Virgil's Æneid.
Book I
translated by John
Dryden.
Return to Table
of Contents
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE
AENEIS
THE ARGUMENT.-- The Trojans,
after a seven years' voyage, set sail for Italy, but are overtaken by a
dreadful storm, which AEolus raises at Juno's request. The tempest
sinks
one, and scatters the rest. Neptune drives off the Winds,
and calms the sea. AEneas, with his own ship, and six more, arrives
safe
at an African port. Venus complains to Jupiter of her son's
misfortunes.
Jupiter comforts her, and sends Mercury to
procure him a kind reception among the Carthaginians. AEneas, going out
to discover the country, meets his mother in the shape of an huntress,
who conveys him in a cloud to Carthage, where he sees his friends whom
he thought lost, and receives a kind entertainment from the queen.
Dido,
by a device of Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and, after some
discourse with him, desires the history of his adventures since the
siege
of Troy, which is the subject of the two following books.
RMS,
and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,
And haughty Juno's
unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left
the Trojan
shore.
Long labors, both by sea
and land,
he bore,
And in the doubtful war,
before
he won
The Latian realm, and
built the
destin'd town;
His banish'd gods restor'd
to rites
divine,
And settled sure
succession in his
line,
From whence the race of
Alban fathers
come,
And the long glories of
majestic
Rome.
O Muse! the causes
and the
crimes relate;
What goddess was provok'd,
and whence
her hate;
For what offense the Queen
of Heav'n
began
To persecute so brave, so
just a
man;
Involv'd his anxious life
in endless
cares,
Expos'd to wants, and
hurried into
wars!
Can heav'nly minds such
high resentment
show,
Or exercise their spite in
human
woe?
Against the Tiber's
mouth,
but far away,
An ancient town was seated
on the
sea;
A Tyrian colony; the
people made
Stout for the war, and
studious
of their trade:
Carthage the name; belov'd
by Juno
more
Than her own Argos, or the
Samian
shore.
Here stood her chariot;
here, if
Heav'n were kind,
The seat of awful empire
she design'd.
Yet she had heard an
ancient rumor
fly,
(Long cited by the people
of the
sky,)
That times to come should
see the
Trojan race
Her Carthage ruin, and her
tow'rs
deface;
Nor thus confin'd, the
yoke of sov'reign
sway
Should on the necks of all
the nations
lay.
She ponder'd this, and
fear'd it
was in fate;
Nor could forget the war
she wag'd
of late
For conqu'ring Greece
against the
Trojan state.
Besides, long causes
working in
her mind,
And secret seeds of envy,
lay behind;
Deep graven in her heart
the doom
remain'd
Of partial Paris, and her
form disdain'd;
The grace bestow'd on
ravish'd Ganymed,
Electra's glories, and her
injur'd
bed.
Each was a cause alone;
and all
combin'd
To kindle vengeance in her
haughty
mind.
For this, far distant from
the Latian
coast
She drove the remnants of
the Trojan
host;
And sev'n long years th'
unhappy
wand'ring train
Were toss'd by storms, and
scatter'd
thro' the main.
Such time, such toil,
requir'd the
Roman name,
Such length of labor for
so vast
a frame.
Now scarce the Trojan
fleet, with
sails and oars,
Had left behind the fair
Sicilian
shores,
Ent'ring with cheerful
shouts the
wat'ry reign,
And plowing frothy furrows
in the
main;
When, lab'ring still with
endless
discontent,
The Queen of Heav'n did
thus her
fury vent:
"Then am I
vanquish'd? must
I yield?" said she,
"And must the Trojans
reign in Italy?
So Fate will have it, and
Jove adds
his force;
Nor can my pow'r divert
their happy
course.
Could angry Pallas, with
revengeful
spleen,
The Grecian navy burn, and
drown
the men?
She, for the fault of one
offending
foe,
The bolts of Jove himself
presum'd
to throw:
With whirlwinds from
beneath she
toss'd the ship,
And bare expos'd the bosom
of the
deep;
Then, as an eagle gripes
the trembling
game,
The wretch, yet hissing
with her
father's flame,
She strongly seiz'd, and
with a
burning wound
Transfix'd, and naked, on
a rock
she bound.
But I, who walk in awful
state above,
The majesty of heav'n, the
sister
wife of Jove,
For length of years my
fruitless
force employ
Against the thin remains
of ruin'd
Troy!
What nations now to Juno's
pow'r
will pray,
Or off'rings on my
slighted altars
lay?"
