longer bore\n The raging monster; but with arms beset\n His house, and vengeance and destruction threat.\n They fire his palace: while the flame ascends,\n They force his guards, and execute his friends.\n He cleaves the crowd, and, favour\u2019d by the night,\n To Turnus\u2019 friendly court directs his flight.\n By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire,\n With arms, their king to punishment require:\n Their num\u2019rous troops, now muster\u2019d on the strand,\n My counsel shall submit to your command.\n Their navy swarms upon the coasts; they cry\n To hoist their anchors, but the gods deny.\n An ancient augur, skill\u2019d in future fate,\n With these foreboding words restrains their hate:\n \u2018Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow\u2019r\n Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow\u2019r,\n Whom just revenge against Mezentius arms,\n To seek your tyrant\u2019s death by lawful arms;\n Know this: no native of our land may lead\n This pow\u2019rful people; seek a foreign head.\u2019\n Aw\u2019d with these words, in camps they still abide,\n And wait with longing looks their promis\u2019d guide.\n Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent\n Their crown, and ev\u2019ry regal ornament:\n The people join their own with his desire;\n And all my conduct, as their king, require.\n But the chill blood that creeps within my veins,\n And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains,\n And a soul conscious of its own decay,\n Have forc\u2019d me to refuse imperial sway.\n My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne,\n And should, but he\u2019s a Sabine mother\u2019s son,\n And half a native; but, in you, combine\n A manly vigour, and a foreign line.\n Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way,\n Pursue the ready path to sov\u2019reign sway.\n The staff of my declining days, my son,\n Shall make your good or ill success his own;\n In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare,\n And serve the hard apprenticeship of war;\n Your matchless courage and your conduct view,\n And early shall begin t\u2019 admire and copy you.\n Besides, two hundred horse he shall command;\n Tho\u2019 few, a warlike and well-chosen band.\n These in my name are listed; and my son\n As many more has added in his own.\u201d\n\n Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest,\n With downcast eyes, their silent grief express\u2019d;\n Who, short of succours, and in deep despair,\n Shook at the dismal prospect of the war.\n But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud,\n To cheer her issue, thunder\u2019d thrice aloud;\n Thrice forky lightning flash\u2019d along the sky,\n And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high.\n Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear;\n And, in a heav\u2019n serene, refulgent arms appear:\n Redd\u2019ning the skies, and glitt\u2019ring all around,\n The temper\u2019d metals clash, and yield a silver sound.\n The rest stood trembling, struck with awe divine;\n Aeneas only, conscious to the sign,\n Presag\u2019d th\u2019 event, and joyful view\u2019d, above,\n Th\u2019 accomplish\u2019d promise of the Queen of Love.\n Then, to th\u2019 Arcadian king: \u201cThis prodigy\n (Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me.\n Heav\u2019n calls me to the war: th\u2019 expected sign\n Is giv\u2019n of promis\u2019d aid, and arms divine.\n My goddess mother, whose indulgent care\n Foresaw the dangers of the growing war,\n This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms,\n Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms,\n Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow\u2019d\n Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood.\n Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn;\n And corps, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne,\n Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms;\n And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur\u2019d arms.\u201d\n\n He said, and, rising from his homely throne,\n The solemn rites of Hercules begun,\n And on his altars wak\u2019d the sleeping fires;\n Then cheerful to his household gods retires;\n There offers chosen sheep. Th\u2019 Arcadian king\n And Trojan youth the same oblations bring.\n Next, of his men and ships he makes review;\n Draws out the best and ablest of the crew.\n Down with the falling stream the refuse run,\n To raise with joyful news his drooping son.\n Steeds are prepar\u2019d to mount the Trojan band,\n Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land.\n A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest,\n The king himself presents his royal guest:\n A lion\u2019s hide his back and limbs infold,\n Precious with studded work, and paws of gold.\n Fame thro\u2019 the little city spreads aloud\n Th\u2019 intended march, amid the fearful crowd:\n The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears,\n And double their devotion in their fears.\n The war at hand appears with more affright,\n And rises ev\u2019ry moment to the sight.\n\n Then old Evander, with a close embrace,\n Strain\u2019d his departing friend; and tears o\u2019erflow his face.\n \u201cWould Heav\u2019n,\u201d said he, \u201cmy strength and youth recall,\n Such as I was beneath Praeneste\u2019s wall;\n Then when I made the foremost foes retire,\n And set whole heaps of conquer\u2019d shields on fire;\n When Herilus in single fight I slew,\n Whom with three lives Feronia did endue;\n And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore,\n Till the last ebbing soul return\u2019d no more\u2014\n Such if I stood renew\u2019d, not these alarms,\n Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas\u2019 arms;\n Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish\u2019d, boast\n His rapes and murders on the Tuscan coast.\n Ye gods, and mighty Jove, in pity bring\n Relief, and hear a father and a king!\n If fate and you reserve these eyes, to see\n My son return with peace and victory;\n If the lov\u2019d boy shall bless his father\u2019s sight;\n If we shall meet again with more delight;\n Then draw my life in length; let me sustain,\n In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain.\n But if your hard decrees\u2014which, O! I dread\u2014\n Have doom\u2019d to death his undeserving head;\n This, O this very moment, let me die!\n While hopes and fears in equal balance lie;\n While, yet possess\u2019d of all his youthful charms,\n I strain him close within these aged arms;\n Before that fatal news my soul shall wound!\u201d\n He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground.\n His servants bore him off, and softly laid\n His languish\u2019d limbs upon his homely bed.\n\n The horsemen march; the gates are open\u2019d wide;\n Aeneas at their head, Achates by his side.\n Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along;\n Last follows in the rear th\u2019 Arcadian throng.\n Young Pallas shone conspicuous o\u2019er the rest;\n Gilded his arms, embroider\u2019d was his vest.\n So, from the seas, exerts his radiant head\n The star by whom the lights of heav\u2019n are led;\n Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews,\n Dispels the darkness, and the day renews.\n The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd,\n And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud,\n Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far\n The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war.\n The troops, drawn up in beautiful array,\n O\u2019er heathy plains pursue the ready way.\n Repeated peals of shouts are heard around;\n The neighing coursers answer to the sound,\n And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground.\n\n A greenwood shade, for long religion known,\n Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town,\n Incompass\u2019d round with gloomy hills above,\n Which add a holy horror to the grove.\n The first inhabitants of Grecian blood,\n That sacred forest to Silvanus vow\u2019d,\n The guardian of their flocks and fields; and pay\n Their due devotions on his annual day.\n Not far from hence, along the river\u2019s side,\n In tents secure, the Tuscan troops abide,\n By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground,\n Aeneas cast his wond\u2019ring eyes around,\n And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight,\n Stretch\u2019d on the spacious plain from left to right.\n Thither his warlike train the Trojan led,\n Refresh\u2019d his men, and wearied horses fed.\n\n Meantime the mother goddess, crown\u2019d with charms,\n Breaks thro\u2019 the clouds, and brings the fated arms.\n Within a winding vale she finds her son,\n On the cool river\u2019s banks, retir\u2019d alone.\n She shews her heav\u2019nly form without disguise,\n And gives herself to his desiring eyes.\n \u201cBehold,\u201d she said, \u201cperform\u2019d in ev\u2019ry part,\n My promise made, and Vulcan\u2019s labour\u2019d art.\n Now seek, secure, the Latian enemy,\n And haughty Turnus to the field defy.\u201d\n She said; and, having first her son embrac\u2019d,\n The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac\u2019d,\n Proud of the gift, he roll\u2019d his greedy sight\n Around the work, and gaz\u2019d with vast delight.\n He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires\n The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires:\n His hands the fatal sword and corslet hold,\n One keen with temper\u2019d steel, one stiff with gold:\n Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright;\n So shines a cloud, when edg\u2019d with adverse light.\n He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try\n The plated cuishes on his manly thigh;\n But most admires the shield\u2019s mysterious mould,\n And Roman triumphs rising on the gold:\n For these, emboss\u2019d, the heav\u2019nly smith had wrought\n (Not in the rolls of future fate untaught)\n The wars in order, and the race divine\n Of warriors issuing from the Julian line.\n The cave of Mars was dress\u2019d with mossy greens:\n There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins.\n Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung;\n The foster dam loll\u2019d out her fawning tongue:\n They suck\u2019d secure, while, bending back her head,\n She lick\u2019d their tender limbs, and form\u2019d them as they fed.\n Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games\n Projected for the rape of Sabine dames.\n The pit resounds with shrieks; a war succeeds,\n For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds.\n Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend;\n The Romans there with arms the prey defend.\n Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease;\n And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace.\n The friendly chiefs before Jove\u2019s altar stand,\n Both arm\u2019d, with each a charger in his hand:\n A fatted sow for sacrifice is led,\n With imprecations on the perjur\u2019d head.\n Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch\u2019d between\n Four fiery steeds, is dragg\u2019d along the green,\n By Tullus\u2019 doom: the brambles drink his blood,\n And his torn limbs are left the vulture\u2019s food.\n There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings,\n And would by force restore the banish\u2019d kings.\n One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights;\n The Roman youth assert their native rights.\n Before the town the Tuscan army lies,\n To win by famine, or by fraud surprise.\n Their king, half-threat\u2019ning, half-disdaining stood,\n While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm\u2019d the flood.\n The captive maids there tempt the raging tide,\n Scap\u2019d from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide.\n High on a rock heroic Manlius stood,\n To guard the temple, and the temple\u2019s god.\n Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold\n The palace thatch\u2019d with straw, now roof\u2019d with gold.\n The silver goose before the shining gate\n There flew, and, by her cackle, sav\u2019d the state.\n She told the Gauls\u2019 approach; th\u2019 approaching Gauls,\n Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls.\n The gold dissembled well their yellow hair,\n And golden chains on their white necks they wear.\n Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield,\n And their left arm sustains a length of shield.\n Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance;\n And naked thro\u2019 the streets the mad Luperci dance,\n In caps of wool; the targets dropp\u2019d from heav\u2019n.\n Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv\u2019n,\n To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear,\n And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear.\n Far hence remov\u2019d, the Stygian seats are seen;\n Pains of the damn\u2019d, and punish\u2019d Catiline\n Hung on a rock\u2014the traitor; and, around,\n The Furies hissing from the nether ground.\n Apart from these, the happy souls he draws,\n And Cato\u2019s holy ghost dispensing laws.\n\n Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea;\n But foaming surges there in silver play.\n The dancing dolphins with their tails divide\n The glitt\u2019ring waves, and cut the precious tide.\n Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage\n Their brazen beaks, oppos\u2019d with equal rage.\n Actium surveys the well-disputed prize;\n Leucate\u2019s wat\u2019ry plain with foamy billows fries.\n Young Caesar, on the stern, in armour bright,\n Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight:\n His beamy temples shoot their flames afar,\n And o\u2019er his head is hung the Julian star.\n Agrippa seconds him, with prosp\u2019rous gales,\n And, with propitious gods, his foes assails:\n A naval crown, that binds his manly brows,\n The happy fortune of the fight foreshows.\n Rang\u2019d on the line oppos\u2019d, Antonius brings\n Barbarian aids, and troops of Eastern kings;\n Th\u2019 Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar,\n Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war:\n And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife,\n His ill fate follows him\u2014th\u2019 Egyptian wife.\n Moving they fight; with oars and forky prows\n The froth is gather\u2019d, and the water glows.\n It seems, as if the Cyclades again\n Were rooted up, and justled in the main;\n Or floating mountains floating mountains meet;\n Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet.\n Fireballs are thrown, and pointed jav\u2019lins fly;\n The fields of Neptune take a purple dye.\n The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms,\n With cymbals toss\u2019d her fainting soldiers warms\u2014\n Fool as she was! who had not yet divin\u2019d\n Her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind.\n Her country gods, the monsters of the sky,\n Great Neptune, Pallas, and Love\u2019s Queen defy:\n The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain,\n Nor longer dares oppose th\u2019 ethereal train.\n Mars in the middle of the shining shield\n Is grav\u2019d, and strides along the liquid field.\n The Dirae souse from heav\u2019n with swift descent;\n And Discord, dyed in blood, with garments rent,\n Divides the prease: her steps Bellona treads,\n And shakes her iron rod above their heads.\n This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height,\n Pours down his arrows; at whose winged flight\n The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield,\n And soft Sabaeans quit the wat\u2019ry field.\n The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails,\n And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales.\n Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath,\n Panting, and pale with fear of future death.\n The god had figur\u2019d her as driv\u2019n along\n By winds and waves, and scudding thro\u2019 the throng.\n Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide\n His arms and ample bosom to the tide,\n And spreads his mantle o\u2019er the winding coast,\n In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host.\n The victor to the gods his thanks express\u2019d,\n And Rome, triumphant, with his presence bless\u2019d.\n Three hundred temples in the town he plac\u2019d;\n With spoils and altars ev\u2019ry temple grac\u2019d.\n Three shining nights, and three succeeding days,\n The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise,\n The domes with songs, the theatres with plays.\n All altars flame: before each altar lies,\n Drench\u2019d in his gore, the destin\u2019d sacrifice.\n Great Caesar sits sublime upon his throne,\n Before Apollo\u2019s porch of Parian stone;\n Accepts the presents vow\u2019d for victory,\n And hangs the monumental crowns on high.\n Vast crowds of vanquish\u2019d nations march along,\n Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue.\n Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place\n For Carians, and th\u2019 ungirt Numidian race;\n Then ranks the Thracians in the second row,\n With Scythians, expert in the dart and bow.\n And here the tam\u2019d Euphrates humbly glides,\n And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides,\n And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind;\n The Danes\u2019 unconquer\u2019d offspring march behind,\n And Morini, the last of humankind.\n\n These figures, on the shield divinely wrought,\n By Vulcan labour\u2019d, and by Venus brought,\n With joy and wonder fill the hero\u2019s thought.\n Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace,\n And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race.\n\n\n\n BOOK IX\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Turnus takes advantage of Aeneas\u2019s absence, fires some of his\n ships (which are transformed into sea nymphs,) and assaults his\n camp. The Trojans, reduced to the last extremities, send Ninus\n and Euryalus to recall Aeneas; which furnishes the poet with that\n admirable episode of their friendship, generosity, and the\n conclusion of their adventure.\n\n\n While these affairs in distant places pass\u2019d,\n The various Iris Juno sends with haste,\n To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,\n The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.\n Retir\u2019d alone she found the daring man,\n And op\u2019d her rosy lips, and thus began:\n \u201cWhat none of all the gods could grant thy vows,\n That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.\n Aeneas, gone to seek th\u2019 Arcadian prince,\n Has left the Trojan camp without defence;\n And, short of succours there, employs his pains\n In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.\n Now snatch an hour that favours thy designs;\n Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.\u201d\n This said, on equal wings she pois\u2019d her weight,\n And form\u2019d a radiant rainbow in her flight.\n\n The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,\n And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:\n \u201cIris, the grace of heav\u2019n, what pow\u2019r divine\n Has sent thee down, thro\u2019 dusky clouds to shine?\n See, they divide; immortal day appears,\n And glitt\u2019ring planets dancing in their spheres!\n With joy, these happy omens I obey,\n And follow to the war the god that leads the way.\u201d\n Thus having said, as by the brook he stood,\n He scoop\u2019d the water from the crystal flood;\n Then with his hands the drops to heav\u2019n he throws,\n And loads the pow\u2019rs above with offer\u2019d vows.\n\n Now march the bold confed\u2019rates thro\u2019 the plain,\n Well hors\u2019d, well clad; a rich and shining train.\n Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,\n The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.\n In the main battle, with his flaming crest,\n The mighty Turnus tow\u2019rs above the rest.\n Silent they move, majestically slow,\n Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.\n The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,\n And the dark menace of the distant war.\n Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,\n Black\u2019ning the fields, and thick\u2019ning thro\u2019 the skies.\n Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:\n \u201cWhat rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?\n Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears\n And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.\u201d\n\n Thus warn\u2019d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend\n The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:\n For their wise gen\u2019ral, with foreseeing care,\n Had charg\u2019d them not to tempt the doubtful war,\n Nor, tho\u2019 provok\u2019d, in open fields advance,\n But close within their lines attend their chance.\n Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command,\n And sourly wait in arms the hostile band.\n The fiery Turnus flew before the rest:\n A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press\u2019d;\n His helm of massy gold, and crimson was his crest.\n With twenty horse to second his designs,\n An unexpected foe, he fac\u2019d the lines.\n \u201cIs there,\u201d he said, \u201cin arms, who bravely dare\n His leader\u2019s honour and his danger share?\u201d\n Then spurring on, his brandish\u2019d dart he threw,\n In sign of war: applauding shouts ensue.\n\n Amaz\u2019d to find a dastard race, that run\n Behind the rampires and the battle shun,\n He rides around the camp, with rolling eyes,\n And stops at ev\u2019ry post, and ev\u2019ry passage tries.\n So roams the nightly wolf about the fold:\n Wet with descending show\u2019rs, and stiff with cold,\n He howls for hunger, and he grins for pain,\n (His gnashing teeth are exercis\u2019d in vain,)\n And, impotent of anger, finds no way\n In his distended paws to grasp the prey.\n The mothers listen; but the bleating lambs\n Securely swig the dug, beneath the dams.\n Thus ranges eager Turnus o\u2019er the plain.\n Sharp with desire, and furious with disdain;\n Surveys each passage with a piercing sight,\n To force his foes in equal field to fight.\n Thus while he gazes round, at length he spies,\n Where, fenc\u2019d with strong redoubts, their navy lies,\n Close underneath the walls; the washing tide\n Secures from all approach this weaker side.\n He takes the wish\u2019d occasion, fills his hand\n With ready fires, and shakes a flaming brand.\n Urg\u2019d by his presence, ev\u2019ry soul is warm\u2019d,\n And ev\u2019ry hand with kindled fires is arm\u2019d.\n From the fir\u2019d pines the scatt\u2019ring sparkles fly;\n Fat vapours, mix\u2019d with flames, involve the sky.\n What pow\u2019r, O Muses, could avert the flame\n Which threaten\u2019d, in the fleet, the Trojan name?\n Tell: for the fact, thro\u2019 length of time obscure,\n Is hard to faith; yet shall the fame endure.\n\n \u2019Tis said that, when the chief prepar\u2019d his flight,\n And fell\u2019d his timber from Mount Ida\u2019s height,\n The grandam goddess then approach\u2019d her son,\n And with a mother\u2019s majesty begun:\n \u201cGrant me,\u201d she said, \u201cthe sole request I bring,\n Since conquer\u2019d heav\u2019n has own\u2019d you for its king.\n On Ida\u2019s brows, for ages past, there stood,\n With firs and maples fill\u2019d, a shady wood;\n And on the summit rose a sacred grove,\n Where I was worship\u2019d with religious love.\n Those woods, that holy grove, my long delight,\n I gave the Trojan prince, to speed his flight.\n Now, fill\u2019d with fear, on their behalf I come;\n Let neither winds o\u2019erset, nor waves intomb\n The floating forests of the sacred pine;\n But let it be their safety to be mine.\u201d\n Then thus replied her awful son, who rolls\n The radiant stars, and heav\u2019n and earth controls:\n \u201cHow dare you, mother, endless date demand\n For vessels moulded by a mortal hand?\n What then is fate? Shall bold Aeneas ride,\n Of safety certain, on th\u2019 uncertain tide?\n Yet, what I can, I grant; when, wafted o\u2019er,\n The chief is landed on the Latian shore,\n Whatever ships escape the raging storms,\n At my command shall change their fading forms\n To nymphs divine, and plow the wat\u2019ry way,\n Like Dotis and the daughters of the sea.\u201d\n To seal his sacred vow, by Styx he swore,\n The lake of liquid pitch, the dreary shore,\n And Phlegethon\u2019s innavigable flood,\n And the black regions of his brother god.\n He said; and shook the skies with his imperial nod.\n\n And now at length the number\u2019d hours were come,\n Prefix\u2019d by fate\u2019s irrevocable doom,\n When the great Mother of the Gods was free\n To save her ships, and finish Jove\u2019s decree.\n First, from the quarter of the morn, there sprung\n A light that sign\u2019d the heav\u2019ns, and shot along;\n Then from a cloud, fring\u2019d round with golden fires,\n Were timbrels heard, and Berecynthian choirs;\n And, last, a voice, with more than mortal sounds,\n Both hosts, in arms oppos\u2019d, with equal horror wounds:\n \u201cO Trojan race, your needless aid forbear,\n And know, my ships are my peculiar care.\n With greater ease the bold Rutulian may,\n With hissing brands, attempt to burn the sea,\n Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge,\n Loos\u2019d from your crooked anchors, launch at large,\n Exalted each a nymph: forsake the sand,\n And swim the seas, at Cybele\u2019s command.\u201d\n No sooner had the goddess ceas\u2019d to speak,\n When, lo! th\u2019 obedient ships their haulsers break;\n And, strange to tell, like dolphins, in the main\n They plunge their prows, and dive, and spring again:\n As many beauteous maids the billows sweep,\n As rode before tall vessels on the deep.\n\n The foes, surpris\u2019d with wonder, stood aghast;\n Messapus curb\u2019d his fiery courser\u2019s haste;\n Old Tiber roar\u2019d, and, raising up his head,\n Call\u2019d back his waters to their oozy bed.\n Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock,\n And with these words his trembling troops bespoke:\n \u201cThese monsters for the Trojans\u2019 fate are meant,\n And are by Jove for black presages sent.\n He takes the cowards\u2019 last relief away;\n For fly they cannot, and, constrain\u2019d to stay,\n Must yield unfought, a base inglorious prey.\n The liquid half of all the globe is lost;\n Heav\u2019n shuts the seas, and we secure the coast.\n Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground\n Which myriads of our martial men surround.\n Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles.\n \u2019Twas giv\u2019n to Venus they should cross the seas,\n And land secure upon the Latian plains:\n Their promis\u2019d hour is pass\u2019d, and mine remains.\n \u2019Tis in the fate of Turnus to destroy,\n With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy.\n Shall such affronts as these alone inflame\n The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name?\n My cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife,\n And final ruin, for a ravish\u2019d wife.\n Was \u2019t not enough, that, punish\u2019d for the crime,\n They fell; but will they fall a second time?\n One would have thought they paid enough before,\n To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more.\n Can they securely trust their feeble wall,\n A slight partition, a thin interval,\n Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, tho\u2019 built\n By hands divine, yet perish\u2019d by their guilt?\n Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands,\n To force from out their lines these dastard bands.\n Less than a thousand ships will end this war,\n Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare.\n Let all the Tuscans, all th\u2019 Arcadians, join!\n Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design.\n Let them not fear the treasons of the night,\n The robb\u2019d Palladium, the pretended flight:\n Our onset shall be made in open light.\n No wooden engine shall their town betray;\n Fires they shall have around, but fires by day.\n No Grecian babes before their camp appear,\n Whom Hector\u2019s arms detain\u2019d to the tenth tardy year.\n Now, since the sun is rolling to the west,\n Give we the silent night to needful rest:\n Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare;\n The morn shall end the small remains of war.\u201d\n\n The post of honour to Messapus falls,\n To keep the nightly guard, to watch the walls,\n To pitch the fires at distances around,\n And close the Trojans in their scanty ground.\n Twice seven Rutulian captains ready stand,\n And twice seven hundred horse these chiefs command;\n All clad in shining arms the works invest,\n Each with a radiant helm and waving crest.\n Stretch\u2019d at their length, they press the grassy ground;\n They laugh, they sing, (the jolly bowls go round,)\n With lights and cheerful fires renew the day,\n And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play.\n\n The Trojans, from above, their foes beheld,\n And with arm\u2019d legions all the rampires fill\u2019d.\n Seiz\u2019d with affright, their gates they first explore;\n Join works to works with bridges, tow\u2019r to tow\u2019r:\n Thus all things needful for defence abound.\n Mnestheus and brave Seresthus walk the round,\n Commission\u2019d by their absent prince to share\n The common danger, and divide the care.\n The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall,\n By turns relieve each other on the wall.\n\n Nigh where the foes their utmost guards advance,\n To watch the gate was warlike Nisus\u2019 chance.\n His father Hyrtacus of noble blood;\n His mother was a huntress of the wood,\n And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear\n His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear,\n But better skill\u2019d unerring shafts to send.\n Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend:\n Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host\n No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boast.\n Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun.\n One was their care, and their delight was one:\n One common hazard in the war they shar\u2019d,\n And now were both by choice upon the guard.\n\n Then Nisus thus: \u201cOr do the gods inspire\n This warmth, or make we gods of our desire?\n A gen\u2019rous ardour boils within my breast,\n Eager of action, enemy to rest:\n This urges me to fight, and fires my mind\n To leave a memorable name behind.\n Thou see\u2019st the foe secure; how faintly shine\n Their scatter\u2019d fires! the most, in sleep supine\n Along the ground, an easy conquest lie:\n The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply;\n All hush\u2019d around. Now hear what I revolve\u2014\n A thought unripe\u2014and scarcely yet resolve.\n Our absent prince both camp and council mourn;\n By message both would hasten his return:\n If they confer what I demand on thee,\n (For fame is recompense enough for me,)\n Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied\n A way that safely will my passage guide.\u201d\n\n Euryalus stood list\u2019ning while he spoke,\n With love of praise and noble envy struck;\n Then to his ardent friend expos\u2019d his mind:\n \u201cAll this, alone, and leaving me behind!\n Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be join\u2019d?\n Think\u2019st thou I can my share of glory yield,\n Or send thee unassisted to the field?\n Not so my father taught my childhood arms;\n Born in a siege, and bred among alarms!\n Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend,\n Nor of the heav\u2019n-born hero I attend.\n The thing call\u2019d life, with ease I can disclaim,\n And think it over-sold to purchase fame.\u201d\n\n Then Nisus thus: \u201cAlas! thy tender years\n Would minister new matter to my fears.\n So may the gods, who view this friendly strife,\n Restore me to thy lov\u2019d embrace with life,\n Condemn\u2019d to pay my vows, (as sure I trust,)\n This thy request is cruel and unjust.\n But if some chance\u2014as many chances are,\n And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of war\u2014\n If one should reach my head, there let it fall,\n And spare thy life; I would not perish all.\n Thy bloomy youth deserves a longer date:\n Live thou to mourn thy love\u2019s unhappy fate;\n To bear my mangled body from the foe,\n Or buy it back, and fun\u2019ral rites bestow.\n Or, if hard fortune shall those dues deny,\n Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply.\n O let not me the widow\u2019s tears renew!\n Nor let a mother\u2019s curse my name pursue:\n Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee,\n Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily,\n Her age committing to the seas and wind,\n When ev\u2019ry weary matron stay\u2019d behind.\u201d\n To this, Euryalus: \u201cYou plead in vain,\n And but protract the cause you cannot gain.\n No more delays, but haste!\u201d With that, he wakes\n The nodding watch; each to his office takes.\n The guard reliev\u2019d, the gen\u2019rous couple went\n To find the council at the royal tent.\n\n All creatures else forgot their daily care,\n And sleep, the common gift of nature, share;\n Except the Trojan peers, who wakeful sate\n In nightly council for th\u2019 indanger\u2019d state.\n They vote a message to their absent chief,\n Shew their distress, and beg a swift relief.\n Amid the camp a silent seat they chose,\n Remote from clamour, and secure from foes.\n On their left arms their ample shields they bear,\n The right reclin\u2019d upon the bending spear.\n Now Nisus and his friend approach the guard,\n And beg admission, eager to be heard:\n Th\u2019 affair important, not to be deferr\u2019d.\n Ascanius bids \u2019em be conducted in,\n Ord\u2019ring the more experienc\u2019d to begin.\n Then Nisus thus: \u201cYe fathers, lend your ears;\n Nor judge our bold attempt beyond our years.\n The foe, securely drench\u2019d in sleep and wine,\n Neglect their watch; the fires but thinly shine;\n And where the smoke in cloudy vapours flies,\n Cov\u2019ring the plain, and curling to the skies,\n Betwixt two paths, which at the gate divide,\n Close by the sea, a passage we have spied,\n Which will our way to great Aeneas guide.\n Expect each hour to see him safe again,\n Loaded with spoils of foes in battle slain.\n Snatch we the lucky minute while we may;\n Nor can we be mistaken in the way;\n For, hunting in the vale, we both have seen\n The rising turrets, and the stream between,\n And know the winding course, with ev\u2019ry ford.\u201d\n\n He ceas\u2019d; and old Alethes took the word:\n \u201cOur country gods, in whom our trust we place,\n Will yet from ruin save the Trojan race,\n While we behold such dauntless worth appear\n In dawning youth, and souls so void of fear.\u201d\n Then into tears of joy the father broke;\n Each in his longing arms by turns he took;\n Panted and paus\u2019d; and thus again he spoke:\n \u201cYe brave young men, what equal gifts can we,\n In recompense of such desert, decree?\n The greatest, sure, and best you can receive,\n The gods and your own conscious worth will give.\n The rest our grateful gen\u2019ral will bestow,\n And young Ascanius till his manhood owe.\u201d\n\n \u201cAnd I, whose welfare in my father lies,\u201d\n Ascanius adds, \u201cby the great deities,\n By my dear country, by my household gods,\n By hoary Vesta\u2019s rites and dark abodes,\n Adjure you both, (on you my fortune stands;\n That and my faith I plight into your hands,)\n Make me but happy in his safe return,\n Whose wanted presence I can only mourn;\n Your common gift shall two large goblets be\n Of silver, wrought with curious imagery,\n And high emboss\u2019d, which, when old Priam reign\u2019d,\n My conqu\u2019ring sire at sack\u2019d Arisba gain\u2019d;\n And more, two tripods cast in antique mould,\n With two great talents of the finest gold;\n Beside a costly bowl, ingrav\u2019d with art,\n Which Dido gave, when first she gave her heart.