Thus rag'd the
goddess; and,
with fury fraught,
The restless regions of
the storms
she sought,
Where, in a spacious cave
of living
stone,
The tyrant AEolus, from
his airy
throne,
With pow'r imperial curbs
the struggling
winds,
And sounding tempests in
dark prisons
binds.
This way and that th'
impatient
captives tend,
And, pressing for release,
the mountains
rend.
High in his hall th'
undaunted monarch
stands,
And shakes his scepter,
and their
rage commands;
Which did he not, their
unresisted
sway
Would sweep the world
before them
in their way;
Earth, air, and seas thro'
empty
space would roll,
And heav'n would fly
before the
driving soul.
In fear of this, the
Father of the
Gods
Confin'd their fury to
those dark
abodes,
And lock'd 'em safe
within, oppress'd
with mountain loads;
Impos'd a king, with
arbitrary sway,
To loose their fetters, or
their
force allay.
To whom the suppliant
queen her
pray'rs address'd,
And thus the tenor of her
suit express'd:
"O AEolus! for to thee the
King
of Heav'n
The pow'r of tempests and
of winds
has giv'n;
Thy force alone their fury
can restrain,
And smooth the waves, or
swell the
troubled main--
A race of wand'ring
slaves, abhorr'd
by me,
With prosp'rous passage
cut the
Tuscan sea;
To fruitful Italy their
course they
steer,
And for their vanquish'd
gods design
new temples there
Raise all thy winds; with
night
involve the skies;
Sink or disperse my fatal
enemies.
Twice sev'n, the charming
daughters
of the main,
Around my person wait, and
bear
my train:
Succeed my wish, and
second my design;
The fairest, Deiopeia,
shall be
thine,
And make thee father of a
happy
line."
To this the god:
"'T is yours,
O queen, to will
The work which duty binds
me to
fulfil.
These airy kingdoms, and
this wide
command,
Are all the presents of
your bounteous
hand:
Yours is my sov'reign's
grace; and,
as your guest,
I sit with gods at their
celestial
feast;
Raise tempests at your
pleasure,
or subdue;
Dispose of empire, which I
hold
from you."
He said, and hurl'd
against
the mountain side
His quiv'ring spear, and
all the
god applied.
The raging winds rush
thro' the
hollow wound,
And dance aloft in air,
and skim
along the ground;
Then, settling on the sea,
the surges
sweep,
Raise liquid mountains,
and disclose
the deep.
South, East, and West with
mix'd
confusion roar,
And roll the foaming
billows to
the shore.
The cables crack; the
sailors' fearful
cries
Ascend; and sable night
involves
the skies;
And heav'n itself is
ravish'd from
their eyes.
Loud peals of thunder from
the poles
ensue;
Then flashing fires the
transient
light renew;
The face of things a
frightful image
bears,
And present death in
various forms
appears.
Struck with unusual
fright, the
Trojan chief,
With lifted hands and
eyes, invokes
relief;
And, "Thrice and four
times happy
those," he cried,
"That under Ilian walls
before their
parents died!
Tydides, bravest of the
Grecian
train!
Why could not I by that
strong arm
be slain,
And lie by noble Hector on
the plain,
Or great Sarpedon, in
those bloody
fields
Where Simois rolls the
bodies and
the shields
Of heroes, whose
dismember'd hands
yet bear
The dart aloft, and clench
the pointed
spear!"
Thus while the
pious prince
his fate bewails,
Fierce Boreas drove
against his
flying sails,
And rent the sheets; the
raging
billows rise,
And mount the tossing
vessel to
the skies:
Nor can the shiv'ring oars
sustain
the blow;
The galley gives her side,
and turns
her prow;
While those astern,
descending down
the steep,
Thro' gaping waves behold
the boiling
deep.
Three ships were hurried
by the
southern blast,
And on the secret shelves
with fury
cast.
Those hidden rocks th'
Ausonian
sailors knew:
They call'd them Altars,
when they
rose in view,
And show'd their spacious
backs
above the flood.
Three more fierce Eurus,
in his
angry mood,
Dash'd on the shallows of
the moving
sand,
And in mid ocean left them
moor'd
aland.
Orontes' bark, that bore
the Lycian
crew,
(A horrid sight!) ev'n in
the hero's
view,
From stem to stern by
waves was
overborne:
The trembling pilot, from
his rudder
torn,
Was headlong hurl'd;
thrice round
the ship was toss'd,
Then bulg'd at once, and
in the
deep was lost;
And here and there above
the waves
were seen
Arms, pictures, precious
goods,
and floating men.