\n But, if in conquer\u2019d Italy we reign,\n When spoils by lot the victor shall obtain\u2014\n Thou saw\u2019st the courser by proud Turnus press\u2019d:\n That, Nisus, and his arms, and nodding crest,\n And shield, from chance exempt, shall be thy share:\n Twelve lab\u2019ring slaves, twelve handmaids young and fair\n All clad in rich attire, and train\u2019d with care;\n And, last, a Latian field with fruitful plains,\n And a large portion of the king\u2019s domains.\n But thou, whose years are more to mine allied,\n No fate my vow\u2019d affection shall divide\n From thee, heroic youth! Be wholly mine;\n Take full possession; all my soul is thine.\n One faith, one fame, one fate, shall both attend;\n My life\u2019s companion, and my bosom friend:\n My peace shall be committed to thy care,\n And to thy conduct my concerns in war.\u201d\n\n Then thus the young Euryalus replied:\n \u201cWhatever fortune, good or bad, betide,\n The same shall be my age, as now my youth;\n No time shall find me wanting to my truth.\n This only from your goodness let me gain\n (And, this ungranted, all rewards are vain)\n Of Priam\u2019s royal race my mother came\u2014\n And sure the best that ever bore the name\u2014\n Whom neither Troy nor Sicily could hold\n From me departing, but, o\u2019erspent and old,\n My fate she follow\u2019d. Ignorant of this\n (Whatever) danger, neither parting kiss,\n Nor pious blessing taken, her I leave,\n And in this only act of all my life deceive.\n By this right hand and conscious night I swear,\n My soul so sad a farewell could not bear.\n Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place\n (Permit me to presume so great a grace)\n Support her age, forsaken and distress\u2019d.\n That hope alone will fortify my breast\n Against the worst of fortunes, and of fears.\u201d\n He said. The mov\u2019d assistants melt in tears.\n\n Then thus Ascanius, wonderstruck to see\n That image of his filial piety:\n \u201cSo great beginnings, in so green an age,\n Exact the faith which I again engage.\n Thy mother all the dues shall justly claim,\n Creusa had, and only want the name.\n Whate\u2019er event thy bold attempt shall have,\n \u2019Tis merit to have borne a son so brave.\n Now by my head, a sacred oath, I swear,\n (My father us\u2019d it,) what, returning here\n Crown\u2019d with success, I for thyself prepare,\n That, if thou fail, shall thy lov\u2019d mother share.\u201d\n\n He said, and weeping, while he spoke the word,\n From his broad belt he drew a shining sword,\n Magnificent with gold. Lycaon made,\n And in an ivory scabbard sheath\u2019d the blade.\n This was his gift. Great Mnestheus gave his friend\n A lion\u2019s hide, his body to defend;\n And good Alethes furnish\u2019d him, beside,\n With his own trusty helm, of temper tried.\n\n Thus arm\u2019d they went. The noble Trojans wait\n Their issuing forth, and follow to the gate\n With prayers and vows. Above the rest appears\n Ascanius, manly far beyond his years,\n And messages committed to their care,\n Which all in winds were lost, and flitting air.\n\n The trenches first they pass\u2019d; then took their way\n Where their proud foes in pitch\u2019d pavilions lay;\n To many fatal, ere themselves were slain.\n They found the careless host dispers\u2019d upon the plain,\n Who, gorg\u2019d, and drunk with wine, supinely snore.\n Unharness\u2019d chariots stand along the shore:\n Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by,\n A medley of debauch and war, they lie.\n Observing Nisus shew\u2019d his friend the sight:\n \u201cBehold a conquest gain\u2019d without a fight.\n Occasion offers, and I stand prepar\u2019d;\n There lies our way; be thou upon the guard,\n And look around, while I securely go,\n And hew a passage thro\u2019 the sleeping foe.\u201d\n Softly he spoke; then striding took his way,\n With his drawn sword, where haughty Rhamnes lay;\n His head rais\u2019d high on tapestry beneath,\n And heaving from his breast, he drew his breath;\n A king and prophet, by King Turnus lov\u2019d:\n But fate by prescience cannot be remov\u2019d.\n Him and his sleeping slaves he slew; then spies\n Where Remus, with his rich retinue, lies.\n His armour-bearer first, and next he kills\n His charioteer, intrench\u2019d betwixt the wheels\n And his lov\u2019d horses; last invades their lord;\n Full on his neck he drives the fatal sword:\n The gasping head flies off; a purple flood\n Flows from the trunk, that welters in the blood,\n Which, by the spurning heels dispers\u2019d around,\n The bed besprinkles and bedews the ground.\n Lamus the bold, and Lamyrus the strong,\n He slew, and then Serranus fair and young.\n From dice and wine the youth retir\u2019d to rest,\n And puff\u2019d the fumy god from out his breast:\n Ev\u2019n then he dreamt of drink and lucky play\u2014\n More lucky, had it lasted till the day.\n The famish\u2019d lion thus, with hunger bold,\n O\u2019erleaps the fences of the nightly fold,\n And tears the peaceful flocks: with silent awe\n Trembling they lie, and pant beneath his paw.\n\n Nor with less rage Euryalus employs\n The wrathful sword, or fewer foes destroys;\n But on th\u2019 ignoble crowd his fury flew;\n He Fadus, Hebesus, and Rhoetus slew.\n Oppress\u2019d with heavy sleep the former fell,\n But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all:\n Behind a spacious jar he slink\u2019d for fear;\n The fatal iron found and reach\u2019d him there;\n For, as he rose, it pierc\u2019d his naked side,\n And, reeking, thence return\u2019d in crimson dyed.\n The wound pours out a stream of wine and blood;\n The purple soul comes floating in the flood.\n\n Now, where Messapus quarter\u2019d, they arrive.\n The fires were fainting there, and just alive;\n The warrior-horses, tied in order, fed.\n Nisus observ\u2019d the discipline, and said:\n \u201cOur eager thirst of blood may both betray;\n And see the scatter\u2019d streaks of dawning day,\n Foe to nocturnal thefts. No more, my friend;\n Here let our glutted execution end.\n A lane thro\u2019 slaughter\u2019d bodies we have made.\u201d\n The bold Euryalus, tho\u2019 loth, obey\u2019d.\n Of arms, and arras, and of plate, they find\n A precious load; but these they leave behind.\n Yet, fond of gaudy spoils, the boy would stay\n To make the rich caparison his prey,\n Which on the steed of conquer\u2019d Rhamnes lay.\n Nor did his eyes less longingly behold\n The girdle-belt, with nails of burnish\u2019d gold.\n This present Caedicus the rich bestow\u2019d\n On Remulus, when friendship first they vow\u2019d,\n And, absent, join\u2019d in hospitable ties:\n He, dying, to his heir bequeath\u2019d the prize;\n Till, by the conqu\u2019ring Ardean troops oppress\u2019d,\n He fell; and they the glorious gift possess\u2019d.\n These glitt\u2019ring spoils (now made the victor\u2019s gain)\n He to his body suits, but suits in vain:\n Messapus\u2019 helm he finds among the rest,\n And laces on, and wears the waving crest.\n Proud of their conquest, prouder of their prey,\n They leave the camp, and take the ready way.\n\n But far they had not pass\u2019d, before they spied\n Three hundred horse, with Volscens for their guide.\n The queen a legion to King Turnus sent;\n But the swift horse the slower foot prevent,\n And now, advancing, sought the leader\u2019s tent.\n They saw the pair; for, thro\u2019 the doubtful shade,\n His shining helm Euryalus betray\u2019d,\n On which the moon with full reflection play\u2019d.\n \u201c\u2019Tis not for naught,\u201d cried Volscens from the crowd,\n \u201cThese men go there;\u201d then rais\u2019d his voice aloud:\n \u201cStand! stand! why thus in arms? And whither bent?\n From whence, to whom, and on what errand sent?\u201d\n Silent they scud away, and haste their flight\n To neighb\u2019ring woods, and trust themselves to night.\n The speedy horse all passages belay,\n And spur their smoking steeds to cross their way,\n And watch each entrance of the winding wood.\n Black was the forest: thick with beech it stood,\n Horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn;\n Few paths of human feet, or tracks of beasts, were worn.\n The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey,\n And fear, misled the younger from his way.\n But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste,\n And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass\u2019d,\n And Alban plains, from Alba\u2019s name so call\u2019d,\n Where King Latinus then his oxen stall\u2019d;\n Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground,\n And miss\u2019d his friend, and cast his eyes around:\n \u201cAh wretch!\u201d he cried, \u201cwhere have I left behind\n Th\u2019 unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find?\n Or what way take?\u201d Again he ventures back,\n And treads the mazes of his former track.\n He winds the wood, and, list\u2019ning, hears the noise\n Of tramping coursers, and the riders\u2019 voice.\n The sound approach\u2019d; and suddenly he view\u2019d\n The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued,\n Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain\n The shelter of the friendly shades to gain.\n What should he next attempt? what arms employ,\n What fruitless force, to free the captive boy?\n Or desperate should he rush and lose his life,\n With odds oppress\u2019d, in such unequal strife?\n\n Resolv\u2019d at length, his pointed spear he shook;\n And, casting on the moon a mournful look:\n \u201cGuardian of groves, and goddess of the night,\n Fair queen,\u201d he said, \u201cdirect my dart aright.\n If e\u2019er my pious father, for my sake,\n Did grateful off\u2019rings on thy altars make,\n Or I increas\u2019d them with my sylvan toils,\n And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils,\n Give me to scatter these.\u201d Then from his ear\n He pois\u2019d, and aim\u2019d, and launch\u2019d the trembling spear.\n The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove,\n Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove;\n Pierc\u2019d his thin armour, drank his vital blood,\n And in his body left the broken wood.\n He staggers round; his eyeballs roll in death,\n And with short sobs he gasps away his breath.\n All stand amaz\u2019d\u2014a second jav\u2019lin flies\n With equal strength, and quivers thro\u2019 the skies.\n This thro\u2019 thy temples, Tagus, forc\u2019d the way,\n And in the brainpan warmly buried lay.\n Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round,\n Descried not him who gave the fatal wound,\n Nor knew to fix revenge: \u201cBut thou,\u201d he cries,\n \u201cShalt pay for both,\u201d and at the pris\u2019ner flies\n With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair,\n That cruel sight the lover could not bear;\n But from his covert rush\u2019d in open view,\n And sent his voice before him as he flew:\n \u201cMe! me!\u201d he cried\u2014\u201cturn all your swords alone\n On me\u2014the fact confess\u2019d, the fault my own.\n He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth:\n Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth!\n His only crime (if friendship can offend)\n Is too much love to his unhappy friend.\u201d\n Too late he speaks: the sword, which fury guides,\n Driv\u2019n with full force, had pierc\u2019d his tender sides.\n Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound\n Gush\u2019d out a purple stream, and stain\u2019d the ground.\n His snowy neck reclines upon his breast,\n Like a fair flow\u2019r by the keen share oppress\u2019d;\n Like a white poppy sinking on the plain,\n Whose heavy head is overcharg\u2019d with rain.\n Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow\u2019d,\n Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd.\n Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends:\n Borne back and bor\u2019d by his surrounding friends,\n Onward he press\u2019d, and kept him still in sight;\n Then whirl\u2019d aloft his sword with all his might:\n Th\u2019 unerring steel descended while he spoke,\n Pierc\u2019d his wide mouth, and thro\u2019 his weazon broke.\n Dying, he slew; and, stagg\u2019ring on the plain,\n With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain;\n Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell,\n Content, in death, to be reveng\u2019d so well.\n\n O happy friends! for, if my verse can give\n Immortal life, your fame shall ever live,\n Fix\u2019d as the Capitol\u2019s foundation lies,\n And spread, where\u2019er the Roman eagle flies!\n\n The conqu\u2019ring party first divide the prey,\n Then their slain leader to the camp convey.\n With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill\u2019d,\n To see such numbers whom so few had kill\u2019d.\n Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found:\n Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround;\n And the yet reeking blood o\u2019erflows the ground.\n All knew the helmet which Messapus lost,\n But mourn\u2019d a purchase that so dear had cost.\n Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon\u2019s bed,\n And with the dawn of day the skies o\u2019erspread;\n Nor long the sun his daily course withheld,\n But added colours to the world reveal\u2019d:\n When early Turnus, wak\u2019ning with the light,\n All clad in armour, calls his troops to fight.\n His martial men with fierce harangue he fir\u2019d,\n And his own ardour in their souls inspir\u2019d.\n This done\u2014to give new terror to his foes,\n The heads of Nisus and his friend he shows,\n Rais\u2019d high on pointed spears\u2014a ghastly sight:\n Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight.\n\n Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls;\n They line their trenches, and they man their walls.\n In front extended to the left they stood;\n Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood.\n But, casting from their tow\u2019rs a frightful view,\n They saw the faces, which too well they knew,\n Tho\u2019 then disguis\u2019d in death, and smear\u2019d all o\u2019er\n With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore.\n Soon hasty fame thro\u2019 the sad city bears\n The mournful message to the mother\u2019s ears.\n An icy cold benumbs her limbs; she shakes;\n Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes.\n She runs the rampires round amidst the war,\n Nor fears the flying darts; she rends her hair,\n And fills with loud laments the liquid air.\n \u201cThus, then, my lov\u2019d Euryalus appears!\n Thus looks the prop of my declining years!\n Was\u2019t on this face my famish\u2019d eyes I fed?\n Ah! how unlike the living is the dead!\n And could\u2019st thou leave me, cruel, thus alone?\n Not one kind kiss from a departing son!\n No look, no last adieu before he went,\n In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent!\n Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay,\n To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey!\n Nor was I near to close his dying eyes,\n To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies,\n To call about his corpse his crying friends,\n Or spread the mantle (made for other ends)\n On his dear body, which I wove with care,\n Nor did my daily pains or nightly labour spare.\n Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains\n His trunk dismember\u2019d, and his cold remains?\n For this, alas! I left my needful ease,\n Expos\u2019d my life to winds and winter seas!\n If any pity touch Rutulian hearts,\n Here empty all your quivers, all your darts;\n Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe,\n And send me thunderstruck to shades below!\u201d\n Her shrieks and clamours pierce the Trojans\u2019 ears,\n Unman their courage, and augment their fears;\n Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain,\n Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain,\n But Actor and Idaeus jointly sent,\n To bear the madding mother to her tent.\n\n And now the trumpets terribly, from far,\n With rattling clangour, rouse the sleepy war.\n The soldiers\u2019 shouts succeed the brazen sounds;\n And heav\u2019n, from pole to pole, the noise rebounds.\n The Volscians bear their shields upon their head,\n And, rushing forward, form a moving shed.\n These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down:\n Some raise the ladders; others scale the town.\n But, where void spaces on the walls appear,\n Or thin defence, they pour their forces there.\n With poles and missive weapons, from afar,\n The Trojans keep aloof the rising war.\n Taught, by their ten years\u2019 siege, defensive fight,\n They roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight,\n To break the penthouse with the pond\u2019rous blow,\n Which yet the patient Volscians undergo:\n But could not bear th\u2019 unequal combat long;\n For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng,\n The ruin falls: their shatter\u2019d shields give way,\n And their crush\u2019d heads become an easy prey.\n They shrink for fear, abated of their rage,\n Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage;\n Contented now to gall them from below\n With darts and slings, and with the distant bow.\n\n Elsewhere Mezentius, terrible to view,\n A blazing pine within the trenches threw.\n But brave Messapus, Neptune\u2019s warlike son,\n Broke down the palisades, the trenches won,\n And loud for ladders calls, to scale the town.\n\n Calliope, begin! Ye sacred Nine,\n Inspire your poet in his high design,\n To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made,\n What souls he sent below the Stygian shade,\n What fame the soldiers with their captain share,\n And the vast circuit of the fatal war;\n For you in singing martial facts excel;\n You best remember, and alone can tell.\n\n There stood a tow\u2019r, amazing to the sight,\n Built up of beams, and of stupendous height:\n Art, and the nature of the place, conspir\u2019d\n To furnish all the strength that war requir\u2019d.\n To level this, the bold Italians join;\n The wary Trojans obviate their design;\n With weighty stones o\u2019erwhelm their troops below,\n Shoot thro\u2019 the loopholes, and sharp jav\u2019lins throw.\n Turnus, the chief, toss\u2019d from his thund\u2019ring hand\n Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand:\n It stuck, the fiery plague; the winds were high;\n The planks were season\u2019d, and the timber dry.\n Contagion caught the posts; it spread along,\n Scorch\u2019d, and to distance drove the scatter\u2019d throng.\n The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain,\n Still gath\u2019ring fast upon the trembling train;\n Till, crowding to the corners of the wall,\n Down the defence and the defenders fall.\n The mighty flaw makes heav\u2019n itself resound:\n The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground.\n The tow\u2019r, that follow\u2019d on the fallen crew,\n Whelm\u2019d o\u2019er their heads, and buried whom it slew:\n Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent;\n All the same equal ruin underwent.\n\n Young Lycus and Helenor only scape;\n Sav\u2019d\u2014how, they know not\u2014from the steepy leap.\n Helenor, elder of the two: by birth,\n On one side royal, one a son of earth,\n Whom to the Lydian king Licymnia bare,\n And sent her boasted bastard to the war\n (A privilege which none but freemen share).\n Slight were his arms, a sword and silver shield:\n No marks of honour charg\u2019d its empty field.\n Light as he fell, so light the youth arose,\n And rising, found himself amidst his foes;\n Nor flight was left, nor hopes to force his way.\n Embolden\u2019d by despair, he stood at bay;\n And, like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds\n Of eager huntsmen and invading hounds\n Resolv\u2019d on death, he dissipates his fears,\n And bounds aloft against the pointed spears:\n So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws\n His dying body on his thickest foes.\n But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far,\n Runs, doubles, winds and turns, amidst the war;\n Springs to the walls, and leaves his foes behind,\n And snatches at the beam he first can find;\n Looks up, and leaps aloft at all the stretch,\n In hopes the helping hand of some kind friend to reach.\n But Turnus follow\u2019d hard his hunted prey\n (His spear had almost reach\u2019d him in the way,\n Short of his reins, and scarce a span behind)\n \u201cFool!\u201d said the chief, \u201ctho\u2019 fleeter than the wind,\n Couldst thou presume to scape, when I pursue?\u201d\n He said, and downward by the feet he drew\n The trembling dastard; at the tug he falls;\n Vast ruins come along, rent from the smoking walls.\n Thus on some silver swan, or tim\u2019rous hare,\n Jove\u2019s bird comes sousing down from upper air;\n Her crooked talons truss the fearful prey:\n Then out of sight she soars, and wings her way.\n So seizes the grim wolf the tender lamb,\n In vain lamented by the bleating dam.\n\n Then rushing onward with a barb\u2019rous cry,\n The troops of Turnus to the combat fly.\n The ditch with fagots fill\u2019d, the daring foe\n Toss\u2019d firebrands to the steepy turrets throw.\n\n Ilioneus, as bold Lucetius came\n To force the gate, and feed the kindling flame,\n Roll\u2019d down the fragment of a rock so right,\n It crush\u2019d him double underneath the weight.\n Two more young Liger and Asylas slew:\n To bend the bow young Liger better knew;\n Asylas best the pointed jav\u2019lin threw.\n Brave Caeneus laid Ortygius on the plain;\n The victor Caeneus was by Turnus slain.\n By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall,\n Sagar, and Ida, standing on the wall.\n From Capys\u2019 arms his fate Privernus found:\n Hurt by Themilla first\u2014but slight the wound\u2014\n His shield thrown by, to mitigate the smart,\n He clapp\u2019d his hand upon the wounded part:\n The second shaft came swift and unespied,\n And pierc\u2019d his hand, and nail\u2019d it to his side,\n Transfix\u2019d his breathing lungs and beating heart:\n The soul came issuing out, and hiss\u2019d against the dart.\n\n The son of Arcens shone amid the rest,\n In glitt\u2019ring armour and a purple vest,\n (Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love,)\n Bred by his father in the Martian grove,\n Where the fat altars of Palicus flame,\n And send in arms to purchase early fame.\n Him when he spied from far, the Tuscan king\n Laid by the lance, and took him to the sling,\n Thrice whirl\u2019d the thong around his head, and threw:\n The heated lead half melted as it flew;\n It pierc\u2019d his hollow temples and his brain;\n The youth came tumbling down, and spurn\u2019d the plain.\n\n Then young Ascanius, who, before this day,\n Was wont in woods to shoot the savage prey,\n First bent in martial strife the twanging bow,\n And exercis\u2019d against a human foe\u2014\n With this bereft Numanus of his life,\n Who Turnus\u2019 younger sister took to wife.\n Proud of his realm, and of his royal bride,\n Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen\u2019d with a stride,\n In these insulting terms the Trojans he defied:\n\n \u201cTwice-conquer\u2019d cowards, now your shame is shown\u2014\n Coop\u2019d up a second time within your town!\n Who dare not issue forth in open field,\n But hold your walls before you for a shield.\n Thus treat you war? thus our alliance force?\n What gods, what madness, hither steer\u2019d your course?\n You shall not find the sons of Atreus here,\n Nor need the frauds of sly Ulysses fear.\n Strong from the cradle, of a sturdy brood,\n We bear our newborn infants to the flood;\n There bath\u2019d amid the stream, our boys we hold,\n With winter harden\u2019d, and inur\u2019d to cold.\n They wake before the day to range the wood,\n Kill ere they eat, nor taste unconquer\u2019d food.\n No sports, but what belong to war, they know:\n To break the stubborn colt, to bend the bow.\n Our youth, of labour patient, earn their bread;\n Hardly they work, with frugal diet fed.\n From plows and harrows sent to seek renown,\n They fight in fields, and storm the shaken town.\n No part of life from toils of war is free,\n No change in age, or diff\u2019rence in degree.\n We plow and till in arms; our oxen feel,\n Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel;\n Th\u2019 inverted lance makes furrows in the plain.\n Ev\u2019n time, that changes all, yet changes us in vain:\n The body, not the mind; nor can control\n Th\u2019 immortal vigour, or abate the soul.\n Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray:\n We live by plunder, and delight in prey.\n Your vests embroider\u2019d with rich purple shine;\n In sloth you glory, and in dances join.\n Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride\n Your turbans underneath your chins are tied.\n Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again!\n Go, less than women, in the shapes of men!\n Go, mix\u2019d with eunuchs, in the Mother\u2019s rites,\n Where with unequal sound the flute invites;\n Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida\u2019s shade:\n Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!\u201d\n\n This foul reproach Ascanius could not hear\n With patience, or a vow\u2019d revenge forbear.\n At the full stretch of both his hands he drew,\n And almost join\u2019d the horns of the tough yew.\n But, first, before the throne of Jove he stood,\n And thus with lifted hands invok\u2019d the god:\n \u201cMy first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed!\n An annual off\u2019ring in thy grove shall bleed;\n A snow-white steer, before thy altar led,\n Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head,\n Butts with his threat\u2019ning brows, and bellowing stands,\n And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands.\u201d\n\n Jove bow\u2019d the heav\u2019ns, and lent a gracious ear,\n And thunder\u2019d on the left, amidst the clear.\n Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies\n The feather\u2019d death, and hisses thro\u2019 the skies.\n The steel thro\u2019 both his temples forc\u2019d the way:\n Extended on the ground, Numanus lay.\n \u201cGo now, vain boaster, and true valour scorn!\n The Phrygians, twice subdued, yet make this third return.\u201d\n Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake\n The heav\u2019ns with shouting, and new vigour take.\n\n Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud,\n To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd;\n And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud:\n \u201cAdvance, illustrious youth, increase in fame,\n And wide from east to west extend thy name;\n Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe\n To thee a race of demigods below.\n This is the way to heav\u2019n: the pow\u2019rs divine\n From this beginning date the Julian line.\n To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs,\n The conquer\u2019d war is due, and the vast world is theirs.\n Troy is too narrow for thy name.\u201d He said,\n And plunging downward shot his radiant head;\n Dispell\u2019d the breathing air, that broke his flight:\n Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight.\n Old Butes\u2019 form he took, Anchises\u2019 squire,\n Now left, to rule Ascanius, by his sire:\n His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs,\n His mien, his habit, and his arms, he wears,\n And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years:\n \u201cSuffice it thee, thy father\u2019s worthy son,\n The warlike prize thou hast already won.\n The god of archers gives thy youth a part\n Of his own praise, nor envies equal art.\n Now tempt the war no more.\u201d He said, and flew\n Obscure in air, and vanish\u2019d from their view.\n The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know,\n And hear the twanging of his heav\u2019nly bow.\n Then duteous force they use, and Phoebus\u2019 name,\n To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame.\n Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun;\n From wall to wall the shouts and clamours run.\n They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around;\n Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground;\n And helms, and shields, and rattling arms resound.\n The combat thickens, like the storm that flies\n From westward, when the show\u2019ry Kids arise;\n Or patt\u2019ring hail comes pouring on the main,\n When Jupiter descends in harden\u2019d rain,\n Or bellowing clouds burst with a stormy sound,\n And with an armed winter strew the ground.\n\n Pand\u2019rus and Bitias, thunderbolts of war,\n Whom Hiera to bold Alcanor bare\n On Ida\u2019s top, two youths of height and size\n Like firs that on their mother mountain rise,\n Presuming on their force, the gates unbar,\n And of their own accord invite the war.\n With fates averse, against their king\u2019s command,\n Arm\u2019d, on the right and on the left they stand,\n And flank the passage: shining steel they wear,\n And waving crests above their heads appear.\n Thus two tall oaks, that Padus\u2019 banks adorn,\n Lift up to heav\u2019n their leafy heads unshorn,\n And, overpress\u2019d with nature\u2019s heavy load,\n Dance to the whistling winds, and at each other nod.\n In flows a tide of Latians, when they see\n The gate set open, and the passage free;\n Bold Quercens, with rash Tmarus, rushing on,\n Equicolus, that in bright armour shone,\n And Haemon first; but soon repuls\u2019d they fly,\n Or in the well-defended pass they die.\n These with success are fir\u2019d, and those with rage,\n And each on equal terms at length engage.\n Drawn from their lines, and issuing on the plain,\n The Trojans hand to hand the fight maintain.\n\n Fierce Turnus in another quarter fought,\n When suddenly th\u2019 unhop\u2019d-for news was brought,\n The foes had left the fastness of their place,\n Prevail\u2019d in fight, and had his men in chase.\n He quits th\u2019 attack, and, to prevent their fate,\n Runs where the giant brothers guard the gate.\n The first he met, Antiphates the brave,\n But base-begotten on a Theban slave,\n Sarpedon\u2019s son, he slew: the deadly dart\n Found passage thro\u2019 his breast, and pierc\u2019d his heart.\n Fix\u2019d in the wound th\u2019 Italian cornel stood,\n Warm\u2019d in his lungs, and in his vital blood.\n Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies,\n And Meropes, and the gigantic size\n Of Bitias, threat\u2019ning with his ardent eyes.\n Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress\u2019d\n (A dart were lost within that roomy breast),\n But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong,\n Which roar\u2019d like thunder as it whirl\u2019d along:\n Not two bull hides th\u2019 impetuous force withhold,\n Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold.\n Down sunk the monster bulk and press\u2019d the ground;\n His arms and clatt\u2019ring shield on the vast body sound,\n Not with less ruin than the Bajan mole,\n Rais\u2019d on the seas, the surges to control\u2014\n At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall;\n Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall\n Of the vast pile; the scatter\u2019d ocean flies;\n Black sands, discolour\u2019d froth, and mingled mud arise:\n The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores;\n Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars:\n Typhoeus, thrown beneath, by Jove\u2019s command,\n Astonish\u2019d at the flaw that shakes the land,\n Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake,\n With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back.\n\n The warrior god the Latian troops inspir\u2019d,\n New strung their sinews, and their courage fir\u2019d,\n But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright:\n Then black despair precipitates their flight.\n\n When Pandarus beheld his brother kill\u2019d,\n The town with fear and wild confusion fill\u2019d,\n He turns the hinges of the heavy gate\n With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight\n Some happier friends within the walls inclos\u2019d;\n The rest shut out, to certain death expos\u2019d:\n Fool as he was, and frantic in his care,\n T\u2019 admit young Turnus, and include the war!\n He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold,\n Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold.\n Too late his blazing buckler they descry,\n And sparkling fires that shot from either eye,\n His mighty members, and his ample breast,\n His rattling armour, and his crimson crest.\n\n Far from that hated face the Trojans fly,\n All but the fool who sought his destiny.\n Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow\u2019d\n For Bitias\u2019 death, and threatens thus aloud:\n \u201cThese are not Ardea\u2019s walls, nor this the town\n Amata proffers with Lavinia\u2019s crown:\n \u2019Tis hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft,\n No means of safe return by flight are left.\u201d\n To whom, with count\u2019nance calm, and soul sedate,\n Thus Turnus: \u201cThen begin, and try thy fate:\n My message to the ghost of Priam bear;\n Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there.\u201d\n\n A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw,\n Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew:\n With his full force he whirl\u2019d it first around;\n But the soft yielding air receiv\u2019d the wound:\n Imperial Juno turn\u2019d the course before,\n And fix\u2019d the wand\u2019ring weapon in the door.\n\n \u201cBut hope not thou,\u201d said Turnus, \u201cwhen I strike,\n To shun thy fate: our force is not alike,\n Nor thy steel temper\u2019d by the Lemnian god.\u201d\n Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood,\n And aim\u2019d from high: the full descending blow\n Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two.\n Down sinks the giant with a thund\u2019ring sound:\n His pond\u2019rous limbs oppress the trembling ground;\n Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound:\n Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides,\n And the shar\u2019d visage hangs on equal sides.\n The Trojans fly from their approaching fate;\n And, had the victor then secur\u2019d the gate,\n And to his troops without unclos\u2019d the bars,\n One lucky day had ended all his wars.\n But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood,\n Push\u2019d on his fury, to pursue the crowd.\n Hamstring\u2019d behind, unhappy Gyges died;\n Then Phalaris is added to his side.\n The pointed jav\u2019lins from the dead he drew,\n And their friends\u2019 arms against their fellows threw.\n Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phlegys flies;\n Saturnia, still at hand, new force and fire supplies.\n Then Halius, Prytanis, Alcander fall\u2014\n Engag\u2019d against the foes who scal\u2019d the wall:\n But, whom they fear\u2019d without, they found within.\n At last, tho\u2019 late, by Lynceus he was seen.\n He calls new succours, and assaults the prince:\n But weak his force, and vain is their defence.\n Turn\u2019d to the right, his sword the hero drew,\n And at one blow the bold aggressor slew.\n He joints the neck; and, with a stroke so strong,\n The helm flies off, and bears the head along.\n Next him, the huntsman Amycus he kill\u2019d,\n In darts envenom\u2019d and in poison skill\u2019d.\n Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear,\n And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear:\n He fought with courage, and he sung the fight;\n Arms were his bus\u2019ness, verses his delight.\n\n The Trojan chiefs behold, with rage and grief,\n Their slaughter\u2019d friends, and hasten their relief.\n Bold Mnestheus rallies first the broken train,\n Whom brave Seresthus and his troop sustain.\n To save the living, and revenge the dead,\n Against one warrior\u2019s arms all Troy they led.\n \u201cO, void of sense and courage!\u201d Mnestheus cried,\n \u201cWhere can you hope your coward heads to hide?\n Ah! where beyond these rampires can you run?\n One man, and in your camp inclos\u2019d, you shun!\n Shall then a single sword such slaughter boast,\n And pass unpunish\u2019d from a num\u2019rous host?\n Forsaking honour, and renouncing fame,\n Your gods, your country, and your king you shame!\u201d\n This just reproach their virtue does excite:\n They stand, they join, they thicken to the fight.\n\n Now Turnus doubts, and yet disdains to yield,\n But with slow paces measures back the field,\n And inches to the walls, where Tiber\u2019s tide,\n Washing the camp, defends the weaker side.\n The more he loses, they advance the more,\n And tread in ev\u2019ry step he trod before.\n They shout: they bear him back; and, whom by might\n They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight.\n\n As, compass\u2019d with a wood of spears around,\n The lordly lion still maintains his ground;\n Grins horrible, retires, and turns again;\n Threats his distended paws, and shakes his mane;\n He loses while in vain he presses on,\n Nor will his courage let him dare to run:\n So Turnus fares, and, unresolved of flight,\n Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight.\n Yet twice, enrag\u2019d, the combat he renews,\n Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pursues.\n But now they swarm, and, with fresh troops supplied,\n Come rolling on, and rush from ev\u2019ry side:\n Nor Juno, who sustain\u2019d his arms before,\n Dares with new strength suffice th\u2019 exhausted store;\n For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down,\n To force th\u2019 invader from the frighted town.\n\n With labour spent, no longer can he wield\n The heavy falchion, or sustain the shield,\n O\u2019erwhelm\u2019d with darts, which from afar they fling:\n The weapons round his hollow temples ring;\n His golden helm gives way, with stony blows\n Batter\u2019d, and flat, and beaten to his brows.\n His crest is rash\u2019d away; his ample shield\n Is falsified, and round with jav\u2019lins fill\u2019d.\n\n The foe, now faint, the Trojans overwhelm;\n And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm.\n Sick sweat succeeds; he drops at ev\u2019ry pore;\n With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o\u2019er;\n Shorter and shorter ev\u2019ry gasp he takes;\n And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes.\n Plung\u2019d in the flood, and made the waters fly.\n The yellow god the welcome burthen bore,\n And wip\u2019d the sweat, and wash\u2019d away the gore;\n Then gently wafts him to the farther coast,\n And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host.\n\n\n\n BOOK X\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Jupiter, calling a council of the gods, forbids them to engage in\n either party. At Aeneas\u2019 return there is a bloody battle: Turnus\n killing Pallas; Aeneas, Lausus, and Mezentius. Mezentius is\n described as an atheist; Lausus as a pious and virtuous youth.\n The different actions and death of these two are the subject of a\n noble episode.\n\n\n The gates of heav\u2019n unfold: Jove summons all\n The gods to council in the common hall.\n Sublimely seated, he surveys from far\n The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,\n And all th\u2019 inferior world. From first to last,\n The sov\u2019reign senate in degrees are plac\u2019d.\n\n Then thus th\u2019 almighty sire began: \u201cYe gods,\n Natives or denizens of blest abodes,\n From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,\n This backward fate from what was first design\u2019d?\n Why this protracted war, when my commands\n Pronounc\u2019d a peace, and gave the Latian lands?\n What fear or hope on either part divides\n Our heav\u2019ns, and arms our powers on diff\u2019rent sides?\n A lawful time of war at length will come,\n (Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),\n When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome,\n Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,\n And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.\n Then is your time for faction and debate,\n For partial favour, and permitted hate.\n Let now your immature dissension cease;\n Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace.\u201d\n\n Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge;\n But lovely Venus thus replies at large:\n \u201cO pow\u2019r immense, eternal energy,\n (For to what else protection can we fly?)\n Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare\n In fields, unpunish\u2019d, and insult my care?\n How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train,\n In shining arms, triumphant on the plain?\n Ev\u2019n in their lines and trenches they contend,\n And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:\n The town is fill\u2019d with slaughter, and o\u2019erfloats,\n With a red deluge, their increasing moats.\n Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence,\n Has left a camp expos\u2019d, without defence.\n This endless outrage shall they still sustain?\n Shall Troy renew\u2019d be forc\u2019d and fir\u2019d again?\n A second siege my banish\u2019d issue fears,\n And a new Diomede in arms appears.\n One more audacious mortal will be found;\n And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.\n Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave,\n The Latian lands my progeny receive,\n Bear they the pains of violated law,\n And thy protection from their aid withdraw.\n But, if the gods their sure success foretell;\n If those of heav\u2019n consent with those of hell,\n To promise Italy; who dare debate\n The pow\u2019r of Jove, or fix another fate?\n What should I tell of tempests on the main,\n Of Aeolus usurping Neptune\u2019s reign?\n Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat\n T\u2019 inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet?\n Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends,\n Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends.\n That new example wanted yet above:\n An act that well became the wife of Jove!\n Alecto, rais\u2019d by her, with rage inflames\n The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames.\n Imperial sway no more exalts my mind;\n (Such hopes I had indeed, while Heav\u2019n was kind;)\n Now let my happier foes possess my place,\n Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race;\n And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace.\n Since you can spare, from all your wide command,\n No spot of earth, no hospitable land,\n Which may my wand\u2019ring fugitives receive;\n (Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;)\n Then, father, (if I still may use that name,)\n By ruin\u2019d Troy, yet smoking from the flame,\n I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care,\n Be freed from danger, and dismiss\u2019d the war:\n Inglorious let him live, without a crown.\n The father may be cast on coasts unknown,\n Struggling with fate; but let me save the son.\n Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow\u2019rs:\n In those recesses, and those sacred bow\u2019rs,\n Obscurely let him rest; his right resign\n To promis\u2019d empire, and his Julian line.\n Then Carthage may th\u2019 Ausonian towns destroy,\n Nor fear the race of a rejected boy.\n What profits it my son to scape the fire,\n Arm\u2019d with his gods, and loaded with his sire;\n To pass the perils of the seas and wind;\n Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind;\n To reach th\u2019 Italian shores; if, after all,\n Our second Pergamus is doom\u2019d to fall?\n Much better had he curb\u2019d his high desires,\n And hover\u2019d o\u2019er his ill-extinguish\u2019d fires.\n To Simois\u2019 banks the fugitives restore,\n And give them back to war, and all the woes before.\u201d\n\n Deep indignation swell\u2019d Saturnia\u2019s heart:\n \u201cAnd must I own,\u201d she said, \u201cmy secret smart\u2014\n What with more decence were in silence kept,\n And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept?\n Did god or man your fav\u2019rite son advise,\n With war unhop\u2019d the Latians to surprise?\n By fate, you boast, and by the gods\u2019 decree,\n He left his native land for Italy!\n Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more\n Than Heav\u2019n inspir\u2019d, he sought a foreign shore!\n Did I persuade to trust his second Troy\n To the raw conduct of a beardless boy,\n With walls unfinish\u2019d, which himself forsakes,\n And thro\u2019 the waves a wand\u2019ring voyage takes?\n When have I urg\u2019d him meanly to demand\n The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land?\n Did I or Iris give this mad advice,\n Or made the fool himself the fatal choice?\n You think it hard, the Latians should destroy\n With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy!\n Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw\n Their native air, nor take a foreign law!\n That Turnus is permitted still to live,\n To whom his birth a god and goddess give!\n But yet is just and lawful for your line\n To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join;\n Realms, not your own, among your clans divide,\n And from the bridegroom tear the promis\u2019d bride;\n Petition, while you public arms prepare;\n Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war!\n \u2019Twas giv\u2019n to you, your darling son to shroud,\n To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd,\n And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud.\n From flaming fleets you turn\u2019d the fire away,\n And chang\u2019d the ships to daughters of the sea.\n But is my crime\u2014the Queen of Heav\u2019n offends,\n If she presume to save her suff\u2019ring friends!\n Your son, not knowing what his foes decree,\n You say, is absent: absent let him be.\n Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow\u2019rs,\n The soft recesses, and the sacred bow\u2019rs.\n Why do you then these needless arms prepare,\n And thus provoke a people prone to war?\n Did I with fire the Trojan town deface,\n Or hinder from return your exil\u2019d race?\n Was I the cause of mischief, or the man\n Whose lawless lust the fatal war began?\n Think on whose faith th\u2019 adult\u2019rous youth relied;\n Who promis\u2019d, who procur\u2019d, the Spartan bride?\n When all th\u2019 united states of Greece combin\u2019d,\n To purge the world of the perfidious kind,\n Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate:\n Your quarrels and complaints are now too late.\u201d\n\n Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix\u2019d applause,\n Just as they favour or dislike the cause.\n So winds, when yet unfledg\u2019d in woods they lie,\n In whispers first their tender voices try,\n Then issue on the main with bellowing rage,\n And storms to trembling mariners presage.\n\n Then thus to both replied th\u2019 imperial god,\n Who shakes heav\u2019n\u2019s axles with his awful nod.\n (When he begins, the silent senate stand\n With rev\u2019rence, list\u2019ning to the dread command:\n The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain;\n And the hush\u2019d waves lie flatted on the main.)\n \u201cCelestials, your attentive ears incline!\n Since,\u201d said the god, \u201cthe Trojans must not join\n In wish\u2019d alliance with the Latian line;\n Since endless jarrings and immortal hate\n Tend but to discompose our happy state;\n The war henceforward be resign\u2019d to fate:\n Each to his proper fortune stand or fall;\n Equal and unconcern\u2019d I look on all.\n Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me;\n And both shall draw the lots their fates decree.\n Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend;\n And, if she favours those, let those defend:\n The Fates will find their way.\u201d The Thund\u2019rer said,\n And shook the sacred honours of his head,\n Attesting Styx, th\u2019 inviolable flood,\n And the black regions of his brother god.\n Trembled the poles of heav\u2019n, and earth confess\u2019d the nod.\n This end the sessions had: the senate rise,\n And to his palace wait their sov\u2019reign thro\u2019 the skies.\n\n Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes\n Within their walls the Trojan host inclose:\n They wound, they kill, they watch at ev\u2019ry gate;\n Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate.\n\n Th\u2019 Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief,\n Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief.\n Thin on the tow\u2019rs they stand; and ev\u2019n those few\n A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew.\n Yet in the face of danger some there stood:\n The two bold brothers of Sarpedon\u2019s blood,\n Asius and Acmon; both th\u2019 Assaraci;\n Young Haemon, and tho\u2019 young, resolv\u2019d to die.\n With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join\u2019d;\n Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind.\n From Acmon\u2019s hands a rolling stone there came,\n So large, it half deserv\u2019d a mountain\u2019s name:\n Strong-sinew\u2019d was the youth, and big of bone;\n His brother Mnestheus could not more have done,\n Or the great father of th\u2019 intrepid son.\n Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send;\n And some with darts, and some with stones defend.\n\n Amid the press appears the beauteous boy,\n The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy.\n His lovely face unarm\u2019d, his head was bare;\n In ringlets o\u2019er his shoulders hung his hair.\n His forehead circled with a diadem;\n Distinguish\u2019d from the crowd, he shines a gem,\n Enchas\u2019d in gold, or polish\u2019d iv\u2019ry set,\n Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet.\n\n Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war,\n Directing pointed arrows from afar,\n And death with poison arm\u2019d\u2014in Lydia born,\n Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn;\n Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands,\n And leaves a rich manure of golden sands.\n There Capys, author of the Capuan name,\n And there was Mnestheus too, increas\u2019d in fame,\n Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame.\n\n Thus mortal war was wag\u2019d on either side.\n Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide:\n For, anxious, from Evander when he went,\n He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon\u2019s tent;\n Expos\u2019d the cause of coming to the chief;\n His name and country told, and ask\u2019d relief;\n Propos\u2019d the terms; his own small strength declar\u2019d;\n What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar\u2019d:\n What Turnus, bold and violent, design\u2019d;\n Then shew\u2019d the slipp\u2019ry state of humankind,\n And fickle fortune; warn\u2019d him to beware,\n And to his wholesome counsel added pray\u2019r.\n Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs,\n And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins.\n\n They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand;\n Their forces trusted with a foreign hand.\n Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear\n Two lions carv\u2019d, which rising Ida bear\u2014\n Ida, to wand\u2019ring Trojans ever dear.\n Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate,\n Revolving war\u2019s events, and various fate.\n His left young Pallas kept, fix\u2019d to his side,\n And oft of winds enquir\u2019d, and of the tide;\n Oft of the stars, and of their wat\u2019ry way;\n And what he suffer\u2019d both by land and sea.\n\n Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring!\n The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing,\n Which follow\u2019d great Aeneas to the war:\n Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare.\n\n A thousand youths brave Massicus obey,\n Borne in the Tiger thro\u2019 the foaming sea;\n From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care:\n For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear.\n Fierce Abas next: his men bright armour wore;\n His stern Apollo\u2019s golden statue bore.\n Six hundred Populonia sent along,\n All skill\u2019d in martial exercise, and strong.\n Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins,\n An isle renown\u2019d for steel, and unexhausted mines.\n Asylas on his prow the third appears,\n Who heav\u2019n interprets, and the wand\u2019ring stars;\n From offer\u2019d entrails prodigies expounds,\n And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds.\n A thousand spears in warlike order stand,\n Sent by the Pisans under his command.\n\n Fair Astur follows in the wat\u2019ry field,\n Proud of his manag\u2019d horse and painted shield.\n Gravisca, noisome from the neighb\u2019ring fen,\n And his own Caere, sent three hundred men;\n With those which Minio\u2019s fields and Pyrgi gave,\n All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave.\n\n Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew,\n And brave Cupavo follow\u2019d but by few;\n Whose helm confess\u2019d the lineage of the man,\n And bore, with wings display\u2019d, a silver swan.\n Love was the fault of his fam\u2019d ancestry,\n Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly.\n For Cycnus lov\u2019d unhappy Phaeton,\n And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone,\n Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief.\n Heav\u2019n heard his song, and hasten\u2019d his relief,\n And chang\u2019d to snowy plumes his hoary hair,\n And wing\u2019d his flight, to chant aloft in air.\n His son Cupavo brush\u2019d the briny flood:\n Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood,\n Who heav\u2019d a rock, and, threat\u2019ning still to throw,\n With lifted hands alarm\u2019d the seas below:\n They seem\u2019d to fear the formidable sight,\n And roll\u2019d their billows on, to speed his flight.\n\n Ocnus was next, who led his native train\n Of hardy warriors thro\u2019 the wat\u2019ry plain:\n The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream,\n From whence the Mantuan town derives the name\u2014\n An ancient city, but of mix\u2019d descent:\n Three sev\u2019ral tribes compose the government;\n Four towns are under each; but all obey\n The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway.\n\n Hate to Mezentius arm\u2019d five hundred more,\n Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore:\n Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover\u2019d o\u2019er.\n These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep\n With stretching oars at once the glassy deep.\n Him and his martial train the Triton bears;\n High on his poop the sea-green god appears:\n Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound,\n And at the blast the billows dance around.\n A hairy man above the waist he shows;\n A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows;\n And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides,\n And froth and foam augment the murm\u2019ring tides.\n\n Full thirty ships transport the chosen train\n For Troy\u2019s relief, and scour the briny main.\n\n Now was the world forsaken by the sun,\n And Phoebe half her nightly race had run.\n The careful chief, who never clos\u2019d his eyes,\n Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies.\n A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood,\n Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida\u2019s wood;\n But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep,\n As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep.\n They know him from afar; and in a ring\n Enclose the ship that bore the Trojan king.\n Cymodoce, whose voice excell\u2019d the rest,\n Above the waves advanc\u2019d her snowy breast;\n Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides\n The curling ocean, and corrects the tides.\n She spoke for all the choir, and thus began\n With pleasing words to warn th\u2019 unknowing man:\n \u201cSleeps our lov\u2019d lord? O goddess-born, awake!\n Spread ev\u2019ry sail, pursue your wat\u2019ry track,\n And haste your course. Your navy once were we,\n From Ida\u2019s height descending to the sea;\n Till Turnus, as at anchor fix\u2019d we stood,\n Presum\u2019d to violate our holy wood.\n Then, loos\u2019d from shore, we fled his fires profane\n (Unwillingly we broke our master\u2019s chain),\n And since have sought you thro\u2019 the Tuscan main.\n The mighty Mother chang\u2019d our forms to these,\n And gave us life immortal in the seas.\n But young Ascanius, in his camp distress\u2019d,\n By your insulting foes is hardly press\u2019d.\n Th\u2019 Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host,\n Advance in order on the Latian coast:\n To cut their way the Daunian chief designs,\n Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines.\n Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light,\n First arm thy soldiers for th\u2019 ensuing fight:\n Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield,\n And bear aloft th\u2019 impenetrable shield.\n Tomorrow\u2019s sun, unless my skill be vain,\n Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain.\u201d\n Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force\n Push\u2019d on the vessel in her wat\u2019ry course;\n For well she knew the way. Impell\u2019d behind,\n The ship flew forward, and outstripp\u2019d the wind.\n The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause,\n The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws.\n\n Then thus he pray\u2019d, and fix\u2019d on heav\u2019n his eyes:\n \u201cHear thou, great Mother of the deities.\n With turrets crown\u2019d! (on Ida\u2019s holy hill\n Fierce tigers, rein\u2019d and curb\u2019d, obey thy will.)\n Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight;\n And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right.\u201d\n\n He said no more. And now renewing day\n Had chas\u2019d the shadows of the night away.\n He charg\u2019d the soldiers, with preventing care,\n Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare;\n Warn\u2019d of th\u2019 ensuing fight, and bade \u2019em hope the war.\n Now, his lofty poop, he view\u2019d below\n His camp incompass\u2019d, and th\u2019 inclosing foe.\n His blazing shield, imbrac\u2019d, he held on high;\n The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply.\n Hope arms their courage: from their tow\u2019rs they throw\n Their darts with double force, and drive the foe.\n Thus, at the signal giv\u2019n, the cranes arise\n Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies.\n\n King Turnus wonder\u2019d at the fight renew\u2019d,\n Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view\u2019d,\n The seas with swelling canvas cover\u2019d o\u2019er,\n And the swift ships descending on the shore.\n The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes,\n The radiant crest that seem\u2019d in flames to rise,\n And dart diffusive fires around the field,\n And the keen glitt\u2019ring of the golden shield.\n Thus threat\u2019ning comets, when by night they rise,\n Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies:\n So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights,\n Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright:\n\n Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent\n To man the shores, and hinder their descent,\n And thus awakes the courage of his friends:\n \u201cWhat you so long have wish\u2019d, kind Fortune sends;\n In ardent arms to meet th\u2019 invading foe:\n You find, and find him at advantage now.\n Yours is the day: you need but only dare;\n Your swords will make you masters of the war.\n Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands,\n And dearest wifes, are all within your hands.\n Be mindful of the race from whence you came,\n And emulate in arms your fathers\u2019 fame.\n Now take the time, while stagg\u2019ring yet they stand\n With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand:\n Fortune befriends the bold.\u201d Nor more he said,\n But balanc\u2019d whom to leave, and whom to lead;\n Then these elects, the landing to prevent;\n And those he leaves, to keep the city pent.\n\n Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore:\n Some are by boats expos\u2019d, by bridges more.\n With lab\u2019ring oars they bear along the strand,\n Where the tide languishes, and leap a-land.\n Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes,\n And, where no ford he finds, no water fries,\n Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar,\n But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore,\n That course he steer\u2019d, and thus he gave command:\n \u201cHere ply your oars, and at all hazard land:\n Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound\n This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground.\n Let me securely land\u2014I ask no more;\n Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore.\u201d\n\n This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends:\n They tug at ev\u2019ry oar, and ev\u2019ry stretcher bends;\n They run their ships aground; the vessels knock,\n (Thus forc\u2019d ashore,) and tremble with the shock.\n Tarchon\u2019s alone was lost, that stranded stood,\n Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood:\n She breaks her back; the loosen\u2019d sides give way,\n And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea.\n Their broken oars and floating planks withstand\n Their passage, while they labour to the land,\n And ebbing tides bear back upon th\u2019 uncertain sand.\n\n Now Turnus leads his troops without delay,\n Advancing to the margin of the sea.\n The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assail\u2019d\n The clowns new-rais\u2019d and raw, and soon prevail\u2019d.\n Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight;\n Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height.\n He first in open field defied the prince:\n But armour scal\u2019d with gold was no defence\n Against the fated sword, which open\u2019d wide\n His plated shield, and pierc\u2019d his naked side.\n Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born,\n Was from his wretched mother ripp\u2019d and torn;\n Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee;\n For his beginning life from biting steel was free.\n Not far from him was Gyas laid along,\n Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong:\n Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail\u2019d,\n Nor valour nor Herculean arms avail\u2019d,\n Nor their fam\u2019d father, wont in war to go\n With great Alcides, while he toil\u2019d below.\n The noisy Pharos next receiv\u2019d his death:\n Aeneas writh\u2019d his dart, and stopp\u2019d his bawling breath.\n Then wretched Cydon had receiv\u2019d his doom,\n Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom,\n And sought with lust obscene polluted joys:\n The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys,\n Had not his sev\u2019n bold brethren stopp\u2019d the course\n Of the fierce champions, with united force.\n Sev\u2019n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound\n From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound:\n The rest had reach\u2019d him; but his mother\u2019s care\n Prevented those, and turn\u2019d aside in air.\n\n The prince then call\u2019d Achates, to supply\n The spears that knew the way to victory\u2014\n \u201cThose fatal weapons, which, inur\u2019d to blood,\n In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood:\n Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain\n Against our foes, on this contended plain.\u201d\n He said; then seiz\u2019d a mighty spear, and threw;\n Which, wing\u2019d with fate, thro\u2019 Maeon\u2019s buckler flew,\n Pierc\u2019d all the brazen plates, and reach\u2019d his heart:\n He stagger\u2019d with intolerable smart.\n Alcanor saw; and reach\u2019d, but reach\u2019d in vain,\n His helping hand, his brother to sustain.\n A second spear, which kept the former course,\n From the same hand, and sent with equal force,\n His right arm pierc\u2019d, and holding on, bereft\n His use of both, and pinion\u2019d down his left.\n Then Numitor from his dead brother drew\n Th\u2019 ill-omen\u2019d spear, and at the Trojan threw:\n Preventing fate directs the lance awry,\n Which, glancing, only mark\u2019d Achates\u2019 thigh.\n\n In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came,\n And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim.\n The spear flew hissing thro\u2019 the middle space,\n And pierc\u2019d his throat, directed at his face;\n It stopp\u2019d at once the passage of his wind,\n And the free soul to flitting air resign\u2019d:\n His forehead was the first that struck the ground;\n Lifeblood and life rush\u2019d mingled thro\u2019 the wound.\n He slew three brothers of the Borean race,\n And three, whom Ismarus, their native place,\n Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace.\n Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads:\n The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds,\n Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand,\n These fight to keep, and those to win, the land.\n With mutual blood th\u2019 Ausonian soil is dyed,\n While on its borders each their claim decide.\n As wintry winds, contending in the sky,\n With equal force of lungs their titles try:\n They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav\u2019n\n Stands without motion, and the tide undriv\u2019n:\n Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield,\n They long suspend the fortune of the field.\n Both armies thus perform what courage can;\n Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man.\n\n But, in another part, th\u2019 Arcadian horse\n With ill success engage the Latin force:\n For, where th\u2019 impetuous torrent, rushing down,\n Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown,\n They left their coursers, and, unus\u2019d to fight\n On foot, were scatter\u2019d in a shameful flight.\n Pallas, who with disdain and grief had view\u2019d\n His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued,\n Us\u2019d threat\u2019nings mix\u2019d with pray\u2019rs, his last resource,\n With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force\n \u201cWhich way, companions? whether would you run?\n By you yourselves, and mighty battles won,\n By my great sire, by his establish\u2019d name,\n And early promise of my future fame;\n By my youth, emulous of equal right\n To share his honours\u2014shun ignoble flight!\n Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way\n Thro\u2019 yon black body, and that thick array:\n \u2019Tis thro\u2019 that forward path that we must come;\n There lies our way, and that our passage home.\n Nor pow\u2019rs above, nor destinies below\n Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go,\n With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.\n See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore,\n The sea behind, our enemies before;\n No passage left, unless we swim the main;\n Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain.\u201d\n This said, he strode with eager haste along,\n And bore amidst the thickest of the throng.\n Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe,\n Had heav\u2019d a stone of mighty weight, to throw:\n Stooping, the spear descended on his chine,\n Just where the bone distinguished either loin:\n It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay,\n That scarce the victor forc\u2019d the steel away.\n Hisbon came on: but, while he mov\u2019d too slow\n To wish\u2019d revenge, the prince prevents his blow;\n For, warding his at once, at once he press\u2019d,\n And plung\u2019d the fatal weapon in his breast.\n Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust,\n Who stain\u2019d his stepdam\u2019s bed with impious lust.\n And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain,\n Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain;\n So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size,\n As caus\u2019d an error in their parents\u2019 eyes\u2014\n Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides\n The nice distinction, and their fate divides:\n For Thymbrus\u2019 head was lopp\u2019d; and Laris\u2019 hand,\n Dismember\u2019d, sought its owner on the strand:\n The trembling fingers yet the falchion strain,\n And threaten still th\u2019 intended stroke in vain.\n\n Now, to renew the charge, th\u2019 Arcadians came:\n Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame,\n And grief, with anger mix\u2019d, their minds inflame.\n Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain,\n Who chanc\u2019d, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain:\n The flying spear was after Ilus sent;\n But Rhoeteus happen\u2019d on a death unmeant:\n From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled,\n The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead:\n Roll\u2019d from his chariot with a mortal wound,\n And intercepted fate, he spurn\u2019d the ground.\n As when, in summer, welcome winds arise,\n The watchful shepherd to the forest flies,\n And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads,\n And catching flames infect the neighb\u2019ring heads;\n Around the forest flies the furious blast,\n And all the leafy nation sinks at last,\n And Vulcan rides in triumph o\u2019er the waste;\n The pastor, pleas\u2019d with his dire victory,\n Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky:\n So Pallas\u2019 troops their scatter\u2019d strength unite,\n And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight.\n\n Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood;\n But first collected in his arms he stood:\n Advancing then, he plied the spear so well,\n Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell.\n Around his head he toss\u2019d his glitt\u2019ring brand,\n And from Strymonius hew\u2019d his better hand,\n Held up to guard his throat; then hurl\u2019d a stone\n At Thoas\u2019 ample front, and pierc\u2019d the bone:\n It struck beneath the space of either eye;\n And blood, and mingled brains, together fly.\n Deep skill\u2019d in future fates, Halesus\u2019 sire\n Did with the youth to lonely groves retire:\n But, when the father\u2019s mortal race was run,\n Dire destiny laid hold upon the son,\n And haul\u2019d him to the war, to find, beneath\n Th\u2019 Evandrian spear, a memorable death.\n Pallas th\u2019 encounter seeks, but, ere he throws,\n To Tuscan Tiber thus address\u2019d his vows:\n \u201cO sacred stream, direct my flying dart,\n And give to pass the proud Halesus\u2019 heart!\n His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear.\u201d\n Pleas\u2019d with the bribe, the god receiv\u2019d his pray\u2019r:\n For, while his shield protects a friend distress\u2019d,\n The dart came driving on, and pierc\u2019d his breast.\n\n But Lausus, no small portion of the war,\n Permits not panic fear to reign too far,\n Caus\u2019d by the death of so renown\u2019d a knight;\n But by his own example cheers the fight.\n Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay\n Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day.\n The Phrygian troops escap\u2019d the Greeks in vain:\n They, and their mix\u2019d allies, now load the plain.\n To the rude shock of war both armies came;\n Their leaders equal, and their strength the same.\n The rear so press\u2019d the front, they could not wield\n Their angry weapons, to dispute the field.\n Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there:\n Of equal youth and beauty both appear,\n But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air.\n Their congress in the field great Jove withstands:\n Both doom\u2019d to fall, but fall by greater hands.\n\n Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief\n Of Lausus\u2019 danger, urging swift relief.\n With his driv\u2019n chariot he divides the crowd,\n And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud:\n \u201cLet none presume his needless aid to join;\n Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine:\n To this right hand is Pallas only due;\n O were his father here, my just revenge to view!\u201d\n From the forbidden space his men retir\u2019d.\n Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir\u2019d;\n Survey\u2019d him o\u2019er and o\u2019er with wond\u2019ring sight,\n Struck with his haughty mien, and tow\u2019ring height.\n Then to the king: \u201cYour empty vaunts forbear;\n Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear;\n Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name;\n Jove is impartial, and to both the same.\u201d\n He said, and to the void advanc\u2019d his pace:\n Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face.\n Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light,\n Address\u2019d himself on foot to single fight.\n And, as a lion\u2014when he spies from far\n A bull that seems to meditate the war,\n Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand\u2014\n Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand:\n Imagine eager Turnus not more slow,\n To rush from high on his unequal foe.\n\n Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance\n Within due distance of his flying lance,\n Prepares to charge him first, resolv\u2019d to try\n If fortune would his want of force supply;\n And thus to Heav\u2019n and Hercules address\u2019d:\n \u201cAlcides, once on earth Evander\u2019s guest,\n His son adjures you by those holy rites,\n That hospitable board, those genial nights;\n Assist my great attempt to gain this prize,\n And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes,\n His ravish\u2019d spoils.\u201d \u2019Twas heard, the vain request;\n Alcides mourn\u2019d, and stifled sighs within his breast.\n Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began:\n \u201cShort bounds of life are set to mortal man.\n \u2019Tis virtue\u2019s work alone to stretch the narrow span.\n So many sons of gods, in bloody fight,\n Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light:\n My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe;\n Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow.\n Ev\u2019n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath,\n And stands already on the verge of death.\u201d\n This said, the god permits the fatal fight,\n But from the Latian fields averts his sight.\n\n Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw,\n And, having thrown, his shining falchion drew\n The steel just graz\u2019d along the shoulder joint,\n And mark\u2019d it slightly with the glancing point,\n Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew,\n And pois\u2019d his pointed spear, before he threw:\n Then, as the winged weapon whizz\u2019d along,\n \u201cSee now,\u201d said he, \u201cwhose arm is better strung.\u201d\n The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay\u2019d\n By plates of ir\u2019n, which o\u2019er the shield were laid:\n Thro\u2019 folded brass and tough bull hides it pass\u2019d,\n His corslet pierc\u2019d, and reach\u2019d his heart at last.\n In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood;\n The soul comes issuing with the vital blood:\n He falls; his arms upon his body sound;\n And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground.\n\n Turnus bestrode the corpse: \u201cArcadians, hear,\u201d\n Said he; \u201cmy message to your master bear:\n Such as the sire deserv\u2019d, the son I send;\n It costs him dear to be the Phrygians\u2019 friend.\n The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow,\n Unask\u2019d, to rest his wand\u2019ring ghost below.\u201d\n He said, and trampled down with all the force\n Of his left foot, and spurn\u2019d the wretched corse;\n Then snatch\u2019d the shining belt, with gold inlaid;\n The belt Eurytion\u2019s artful hands had made,\n Where fifty fatal brides, express\u2019d to sight,\n All in the compass of one mournful night,\n Depriv\u2019d their bridegrooms of returning light.\n\n In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore\n Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore.\n O mortals, blind in fate, who never know\n To bear high fortune, or endure the low!\n The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain,\n Shall wish untouch\u2019d the trophies of the slain;\n Shall wish the fatal belt were far away,\n And curse the dire remembrance of the day.\n\n The sad Arcadians, from th\u2019 unhappy field,\n Bear back the breathless body on a shield.\n O grace and grief of war! at once restor\u2019d,\n With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor\u2019d!\n One day first sent thee to the fighting field,\n Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill\u2019d;\n One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield.\n This dismal news, not from uncertain fame,\n But sad spectators, to the hero came:\n His friends upon the brink of ruin stand,\n Unless reliev\u2019d by his victorious hand.\n He whirls his sword around, without delay,\n And hews thro\u2019 adverse foes an ample way,\n To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud:\n Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow\u2019d\n To large deserts, are present to his eyes;\n His plighted hand, and hospitable ties.\n\n Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred,\n He took in fight, and living victims led,\n To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire,\n In sacrifice, before his fun\u2019ral fire.\n At Magus next he threw: he stoop\u2019d below\n The flying spear, and shunn\u2019d the promis\u2019d blow;\n Then, creeping, clasp\u2019d the hero\u2019s knees, and pray\u2019d:\n \u201cBy young Iulus, by thy father\u2019s shade,\n O spare my life, and send me back to see\n My longing sire, and tender progeny!\n A lofty house I have, and wealth untold,\n In silver ingots, and in bars of gold:\n All these, and sums besides, which see no day,\n The ransom of this one poor life shall pay.\n If I survive, will Troy the less prevail?\n A single soul\u2019s too light to turn the scale.\u201d\n He said. The hero sternly thus replied:\n \u201cThy bars and ingots, and the sums beside,\n Leave for thy children\u2019s lot. Thy Turnus broke\n All rules of war by one relentless stroke,\n When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone\n My father\u2019s shadow, but my living son.\u201d\n Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft,\n He seiz\u2019d his helm, and dragg\u2019d him with his left;\n Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath\u2019d,\n Up to the hilts his shining falchion sheath\u2019d.\n\n Apollo\u2019s priest, Emonides, was near;\n His holy fillets on his front appear;\n Glitt\u2019ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd;\n Much of his god, more of his purple, proud.\n Him the fierce Trojan follow\u2019d thro\u2019 the field:\n The holy coward fell; and, forc\u2019d to yield,\n The prince stood o\u2019er the priest, and, at one blow,\n Sent him an off\u2019ring to the shades below.\n His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears,\n Design\u2019d a trophy to the God of Wars.\n\n Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight,\n And Umbro, born upon the mountains\u2019 height.\n The champion cheers his troops t\u2019 encounter those,\n And seeks revenge himself on other foes.\n At Anxur\u2019s shield he drove; and, at the blow,\n Both shield and arm to ground together go.\n Anxur had boasted much of magic charms,\n And thought he wore impenetrable arms,\n So made by mutter\u2019d spells; and, from the spheres,\n Had life secur\u2019d, in vain, for length of years.\n Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod;\n A nymph his mother, his sire a god.\n Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince:\n With his protended lance he makes defence;\n Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on,\n Arrests his better hand, and drags him down;\n Stands o\u2019er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay,\n Vain tales inventing, and prepar\u2019d to pray,\n Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood,\n Then sunk, and roll\u2019d along the sand in blood.\n The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain:\n \u201cLie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain;\n Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb,\n Far from thy mother and thy native home,\n Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey,\n Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea.\u201d\n\n On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran,\n Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van.\n They fled for fear; with these, he chas\u2019d along\n Camers the yellow-lock\u2019d, and Numa strong;\n Both great in arms, and both were fair and young.\n Camers was son to Volscens lately slain,\n In wealth surpassing all the Latian train,\n And in Amycla fix\u2019d his silent easy reign.\n And, as Aegaeon, when with heav\u2019n he strove,\n Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove;\n Mov\u2019d all his hundred hands, provok\u2019d the war,\n Defied the forky lightning from afar;\n At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires,\n And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires;\n In his right hand as many swords he wields,\n And takes the thunder on as many shields:\n With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood;\n And soon the fields with falling corps were strow\u2019d,\n When once his falchion found the taste of blood.\n With fury scarce to be conceiv\u2019d, he flew\n Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew.\n They, when they see the fiery chief advance,\n And pushing at their chests his pointed lance,\n Wheel\u2019d with so swift a motion, mad with fear,\n They threw their master headlong from the chair.\n They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before\n They bear the bounding chariot to the shore.\n\n Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains,\n With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins,\n And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains:\n Bold brethren both. The former wav\u2019d in air\n His flaming sword: Aeneas couch\u2019d his spear,\n Unus\u2019d to threats, and more unus\u2019d to fear.\n Then Liger thus: \u201cThy confidence is vain\n To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain:\n Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode,\n Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode;\n Nor Venus\u2019 veil is here, near Neptune\u2019s shield;\n Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field.\u201d\n Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer\n Return\u2019d his answer with his flying spear.\n As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends,\n Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends,\n Prepar\u2019d for fight; the fatal dart arrives,\n And thro\u2019 the borders of his buckler drives;\n Pass\u2019d thro\u2019 and pierc\u2019d his groin: the deadly wound,\n Cast from his chariot, roll\u2019d him on the ground.\n Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite:\n \u201cBlame not the slowness of your steeds in flight;\n Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat;\n But you yourself forsake your empty seat.\u201d\n He said, and seiz\u2019d at once the loosen\u2019d rein;\n For Liger lay already on the plain,\n By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands,\n The recreant thus his wretched life demands:\n \u201cNow, by thyself, O more than mortal man!\n By her and him from whom thy breath began,\n Who form\u2019d thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare\n This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant\u2019s pray\u2019r.\u201d\n Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said;\n But the stern hero turn\u2019d aside his head,\n And cut him short: \u201cI hear another man;\n You talk\u2019d not thus before the fight began.\n Now take your turn; and, as a brother should,\n Attend your brother to the Stygian flood.\u201d\n Then thro\u2019 his breast his fatal sword he sent,\n And the soul issued at the gaping vent.\n\n As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground,\n Thus rag\u2019d the prince, and scatter\u2019d deaths around.\n At length Ascanius and the Trojan train\n Broke from the camp, so long besieg\u2019d in vain.\n\n Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man\n Held conference with his queen, and thus began:\n \u201cMy sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife,\n Still think you Venus\u2019 aid supports the strife\u2014\n Sustains her Trojans\u2014or themselves, alone,\n With inborn valour force their fortune on?\n How fierce in fight, with courage undecay\u2019d!\n Judge if such warriors want immortal aid.\u201d\n To whom the goddess with the charming eyes,\n Soft in her tone, submissively replies:\n \u201cWhy, O my sov\u2019reign lord, whose frown I fear,\n And cannot, unconcern\u2019d, your anger bear;\n Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still\n (As once I was) were mistress of your will,\n From your almighty pow\u2019r your pleasing wife\n Might gain the grace of length\u2019ning Turnus\u2019 life,\n Securely snatch him from the fatal fight,\n And give him to his aged father\u2019s sight.\n Now let him perish, since you hold it good,\n And glut the Trojans with his pious blood.\n Yet from our lineage he derives his name,\n And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came;\n Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine,\n And offers daily incense at your shrine.\u201d\n\n Then shortly thus the sov\u2019reign god replied:\n \u201cSince in my pow\u2019r and goodness you confide,\n If for a little space, a lengthen\u2019d span,\n You beg reprieve for this expiring man,\n I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence\n From instant fate, and can so far dispense.\n But, if some secret meaning lies beneath,\n To save the short-liv\u2019d youth from destin\u2019d death,\n Or if a farther thought you entertain,\n To change the fates; you feed your hopes in vain.\u201d\n To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes:\n \u201cAnd what if that request, your tongue denies,\n Your heart should grant; and not a short reprieve,\n But length of certain life, to Turnus give?\n Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth,\n If my presaging soul divines with truth;\n Which, O! I wish, might err thro\u2019 causeless fears,\n And you (for you have pow\u2019r) prolong his years!\u201d\n\n Thus having said, involv\u2019d in clouds, she flies,\n And drives a storm before her thro\u2019 the skies.\n Swift she descends, alighting on the plain,\n Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain.\n Of air condens\u2019d a spectre soon she made;\n And, what Aeneas was, such seem\u2019d the shade.\n Adorn\u2019d with Dardan arms, the phantom bore\n His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore;\n This hand appear\u2019d a shining sword to wield,\n And that sustain\u2019d an imitated shield.\n With manly mien he stalk\u2019d along the ground,\n Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound.\n (Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight,\n Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.)\n The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare,\n And flourishes his empty sword in air.\n At this, advancing, Turnus hurl\u2019d his spear:\n The phantom wheel\u2019d, and seem\u2019d to fly for fear.\n Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled,\n And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed.\n \u201cWhether, O coward?\u201d (thus he calls aloud,\n Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas\u2019d a cloud,)\n \u201cWhy thus forsake your bride! Receive from me\n The fated land you sought so long by sea.\u201d\n He said, and, brandishing at once his blade,\n With eager pace pursued the flying shade.\n By chance a ship was fasten\u2019d to the shore,\n Which from old Clusium King Osinius bore:\n The plank was ready laid for safe ascent;\n For shelter there the trembling shadow bent,\n And skipp\u2019t and skulk\u2019d, and under hatches went.\n Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste,\n Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass\u2019d.\n Scarce had he reach\u2019d the prow: Saturnia\u2019s hand\n The haulsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land.\n With wind in poop, the vessel plows the sea,\n And measures back with speed her former way.\n Meantime Aeneas seeks his absent foe,\n And sends his slaughter\u2019d troops to shades below.\n\n The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud,\n And flew sublime, and vanish\u2019d in a cloud.\n Too late young Turnus the delusion found,\n Far on the sea, still making from the ground.\n Then, thankless for a life redeem\u2019d by shame,\n With sense of honour stung, and forfeit fame,\n Fearful besides of what in fight had pass\u2019d,\n His hands and haggard eyes to heav\u2019n he cast;\n \u201cO Jove!\u201d he cried, \u201cfor what offence have I\n Deserv\u2019d to bear this endless infamy?\n Whence am I forc\u2019d, and whether am I borne?\n How, and with what reproach, shall I return?\n Shall ever I behold the Latian plain,\n Or see Laurentum\u2019s lofty tow\u2019rs again?\n What will they say of their deserting chief\n The war was mine: I fly from their relief;\n I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave;\n And ev\u2019n from hence their dying groans receive.\n Here, overmatch\u2019d in fight, in heaps they lie;\n There, scatter\u2019d o\u2019er the fields, ignobly fly.\n Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive!\n Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve!\n On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive;\n Or set me shipwreck\u2019d on some desert shore,\n Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more,\n Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame,\n Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim.\u201d\n\n Thus Turnus rav\u2019d, and various fates revolv\u2019d:\n The choice was doubtful, but the death resolv\u2019d.\n And now the sword, and now the sea took place,\n That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace.\n Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main,\n By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain.\n Thrice he the sword assay\u2019d, and thrice the flood;\n But Juno, mov\u2019d with pity, both withstood.\n And thrice repress\u2019d his rage; strong gales supplied,\n And push\u2019d the vessel o\u2019er the swelling tide.\n At length she lands him on his native shores,\n And to his father\u2019s longing arms restores.\n\n Meantime, by Jove\u2019s impulse, Mezentius arm\u2019d,\n Succeeding Turnus, with his ardour warm\u2019d\n His fainting friends, reproach\u2019d their shameful flight,\n Repell\u2019d the victors, and renew\u2019d the fight.\n Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire;\n Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire\n Of wish\u2019d revenge: on him, and him alone,\n All hands employ\u2019d, and all their darts are thrown.\n He, like a solid rock by seas inclos\u2019d,\n To raging winds and roaring waves oppos\u2019d,\n From his proud summit looking down, disdains\n Their empty menace, and unmov\u2019d remains.\n\n Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead,\n Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled.\n At Latagus a weighty stone he flung:\n His face was flatted, and his helmet rung.\n But Palmus from behind receives his wound;\n Hamstring\u2019d he falls, and grovels on the ground:\n His crest and armour, from his body torn,\n Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn.\n Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew.\n Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew,\n Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire,\n The queen produc\u2019d young Paris to his sire:\n But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain,\n Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain.\n\n And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred,\n With forest mast and fatt\u2019ning marshes fed,\n When once he sees himself in toils inclos\u2019d,\n By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos\u2019d,\n He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war;\n Th\u2019 invaders dart their jav\u2019lins from afar:\n All keep aloof, and safely shout around;\n But none presumes to give a nearer wound:\n He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide,\n And shakes a grove of lances from his side:\n Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir\u2019d,\n And just revenge against the tyrant fir\u2019d,\n Their darts with clamour at a distance drive,\n And only keep the languish\u2019d war alive.\n\n From Coritus came Acron to the fight,\n Who left his spouse betroth\u2019d, and unconsummate night.\n Mezentius sees him thro\u2019 the squadrons ride,\n Proud of the purple favours of his bride.\n Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds\n A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds,\n Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain\u2014\n He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane,\n He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws;\n The prey lies panting underneath his paws:\n He fills his famish\u2019d maw; his mouth runs o\u2019er\n With unchew\u2019d morsels, while he churns the gore:\n So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes,\n And first unhappy Acron overthrows:\n Stretch\u2019d at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground;\n The lance, besmear\u2019d with blood, lies broken in the wound.\n Then with disdain the haughty victor view\u2019d\n Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued,\n Nor thought the dastard\u2019s back deserv\u2019d a wound,\n But, running, gain\u2019d th\u2019 advantage of the ground:\n Then turning short, he met him face to face,\n To give his victory the better grace.\n Orodes falls, in equal fight oppress\u2019d:\n Mezentius fix\u2019d his foot upon his breast,\n And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries:\n \u201cLo! here the champion of my rebels lies!\u201d\n The fields around with Io Paean! ring;\n And peals of shouts applaud the conqu\u2019ring king.\n At this the vanquish\u2019d, with his dying breath,\n Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death:\n \u201cNor thou, proud man, unpunish\u2019d shalt remain:\n Like death attends thee on this fatal plain.\u201d\n Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied:\n \u201cFor what belongs to me, let Jove provide;\n But die thou first, whatever chance ensue.\u201d\n He said, and from the wound the weapon drew.\n A hov\u2019ring mist came swimming o\u2019er his sight,\n And seal\u2019d his eyes in everlasting night.\n\n By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain;\n Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain;\n Orses the strong to greater strength must yield;\n He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill\u2019d.\n Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew,\n Who from Lycaon\u2019s blood his lineage drew.\n But from his headstrong horse his fate he found,\n Who threw his master, as he made a bound:\n The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground;\n Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails:\n The Trojan sinks, and Neptune\u2019s son prevails.\n Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride,\n To single fight the boldest foe defied;\n Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o\u2019ercame,\n And not belied his mighty father\u2019s fame.\n Salius to death the great Antronius sent:\n But the same fate the victor underwent,\n Slain by Nealces\u2019 hand, well-skill\u2019d to throw\n The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow.\n\n Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance;\n By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance:\n Victors and vanquish\u2019d, in the various field,\n Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield.\n The gods from heav\u2019n survey the fatal strife,\n And mourn the miseries of human life.\n Above the rest, two goddesses appear\n Concern\u2019d for each: here Venus, Juno there.\n Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes\n Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes.\n\n Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain,\n Brandish\u2019d his spear, and rush\u2019d into the plain,\n Where tow\u2019ring in the midmost rank he stood,\n Like tall Orion stalking o\u2019er the flood.\n (When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves,\n His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves),\n Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread,\n Deep fix\u2019d in earth; in clouds he hides his head.\n\n The Trojan prince beheld him from afar,\n And dauntless undertook the doubtful war.\n Collected in his strength, and like a rock,\n Pois\u2019d on his base, Mezentius stood the shock.\n He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes\n The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries:\n \u201cMy strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke!\n (Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.)\n His armour, from the Trojan pirate torn,\n By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn.\u201d\n He said; and with his utmost force he threw\n The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew,\n Reach\u2019d the celestial shield, that stopp\u2019d the course;\n But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force\n Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt\n The side and bowels fam\u2019d Anthores fix\u2019d.\n Anthores had from Argos travel\u2019d far,\n Alcides\u2019 friend, and brother of the war;\n Till, tir\u2019d with toils, fair Italy he chose,\n And in Evander\u2019s palace sought repose.\n Now, falling by another\u2019s wound, his eyes\n He cast to heav\u2019n, on Argos thinks, and dies.\n\n The pious Trojan then his jav\u2019lin sent;\n The shield gave way; thro\u2019 treble plates it went\n Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll\u2019d,\n And three bull hides which round the buckler fold.\n All these it pass\u2019d, resistless in the course,\n Transpierc\u2019d his thigh, and spent its dying force.\n The gaping wound gush\u2019d out a crimson flood.\n The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood,\n His falchion drew, to closer fight address\u2019d,\n And with new force his fainting foe oppress\u2019d.\n\n His father\u2019s peril Lausus view\u2019d with grief;\n He sigh\u2019d, he wept, he ran to his relief.\n And here, heroic youth, \u2019tis here I must\n To thy immortal memory be just,\n And sing an act so noble and so new,\n Posterity will scarce believe \u2019tis true.\n Pain\u2019d with his wound, and useless for the fight,\n The father sought to save himself by flight:\n Encumber\u2019d, slow he dragg\u2019d the spear along,\n Which pierc\u2019d his thigh, and in his buckler hung.\n The pious youth, resolv\u2019d on death, below\n The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe;\n Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.\n Shouts of applause ran ringing thro\u2019 the field,\n To see the son the vanquish\u2019d father shield.\n All, fir\u2019d with gen\u2019rous indignation, strive,\n And with a storm of darts to distance drive\n The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far,\n On his Vulcanian orb sustain\u2019d the war.\n\n As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind,\n The plowman, passenger, and lab\u2019ring hind\n For shelter to the neighb\u2019ring covert fly,\n Or hous\u2019d, or safe in hollow caverns lie;\n But, that o\u2019erblown, when heav\u2019n above \u2019em smiles,\n Return to travel, and renew their toils:\n Aeneas thus, o\u2019erwhelmed on ev\u2019ry side,\n The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide;\n And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat\u2019ning cried:\n \u201cWhy wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage\n In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age,\n Betray\u2019d by pious love?\u201d Nor, thus forborne,\n The youth desists, but with insulting scorn\n Provokes the ling\u2019ring prince, whose patience, tir\u2019d,\n Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir\u2019d.\n For now the Fates prepar\u2019d their sharpen\u2019d shears;\n And lifted high the flaming sword appears,\n Which, full descending with a frightful sway,\n Thro\u2019 shield and corslet forc\u2019d th\u2019 impetuous way,\n And buried deep in his fair bosom lay.\n The purple streams thro\u2019 the thin armour strove,\n And drench\u2019d th\u2019 imbroider\u2019d coat his mother wove;\n And life at length forsook his heaving heart,\n Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart.\n\n But when, with blood and paleness all o\u2019erspread,\n The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead,\n He griev\u2019d; he wept; the sight an image brought\n Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought:\n Then stretch\u2019d his hand to hold him up, and said:\n \u201cPoor hapless youth! what praises can be paid\n To love so great, to such transcendent store\n Of early worth, and sure presage of more?\n Accept whate\u2019er Aeneas can afford;\n Untouch\u2019d thy arms, untaken be thy sword;\n And all that pleas\u2019d thee living, still remain\n Inviolate, and sacred to the slain.\n Thy body on thy parents I bestow,\n To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know,\n Or have a sense of human things below.\n There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell:\n \u2018\u2019Twas by the great Aeneas hand I fell.\u2019\u201d\n With this, his distant friends he beckons near,\n Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear:\n Himself assists to lift him from the ground,\n With clotted locks, and blood that well\u2019d from out the wound.\n\n Meantime, his father, now no father, stood,\n And wash\u2019d his wounds by Tiber\u2019s yellow flood:\n Oppress\u2019d with anguish, panting, and o\u2019erspent,\n His fainting limbs against an oak he leant.\n A bough his brazen helmet did sustain;\n His heavier arms lay scatter\u2019d on the plain:\n A chosen train of youth around him stand;\n His drooping head was rested on his hand:\n His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought;\n And all on Lausus ran his restless thought.\n Careful, concern\u2019d his danger to prevent,\n He much enquir\u2019d, and many a message sent\n To warn him from the field\u2014alas! in vain!\n Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain!\n O\u2019er his broad shield still gush\u2019d the yawning wound,\n And drew a bloody trail along the ground.\n Far off he heard their cries, far off divin\u2019d\n The dire event, with a foreboding mind.\n With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head;\n Then both his lifted hands to heav\u2019n he spread;\n Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said:\n \u201cWhat joys, alas! could this frail being give,\n That I have been so covetous to live?\n To see my son, and such a son, resign\n His life, a ransom for preserving mine!\n And am I then preserv\u2019d, and art thou lost?\n How much too dear has that redemption cost!\n \u2019Tis now my bitter banishment I feel:\n This is a wound too deep for time to heal.\n My guilt thy growing virtues did defame;\n My blackness blotted thy unblemish\u2019d name.\n Chas\u2019d from a throne, abandon\u2019d, and exil\u2019d\n For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild:\n I ow\u2019d my people these, and, from their hate,\n With less resentment could have borne my fate.\n And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight\n Of hated men, and of more hated light:\n But will not long.\u201d With that he rais\u2019d from ground\n His fainting limbs, that stagger\u2019d with his wound;\n Yet, with a mind resolv\u2019d, and unappall\u2019d\n With pains or perils, for his courser call\u2019d\n Well-mouth\u2019d, well-manag\u2019d, whom himself did dress\n With daily care, and mounted with success;\n His aid in arms, his ornament in peace.\n\n Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke,\n The steed seem\u2019d sensible, while thus he spoke:\n \u201cO Rhoebus, we have liv\u2019d too long for me\u2014\n If life and long were terms that could agree!\n This day thou either shalt bring back the head\n And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead;\n This day thou either shalt revenge my woe,\n For murder\u2019d Lausus, on his cruel foe;\n Or, if inexorable fate deny\n Our conquest, with thy conquer\u2019d master die:\n For, after such a lord, I rest secure,\n Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load endure.\u201d\n He said; and straight th\u2019 officious courser kneels,\n To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills\n With pointed jav\u2019lins; on his head he lac\u2019d\n His glitt\u2019ring helm, which terribly was grac\u2019d\n With waving horsehair, nodding from afar;\n Then spurr\u2019d his thund\u2019ring steed amidst the war.\n Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought,\n Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought\n Of inborn worth, his lab\u2019ring soul oppress\u2019d,\n Roll\u2019d in his eyes, and rag\u2019d within his breast.\n Then loud he call\u2019d Aeneas thrice by name:\n The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came.\n \u201cGreat Jove,\u201d he said, \u201cand the far-shooting god,\n Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!\u201d\n He spoke no more; but hasten\u2019d, void of fear,\n And threaten\u2019d with his long protended spear.\n\n To whom Mezentius thus: \u201cThy vaunts are vain.\n My Lausus lies extended on the plain:\n He\u2019s lost! thy conquest is already won;\n The wretched sire is murder\u2019d in the son.\n Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy.\n Forbear thy threats: my bus\u2019ness is to die;\n But first receive this parting legacy.\u201d\n He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent;\n Another after, and another went.\n Round in a spacious ring he rides the field,\n And vainly plies th\u2019 impenetrable shield.\n Thrice rode he round; and thrice Aeneas wheel\u2019d,\n Turn\u2019d as he turn\u2019d: the golden orb withstood\n The strokes, and bore about an iron wood.\n Impatient of delay, and weary grown,\n Still to defend, and to defend alone,\n To wrench the darts which in his buckler light,\n Urg\u2019d and o\u2019er-labour\u2019d in unequal fight;\n At length resolv\u2019d, he throws with all his force\n Full at the temples of the warrior horse.\n Just where the stroke was aim\u2019d, th\u2019 unerring spear\n Made way, and stood transfix\u2019d thro\u2019 either ear.\n Seiz\u2019d with unwonted pain, surpris\u2019d with fright,\n The wounded steed curvets, and, rais\u2019d upright,\n Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind\n Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind.\n Down comes the rider headlong from his height:\n His horse came after with unwieldy weight,\n And, flound\u2019ring forward, pitching on his head,\n His lord\u2019s encumber\u2019d shoulder overlaid.\n\n From either host, the mingled shouts and cries\n Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies.\n Aeneas, hast\u2019ning, wav\u2019d his fatal sword\n High o\u2019er his head, with this reproachful word:\n \u201cNow; where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain\n Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain?\u201d\n\n Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies,\n With scarce recover\u2019d sight he thus replies:\n \u201cWhy these insulting words, this waste of breath,\n To souls undaunted, and secure of death?\n \u2019Tis no dishonour for the brave to die,\n Nor came I here with hope of victory;\n Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design:\n As I had us\u2019d my fortune, use thou thine.\n My dying son contracted no such band;\n The gift is hateful from his murd\u2019rer\u2019s hand.\n For this, this only favour let me sue,\n If pity can to conquer\u2019d foes be due:\n Refuse it not; but let my body have\n The last retreat of humankind, a grave.\n Too well I know th\u2019 insulting people\u2019s hate;\n Protect me from their vengeance after fate:\n This refuge for my poor remains provide,\n And lay my much-lov\u2019d Lausus by my side.\u201d\n He said, and to the sword his throat applied.\n The crimson stream distain\u2019d his arms around,\n And the disdainful soul came rushing thro\u2019 the wound.\n\n\n\n BOOK XI\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Aeneas erects a trophy of the spoils of Mezentius, grants a truce\n for burying the dead, and sends home the body of Pallas with\n great solemnity. Latinus calls a council, to propose offers of\n peace to Aeneas; which occasions great animosity betwixt Turnus\n and Drances. In the mean time there is a sharp engagement of the\n horse; wherein Camilla signalizes herself, is killed, and the\n Latine troops are entirely defeated.\n\n\n Scarce had the rosy Morning rais\u2019d her head\n Above the waves, and left her wat\u2019ry bed;\n The pious chief, whom double cares attend\n For his unburied soldiers and his friend,\n Yet first to Heav\u2019n perform\u2019d a victor\u2019s vows:\n He bar\u2019d an ancient oak of all her boughs;\n Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac\u2019d,\n Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac\u2019d.\n The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,\n Now on a naked snag in triumph borne,\n Was hung on high, and glitter\u2019d from afar,\n A trophy sacred to the God of War.\n Above his arms, fix\u2019d on the leafless wood,\n Appear\u2019d his plumy crest, besmear\u2019d with blood:\n His brazen buckler on the left was seen;\n Truncheons of shiver\u2019d lances hung between;\n And on the right was placed his corslet, bor\u2019d;\n And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.\n\n A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,\n Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began:\n \u201cOur toils, my friends, are crown\u2019d with sure success;\n The greater part perform\u2019d, achieve the less.\n Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;\n Press but an entrance, and presume it won.\n Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies,\n As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.\n Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,\n And, in this omen, is already slain.\n Prepar\u2019d in arms, pursue your happy chance;\n That none unwarn\u2019d may plead his ignorance,\n And I, at Heav\u2019n\u2019s appointed hour, may find\n Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.\n Meantime the rites and fun\u2019ral pomps prepare,\n Due to your dead companions of the war:\n The last respect the living can bestow,\n To shield their shadows from contempt below.\n That conquer\u2019d earth be theirs, for which they fought,\n And which for us with their own blood they bought;\n But first the corpse of our unhappy friend\n To the sad city of Evander send,\n Who, not inglorious, in his age\u2019s bloom,\n Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.\u201d\n\n Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,\n Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.\n Acoetes watch\u2019d the corpse; whose youth deserv\u2019d\n The father\u2019s trust; and now the son he serv\u2019d\n With equal faith, but less auspicious care.\n Th\u2019 attendants of the slain his sorrow share.\n A troop of Trojans mix\u2019d with these appear,\n And mourning matrons with dishevel\u2019d hair.\n Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry;\n All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky.\n They rear his drooping forehead from the ground;\n But, when Aeneas view\u2019d the grisly wound\n Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore,\n And the fair flesh distain\u2019d with purple gore;\n First, melting into tears, the pious man\n Deplor\u2019d so sad a sight, then thus began:\n \u201cUnhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest\n Of my full wishes, she refus\u2019d the best!\n She came; but brought not thee along, to bless\n My longing eyes, and share in my success:\n She grudg\u2019d thy safe return, the triumphs due\n To prosp\u2019rous valour, in the public view.\n Not thus I promis\u2019d, when thy father lent\n Thy needless succour with a sad consent;\n Embrac\u2019d me, parting for th\u2019 Etrurian land,\n And sent me to possess a large command.\n He warn\u2019d, and from his own experience told,\n Our foes were warlike, disciplin\u2019d, and bold.\n And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return,\n Rich odors on his loaded altars burn,\n While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare\n To send him back his portion of the war,\n A bloody breathless body, which can owe\n No farther debt, but to the pow\u2019rs below.\n The wretched father, ere his race is run,\n Shall view the fun\u2019ral honours of his son.\n These are my triumphs of the Latian war,\n Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care!\n And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see\n A son whose death disgrac\u2019d his ancestry;\n Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev\u2019d:\n Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv\u2019d.\n He died no death to make thee wish, too late,\n Thou hadst not liv\u2019d to see his shameful fate:\n But what a champion has th\u2019 Ausonian coast,\n And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!\u201d\n\n Thus having mourn\u2019d, he gave the word around,\n To raise the breathless body from the ground;\n And chose a thousand horse, the flow\u2019r of all\n His warlike troops, to wait the funeral,\n To bear him back and share Evander\u2019s grief:\n A well-becoming, but a weak relief.\n Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier,\n Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear.\n The body on this rural hearse is borne:\n Strew\u2019d leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn.\n All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow\u2019r,\n New cropp\u2019d by virgin hands, to dress the bow\u2019r:\n Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below,\n No more to mother earth or the green stern shall owe.\n Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost,\n Of purple woven, and with gold emboss\u2019d,\n For ornament the Trojan hero brought,\n Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought.\n One vest array\u2019d the corpse; and one they spread\n O\u2019er his clos\u2019d eyes, and wrapp\u2019d around his head,\n That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall,\n The catching fire might burn the golden caul.\n Besides, the spoils of foes in battle slain,\n When he descended on the Latian plain;\n Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse are led\n In long array\u2014th\u2019 achievements of the dead.\n Then, pinion\u2019d with their hands behind, appear\n Th\u2019 unhappy captives, marching in the rear,\n Appointed off\u2019rings in the victor\u2019s name,\n To sprinkle with their blood the fun\u2019ral flame.\n Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne;\n Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn;\n And fair inscriptions fix\u2019d, and titles read\n Of Latian leaders conquer\u2019d by the dead.\n\n Acoetes on his pupil\u2019s corpse attends,\n With feeble steps, supported by his friends.\n Pausing at ev\u2019ry pace, in sorrow drown\u2019d,\n Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground;\n Where grov\u2019ling while he lies in deep despair,\n He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair.\n The champion\u2019s chariot next is seen to roll,\n Besmear\u2019d with hostile blood, and honourably foul.\n To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state,\n Is led, the fun\u2019rals of his lord to wait.\n Stripp\u2019d of his trappings, with a sullen pace\n He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face.\n The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest,\n Are borne behind: the victor seiz\u2019d the rest.\n The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound;\n The pikes and lances trail along the ground.\n Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse\n To Pallantean tow\u2019rs direct their course,\n In long procession rank\u2019d, the pious chief\n Stopp\u2019d in the rear, and gave a vent to grief:\n \u201cThe public care,\u201d he said, \u201cwhich war attends,\n Diverts our present woes, at least suspends.\n Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell!\n Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!\u201d\n He said no more, but, inly thro\u2019 he mourn\u2019d,\n Restrained his tears, and to the camp return\u2019d.\n\n Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand\n A truce, with olive branches in their hand;\n Obtest his clemency, and from the plain\n Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain.\n They plead, that none those common rites deny\n To conquer\u2019d foes that in fair battle die.\n All cause of hate was ended in their death;\n Nor could he war with bodies void of breath.\n A king, they hop\u2019d, would hear a king\u2019s request,\n Whose son he once was call\u2019d, and once his guest.\n\n Their suit, which was too just to be denied,\n The hero grants, and farther thus replied:\n \u201cO Latian princes, how severe a fate\n In causeless quarrels has involv\u2019d your state,\n And arm\u2019d against an unoffending man,\n Who sought your friendship ere the war began!\n You beg a truce, which I would gladly give,\n Not only for the slain, but those who live.\n I came not hither but by Heav\u2019n\u2019s command,\n And sent by fate to share the Latian land.\n Nor wage I wars unjust: your king denied\n My proffer\u2019d friendship, and my promis\u2019d bride;\n Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try\n His cause in arms, to conquer or to die.\n My right and his are in dispute: the slain\n Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain.\n In equal arms let us alone contend;\n And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend.\n This is the way (so tell him) to possess\n The royal virgin, and restore the peace.\n Bear this message back, with ample leave,\n That your slain friends may fun\u2019ral rites receive.\u201d\n\n Thus having said\u2014th\u2019 embassadors, amaz\u2019d,\n Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz\u2019d.\n Drances, their chief, who harbour\u2019d in his breast\n Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess\u2019d,\n Broke silence first, and to the godlike man,\n With graceful action bowing, thus began:\n \u201cAuspicious prince, in arms a mighty name,\n But yet whose actions far transcend your fame;\n Would I your justice or your force express,\n Thought can but equal; and all words are less.\n Your answer we shall thankfully relate,\n And favours granted to the Latian state.\n If wish\u2019d success our labour shall attend,\n Think peace concluded, and the king your friend:\n Let Turnus leave the realm to your command,\n And seek alliance in some other land:\n Build you the city which your fates assign;\n We shall be proud in the great work to join.\u201d\n\n Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade\n The rest impower\u2019d, that soon a truce is made.\n Twelve days the term allow\u2019d: and, during those,\n Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes,\n Mix\u2019d in the woods, for fun\u2019ral piles prepare\n To fell the timber, and forget the war.\n Loud axes thro\u2019 the groaning groves resound;\n Oak, mountain ash, and poplar spread the ground;\n First fall from high; and some the trunks receive\n In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave.\n\n And now the fatal news by Fame is blown\n Thro\u2019 the short circuit of th\u2019 Arcadian town,\n Of Pallas slain\u2014by Fame, which just before\n His triumphs on distended pinions bore.\n Rushing from out the gate, the people stand,\n Each with a fun\u2019ral flambeau in his hand.\n Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze:\n The fields are lighten\u2019d with a fiery blaze,\n That cast a sullen splendour on their friends,\n The marching troop which their dead prince attends.\n Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry;\n The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply,\n And their mix\u2019d mourning rends the vaulted sky.\n The town is fill\u2019d with tumult and with tears,\n Till the loud clamours reach Evander\u2019s ears:\n Forgetful of his state, he runs along,\n With a disorder\u2019d pace, and cleaves the throng;\n Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies,\n With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes.\n Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks\n A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks:\n\n \u201cO Pallas! thou hast fail\u2019d thy plighted word,\n To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword!\n I warn\u2019d thee, but in vain; for well I knew\n What perils youthful ardour would pursue,\n That boiling blood would carry thee too far,\n Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war!\n O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom,\n Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come!\n Hard elements of unauspicious war,\n Vain vows to Heav\u2019n, and unavailing care!\n Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed,\n Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled,\n Prescious of ills, and leaving me behind,\n To drink the dregs of life by fate assign\u2019d!\n Beyond the goal of nature I have gone:\n My Pallas late set out, but reach\u2019d too soon.\n If, for my league against th\u2019 Ausonian state,\n Amidst their weapons I had found my fate,\n (Deserv\u2019d from them,) then I had been return\u2019d\n A breathless victor, and my son had mourn\u2019d.\n Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid,\n Nor grudge th\u2019 alliance I so gladly made.\n \u2019Twas not his fault, my Pallas fell so young,\n But my own crime, for having liv\u2019d too long.\n Yet, since the gods had destin\u2019d him to die,\n At least he led the way to victory:\n First for his friends he won the fatal shore,\n And sent whole herds of slaughter\u2019d foes before;\n A death too great, too glorious to deplore.\n Nor will I add new honours to thy grave,\n Content with those the Trojan hero gave:\n That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design\u2019d,\n In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join\u2019d.\n Great spoils and trophies, gain\u2019d by thee, they bear:\n Then let thy own achievements be thy share.\n Even thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood,\n Whose mighty trunk had better grac\u2019d the wood,\n If Pallas had arriv\u2019d, with equal length\n Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength.\n But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain\n These troops, to view the tears thou shedd\u2019st in vain?\n Go, friends, this message to your lord relate:\n Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate,\n And, after Pallas\u2019 death, live ling\u2019ring on,\n \u2019Tis to behold his vengeance for my son.\n I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head\n Is owing to the living and the dead.\n My son and I expect it from his hand;\n \u2019Tis all that he can give, or we demand.\n Joy is no more; but I would gladly go,\n To greet my Pallas with such news below.\u201d\n\n The morn had now dispell\u2019d the shades of night,\n Restoring toils, when she restor\u2019d the light.\n The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command\n To raise the piles along the winding strand.\n Their friends convey the dead fun\u2019ral fires;\n Black smould\u2019ring smoke from the green wood expires;\n The light of heav\u2019n is chok\u2019d, and the new day retires.\n Then thrice around the kindled piles they go\n (For ancient custom had ordain\u2019d it so)\n Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led;\n And thrice, with loud laments, they hail the dead.\n Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground,\n And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound.\n Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw\n The spoils, in battle taken from the foe:\n Helms, bits emboss\u2019d, and swords of shining steel;\n One casts a target, one a chariot wheel;\n Some to their fellows their own arms restore:\n The falchions which in luckless fight they bore,\n Their bucklers pierc\u2019d, their darts bestow\u2019d in vain,\n And shiver\u2019d lances gather\u2019d from the plain.\n Whole herds of offer\u2019d bulls, about the fire,\n And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire.\n Around the piles a careful troop attends,\n To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends;\n Ling\u2019ring along the shore, till dewy night\n New decks the face of heav\u2019n with starry light.\n\n The conquer\u2019d Latians, with like pious care,\n Piles without number for their dead prepare.\n Part in the places where they fell are laid;\n And part are to the neighb\u2019ring fields convey\u2019d.\n The corps of kings, and captains of renown,\n Borne off in state, are buried in the town;\n The rest, unhonour\u2019d, and without a name,\n Are cast a common heap to feed the flame.\n Trojans and Latians vie with like desires\n To make the field of battle shine with fires,\n And the promiscuous blaze to heav\u2019n aspires.\n\n Now had the morning thrice renew\u2019d the light,\n And thrice dispell\u2019d the shadows of the night,\n When those who round the wasted fires remain,\n Perform the last sad office to the slain.\n They rake the yet warm ashes from below;\n These, and the bones unburn\u2019d, in earth bestow;\n These relics with their country rites they grace,\n And raise a mount of turf to mark the place.\n\n But, in the palace of the king, appears\n A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears.\n Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans;\n Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons.\n All in that universal sorrow share,\n And curse the cause of this unhappy war:\n A broken league, a bride unjustly sought,\n A crown usurp\u2019d, which with their blood is bought!\n These are the crimes with which they load the name\n Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim:\n \u201cLet him who lords it o\u2019er th\u2019 Ausonian land\n Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand:\n His is the gain; our lot is but to serve;\n \u2019Tis just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve.\u201d\n This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite:\n \u201cHis foe expects, and dares him to the fight.\u201d\n Nor Turnus wants a party, to support\n His cause and credit in the Latian court.\n His former acts secure his present fame,\n And the queen shades him with her mighty name.\n\n While thus their factious minds with fury burn,\n The legates from th\u2019 Aetolian prince return:\n Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost\n And care employ\u2019d, their embassy is lost;\n That Diomedes refus\u2019d his aid in war,\n Unmov\u2019d with presents, and as deaf to pray\u2019r.\n Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought,\n Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought.\n\n Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late,\n A foreign son is pointed out by fate;\n And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed,\n The wrath of Heav\u2019n is hov\u2019ring o\u2019er his head.\n The gods, he saw, espous\u2019d the juster side,\n When late their titles in the field were tried:\n Witness the fresh laments, and fun\u2019ral tears undried.\n Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all\n The Latian senate to the council hall.\n The princes come, commanded by their head,\n And crowd the paths that to the palace lead.\n Supreme in pow\u2019r, and reverenc\u2019d for his years,\n He takes the throne, and in the midst appears.\n Majestically sad, he sits in state,\n And bids his envoys their success relate.\n\n When Venulus began, the murmuring sound\n Was hush\u2019d, and sacred silence reign\u2019d around.\n \u201cWe have,\u201d said he, \u201cperform\u2019d your high command,\n And pass\u2019d with peril a long tract of land:\n We reach\u2019d the place desir\u2019d; with wonder fill\u2019d,\n The Grecian tents and rising tow\u2019rs beheld.\n Great Diomede has compass\u2019d round with walls\n The city, which Argyripa he calls,\n From his own Argos nam\u2019d. We touch\u2019d, with joy,\n The royal hand that raz\u2019d unhappy Troy.\n When introduc\u2019d, our presents first we bring,\n Then crave an instant audience from the king.\n His leave obtain\u2019d, our native soil we name,\n And tell th\u2019 important cause for which we came.\n Attentively he heard us, while we spoke;\n Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look,\n Made this return: \u2018Ausonian race, of old\n Renown\u2019d for peace, and for an age of gold,\n What madness has your alter\u2019d minds possess\u2019d,\n To change for war hereditary rest,\n Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword,\n A needless ill your ancestors abhorr\u2019d?\n We\u2014for myself I speak, and all the name\n Of Grecians, who to Troy\u2019s destruction came,\n (Omitting those who were in battle slain,\n Or borne by rolling Simois to the main)\n Not one but suffer\u2019d, and too dearly bought\n The prize of honour which in arms he sought;\n Some doom\u2019d to death, and some in exile driv\u2019n.\n Outcasts, abandon\u2019d by the care of Heav\u2019n;\n So worn, so wretched, so despis\u2019d a crew,\n As ev\u2019n old Priam might with pity view.\n Witness the vessels by Minerva toss\u2019d\n In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast;\n Th\u2019 Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led\n Our armies to revenge his injur\u2019d bed,\n In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men\n Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops\u2019 den.\n Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain\n Restor\u2019d to scepters, and expell\u2019d again?\n Or young Achilles, by his rival slain?\n Ev\u2019n he, the King of Men, the foremost name\n Of all the Greeks, and most renown\u2019d by fame,\n The proud revenger of another\u2019s wife,\n Yet by his own adult\u2019ress lost his life;\n Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy\n The foul polluters of his bed enjoy.\n The gods have envied me the sweets of life,\n My much lov\u2019d country, and my more lov\u2019d wife:\n Banish\u2019d from both, I mourn; while in the sky,\n Transform\u2019d to birds, my lost companions fly:\n Hov\u2019ring about the coasts, they make their moan,\n And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own.\n What squalid spectres, in the dead of night,\n Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight!\n I might have promis\u2019d to myself those harms,\n Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms,\n Presum\u2019d against immortal pow\u2019rs to move,\n And violate with wounds the Queen of Love.\n Such arms this hand shall never more employ;\n No hate remains with me to ruin\u2019d Troy.\n I war not with its dust; nor am I glad\n To think of past events, or good or bad.\n Your presents I return: whate\u2019er you bring\n To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king.\n We met in fight; I know him, to my cost:\n With what a whirling force his lance he toss\u2019d!\n Heav\u2019ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw!\n How high he held his shield, and rose at ev\u2019ry blow!\n Had Troy produc\u2019d two more his match in might,\n They would have chang\u2019d the fortune of the fight:\n Th\u2019 invasion of the Greeks had been return\u2019d,\n Our empire wasted, and our cities burn\u2019d.\n The long defence the Trojan people made,\n The war protracted, and the siege delay\u2019d,\n Were due to Hector\u2019s and this hero\u2019s hand:\n Both brave alike, and equal in command;\n Aeneas, not inferior in the field,\n In pious reverence to the gods excell\u2019d.\n Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care\n Th\u2019 impending dangers of a fatal war.\u2019\n He said no more; but, with this cold excuse,\n Refus\u2019d th\u2019 alliance, and advis\u2019d a truce.\u201d\n\n Thus Venulus concluded his report.\n A jarring murmur fill\u2019d the factious court:\n As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force,\n And dashes o\u2019er the stones that stop the course,\n The flood, constrain\u2019d within a scanty space,\n Roars horrible along th\u2019 uneasy race;\n White foam in gath\u2019ring eddies floats around;\n The rocky shores rebellow to the sound.\n\n The murmur ceas\u2019d: then from his lofty throne\n The king invok\u2019d the gods, and thus begun:\n \u201cI wish, ye Latins, what we now debate\n Had been resolv\u2019d before it was too late.\n Much better had it been for you and me,\n Unforc\u2019d by this our last necessity,\n To have been earlier wise, than now to call\n A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.\n O citizens, we wage unequal war,\n With men not only Heav\u2019n\u2019s peculiar care,\n But Heav\u2019n\u2019s own race; unconquer\u2019d in the field,\n Or, conquer\u2019d, yet unknowing how to yield.\n What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down:\n Our hopes must centre on ourselves alone.\n Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain,\n You see too well; nor need my words explain.\n Vanquish\u2019d without resource; laid flat by fate;\n Factions within, a foe without the gate!\n Not but I grant that all perform\u2019d their parts\n With manly force, and with undaunted hearts:\n With our united strength the war we wag\u2019d;\n With equal numbers, equal arms, engag\u2019d.\n You see th\u2019 event.\u2014Now hear what I propose,\n To save our friends, and satisfy our foes.\n A tract of land the Latins have possess\u2019d\n Along the Tiber, stretching to the west,\n Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till,\n And their mix\u2019d cattle graze the fruitful hill.\n Those mountains fill\u2019d with firs, that lower land,\n If you consent, the Trojan shall command,\n Call\u2019d into part of what is ours; and there,\n On terms agreed, the common country share.\n There let them build and settle, if they please;\n Unless they choose once more to cross the seas,\n In search of seats remote from Italy,\n And from unwelcome inmates set us free.\n Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed,\n Or twice as many more, if more they need.\n Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood\n Runs equal with the margin of the flood:\n Let them the number and the form assign;\n The care and cost of all the stores be mine.\n To treat the peace, a hundred senators\n Shall be commission\u2019d hence with ample pow\u2019rs,\n With olive the presents they shall bear,\n A purple robe, a royal iv\u2019ry chair,\n And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear,\n And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate\n This great affair, and save the sinking state.\u201d\n\n Then Drances took the word, who grudg\u2019d, long since,\n The rising glories of the Daunian prince.\n Factious and rich, bold at the council board,\n But cautious in the field, he shunn\u2019d the sword;\n A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord.\n Noble his mother was, and near the throne;\n But, what his father\u2019s parentage, unknown.\n He rose, and took th\u2019 advantage of the times,\n To load young Turnus with invidious crimes.\n \u201cSuch truths, O king,\u201d said he, \u201cyour words contain,\n As strike the sense, and all replies are vain;\n Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek\n What common needs require, but fear to speak.\n Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man,\n Whose pride this unauspicious war began;\n For whose ambition (let me dare to say,\n Fear set apart, tho\u2019 death is in my way)\n The plains of Latium run with blood around.\n So many valiant heroes bite the ground;\n Dejected grief in ev\u2019ry face appears;\n A town in mourning, and a land in tears;\n While he, th\u2019 undoubted author of our harms,\n The man who menaces the gods with arms,\n Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight,\n And sought his safety in ignoble flight.\n Now, best of kings, since you propose to send\n Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend;\n Add yet a greater at our joint request,\n One which he values more than all the rest:\n Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride;\n With that alliance let the league be tied,\n And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide.\n Let insolence no longer awe the throne;\n But, with a father\u2019s right, bestow your own.\n For this maligner of the general good,\n If still we fear his force, he must be woo\u2019d;\n His haughty godhead we with pray\u2019rs implore,\n Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore.\n O cursed cause of all our ills, must we\n Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee!\n What right hast thou to rule the Latian state,\n And send us out to meet our certain fate?\n \u2019Tis a destructive war: from Turnus\u2019 hand\n Our peace and public safety we demand.\n Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain;\n If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain.\n Turnus, I know you think me not your friend,\n Nor will I much with your belief contend:\n I beg your greatness not to give the law\n In others\u2019 realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.\n Pity your own, or pity our estate;\n Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate.\n Your interest is, the war should never cease;\n But we have felt enough to wish the peace:\n A land exhausted to the last remains,\n Depopulated towns, and driven plains.\n Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow\u2019r,\n A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow\u2019r,\n So fire your mind, in arms assert your right,\n And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight.\n Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone;\n We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne:\n A base ignoble crowd, without a name,\n Unwept, unworthy, of the fun\u2019ral flame,\n By duty bound to forfeit each his life,\n That Turnus may possess a royal wife.\n Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew\n Should share such triumphs, and detain from you\n The post of honour, your undoubted due.\n Rather alone your matchless force employ,\n To merit what alone you must enjoy.\u201d\n\n These words, so full of malice mix\u2019d with art,\n Inflam\u2019d with rage the youthful hero\u2019s heart.\n Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast,\n He heav\u2019d for wind, and thus his wrath express\u2019d:\n \u201cYou, Drances, never want a stream of words,\n Then, when the public need requires our swords.\n First in the council hall to steer the state,\n And ever foremost in a tongue-debate,\n While our strong walls secure us from the foe,\n Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow:\n But let the potent orator declaim,\n And with the brand of coward blot my name;\n Free leave is giv\u2019n him, when his fatal hand\n Has cover\u2019d with more corps the sanguine strand,\n And high as mine his tow\u2019ring trophies stand.\n If any doubt remains, who dares the most,\n Let us decide it at the Trojan\u2019s cost,\n And issue both abreast, where honour calls\u2014\n (Foes are not far to seek without the walls)\n Unless his noisy tongue can only fight,\n And feet were giv\u2019n him but to speed his flight.\n I beaten from the field? I forc\u2019d away?\n Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say?\n Had he but ev\u2019n beheld the fight, his eyes\n Had witness\u2019d for me what his tongue denies:\n What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain,\n And how the bloody Tiber swell\u2019d the main.\n All saw, but he, th\u2019 Arcadian troops retire\n In scatter\u2019d squadrons, and their prince expire.\n The giant brothers, in their camp, have found,\n I was not forc\u2019d with ease to quit my ground.\n Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos\u2019d,\n I singly their united arms oppos\u2019d:\n First forc\u2019d an entrance thro\u2019 their thick array;\n Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way.\n \u2019Tis a destructive war? So let it be,\n But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee!\n Meantime proceed to fill the people\u2019s ears\n With false reports, their minds with panic fears:\n Extol the strength of a twice-conquer\u2019d race;\n Our foes encourage, and our friends debase.\n Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town\n Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o\u2019erthrown;\n Suppliant at Hector\u2019s feet Achilles lies,\n And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies.\n Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread\n Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head,\n When the great Trojan on his bank appears;\n For that\u2019s as true as thy dissembled fears\n Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity:\n Thou, Drances, art below a death from me.\n Let that vile soul in that vile body rest;\n The lodging is well worthy of the guest.\n\n \u201cNow, royal father, to the present state\n Of our affairs, and of this high debate:\n If in your arms thus early you diffide,\n And think your fortune is already tried;\n If one defeat has brought us down so low,\n As never more in fields to meet the foe;\n Then I conclude for peace: \u2019tis time to treat,\n And lie like vassals at the victor\u2019s feet.\n But, O! if any ancient blood remains,\n One drop of all our fathers\u2019, in our veins,\n That man would I prefer before the rest,\n Who dar\u2019d his death with an undaunted breast;\n Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound,\n To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw\u2019d the ground.\n But, if we still have fresh recruits in store,\n If our confederates can afford us more;\n If the contended field we bravely fought,\n And not a bloodless victory was bought;\n Their losses equal\u2019d ours; and, for their slain,\n With equal fires they fill\u2019d the shining plain;\n Why thus, unforc\u2019d, should we so tamely yield,\n And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field?\n Good unexpected, evils unforeseen,\n Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene:\n Some, rais\u2019d aloft, come tumbling down amain;\n Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again.\n If Diomede refuse his aid to lend,\n The great Messapus yet remains our friend:\n Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours;\n Th\u2019 Italian chiefs and princes join their pow\u2019rs:\n Nor least in number, nor in name the last,\n Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac\u2019d\n Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon\n Contains an army in herself alone,\n And heads a squadron, terrible to sight,\n With glitt\u2019ring shields, in brazen armour bright.\n Yet, if the foe a single fight demand,\n And I alone the public peace withstand;\n If you consent, he shall not be refus\u2019d,\n Nor find a hand to victory unus\u2019d.\n This new Achilles, let him take the field,\n With fated armour, and Vulcanian shield!\n For you, my royal father, and my fame,\n I, Turnus, not the least of all my name,\n Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand,\n And I alone will answer his demand.\n Drances shall rest secure, and neither share\n The danger, nor divide the prize of war.\u201d\n\n While they debate, nor these nor those will yield,\n Aeneas draws his forces to the field,\n And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed\n Return, and thro\u2019 the frighted city spread\n Th\u2019 unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried,\n In battle marching by the river side,\n And bending to the town. They take th\u2019 alarm:\n Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm.\n Th\u2019 impetuous youth press forward to the field;\n They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield:\n The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry;\n Old feeble men with fainter groans reply;\n A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky,\n Like that of swans remurm\u2019ring to the floods,\n Or birds of diff\u2019ring kinds in hollow woods.\n\n Turnus th\u2019 occasion takes, and cries aloud:\n \u201cTalk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd:\n Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls,\n And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls.\u201d\n He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace,\n Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place:\n \u201cThou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command\n To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band.\n Messapus and Catillus, post your force\n Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse.\n Some guard the passes, others man the wall;\n Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call.\u201d\n\n They swarm from ev\u2019ry quarter of the town,\n And with disorder\u2019d haste the rampires crown.\n Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late,\n The gath\u2019ring storm just breaking on the state,\n Dismiss\u2019d the council till a fitter time,\n And own\u2019d his easy temper as his crime,\n Who, forc\u2019d against his reason, had complied\n To break the treaty for the promis\u2019d bride.\n\n Some help to sink new trenches; others aid\n To ram the stones, or raise the palisade.\n Hoarse trumpets sound th\u2019 alarm; around the walls\n Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labour calls.\n A sad procession in the streets is seen,\n Of matrons, that attend the mother queen:\n High in her chair she sits, and, at her side,\n With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride.\n They mount the cliff, where Pallas\u2019 temple stands;\n Pray\u2019rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands,\n With censers first they fume the sacred shrine,\n Then in this common supplication join:\n \u201cO patroness of arms, unspotted maid,\n Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid!\n Break short the pirate\u2019s lance; pronounce his fate,\n And lay the Phrygian low before the gate.\u201d\n\n Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast\n Well-temper\u2019d steel and scaly brass invest:\n The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold\n Are mingled metal damask\u2019d o\u2019er with gold.\n His faithful falchion sits upon his side;\n Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide:\n But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends,\n With godlike grace, he from the tow\u2019r descends.\n Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare\n His absent rival, and to promise war.\n Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins,\n The wanton courser prances o\u2019er the plains,\n Or in the pride of youth o\u2019erleaps the mounds,\n And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds.\n Or seeks his wat\u2019ring in the well-known flood,\n To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood:\n He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain,\n And o\u2019er his shoulder flows his waving mane:\n He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high;\n Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly.\n\n Soon as the prince appears without the gate,\n The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait\n His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien,\n Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen:\n Her squadron imitates, and each descends;\n Whose common suit Camilla thus commends:\n \u201cIf sense of honour, if a soul secure\n Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure,\n Can promise aught, or on itself rely\n Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die;\n Then, I alone, sustain\u2019d by these, will meet\n The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat.\n Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown:\n You, gen\u2019ral, stay behind, and guard the town.\u201d\n\n Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise,\n And on the fierce Virago fix\u2019d his eyes;\n Then thus return\u2019d: \u201cO grace of Italy,\n With what becoming thanks can I reply?\n Not only words lie lab\u2019ring in my breast,\n But thought itself is by thy praise oppress\u2019d.\n Yet rob me not of all; but let me join\n My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine.\n The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill\u2019d,\n Sends his light horse before to scour the field:\n Himself, thro\u2019 steep ascents and thorny brakes,\n A larger compass to the city takes.\n This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare\n To foil his cunning, and his force to dare;\n With chosen foot his passage to forelay,\n And place an ambush in the winding way.\n Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse;\n The brave Messapus shall thy troops enforce\n With those of Tibur, and the Latian band,\n Subjected all to thy supreme command.\u201d\n This said, he warns Messapus to the war,\n Then ev\u2019ry chief exhorts with equal care.\n All thus encourag\u2019d, his own troops he joins,\n And hastes to prosecute his deep designs.\n\n Inclos\u2019d with hills, a winding valley lies,\n By nature form\u2019d for fraud, and fitted for surprise.\n A narrow track, by human steps untrode,\n Leads, thro\u2019 perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode.\n High o\u2019er the vale a steepy mountain stands,\n Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands.\n The top is level, an offensive seat\n Of war; and from the war a safe retreat:\n For, on the right and left, is room to press\n The foes at hand, or from afar distress;\n To drive \u2019em headlong downward, and to pour\n On their descending backs a stony show\u2019r.\n Thither young Turnus took the well-known way,\n Possess\u2019d the pass, and in blind ambush lay.\n\n Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies,\n Beheld th\u2019 approaching war with hateful eyes,\n And call\u2019d the light-foot Opis to her aid,\n Her most belov\u2019d and ever-trusty maid;\n Then with a sigh began: \u201cCamilla goes\n To meet her death amidst her fatal foes:\n The nymphs I lov\u2019d of all my mortal train,\n Invested with Diana\u2019s arms, in vain.\n Nor is my kindness for the virgin new:\n \u2019Twas born with her; and with her years it grew.\n Her father Metabus, when forc\u2019d away\n From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway,\n Snatch\u2019d up, and sav\u2019d from his prevailing foes,\n This tender babe, companion of his woes.\n Casmilla was her mother; but he drown\u2019d\n One hissing letter in a softer sound,\n And call\u2019d Camilla. Thro\u2019 the woods he flies;\n Wrapp\u2019d in his robe the royal infant lies.\n His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace;\n With shout and clamours they pursue the chase.\n The banks of Amasene at length he gains:\n\n The raging flood his farther flight restrains,\n Rais\u2019d o\u2019er the borders with unusual rains.\n Prepar\u2019d to plunge into the stream, he fears,\n Not for himself, but for the charge he bears.\n Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste;\n Then, desp\u2019rate in distress, resolves at last.\n A knotty lance of well-boil\u2019d oak he bore;\n The middle part with cork he cover\u2019d o\u2019er:\n He clos\u2019d the child within the hollow space;\n With twigs of bending osier bound the case;\n Then pois\u2019d the spear, heavy with human weight,\n And thus invok\u2019d my favour for the freight:\n \u2018Accept, great goddess of the woods,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid!\n Thro\u2019 air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine;\n And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.\u2019\n He said; and with full force the spear he threw:\n Above the sounding waves Camilla flew.\n Then, press\u2019d by foes, he stemm\u2019d the stormy tide,\n And gain\u2019d, by stress of arms, the farther side.\n His fasten\u2019d spear he pull\u2019d from out the ground,\n And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound;\n Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose,\n Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes;\n But, rough, in open air he chose to lie;\n Earth was his couch, his cov\u2019ring was the sky.\n On hills unshorn, or in a desert den,\n He shunn\u2019d the dire society of men.\n A shepherd\u2019s solitary life he led;\n His daughter with the milk of mares he fed.\n The dugs of bears, and ev\u2019ry salvage beast,\n He drew, and thro\u2019 her lips the liquor press\u2019d.\n The little Amazon could scarcely go:\n He loads her with a quiver and a bow;\n And, that she might her stagg\u2019ring steps command,\n He with a slender jav\u2019lin fills her hand.\n Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound;\n Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground.\n Instead of these, a tiger\u2019s hide o\u2019erspread\n Her back and shoulders, fasten\u2019d to her head.\n The flying dart she first attempts to fling,\n And round her tender temples toss\u2019d the sling;\n Then, as her strength with years increas\u2019d, began\n To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan,\n And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane.\n The Tuscan matrons with each other vied,\n To bless their rival sons with such a bride;\n But she disdains their love, to share with me\n The sylvan shades and vow\u2019d virginity.\n And, O! I wish, contented with my cares\n Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars!\n Then had she been of my celestial train,\n And shunn\u2019d the fate that dooms her to be slain.\n But since, opposing Heav\u2019n\u2019s decree, she goes\n To find her death among forbidden foes,\n Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight.\n Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight.\n This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath,\n This chosen arrow, to revenge her death:\n By whate\u2019er hand Camilla shall be slain,\n Or of the Trojan or Italian train,\n Let him not pass unpunish\u2019d from the plain.\n Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid\n To bear the breathless body of my maid:\n Unspoil\u2019d shall be her arms, and unprofan\u2019d\n Her holy limbs with any human hand,\n And in a marble tomb laid in her native land.\u201d\n\n She said. The faithful nymph descends from high\n With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky:\n Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly.\n\n By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse,\n Drawn up in squadrons, with united force,\n Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound,\n Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground.\n Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far;\n And the fields glitter with a waving war.\n Oppos\u2019d to these, come on with furious force\n Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse;\n These in the body plac\u2019d, on either hand\n Sustain\u2019d and clos\u2019d by fair Camilla\u2019s band.\n Advancing in a line, they couch their spears;\n And less and less the middle space appears.\n Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen\n The neighing coursers, and the shouting men.\n In distance of their darts they stop their course;\n Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse.\n The face of heav\u2019n their flying jav\u2019lins hide,\n And deaths unseen are dealt on either side.\n Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear,\n By mettled coursers borne in full career,\n Meet first oppos\u2019d; and, with a mighty shock,\n Their horses\u2019 heads against each other knock.\n Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast,\n As with an engine\u2019s force, or lightning\u2019s blast:\n He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last.\n The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright,\n And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight\n Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew;\n Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue,\n And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase;\n Till, seiz\u2019d, with shame, they wheel about and face,\n Receive their foes, and raise a threat\u2019ning cry.\n The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly.\n So swelling surges, with a thund\u2019ring roar,\n Driv\u2019n on each other\u2019s backs, insult the shore,\n Bound o\u2019er the rocks, incroach upon the land,\n And far upon the beach eject the sand;\n Then backward, with a swing, they take their way,\n Repuls\u2019d from upper ground, and seek their mother sea;\n With equal hurry quit th\u2019 invaded shore,\n And swallow back the sand and stones they spew\u2019d before.\n\n Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field,\n Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell\u2019d.\n Asham\u2019d at length, to the third charge they ran;\n Both hosts resolv\u2019d, and mingled man to man.\n Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow\u2019d\n With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood.\n Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie:\n Confus\u2019d the fight, and more confus\u2019d the cry.\n Orsilochus, who durst not press too near\n Strong Remulus, at distance drove his spear,\n And stuck the steel beneath his horse\u2019s ear.\n The fiery steed, impatient of the wound,\n Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound,\n His helpless lord cast backward on the ground.\n Catillus pierc\u2019d Iolas first; then drew\n His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw,\n The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew.\n His neck and throat unarm\u2019d, his head was bare,\n But shaded with a length of yellow hair:\n Secure, he fought, expos\u2019d on ev\u2019ry part,\n A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart.\n Across the shoulders came the feather\u2019d wound;\n Transfix\u2019d he fell, and doubled to the ground.\n The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dyed,\n And death with honour sought on either side.\n\n Resistless thro\u2019 the war Camilla rode,\n In danger unappall\u2019d, and pleas\u2019d with blood.\n One side was bare for her exerted breast;\n One shoulder with her painted quiver press\u2019d.\n Now from afar her fatal jav\u2019lins play;\n Now with her ax\u2019s edge she hews her way:\n Diana\u2019s arms upon her shoulder sound;\n And when, too closely press\u2019d, she quits the ground,\n From her bent bow she sends a backward wound.\n Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side,\n Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride:\n Italians all; in peace, their queen\u2019s delight;\n In war, the bold companions of the fight.\n So march\u2019d the Thracian Amazons of old,\n When Thermodon with bloody billows roll\u2019d:\n Such troops as these in shining arms were seen,\n When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen:\n Such to the field Penthesilea led,\n From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled;\n With such, return\u2019d triumphant from the war,\n Her maids with cries attend the lofty car;\n They clash with manly force their moony shields;\n With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields.\n\n Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid,\n On the cold earth were by thy courage laid?\n Thy spear, of mountain ash, Eumenius first,\n With fury driv\u2019n, from side to side transpierc\u2019d:\n A purple stream came spouting from the wound;\n Bath\u2019d in his blood he lies, and bites the ground.\n Liris and Pegasus at once she slew:\n The former, as the slacken\u2019d reins he drew\n Of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch\u2019d\n His arm to prop his friend, the jav\u2019lin reach\u2019d.\n By the same weapon, sent from the same hand,\n Both fall together, and both spurn the sand.\n Amastrus next is added to the slain:\n The rest in rout she follows o\u2019er the plain:\n Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon,\n And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun.\n Of all her deadly darts, not one she lost;\n Each was attended with a Trojan ghost.\n Young Ornithus bestrode a hunter steed,\n Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed.\n Him from afar she spied, in arms unknown:\n O\u2019er his broad back an ox\u2019s hide was thrown;\n His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread\n A cov\u2019ring for his cheeks, and grinn\u2019d around his head,\n He clench\u2019d within his hand an iron prong,\n And tower\u2019d above the rest, conspicuous in the throng.\n Him soon she singled from the flying train,\n And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain:\n \u201cVain hunter, didst thou think thro\u2019 woods to chase\n The savage herd, a vile and trembling race?\n Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory:\n A woman warrior was too strong for thee.\n Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu\u2019ror\u2019s name,\n Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame.\u201d\n Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew,\n The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew;\n But Butes breast to breast: the spear descends\n Above the gorget, where his helmet ends,\n And o\u2019er the shield which his left side defends.\n Orsilochus and she their courses ply:\n He seems to follow, and she seems to fly;\n But in a narrower ring she makes the race;\n And then he flies, and she pursues the chase.\n Gath\u2019ring at length on her deluded foe,\n She swings her ax, and rises to the blow\n Full on the helm behind, with such a sway\n The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way:\n He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace;\n Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face.\n\n Astonish\u2019d Aunus just arrives by chance,\n To see his fall; nor farther dares advance;\n But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye,\n He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly;\n Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat,\n (At least while fortune favour\u2019d his deceit,)\n Cries out aloud: \u201cWhat courage have you shown,\n Who trust your courser\u2019s strength, and not your own?\n Forego the vantage of your horse, alight,\n And then on equal terms begin the fight:\n It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can,\n When, foot to foot, you combat with a man,\u201d\n He said. She glows with anger and disdain,\n Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain,\n And leaves her horse at large among her train;\n With her drawn sword defies him to the field,\n And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield.\n The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed,\n Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed;\n Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides\n The goring rowels in his bleeding sides.\n \u201cVain fool, and coward!\u201d cries the lofty maid,\n \u201cCaught in the train which thou thyself hast laid!\n On others practice thy Ligurian arts;\n Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts\n Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire,\n With vaunting lies, to thy fallacious sire.\u201d\n At this, so fast her flying feet she sped,\n That soon she strain\u2019d beyond his horse\u2019s head:\n Then turning short, at once she seiz\u2019d the rein,\n And laid the boaster grov\u2019ling on the plain.\n Not with more ease the falcon, from above,\n Trusses in middle air the trembling dove,\n Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound:\n The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground.\n\n Now mighty Jove, from his superior height,\n With his broad eye surveys th\u2019 unequal fight.\n He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain,\n And sends him to redeem th\u2019 abandon\u2019d plain.\n Betwixt the broken ranks the Tuscan rides,\n And these encourages, and those he chides;\n Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight;\n Renews their ardour, and restores the fight.\n \u201cWhat panic fear has seiz\u2019d your souls? O shame,\n O brand perpetual of th\u2019 Etrurian name!\n Cowards incurable, a woman\u2019s hand\n Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band!\n Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield!\n What use of weapons which you dare not wield?\n Not thus you fly your female foes by night,\n Nor shun the feast, when the full bowls invite;\n When to fat off\u2019rings the glad augur calls,\n And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals.\n These are your studied cares, your lewd delight:\n Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight.\u201d\n Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes,\n Not managing the life he meant to lose.\n The first he found he seiz\u2019d with headlong haste,\n In his strong gripe, and clasp\u2019d around the waist;\n \u2019Twas Venulus, whom from his horse he tore,\n And, laid athwart his own, in triumph bore.\n Loud shouts ensue; the Latins turn their eyes,\n And view th\u2019 unusual sight with vast surprise.\n The fiery Tarchon, flying o\u2019er the plains,\n Press\u2019d in his arms the pond\u2019rous prey sustains;\n Then, with his shorten\u2019d spear, explores around\n His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound.\n Nor less the captive struggles for his life:\n He writhes his body to prolong the strife,\n And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts\n His utmost vigour, and the point averts.\n So stoops the yellow eagle from on high,\n And bears a speckled serpent thro\u2019 the sky,\n Fast\u2019ning his crooked talons on the prey:\n The pris\u2019ner hisses thro\u2019 the liquid way;\n Resists the royal hawk; and, tho\u2019 oppress\u2019d,\n She fights in volumes, and erects her crest:\n Turn\u2019d to her foe, she stiffens ev\u2019ry scale,\n And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat\u2019ning tail.\n Against the victor, all defence is weak:\n Th\u2019 imperial bird still plies her with his beak;\n He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores;\n Then claps his pinions, and securely soars.\n Thus, thro\u2019 the midst of circling enemies,\n Strong Tarchon snatch\u2019d and bore away his prize.\n The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press\n The Latins, and presume the like success.\n\n Then Aruns, doom\u2019d to death, his arts assay\u2019d,\n To murder, unespied, the Volscian maid:\n This way and that his winding course he bends,\n And, whereso\u2019er she turns, her steps attends.\n When she retires victorious from the chase,\n He wheels about with care, and shifts his place;\n When, rushing on, she seeks her foes in fight,\n He keeps aloof, but keeps her still in sight:\n He threats, and trembles, trying ev\u2019ry way,\n Unseen to kill, and safely to betray.\n Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far,\n Glitt\u2019ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war,\n Was by the virgin view\u2019d. The steed he press\u2019d\n Was proud with trappings, and his brawny chest\n With scales of gilded brass was cover\u2019d o\u2019er;\n A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore.\n With deadly wounds he gall\u2019d the distant foe;\n Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow:\n A golden helm his front and head surrounds\n A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds.\n Gold, weav\u2019d with linen, on his thighs he wore,\n With flowers of needlework distinguish\u2019d o\u2019er,\n With golden buckles bound, and gather\u2019d up before.\n Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes,\n Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize,\n Or that the temple might his trophies hold,\n Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold.\n Blind in her haste, she chases him alone.\n And seeks his life, regardless of her own.\n\n This lucky moment the sly traitor chose:\n Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose,\n And threw, but first to Heav\u2019n address\u2019d his vows:\n \u201cO patron of Socrates\u2019 high abodes,\n Phoebus, the ruling pow\u2019r among the gods,\n Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous pine\n Are fell\u2019d for thee, and to thy glory shine;\n By thee protected with our naked soles,\n Thro\u2019 flames unsing\u2019d we march, and tread the kindled coals\n Give me, propitious pow\u2019r, to wash away\n The stains of this dishonourable day:\n Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim,\n But with my future actions trust my fame.\n Let me, by stealth, this female plague o\u2019ercome,\n And from the field return inglorious home.\u201d\n Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray\u2019r,\n Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss\u2019d in empty air.\n He gives the death desir\u2019d; his safe return\n By southern tempests to the seas is borne.\n\n Now, when the jav\u2019lin whizz\u2019d along the skies,\n Both armies on Camilla turn\u2019d their eyes,\n Directed by the sound. Of either host,\n Th\u2019 unhappy virgin, tho\u2019 concern\u2019d the most,\n Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent\n On golden spoils, and on her prey intent;\n Till in her pap the winged weapon stood\n Infix\u2019d, and deeply drunk the purple blood.\n Her sad attendants hasten to sustain\n Their dying lady, drooping on the plain.\n Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies,\n With beating heart, and fear confus\u2019d with joys;\n Nor dares he farther to pursue his blow,\n Or ev\u2019n to bear the sight of his expiring foe.\n As, when the wolf has torn a bullock\u2019s hide\n At unawares, or ranch\u2019d a shepherd\u2019s side,\n Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies,\n And claps his quiv\u2019ring tail between his thighs:\n So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends,\n But, spurring forward, herds among his friends.\n\n She wrench\u2019d the jav\u2019lin with her dying hands,\n But wedg\u2019d within her breast the weapon stands;\n The wood she draws, the steely point remains;\n She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains:\n (A gath\u2019ring mist o\u2019erclouds her cheerful eyes,\n And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies:)\n Then turns to her, whom of her female train\n She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain:\n \u201cAcca, \u2019tis past! he swims before my sight,\n Inexorable Death; and claims his right.\n Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed,\n And bid him timely to my charge succeed,\n Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve:\n Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive.\u201d\n She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain:\n Dying, her open\u2019d hand forsakes the rein;\n Short, and more short, she pants; by slow degrees\n Her mind the passage from her body frees.\n She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest,\n Her drooping head declining on her breast:\n In the last sigh her struggling soul expires,\n And, murm\u2019ring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires.\n\n A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued;\n Despair and rage the languish\u2019d fight renew\u2019d.\n The Trojan troops and Tuscans, in a line,\n Advance to charge; the mix\u2019d Arcadians join.\n\n But Cynthia\u2019s maid, high seated, from afar\n Surveys the field, and fortune of the war,\n Unmov\u2019d a while, till, prostrate on the plain,\n Welt\u2019ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain,\n And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train.\n Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew\n A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue:\n \u201cToo dear a fine, ah, much lamented maid,\n For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid!\n Nor aught avail\u2019d, in this unhappy strife,\n Diana\u2019s sacred arms, to save thy life.\n Yet unreveng\u2019d thy goddess will not leave\n Her vot\u2019ry\u2019s death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve.\n Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr\u2019d;\n But after ages shall thy praise record.\n Th\u2019 inglorious coward soon shall press the plain:\n Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain.\u201d\n\n High o\u2019er the field there stood a hilly mound,\n Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around,\n Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay,\n A king that once in Latium bore the sway.\n The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight,\n To mark the traitor Aruns from the height.\n Him in refulgent arms she soon espied,\n Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried:\n \u201cThy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late;\n Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate.\n Charg\u2019d with my message, to Camilla go,\n And say I sent thee to the shades below,\n An honour undeserv\u2019d from Cynthia\u2019s bow.\u201d\n\n She said, and from her quiver chose with speed\n The winged shaft, predestin\u2019d for the deed;\n Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied,\n Till the far distant horns approach\u2019d on either side.\n The bowstring touch\u2019d her breast, so strong she drew;\n Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew.\n At once the twanging bow and sounding dart\n The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart.\n Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death,\n His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath.\n The conqu\u2019ring damsel, with expanded wings,\n The welcome message to her mistress brings.\n\n Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field,\n And, unsustain\u2019d, the chiefs of Turnus yield.\n The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly,\n More on their speed than on their strength rely.\n Confus\u2019d in flight, they bear each other down,\n And spur their horses headlong to the town.\n Driv\u2019n by their foes, and to their fears resign\u2019d,\n Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind.\n These drop the shield, and those the lance forego,\n Or on their shoulders bear the slacken\u2019d bow.\n The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound,\n Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground.\n Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky,\n And o\u2019er the darken\u2019d walls and rampires fly.\n The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands,\n Rend heav\u2019n with female shrieks, and wring their hands.\n All pressing on, pursuers and pursued,\n Are crush\u2019d in crowds, a mingled multitude.\n Some happy few escape: the throng too late\n Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate.\n Ev\u2019n in the sight of home, the wretched sire\n Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire.\n Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close,\n But leave their friends excluded with their foes.\n The vanquish\u2019d cry; the victors loudly shout;\n \u2019Tis terror all within, and slaughter all without.\n Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall,\n Or, to the moats pursued, precipitate their fall.\n\n The Latian virgins, valiant with despair,\n Arm\u2019d on the tow\u2019rs, the common danger share:\n So much of zeal their country\u2019s cause inspir\u2019d;\n So much Camilla\u2019s great example fir\u2019d.\n Poles, sharpen\u2019d in the flames, from high they throw,\n With imitated darts, to gall the foe.\n Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath,\n And crowd each other to be first in death.\n Meantime to Turnus, ambush\u2019d in the shade,\n With heavy tidings came th\u2019 unhappy maid:\n \u201cThe Volscians overthrown, Camilla kill\u2019d;\n The foes, entirely masters of the field,\n Like a resistless flood, come rolling on:\n The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town.\u201d\n\n Inflam\u2019d with rage, (for so the Furies fire\n The Daunian\u2019s breast, and so the Fates require,)\n He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain\n Possess\u2019d, and downward issues on the plain.\n Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed\n From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed.\n Thro\u2019 the black forest and the ferny brake,\n Unknowingly secure, their way they take;\n From the rough mountains to the plain descend,\n And there, in order drawn, their line extend.\n Both armies now in open fields are seen;\n Nor far the distance of the space between.\n Both to the city bend. Aeneas sees,\n Thro\u2019 smoking fields, his hast\u2019ning enemies;\n And Turnus views the Trojans in array,\n And hears th\u2019 approaching horses proudly neigh.\n Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join\u2019d;\n But westward to the sea the sun declin\u2019d.\n Intrench\u2019d before the town both armies lie,\n While night with sable wings involves the sky.\n\n\n\n BOOK XII\n\n THE ARGUMENT.\n\n\n Turnus challenges Aeneas to a single combat: articles are agreed\n on, but broken by the Rutuli, who wound Aeneas. He is\n miraculously cured by Venus, forces Turnus to a duel, and\n concludes the poem with his death.\n\n\n When Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,\n Their armies broken, and their courage quell\u2019d,\n Himself become the mark of public spite,\n His honour question\u2019d for the promis\u2019d fight;\n The more he was with vulgar hate oppress\u2019d,\n The more his fury boil\u2019d within his breast:\n He rous\u2019d his vigour for the last debate,\n And rais\u2019d his haughty soul to meet his fate.\n\n As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,\n He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace;\n But, if the pointed jav\u2019lin pierce his side,\n The lordly beast returns with double pride:\n He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;\n His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:\n So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire,\n Thro\u2019 his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.\n\n Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,\n At length approach\u2019d the king, and thus began:\n \u201cNo more excuses or delays: I stand\n In arms prepar\u2019d to combat, hand to hand,\n This base deserter of his native land.\n The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take\n The same conditions which himself did make.\n Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,\n And to my single virtue trust the war.\n The Latians unconcern\u2019d shall see the fight;\n This arm unaided shall assert your right:\n Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,\n To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.\u201d\n\n To whom the king sedately thus replied:\n \u201cBrave youth, the more your valour has been tried,\n The more becomes it us, with due respect,\n To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.\n You want not wealth, or a successive throne,\n Or cities which your arms have made your own:\n My towns and treasures are at your command,\n And stor\u2019d with blooming beauties is my land;\n Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,\n Unmarried, fair, of noble families.\n Now let me speak, and you with patience hear,\n Things which perhaps may grate a lover\u2019s ear,\n But sound advice, proceeding from a heart\n Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.\n The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,\n No prince Italian born should heir my throne:\n Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill\u2019d,\n And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal\u2019d.\n Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,\n Brib\u2019d by my kindness to my kindred blood,\n Urg\u2019d by my wife, who would not be denied,\n I promis\u2019d my Lavinia for your bride:\n Her from her plighted lord by force I took;\n All ties of treaties, and of honour, broke:\n On your account I wag\u2019d an impious war\u2014\n With what success, \u2019tis needless to declare;\n I and my subjects feel, and you have had your share.\n Twice vanquish\u2019d while in bloody fields we strive,\n Scarce in our walls we keep our hopes alive:\n The rolling flood runs warm with human gore;\n The bones of Latians blanch the neighb\u2019ring shore.\n Why put I not an end to this debate,\n Still unresolv\u2019d, and still a slave to fate?\n If Turnus\u2019 death a lasting peace can give,\n Why should I not procure it whilst you live?\n Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray,\n What would my kinsmen, the Rutulians, say?\n And, should you fall in fight, (which Heav\u2019n defend!)\n How curse the cause which hasten\u2019d to his end\n The daughter\u2019s lover and the father\u2019s friend?\n Weigh in your mind the various chance of war;\n Pity your parent\u2019s age, and ease his care.\u201d\n\n Such balmy words he pour\u2019d, but all in vain:\n The proffer\u2019d med\u2019cine but provok\u2019d the pain.\n The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief,\n With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief:\n \u201cThe care, O best of fathers, which you take\n For my concerns, at my desire forsake.\n Permit me not to languish out my days,\n But make the best exchange of life for praise.\n This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize;\n And the blood follows, where the weapon flies.\n His goddess mother is not near, to shroud\n The flying coward with an empty cloud.\u201d\n\n But now the queen, who fear\u2019d for Turnus\u2019 life,\n And loath\u2019d the hard conditions of the strife,\n Held him by force; and, dying in his death,\n In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath:\n \u201cO Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears,\n And whate\u2019er price Amata\u2019s honour bears\n Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope,\n My sickly mind\u2019s repose, my sinking age\u2019s prop;\n Since on the safety of thy life alone\n Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne:\n Refuse me not this one, this only pray\u2019r,\n To waive the combat, and pursue the war.\n Whatever chance attends this fatal strife,\n Think it includes, in thine, Amata\u2019s life.\n I cannot live a slave, or see my throne\n Usurp\u2019d by strangers or a Trojan son.\u201d\n\n At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed;\n A crimson blush her beauteous face o\u2019erspread,\n Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.\n The driving colours, never at a stay,\n Run here and there, and flush, and fade away.\n Delightful change! Thus Indian iv\u2019ry shows,\n Which with the bord\u2019ring paint of purple glows;\n Or lilies damask\u2019d by the neighb\u2019ring rose.\n\n The lover gaz\u2019d, and, burning with desire,\n The more he look\u2019d, the more he fed the fire:\n Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite,\n Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight.\n Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,\n Firm to his first intent, he thus replies:\n \u201cO mother, do not by your tears prepare\n Such boding omens, and prejudge the war.\n Resolv\u2019d on fight, I am no longer free\n To shun my death, if Heav\u2019n my death decree.\u201d\n Then turning to the herald, thus pursues:\n \u201cGo, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news;\n Denounce from me, that, when tomorrow\u2019s light\n Shall gild the heav\u2019ns, he need not urge the fight;\n The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more\n Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore:\n Our single swords the quarrel shall decide,\n And to the victor be the beauteous bride.\u201d\n\n He said, and striding on, with speedy pace,\n He sought his coursers of the Thracian race.\n At his approach they toss their heads on high,\n And, proudly neighing, promise victory.\n The sires of these Orythia sent from far,\n To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war.\n The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white,\n Nor northern winds in fleetness match\u2019d their flight.\n Officious grooms stand ready by his side;\n And some with combs their flowing manes divide,\n And others stroke their chests and gently soothe their pride.\n\n He sheath\u2019d his limbs in arms; a temper\u2019d mass\n Of golden metal those, and mountain brass.\n Then to his head his glitt\u2019ring helm he tied,\n And girt his faithful falchion to his side.\n In his Aetnaean forge, the God of Fire\n That falchion labour\u2019d for the hero\u2019s sire;\n Immortal keenness on the blade bestow\u2019d,\n And plung\u2019d it hissing in the Stygian flood.\n Propp\u2019d on a pillar, which the ceiling bore,\n Was plac\u2019d the lance Auruncan Actor wore;\n Which with such force he brandish\u2019d in his hand,\n The tough ash trembled like an osier wand:\n Then cried: \u201cO pond\u2019rous spoil of Actor slain,\n And never yet by Turnus toss\u2019d in vain,\n Fail not this day thy wonted force; but go,\n Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe!\n Give me to tear his corslet from his breast,\n And from that eunuch head to rend the crest;\n Dragg\u2019d in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil,\n Hot from the vexing ir\u2019n, and smear\u2019d with fragrant oil!\u201d\n\n Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies\n A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes.\n So fares the bull in his lov\u2019d female\u2019s sight:\n Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight;\n He tries his goring horns against a tree,\n And meditates his absent enemy;\n He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand\n With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand.\n\n Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms,\n To future fight his manly courage warms:\n He whets his fury, and with joy prepares\n To terminate at once the ling\u2019ring wars;\n To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates\n What Heav\u2019n had promis\u2019d, and expounds the fates.\n Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease\n The rage of arms, and ratify the peace.\n\n The morn ensuing, from the mountain\u2019s height,\n Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light;\n Th\u2019 ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea,\n From out their flaming nostrils breath\u2019d the day;\n When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard,\n In friendly labour join\u2019d, the list prepar\u2019d.\n Beneath the walls they measure out the space;\n Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass,\n Where, with religious rites their common gods they place.\n In purest white the priests their heads attire;\n And living waters bear, and holy fire;\n And, o\u2019er their linen hoods and shaded hair,\n Long twisted wreaths of sacred vervain wear.\n\n In order issuing from the town appears\n The Latin legion, arm\u2019d with pointed spears;\n And from the fields, advancing on a line,\n The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join:\n Their various arms afford a pleasing sight;\n A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar\u2019d for fight.\n Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride,\n Glitt\u2019ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed;\n Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line,\n And there Messapus, born of seed divine.\n The sign is giv\u2019n; and, round the listed space,\n Each man in order fills his proper place.\n Reclining on their ample shields, they stand,\n And fix their pointed lances in the sand.\n Now, studious of the sight, a num\u2019rous throng\n Of either sex promiscuous, old and young,\n Swarm the town: by those who rest behind,\n The gates and walls and houses\u2019 tops are lin\u2019d.\n Meantime the Queen of Heav\u2019n beheld the sight,\n With eyes unpleas\u2019d, from Mount Albano\u2019s height\n (Since call\u2019d Albano by succeeding fame,\n But then an empty hill, without a name).\n She thence survey\u2019d the field, the Trojan pow\u2019rs,\n The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow\u2019rs.\n Then thus the goddess of the skies bespoke,\n With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake,\n King Turnus\u2019 sister, once a lovely maid,\n Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray\u2019d:\n Compress\u2019d by force, but, by the grateful god,\n Now made the Nais of the neighb\u2019ring flood.\n \u201cO nymph, the pride of living lakes,\u201d said she,\n \u201cO most renown\u2019d, and most belov\u2019d by me,\n Long hast thou known, nor need I to record,\n The wanton sallies of my wand\u2019ring lord.\n Of ev\u2019ry Latian fair whom Jove misled\n To mount by stealth my violated bed,\n To thee alone I grudg\u2019d not his embrace,\n But gave a part of heav\u2019n, and an unenvied place.\n Now learn from me thy near approaching grief,\n Nor think my wishes want to thy relief.\n While fortune favour\u2019d, nor Heav\u2019n\u2019s King denied\n To lend my succour to the Latian side,\n I sav\u2019d thy brother, and the sinking state:\n But now he struggles with unequal fate,\n And goes, with gods averse, o\u2019ermatch\u2019d in might,\n To meet inevitable death in fight;\n Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight.\n Thou, if thou dar\u2019st thy present aid supply;\n It well becomes a sister\u2019s care to try.\u201d\n\n At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress\u2019d,\n Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.\n To whom Saturnia thus: \u201cThy tears are late:\n Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch\u2019d from fate:\n New tumults kindle; violate the truce:\n Who knows what changeful fortune may produce?\n \u2019Tis not a crime t\u2019 attempt what I decree;\n Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me.\u201d\n She said, and, sailing on the winged wind,\n Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind.\n\n And now in pomp the peaceful kings appear:\n Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear;\n Twelve golden beams around his temples play,\n To mark his lineage from the God of Day.\n Two snowy coursers Turnus\u2019 chariot yoke,\n And in his hand two massy spears he shook:\n Then issued from the camp, in arms divine,\n Aeneas, author of the Roman line;\n And by his side Ascanius took his place,\n The second hope of Rome\u2019s immortal race.\n Adorn\u2019d in white, a rev\u2019rend priest appears,\n And off\u2019rings to the flaming altars bears;\n A porket, and a lamb that never suffer\u2019d shears.\n Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes,\n And strews the beasts, design\u2019d for sacrifice,\n With salt and meal: with like officious care\n He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair.\n Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds;\n With the same gen\u2019rous juice the flame he feeds.\n\n Aeneas then unsheath\u2019d his shining sword,\n And thus with pious pray\u2019rs the gods ador\u2019d:\n \u201cAll-seeing sun, and thou, Ausonian soil,\n For which I have sustain\u2019d so long a toil,\n Thou, King of Heav\u2019n, and thou, the Queen of Air,\n Propitious now, and reconcil\u2019d by pray\u2019r;\n Thou, God of War, whose unresisted sway\n The labours and events of arms obey;\n Ye living fountains, and ye running floods,\n All pow\u2019rs of ocean, all ethereal gods,\n Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field,\n Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield,\n My Trojans shall encrease Evander\u2019s town;\n Ascanius shall renounce th\u2019 Ausonian crown:\n All claims, all questions of debate, shall cease;\n Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace.\n But, if my juster arms prevail in fight,\n (As sure they shall, if I divine aright,)\n My Trojans shall not o\u2019er th\u2019 Italians reign:\n Both equal, both unconquer\u2019d shall remain,\n Join\u2019d in their laws, their lands, and their abodes;\n I ask but altars for my weary gods.\n The care of those religious rites be mine;\n The crown to King Latinus I resign:\n His be the sov\u2019reign sway. Nor will I share\n His pow\u2019r in peace, or his command in war.\n For me, my friends another town shall frame,\n And bless the rising tow\u2019rs with fair Lavinia\u2019s name.\u201d\n\n Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands,\n The Latian king before his altar stands.\n \u201cBy the same heav\u2019n,\u201d said he, \u201cand earth, and main,\n And all the pow\u2019rs that all the three contain;\n By hell below, and by that upper god\n Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod;\n So let Latona\u2019s double offspring hear,\n And double-fronted Janus, what I swear:\n I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames,\n And all those pow\u2019rs attest, and all their names;\n Whatever chance befall on either side,\n No term of time this union shall divide:\n No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind,\n Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind;\n Not tho\u2019 the circling seas should break their bound,\n O\u2019erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground;\n Not tho\u2019 the lamps of heav\u2019n their spheres forsake,\n Hurl\u2019d down, and hissing in the nether lake:\n Ev\u2019n as this royal scepter\u201d (for he bore\n A scepter in his hand) \u201cshall never more\n Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth:\n An orphan now, cut from the mother earth\n By the keen ax, dishonour\u2019d of its hair,\n And cas\u2019d in brass, for Latian kings to bear.\u201d\n\n When thus in public view the peace was tied\n With solemn vows, and sworn on either side,\n All dues perform\u2019d which holy rites require;\n The victim beasts are slain before the fire,\n The trembling entrails from their bodies torn,\n And to the fatten\u2019d flames in chargers borne.\n\n Already the Rutulians deem their man\n O\u2019ermatch\u2019d in arms, before the fight began.\n First rising fears are whisper\u2019d thro\u2019 the crowd;\n Then, gath\u2019ring sound, they murmur more aloud.\n Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes\n The champions\u2019 bulk, their sinews, and their size:\n The nearer they approach, the more is known\n Th\u2019 apparent disadvantage of their own.\n Turnus himself appears in public sight\n Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight.\n Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands\n With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands;\n And, while he mutters undistinguish\u2019d pray\u2019rs,\n A livid deadness in his cheeks appears.\n\n With anxious pleasure when Juturna view\u2019d\n Th\u2019 increasing fright of the mad multitude,\n When their short sighs and thick\u2019ning sobs she heard,\n And found their ready minds for change prepar\u2019d;\n Dissembling her immortal form, she took\n Camertus\u2019 mien, his habit, and his look;\n A chief of ancient blood; in arms well known\n Was his great sire, and he his greater son.\n His shape assum\u2019d, amid the ranks she ran,\n And humoring their first motions, thus began:\n \u201cFor shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight\n Of one expos\u2019d for all, in single fight?\n Can we, before the face of heav\u2019n, confess\n Our courage colder, or our numbers less?\n View all the Trojan host, th\u2019 Arcadian band,\n And Tuscan army; count \u2019em as they stand:\n Undaunted to the battle if we go,\n Scarce ev\u2019ry second man will share a foe.\n Turnus, \u2019tis true, in this unequal strife,\n Shall lose, with honour, his devoted life,\n Or change it rather for immortal fame,\n Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came:\n But you, a servile and inglorious band,\n For foreign lords shall sow your native land,\n Those fruitful fields your fighting fathers gain\u2019d,\n Which have so long their lazy sons sustain\u2019d.\u201d\n With words like these, she carried her design:\n A rising murmur runs along the line.\n Then ev\u2019n the city troops, and Latians, tir\u2019d\n With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir\u2019d:\n Their champion\u2019s fate with pity they lament,\n And of the league, so lately sworn, repent.\n\n Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage\n With lying wonders, and a false presage;\n But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes,\n Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise.\n For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above,\n Appears in pomp th\u2019 imperial bird of Jove:\n A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes,\n And o\u2019er their heads his sounding pinions shakes;\n Then, stooping on the fairest of the train,\n In his strong talons truss\u2019d a silver swan.\n Th\u2019 Italians wonder at th\u2019 unusual sight;\n But, while he lags, and labours in his flight,\n Behold, the dastard fowl return anew,\n And with united force the foe pursue:\n Clam\u2019rous around the royal hawk they fly,\n And, thick\u2019ning in a cloud, o\u2019ershade the sky.\n They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course;\n Nor can th\u2019 incumber\u2019d bird sustain their force;\n But vex\u2019d, not vanquish\u2019d, drops the pond\u2019rous prey,\n And, lighten\u2019d of his burthen, wings his way.\n\n Th\u2019 Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight,\n Eager of action, and demand the fight.\n Then King Tolumnius, vers\u2019d in augurs\u2019 arts,\n Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts:\n \u201cAt length \u2019tis granted, what I long desir\u2019d!\n This, this is what my frequent vows requir\u2019d.\n Ye gods, I take your omen, and obey.\n Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way.\n These are the foreign foes, whose impious band,\n Like that rapacious bird, infest our land:\n But soon, like him, they shall be forc\u2019d to sea\n By strength united, and forego the prey.\n Your timely succour to your country bring,\n Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king.\u201d\n\n He said; and, pressing onward thro\u2019 the crew,\n Pois\u2019d in his lifted arm, his lance he threw.\n The winged weapon, whistling in the wind,\n Came driving on, nor miss\u2019d the mark design\u2019d.\n At once the cornel rattled in the skies;\n At once tumultuous shouts and clamours rise.\n Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood,\n Born of Arcadian mix\u2019d with Tuscan blood,\n Gylippus\u2019 sons: the fatal jav\u2019lin flew,\n Aim\u2019d at the midmost of the friendly crew.\n A passage thro\u2019 the jointed arms it found,\n Just where the belt was to the body bound,\n And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground.\n Then, fir\u2019d with pious rage, the gen\u2019rous train\n Run madly forward to revenge the slain.\n And some with eager haste their jav\u2019lins throw;\n And some with sword in hand assault the foe.\n\n The wish\u2019d insult the Latine troops embrace,\n And meet their ardour in the middle space.\n The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line,\n With equal courage obviate their design.\n Peace leaves the violated fields, and hate\n Both armies urges to their mutual fate.\n With impious haste their altars are o\u2019erturn\u2019d,\n The sacrifice half-broil\u2019d, and half-unburn\u2019d.\n Thick storms of steel from either army fly,\n And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky;\n Brands from the fire are missive weapons made,\n With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade.\n Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray,\n And bears his unregarded gods away.\n These on their horses vault; those yoke the car;\n The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war.\n\n Messapus, eager to confound the peace,\n Spurr\u2019d his hot courser thro\u2019 the fighting press,\n At King Aulestes, by his purple known\n A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown;\n And, with a shock encount\u2019ring, bore him down.\n Backward he fell; and, as his fate design\u2019d,\n The ruins of an altar were behind:\n There, pitching on his shoulders and his head,\n Amid the scatt\u2019ring fires he lay supinely spread.\n The beamy spear, descending from above,\n His cuirass pierc\u2019d, and thro\u2019 his body drove.\n Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries:\n \u201cThe gods have found a fitter sacrifice.\u201d\n Greedy of spoils, th\u2019 Italians strip the dead\n Of his rich armour, and uncrown his head.\n\n Priest Corynaeus, arm\u2019d his better hand,\n From his own altar, with a blazing brand;\n And, as Ebusus with a thund\u2019ring pace\n Advanc\u2019d to battle, dash\u2019d it on his face:\n His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires;\n The crackling crop a noisome scent expires.\n Following the blow, he seiz\u2019d his curling crown\n With his left hand; his other cast him down.\n The prostrate body with his knees he press\u2019d,\n And plung\u2019d his holy poniard in his breast.\n\n While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued\n The shepherd Alsus thro\u2019 the flying crowd,\n Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow\n Full on the front of his unwary foe.\n The broad ax enters with a crashing sound,\n And cleaves the chin with one continued wound;\n Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around\n An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress\u2019d,\n And seal\u2019d their heavy lids in endless rest.\n\n But good Aeneas rush\u2019d amid the bands;\n Bare was his head, and naked were his hands,\n In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud:\n \u201cWhat sudden rage, what new desire of blood,\n Inflames your alter\u2019d minds? O Trojans, cease\n From impious arms, nor violate the peace!\n By human sanctions, and by laws divine,\n The terms are all agreed; the war is mine.\n Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue;\n This hand alone shall right the gods and you:\n Our injur\u2019d altars, and their broken vow,\n To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe.\u201d\n\n Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defence,\n A winged arrow struck the pious prince.\n But, whether from some human hand it came,\n Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame:\n No human hand or hostile god was found,\n To boast the triumph of so base a wound.\n\n When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain,\n His chiefs dismay\u2019d, his troops a fainting train,\n Th\u2019 unhop\u2019d event his heighten\u2019d soul inspires:\n At once his arms and coursers he requires;\n Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains,\n And with a ready hand assumes the reins.\n He drives impetuous, and, where\u2019er he goes,\n He leaves behind a lane of slaughter\u2019d foes.\n These his lance reaches; over those he rolls\n His rapid car, and crushes out their souls:\n In vain the vanquish\u2019d fly; the victor sends\n The dead men\u2019s weapons at their living friends.\n Thus, on the banks of Hebrus\u2019 freezing flood,\n The God of Battles, in his angry mood,\n Clashing his sword against his brazen shield,\n Let loose the reins, and scours along the field:\n Before the wind his fiery coursers fly;\n Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky.\n Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair\n (Dire faces, and deform\u2019d) surround the car;\n Friends of the god, and followers of the war.\n With fury not unlike, nor less disdain,\n Exulting Turnus flies along the plain:\n His smoking horses, at their utmost speed,\n He lashes on, and urges o\u2019er the dead.\n Their fetlocks run with blood; and, when they bound,\n The gore and gath\u2019ring dust are dash\u2019d around.\n Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war,\n He kill\u2019d at hand, but Sthenelus afar:\n From far the sons of Imbracus he slew,\n Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew;\n Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join\u2019d,\n Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind.\n\n Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field,\n New fir\u2019d the Trojans, and their foes repell\u2019d.\n This son of Dolon bore his grandsire\u2019s name,\n But emulated more his father\u2019s fame;\n His guileful father, sent a nightly spy,\n The Grecian camp and order to descry:\n Hard enterprise! and well he might require\n Achilles\u2019 car and horses, for his hire:\n But, met upon the scout, th\u2019 Aetolian prince\n In death bestow\u2019d a juster recompense.\n Fierce Turnus view\u2019d the Trojan from afar,\n And launch\u2019d his jav\u2019lin from his lofty car;\n Then lightly leaping down, pursued the blow,\n And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe,\n Wrench\u2019d from his feeble hold the shining sword,\n And plung\u2019d it in the bosom of its lord.\n \u201cPossess,\u201d said he, \u201cthe fruit of all thy pains,\n And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains.\n Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand;\n Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land!\u201d\n\n Then Dares, Butes, Sybaris he slew,\n Whom o\u2019er his neck his flound\u2019ring courser threw.\n As when loud Boreas, with his blust\u2019ring train,\n Stoops from above, incumbent on the main;\n Where\u2019er he flies, he drives the rack before,\n And rolls the billows on th\u2019 Aegaean shore:\n So, where resistless Turnus takes his course,\n The scatter\u2019d squadrons bend before his force;\n His crest of horses\u2019 hair is blown behind\n By adverse air, and rustles in the wind.\n\n This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain,\n And, as the chariot roll\u2019d along the plain,\n Light from the ground he leapt, and seiz\u2019d the rein.\n Thus hung in air, he still retain\u2019d his hold,\n The coursers frighted, and their course controll\u2019d.\n The lance of Turnus reach\u2019d him as he hung,\n And pierc\u2019d his plated arms, but pass\u2019d along,\n And only raz\u2019d the skin. He turn\u2019d, and held\n Against his threat\u2019ning foe his ample shield;\n Then call\u2019d for aid: but, while he cried in vain,\n The chariot bore him backward on the plain.\n He lies revers\u2019d; the victor king descends,\n And strikes so justly where his helmet ends,\n He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk\n With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk.\n\n While he triumphs, and while the Trojans yield,\n The wounded prince is forc\u2019d to leave the field:\n Strong Mnestheus, and Achates often tried,\n And young Ascanius, weeping by his side,\n Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear\n His limbs from earth, supported on his spear.\n Resolv\u2019d in mind, regardless of the smart,\n He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart.\n The steel remains. No readier way he found\n To draw the weapon, than t\u2019 inlarge the wound.\n Eager of fight, impatient of delay,\n He begs; and his unwilling friends obey.\n\n Iapis was at hand to prove his art,\n Whose blooming youth so fir\u2019d Apollo\u2019s heart,\n That, for his love, he proffer\u2019d to bestow\n His tuneful harp and his unerring bow.\n The pious youth, more studious how to save\n His aged sire, now sinking to the grave,\n Preferr\u2019d the pow\u2019r of plants, and silent praise\n Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays.\n\n Propp\u2019d on his lance the pensive hero stood,\n And heard and saw, unmov\u2019d, the mourning crowd.\n The fam\u2019d physician tucks his robes around\n With ready hands, and hastens to the wound.\n With gentle touches he performs his part,\n This way and that, soliciting the dart,\n And exercises all his heav\u2019nly art.\n All soft\u2019ning simples, known of sov\u2019reign use,\n He presses out, and pours their noble juice.\n These first infus\u2019d, to lenify the pain,\n He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain.\n Then to the patron of his art he pray\u2019d:\n The patron of his art refus\u2019d his aid.\n\n Meantime the war approaches to the tents;\n Th\u2019 alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments:\n The driving dust proclaims the danger near;\n And first their friends, and then their foes appear:\n Their friends retreat; their foes pursue the rear.\n The camp is fill\u2019d with terror and affright:\n The hissing shafts within the trench alight;\n An undistinguish\u2019d noise ascends the sky,\n The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those who die.\n\n But now the goddess mother, mov\u2019d with grief,\n And pierc\u2019d with pity, hastens her relief.\n A branch of healing dittany she brought,\n Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought:\n Rough is the stem, which woolly leafs surround;\n The leafs with flow\u2019rs, the flow\u2019rs with purple crown\u2019d,\n Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief\n To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief.\n This Venus brings, in clouds involv\u2019d, and brews\n Th\u2019 extracted liquor with ambrosian dews,\n And odorous panacee. Unseen she stands,\n Temp\u2019ring the mixture with her heav\u2019nly hands,\n And pours it in a bowl, already crown\u2019d\n With juice of med\u2019c\u2019nal herbs prepar\u2019d to bathe the wound.\n The leech, unknowing of superior art\n Which aids the cure, with this foments the part;\n And in a moment ceas\u2019d the raging smart.\n Stanch\u2019d is the blood, and in the bottom stands:\n The steel, but scarcely touch\u2019d with tender hands,\n Moves up, and follows of its own accord,\n And health and vigour are at once restor\u2019d.\n Iapis first perceiv\u2019d the closing wound,\n And first the footsteps of a god he found.\n \u201cArms! arms!\u201d he cries; \u201cthe sword and shield prepare,\n And send the willing chief, renew\u2019d, to war.\n This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,\n Nor art\u2019s effect, but done by hands divine.\n Some god our general to the battle sends;\n Some god preserves his life for greater ends.\u201d\n\n The hero arms in haste; his hands infold\n His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold:\n Inflam\u2019d to fight, and rushing to the field,\n That hand sustaining the celestial shield,\n This gripes the lance, and with such vigour shakes,\n That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes.\n Then with a close embrace he strain\u2019d his son,\n And, kissing thro\u2019 his helmet, thus begun:\n \u201cMy son, from my example learn the war,\n In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare;\n But happier chance than mine attend thy care!\n This day my hand thy tender age shall shield,\n And crown with honours of the conquer\u2019d field:\n Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth\n To toils of war, be mindful of my worth;\n Assert thy birthright, and in arms be known,\n For Hector\u2019s nephew, and Aeneas\u2019 son.\u201d\n He said; and, striding, issued on the plain.\n Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num\u2019rous train,\n Attend his steps; the rest their weapons take,\n And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake.\n A cloud of blinding dust is rais\u2019d around,\n Labours beneath their feet the trembling ground.\n\n Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far\n Beheld the progress of the moving war:\n With him the Latins view\u2019d the cover\u2019d plains,\n And the chill blood ran backward in their veins.\n Juturna saw th\u2019 advancing troops appear,\n And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear.\n Aeneas leads; and draws a sweeping train,\n Clos\u2019d in their ranks, and pouring on the plain.\n As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore\n From the mid ocean, drives the waves before;\n The painful hind with heavy heart foresees\n The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees;\n With like impetuous rage the prince appears\n Before his doubled front, nor less destruction bears.\n And now both armies shock in open field;\n Osiris is by strong Thymbraeus kill\u2019d.\n Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain\n (All fam\u2019d in arms, and of the Latian train)\n By Gyas\u2019, Mnestheus\u2019, and Achates\u2019 hand.\n The fatal augur falls, by whose command\n The truce was broken, and whose lance, embrued\n With Trojan blood, th\u2019 unhappy fight renew\u2019d.\n Loud shouts and clamours rend the liquid sky,\n And o\u2019er the field the frighted Latins fly.\n The prince disdains the dastards to pursue,\n Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few;\n Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain,\n He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain.\n Juturna heard, and, seiz\u2019d with mortal fear,\n Forc\u2019d from the beam her brother\u2019s charioteer;\n Assumes his shape, his armour, and his mien,\n And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen.\n\n As the black swallow near the palace plies;\n O\u2019er empty courts, and under arches, flies;\n Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood,\n To furnish her loquacious nest with food:\n So drives the rapid goddess o\u2019er the plains;\n The smoking horses run with loosen\u2019d reins.\n She steers a various course among the foes;\n Now here, now there, her conqu\u2019ring brother shows;\n Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight,\n She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight.\n Aeneas, fir\u2019d with fury, breaks the crowd,\n And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud:\n He runs within a narrower ring, and tries\n To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies.\n If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears,\n And far away the Daunian hero bears.\n\n What should he do! Nor arts nor arms avail;\n And various cares in vain his mind assail.\n The great Messapus, thund\u2019ring thro\u2019 the field,\n In his left hand two pointed jav\u2019lins held:\n Encount\u2019ring on the prince, one dart he drew,\n And with unerring aim and utmost vigour threw.\n Aeneas saw it come, and, stooping low\n Beneath his buckler, shunn\u2019d the threat\u2019ning blow.\n The weapon hiss\u2019d above his head, and tore\n The waving plume which on his helm he wore.\n Forced by this hostile act, and fir\u2019d with spite,\n That flying Turnus still declin\u2019d the fight,\n The Prince, whose piety had long repell\u2019d\n His inborn ardour, now invades the field;\n Invokes the pow\u2019rs of violated peace,\n Their rites and injur\u2019d altars to redress;\n Then, to his rage abandoning the rein,\n With blood and slaughter\u2019d bodies fills the plain.\n\n What god can tell, what numbers can display,\n The various labours of that fatal day;\n What chiefs and champions fell on either side,\n In combat slain, or by what deaths they died;\n Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill\u2019d;\n Who shar\u2019d the fame and fortune of the field!\n Jove, could\u2019st thou view, and not avert thy sight,\n Two jarring nations join\u2019d in cruel fight,\n Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite!\n\n Aeneas first Rutulian Sucro found,\n Whose valour made the Trojans quit their ground;\n Betwixt his ribs the jav\u2019lin drove so just,\n It reach\u2019d his heart, nor needs a second thrust.\n Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew;\n First from his horse fierce Amycus he threw:\n Then, leaping on the ground, on foot assail\u2019d\n Diores, and in equal fight prevail\u2019d.\n Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place;\n Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace.\n\n Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw,\n Whom without respite at one charge he slew:\n Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell oppress\u2019d,\n And sad Onythes, added to the rest,\n Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore.\n\n Turnus two brothers from the Lycian shore,\n And from Apollo\u2019s fane to battle sent,\n O\u2019erthrew; nor Phoebus could their fate prevent.\n Peaceful Menoetes after these he kill\u2019d,\n Who long had shunn\u2019d the dangers of the field:\n On Lerna\u2019s lake a silent life he led,\n And with his nets and angle earn\u2019d his bread;\n Nor pompous cares, nor palaces, he knew,\n But wisely from th\u2019 infectious world withdrew:\n Poor was his house; his father\u2019s painful hand\n Discharg\u2019d his rent, and plow\u2019d another\u2019s land.\n\n As flames among the lofty woods are thrown\n On diff\u2019rent sides, and both by winds are blown;\n The laurels crackle in the sputt\u2019ring fire;\n The frighted sylvans from their shades retire:\n Or as two neighb\u2019ring torrents fall from high;\n Rapid they run; the foamy waters fry;\n They roll to sea with unresisted force,\n And down the rocks precipitate their course:\n Not with less rage the rival heroes take\n Their diff\u2019rent ways, nor less destruction make.\n With spears afar, with swords at hand, they strike;\n And zeal of slaughter fires their souls alike.\n Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field;\n And hearts are pierc\u2019d, unknowing how to yield:\n They blow for blow return, and wound for wound;\n And heaps of bodies raise the level ground.\n\n Murranus, boasting of his blood, that springs\n From a long royal race of Latian kings,\n Is by the Trojan from his chariot thrown,\n Crush\u2019d with the weight of an unwieldy stone:\n Betwixt the wheels he fell; the wheels, that bore\n His living load, his dying body tore.\n His starting steeds, to shun the glitt\u2019ring sword,\n Paw down his trampled limbs, forgetful of their lord.\n\n Fierce Hyllus threaten\u2019d high, and, face to face,\n Affronted Turnus in the middle space:\n The prince encounter\u2019d him in full career,\n And at his temples aim\u2019d the deadly spear;\n So fatally the flying weapon sped,\n That thro\u2019 his brazen helm it pierc\u2019d his head.\n Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou scape from Turnus\u2019 hand,\n In vain the strongest of th\u2019 Arcadian band:\n Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford\n Availing aid against th\u2019 Aenean sword,\n Which to his naked heart pursued the course;\n Nor could his plated shield sustain the force.\n\n Iolas fell, whom not the Grecian pow\u2019rs,\n Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow\u2019rs,\n Were doom\u2019d to kill, while Heav\u2019n prolong\u2019d his date;\n But who can pass the bounds, prefix\u2019d by fate?\n In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held\n Two palaces, and was from each expell\u2019d:\n Of all the mighty man, the last remains\n A little spot of foreign earth contains.\n\n And now both hosts their broken troops unite\n In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight.\n Seresthus and undaunted Mnestheus join\n The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line:\n Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads\n The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads.\n They strike, they push, they throng the scanty space,\n Resolv\u2019d on death, impatient of disgrace;\n And, where one falls, another fills his place.\n\n The Cyprian goddess now inspires her son\n To leave th\u2019 unfinish\u2019d fight, and storm the town:\n For, while he rolls his eyes around the plain\n In quest of Turnus, whom he seeks in vain,\n He views th\u2019 unguarded city from afar,\n In careless quiet, and secure of war.\n Occasion offers, and excites his mind\n To dare beyond the task he first design\u2019d.\n Resolv\u2019d, he calls his chiefs; they leave the fight:\n Attended thus, he takes a neighb\u2019ring height;\n The crowding troops about their gen\u2019ral stand,\n All under arms, and wait his high command.\n Then thus the lofty prince: \u201cHear and obey,\n Ye Trojan bands, without the least delay\n Jove is with us; and what I have decreed\n Requires our utmost vigour, and our speed.\n Your instant arms against the town prepare,\n The source of mischief, and the seat of war.\n This day the Latian tow\u2019rs, that mate the sky,\n Shall level with the plain in ashes lie:\n The people shall be slaves, unless in time\n They kneel for pardon, and repent their crime.\n Twice have our foes been vanquish\u2019d on the plain:\n Then shall I wait till Turnus will be slain?\n Your force against the perjur\u2019d city bend.\n There it began, and there the war shall end.\n The peace profan\u2019d our rightful arms requires;\n Cleanse the polluted place with purging fires.\u201d\n\n He finish\u2019d; and, one soul inspiring all,\n Form\u2019d in a wedge, the foot approach the wall.\n Without the town, an unprovided train\n Of gaping, gazing citizens are slain.\n Some firebrands, others scaling ladders bear,\n And those they toss aloft, and these they rear:\n The flames now launch\u2019d, the feather\u2019d arrows fly,\n And clouds of missive arms obscure the sky.\n Advancing to the front, the hero stands,\n And, stretching out to heav\u2019n his pious hands,\n Attests the gods, asserts his innocence,\n Upbraids with breach of faith th\u2019 Ausonian prince;\n Declares the royal honour doubly stain\u2019d,\n And twice the rites of holy peace profan\u2019d.\n\n Dissenting clamours in the town arise;\n Each will be heard, and all at once advise.\n One part for peace, and one for war contends;\n Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends.\n The helpless king is hurried in the throng,\n And, whate\u2019er tide prevails, is borne along.\n Thus, when the swain, within a hollow rock,\n Invades the bees with suffocating smoke,\n They run around, or labour on their wings,\n Disus\u2019d to flight, and shoot their sleepy stings;\n To shun the bitter fumes in vain they try;\n Black vapours, issuing from the vent, involve the sky.\n\n But fate and envious fortune now prepare\n To plunge the Latins in the last despair.\n The queen, who saw the foes invade the town,\n And brands on tops of burning houses thrown,\n Cast round her eyes, distracted with her fear\u2014\n No troops of Turnus in the field appear.\n Once more she stares abroad, but still in vain,\n And then concludes the royal youth is slain.\n Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear\n The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air.\n She calls herself the cause of all this ill,\n And owns the dire effects of her ungovern\u2019d will;\n She raves against the gods; she beats her breast;\n She tears with both her hands her purple vest:\n Then round a beam a running noose she tied,\n And, fasten\u2019d by the neck, obscenely died.\n\n Soon as the fatal news by Fame was blown,\n And to her dames and to her daughter known,\n The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair\n And rosy cheeks; the rest her sorrow share:\n With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair.\n The spreading rumour fills the public place:\n Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace,\n And silent shame, are seen in ev\u2019ry face.\n Latinus tears his garments as he goes,\n Both for his public and his private woes;\n With filth his venerable beard besmears,\n And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs.\n And much he blames the softness of his mind,\n Obnoxious to the charms of womankind,\n And soon seduc\u2019d to change what he so well design\u2019d;\n To break the solemn league so long desir\u2019d,\n Nor finish what his fates, and those of Troy, requir\u2019d.\n\n Now Turnus rolls aloof o\u2019er empty plains,\n And here and there some straggling foes he gleans.\n His flying coursers please him less and less,\n Asham\u2019d of easy fight and cheap success.\n Thus half-contented, anxious in his mind,\n The distant cries come driving in the wind,\n Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown\u2019d;\n A jarring mixture, and a boding sound.\n \u201cAlas!\u201d said he, \u201cwhat mean these dismal cries?\n What doleful clamours from the town arise?\u201d\n Confus\u2019d, he stops, and backward pulls the reins.\n She who the driver\u2019s office now sustains,\n Replies: \u201cNeglect, my lord, these new alarms;\n Here fight, and urge the fortune of your arms:\n There want not others to defend the wall.\n If by your rival\u2019s hand th\u2019 Italians fall,\n So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress,\n In honour equal, equal in success.\u201d\n\n To this, the prince: \u201cO sister\u2014for I knew\n The peace infring\u2019d proceeded first from you;\n I knew you, when you mingled first in fight;\n And now in vain you would deceive my sight\u2014\n Why, goddess, this unprofitable care?\n Who sent you down from heav\u2019n, involv\u2019d in air,\n Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain,\n And see your brother bleeding on the plain?\n For to what pow\u2019r can Turnus have recourse,\n Or how resist his fate\u2019s prevailing force?\n These eyes beheld Murranus bite the ground:\n Mighty the man, and mighty was the wound.\n I heard my dearest friend, with dying breath,\n My name invoking to revenge his death.\n Brave Ufens fell with honour on the place,\n To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace.\n On earth supine, a manly corpse he lies;\n His vest and armour are the victor\u2019s prize.\n Then, shall I see Laurentum in a flame,\n Which only wanted, to complete my shame?\n How will the Latins hoot their champion\u2019s flight!\n How Drances will insult and point them to the sight!\n Is death so hard to bear? Ye gods below,\n (Since those above so small compassion show,)\n Receive a soul unsullied yet with shame,\n Which not belies my great forefather\u2019s name!\u201d\n\n He said; and while he spoke, with flying speed\n Came Sages urging on his foamy steed:\n Fix\u2019d on his wounded face a shaft he bore,\n And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before:\n \u201cTurnus, on you, on you alone, depends\n Our last relief: compassionate your friends!\n Like lightning, fierce Aeneas, rolling on,\n With arms invests, with flames invades the town:\n The brands are toss\u2019d on high; the winds conspire\n To drive along the deluge of the fire.\n All eyes are fix\u2019d on you: your foes rejoice;\n Ev\u2019n the king staggers, and suspends his choice;\n Doubts to deliver or defend the town,\n Whom to reject, or whom to call his son.\n The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac\u2019d,\n Herself suborning death, has breath\u2019d her last.\n \u2019Tis true, Messapus, fearless of his fate,\n With fierce Atinas\u2019 aid, defends the gate:\n On ev\u2019ry side surrounded by the foe,\n The more they kill, the greater numbers grow;\n An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow.\n You, far aloof from your forsaken bands,\n Your rolling chariot drive o\u2019er empty sands.\n\n Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin\u2019d,\n And various cares revolving in his mind:\n Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast,\n And sorrow mix\u2019d with shame, his soul oppress\u2019d;\n And conscious worth lay lab\u2019ring in his thought,\n And love by jealousy to madness wrought.\n By slow degrees his reason drove away\n The mists of passion, and resum\u2019d her sway.\n Then, rising on his car, he turn\u2019d his look,\n And saw the town involv\u2019d in fire and smoke.\n A wooden tow\u2019r with flames already blaz\u2019d,\n Which his own hands on beams and rafters rais\u2019d;\n And bridges laid above to join the space,\n And wheels below to roll from place to place.\n \u201cSister, the Fates have vanquish\u2019d: let us go\n The way which Heav\u2019n and my hard fortune show.\n The fight is fix\u2019d; nor shall the branded name\n Of a base coward blot your brother\u2019s fame.\n Death is my choice; but suffer me to try\n My force, and vent my rage before I die.\u201d\n He said; and, leaping down without delay,\n Thro\u2019 crowds of scatter\u2019d foes he freed his way.\n Striding he pass\u2019d, impetuous as the wind,\n And left the grieving goddess far behind.\n As when a fragment, from a mountain torn\n By raging tempests, or by torrents borne,\n Or sapp\u2019d by time, or loosen\u2019d from the roots\u2014\n Prone thro\u2019 the void the rocky ruin shoots,\n Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep;\n Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep:\n Involv\u2019d alike, they rush to nether ground;\n Stunn\u2019d with the shock they fall, and stunn\u2019d from earth rebound:\n So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town,\n Should\u2019ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down.\n Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew,\n Where shafts, and spears, and darts promiscuous flew,\n And sanguine streams the slipp\u2019ry ground embrue.\n First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace,\n He cries aloud, to make the combat cease:\n \u201cRutulians, hold; and Latin troops, retire!\n The fight is mine; and me the gods require.\n \u2019Tis just that I should vindicate alone\n The broken truce, or for the breach atone.\n This day shall free from wars th\u2019 Ausonian state,\n Or finish my misfortunes in my fate.\u201d\n\n Both armies from their bloody work desist,\n And, bearing backward, form a spacious list.\n The Trojan hero, who receiv\u2019d from fame\n The welcome sound, and heard the champion\u2019s name,\n Soon leaves the taken works and mounted walls,\n Greedy of war where greater glory calls.\n He springs to fight, exulting in his force\n His jointed armour rattles in the course.\n Like Eryx, or like Athos, great he shows,\n Or Father Apennine, when, white with snows,\n His head divine obscure in clouds he hides,\n And shakes the sounding forest on his sides.\n The nations, overaw\u2019d, surcease the fight;\n Immovable their bodies, fix\u2019d their sight.\n Ev\u2019n death stands still; nor from above they throw\n Their darts, nor drive their batt\u2019ring-rams below.\n In silent order either army stands,\n And drop their swords, unknowing, from their hands.\n Th\u2019 Ausonian king beholds, with wond\u2019ring sight,\n Two mighty champions match\u2019d in single fight,\n Born under climes remote, and brought by fate,\n With swords to try their titles to the state.\n\n Now, in clos\u2019d field, each other from afar\n They view; and, rushing on, begin the war.\n They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet;\n The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet:\n Their bucklers clash; thick blows descend from high,\n And flakes of fire from their hard helmets fly.\n Courage conspires with chance, and both engage\n With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage.\n As when two bulls for their fair female fight\n In Sila\u2019s shades, or on Taburnus\u2019 height;\n With horns adverse they meet; the keeper flies;\n Mute stands the herd; the heifers roll their eyes,\n And wait th\u2019 event; which victor they shall bear,\n And who shall be the lord, to rule the lusty year:\n With rage of love the jealous rivals burn,\n And push for push, and wound for wound return;\n Their dewlaps gor\u2019d, their sides are lav\u2019d in blood;\n Loud cries and roaring sounds rebellow thro\u2019 the wood:\n Such was the combat in the listed ground;\n So clash their swords, and so their shields resound.\n\n Jove sets the beam; in either scale he lays\n The champions\u2019 fate, and each exactly weighs.\n On this side, life and lucky chance ascends;\n Loaded with death, that other scale descends.\n Rais\u2019d on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow\n Full on the helm of his unguarded foe:\n Shrill shouts and clamours ring on either side,\n As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide.\n But all in pieces flies the traitor sword,\n And, in the middle stroke, deserts his lord.\n Now is but death, or flight; disarm\u2019d he flies,\n When in his hand an unknown hilt he spies.\n Fame says that Turnus, when his steeds he join\u2019d,\n Hurrying to war, disorder\u2019d in his mind,\n Snatch\u2019d the first weapon which his haste could find.\n \u2019Twas not the fated sword his father bore,\n But that his charioteer Metiscus wore.\n This, while the Trojans fled, the toughness held;\n But, vain against the great Vulcanian shield,\n The mortal-temper\u2019d steel deceiv\u2019d his hand:\n The shiver\u2019d fragments shone amid the sand.\n\n Surpris\u2019d with fear, he fled along the field,\n And now forthright, and now in orbits wheel\u2019d;\n For here the Trojan troops the list surround,\n And there the pass is clos\u2019d with pools and marshy ground.\n Aeneas hastens, tho\u2019 with heavier pace\u2014\n His wound, so newly knit, retards the chase,\n And oft his trembling knees their aid refuse\u2014\n Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues.\n\n Thus, when a fearful stag is clos\u2019d around\n With crimson toils, or in a river found,\n High on the bank the deep-mouth\u2019d hound appears,\n Still opening, following still, where\u2019er he steers;\n The persecuted creature, to and fro,\n Turns here and there, to scape his Umbrian foe:\n Steep is th\u2019 ascent, and, if he gains the land,\n The purple death is pitch\u2019d along the strand.\n His eager foe, determin\u2019d to the chase,\n Stretch\u2019d at his length, gains ground at ev\u2019ry pace;\n Now to his beamy head he makes his way,\n And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey:\n Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear;\n He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air:\n The rocks, the lakes, the meadows ring with cries;\n The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies.\n Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames\n His tardy troops, and, calling by their names,\n Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats\n The realm with ruin, and their ancient seats\n To lay in ashes, if they dare supply\n With arms or aid his vanquish\u2019d enemy:\n Thus menacing, he still pursues the course,\n With vigour, tho\u2019 diminish\u2019d of his force.\n Ten times already round the listed place\n One chief had fled, and t\u2019 other giv\u2019n the chase:\n No trivial prize is play\u2019d; for on the life\n Or death of Turnus now depends the strife.\n\n Within the space, an olive tree had stood,\n A sacred shade, a venerable wood,\n For vows to Faunus paid, the Latins\u2019 guardian god.\n Here hung the vests, and tablets were engrav\u2019d,\n Of sinking mariners from shipwreck sav\u2019d.\n With heedless hands the Trojans fell\u2019d the tree,\n To make the ground enclos\u2019d for combat free.\n Deep in the root, whether by fate, or chance,\n Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance;\n Then stoop\u2019d, and tugg\u2019d with force immense, to free\n Th\u2019 incumber\u2019d spear from the tenacious tree;\n That, whom his fainting limbs pursued in vain,\n His flying weapon might from far attain.\n\n Confus\u2019d with fear, bereft of human aid,\n Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus pray\u2019d:\n \u201cO Faunus, pity! and thou Mother Earth,\n Where I thy foster son receiv\u2019d my birth,\n Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand\n Your plant has honour\u2019d, which your foes profan\u2019d,\n Propitious hear my pious pray\u2019r!\u201d He said,\n Nor with successless vows invok\u2019d their aid.\n Th\u2019 incumbent hero wrench\u2019d, and pull\u2019d, and strain\u2019d;\n But still the stubborn earth the steel detain\u2019d.\n Juturna took her time; and, while in vain\n He strove, assum\u2019d Meticus\u2019 form again,\n And, in that imitated shape, restor\u2019d\n To the despairing prince his Daunian sword.\n The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief,\n Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief,\n T\u2019 assert her offspring with a greater deed,\n From the tough root the ling\u2019ring weapon freed.\n\n Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance:\n One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance;\n And both resolv\u2019d alike to try their fatal chance.\n\n Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke,\n Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock:\n \u201cWhat new arrest, O Queen of Heav\u2019n, is sent\n To stop the Fates now lab\u2019ring in th\u2019 event?\n What farther hopes are left thee to pursue?\n Divine Aeneas, (and thou know\u2019st it too,)\n Foredoom\u2019d, to these celestial seats are due.\n What more attempts for Turnus can be made,\n That thus thou ling\u2019rest in this lonely shade?\n Is it becoming of the due respect\n And awful honour of a god elect,\n A wound unworthy of our state to feel,\n Patient of human hands and earthly steel?\n Or seems it just, the sister should restore\n A second sword, when one was lost before,\n And arm a conquer\u2019d wretch against his conqueror?\n For what, without thy knowledge and avow,\n Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do?\n At last, in deference to my love, forbear\n To lodge within thy soul this anxious care;\n Reclin\u2019d upon my breast, thy grief unload:\n Who should relieve the goddess, but the god?\n Now all things to their utmost issue tend,\n Push\u2019d by the Fates to their appointed end.\n While leave was giv\u2019n thee, and a lawful hour\n For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow\u2019r,\n Toss\u2019d on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress,\n And, driv\u2019n ashore, with hostile arms oppress;\n Deform the royal house; and, from the side\n Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride:\n Now cease at my command.\u201d The Thund\u2019rer said;\n And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made:\n \u201cBecause your dread decree too well I knew,\n From Turnus and from earth unwilling I withdrew.\n Else should you not behold me here, alone,\n Involv\u2019d in empty clouds, my friends bemoan,\n But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight\n Engag\u2019d against my foes in mortal fight.\n \u2019Tis true, Juturna mingled in the strife\n By my command, to save her brother\u2019s life,\n At least to try; but, by the Stygian lake,\n (The most religious oath the gods can take,)\n With this restriction, not to bend the bow,\n Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw.\n And now, resign\u2019d to your superior might,\n And tir\u2019d with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight.\n This let me beg (and this no fates withstand)\n Both for myself and for your father\u2019s land,\n That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace,\n (Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless,)\n The laws of either nation be the same;\n But let the Latins still retain their name,\n Speak the same language which they spoke before,\n Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore.\n Call them not Trojans: perish the renown\n And name of Troy, with that detested town.\n Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign\n And Rome\u2019s immortal majesty remain.\u201d\n\n Then thus the founder of mankind replies\n (Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes)\n \u201cCan Saturn\u2019s issue, and heav\u2019n\u2019s other heir,\n Such endless anger in her bosom bear?\n Be mistress, and your full desires obtain;\n But quench the choler you foment in vain.\n From ancient blood th\u2019 Ausonian people sprung,\n Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue.\n The Trojans to their customs shall be tied:\n I will, myself, their common rites provide;\n The natives shall command, the foreigners subside.\n All shall be Latium; Troy without a name;\n And her lost sons forget from whence they came.\n From blood so mix\u2019d, a pious race shall flow,\n Equal to gods, excelling all below.\n No nation more respect to you shall pay,\n Or greater off\u2019rings on your altars lay.\u201d\n Juno consents, well pleas\u2019d that her desires\n Had found success, and from the cloud retires.\n\n The peace thus made, the Thund\u2019rer next prepares\n To force the wat\u2019ry goddess from the wars.\n Deep in the dismal regions void of light,\n Three daughters at a birth were born to Night:\n These their brown mother, brooding on her care,\n Indued with windy wings to flit in air,\n With serpents girt alike, and crown\u2019d with hissing hair.\n In heav\u2019n the Dirae call\u2019d, and still at hand,\n Before the throne of angry Jove they stand,\n His ministers of wrath, and ready still\n The minds of mortal men with fears to fill,\n Whene\u2019er the moody sire, to wreak his hate\n On realms or towns deserving of their fate,\n Hurls down diseases, death and deadly care,\n And terrifies the guilty world with war.\n One sister plague if these from heav\u2019n he sent,\n To fright Juturna with a dire portent.\n The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow\n Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow,\n Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies,\n And drench\u2019d in pois\u2019nous juice, the sure destruction flies.\n With such a sudden and unseen a flight\n Shot thro\u2019 the clouds the daughter of the night.\n Soon as the field inclos\u2019d she had in view,\n And from afar her destin\u2019d quarry knew,\n Contracted, to the boding bird she turns,\n Which haunts the ruin\u2019d piles and hallow\u2019d urns,\n And beats about the tombs with nightly wings,\n Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings.\n Thus lessen\u2019d in her form, with frightful cries\n The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies,\n Flaps on his shield, and flutters o\u2019er his eyes.\n\n A lazy chillness crept along his blood;\n Chok\u2019d was his voice; his hair with horror stood.\n Juturna from afar beheld her fly,\n And knew th\u2019 ill omen, by her screaming cry\n And stridor of her wings. Amaz\u2019d with fear,\n Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair.\n\n \u201cAh me!\u201d she cries, \u201cin this unequal strife\n What can thy sister more to save thy life?\n Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend\n In arms with that inexorable fiend?\n Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright\n My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night;\n The lashing of your wings I know too well,\n The sounding flight, and fun\u2019ral screams of hell!\n These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove,\n The worthy recompense of ravish\u2019d love!\n Did he for this exempt my life from fate?\n O hard conditions of immortal state,\n Tho\u2019 born to death, not privileg\u2019d to die,\n But forc\u2019d to bear impos\u2019d eternity!\n Take back your envious bribes, and let me go\n Companion to my brother\u2019s ghost below!\n The joys are vanish\u2019d: nothing now remains,\n Of life immortal, but immortal pains.\n What earth will open her devouring womb,\n To rest a weary goddess in the tomb!\u201d\n She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said,\n But in her azure mantle wrapp\u2019d her head,\n Then plung\u2019d into her stream, with deep despair,\n And her last sobs came bubbling up in air.\n\n Now stern Aeneas waves his weighty spear\n Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear:\n \u201cWhat farther subterfuge can Turnus find?\n What empty hopes are harbour\u2019d in his mind?\n \u2019Tis not thy swiftness can secure thy flight;\n Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight.\n Vary thy shape in thousand forms, and dare\n What skill and courage can attempt in war;\n Wish for the wings of winds, to mount the sky;\n Or hid, within the hollow earth to lie!\u201d\n The champion shook his head, and made this short reply:\n \u201cNo threats of thine my manly mind can move;\n \u2019Tis hostile heav\u2019n I dread, and partial Jove.\u201d\n He said no more, but, with a sigh, repress\u2019d\n The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast.\n\n Then, as he roll\u2019d his troubled eyes around,\n An antique stone he saw, the common bound\n Of neighb\u2019ring fields, and barrier of the ground;\n So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days\n Th\u2019 enormous weight from earth could hardly raise.\n He heav\u2019d it at a lift, and, pois\u2019d on high,\n Ran stagg\u2019ring on against his enemy,\n But so disorder\u2019d, that he scarcely knew\n His way, or what unwieldly weight he threw.\n His knocking knees are bent beneath the load,\n And shiv\u2019ring cold congeals his vital blood.\n The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short\n For want of vigour, mocks his vain effort.\n And as, when heavy sleep has clos\u2019d the sight,\n The sickly fancy labours in the night;\n We seem to run; and, destitute of force,\n Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course:\n In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry;\n The nerves, unbrac\u2019d, their usual strength deny;\n And on the tongue the falt\u2019ring accents die:\n So Turnus far\u2019d; whatever means he tried,\n All force of arms and points of art employ\u2019d,\n The Fury flew athwart, and made th\u2019 endeavor void.\n\n A thousand various thoughts his soul confound;\n He star\u2019d about, nor aid nor issue found;\n His own men stop the pass, and his own walls surround.\n Once more he pauses, and looks out again,\n And seeks the goddess charioteer in vain.\n Trembling he views the thund\u2019ring chief advance,\n And brandishing aloft the deadly lance:\n Amaz\u2019d he cow\u2019rs beneath his conqu\u2019ring foe,\n Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow.\n Astonish\u2019d while he stands, and fix\u2019d with fear,\n Aim\u2019d at his shield he sees th\u2019 impending spear.\n\n The hero measur\u2019d first, with narrow view,\n The destin\u2019d mark; and, rising as he threw,\n With its full swing the fatal weapon flew.\n Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls,\n Or stones from batt\u2019ring-engines break the walls:\n Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong,\n The lance drove on, and bore the death along.\n Naught could his sev\u2019nfold shield the prince avail,\n Nor aught, beneath his arms, the coat of mail:\n It pierc\u2019d thro\u2019 all, and with a grisly wound\n Transfix\u2019d his thigh, and doubled him to ground.\n With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky:\n Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply.\n\n Now low on earth the lofty chief is laid,\n With eyes cast upward, and with arms display\u2019d,\n And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray\u2019d:\n \u201cI know my death deserv\u2019d, nor hope to live:\n Use what the gods and thy good fortune give.\n Yet think, O think, if mercy may be shown,\n Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son.\n Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave;\n And for Anchises\u2019 sake old Daunus save!\n Or, if thy vow\u2019d revenge pursue my death,\n Give to my friends my body void of breath!\n The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life;\n Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife:\n Against a yielded man, \u2019tis mean ignoble strife.\u201d\n\n In deep suspense the Trojan seem\u2019d to stand,\n And, just prepar\u2019d to strike, repress\u2019d his hand.\n He roll\u2019d his eyes, and ev\u2019ry moment felt\n His manly soul with more compassion melt;\n When, casting down a casual glance, he spied\n The golden belt that glitter\u2019d on his side,\n The fatal spoils which haughty Turnus tore\n From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore.\n Then, rous\u2019d anew to wrath, he loudly cries\n (Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes)\n \u201cTraitor, dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend,\n Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend?\n To his sad soul a grateful off\u2019ring go!\n \u2019Tis Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow.\u201d\n He rais\u2019d his arm aloft, and, at the word,\n Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword.\n The streaming blood distain\u2019d his arms around;\n And the disdainful soul came rushing through the wound.","title":"The Aeneid","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":107551}