The stoutest vessel to the
storm
gave way,
And suck'd thro' loosen'd
planks
the rushing sea.
Ilioneus was her chief:
Alethes
old,
Achates faithful, Abas
young and
bold,
Endur'd not less; their
ships, with
gaping seams,
Admit the deluge of the
briny streams.
Meantime imperial
Neptune
heard the sound
Of raging billows breaking
on the
ground.
Displeas'd, and fearing
for his
wat'ry reign,
He rear'd his awful head
above the
main,
Serene in majesty; then
roll'd his
eyes
Around the space of earth,
and seas,
and skies.
He saw the Trojan fleet
dispers'd,
distress'd,
By stormy winds and wintry
heav'n
oppress'd.
Full well the god his
sister's envy
knew,
And what her aims and what
her arts
pursue.
He summon'd Eurus and the
western
blast,
And first an angry glance
on both
he cast;
Then thus rebuk'd:
"Audacious winds!
from whence
This bold attempt, this
rebel insolence?
Is it for you to ravage
seas and
land,
Unauthoriz'd by my supreme
command?
To raise such mountains on
the troubled
main?
Whom I--but first 't is
fit the
billows to restrain;
And then you shall be
taught obedience
to my reign.
Hence! to your lord my
royal mandate
bear--
The realms of ocean and
the fields
of air
Are mine, not his. By
fatal lot
to me
The liquid empire fell,
and trident
of the sea.
His pow'r to hollow
caverns is confin'd:
There let him reign, the
jailer
of the wind,
With hoarse commands his
breathing
subjects call,
And boast and bluster in
his empty
hall."
He spoke; and, while he
spoke, he
smooth'd the sea,
Dispell'd the darkness,
and restor'd
the day.
Cymothoe, Triton, and the
sea-green
train
Of beauteous nymphs, the
daughters
of the main,
Clear from the rocks the
vessels
with their hands:
The god himself with ready
trident
stands,
And opes the deep, and
spreads the
moving sands;
Then heaves them off the
shoals.
Where'er he guides
His finny coursers and in
triumph
rides,
The waves unruffle and the
sea subsides.
As, when in tumults rise
th' ignoble
crowd,
Mad are their motions, and
their
tongues are loud;
And stones and brands in
rattling
volleys fly,
And all the rustic arms
that fury
can supply:
If then some grave and
pious man
appear,
They hush their noise, and
lend
a list'ning ear;
He soothes with sober
words their
angry mood,
And quenches their innate
desire
of blood:
So, when the Father of the
Flood
appears,
And o'er the seas his
sov'reign
trident rears,
Their fury falls: he skims
the liquid
plains,
High on his chariot, and,
with loosen'd
reins,
Majestic moves along, and
awful
peace maintains.
The weary Trojans ply
their shatter'd
oars
To nearest land, and make
the Libyan
shores.
Within a long
recess there
lies a bay:
An island shades it from
the rolling
sea,
And forms a port secure
for ships
to ride;
Broke by the jutting land,
on either
side,
In double streams the
briny waters
glide.
Betwixt two rows of rocks
a sylvan
scene
Appears above, and groves
for ever
green:
A grot is form'd beneath,
with mossy
seats,
To rest the Nereids, and
exclude
the heats.
Down thro' the crannies of
the living
walls
The crystal streams
descend in murm'ring
falls:
No haulsers need to bind
the vessels
here,
Nor bearded anchors; for
no storms
they fear.
Sev'n ships within this
happy harbor
meet,
The thin remainders of the
scatter'd
fleet.
The Trojans, worn with
toils, and
spent with woes,
Leap on the welcome land,
and seek
their wish'd repose.
First, good
Achates, with
repeated strokes
Of clashing flints, their
hidden
fire provokes:
Short flame succeeds; a
bed of wither'd
leaves
The dying sparkles in
their fall
receives:
Caught into life, in fiery
fumes
they rise,
And, fed with stronger
food, invade
the skies.
The Trojans, dropping wet,
or stand
around
The cheerful blaze, or lie
along
the ground:
Some dry their corn,
infected with
the brine,
Then grind with marbles,
and prepare
to dine.
AEneas climbs the
mountain's airy
brow,
And takes a prospect of
the seas
below,
If Capys thence, or
Antheus he could
spy,
Or see the streamers of
Caicus fly.
No vessels were in view;
but, on
the plain,
Three beamy stags command
a lordly
train
Of branching heads: the
more ignoble
throng
Attend their stately
steps, and
slowly graze along.
He stood; and, while
secure they
fed below,
He took the quiver and the
trusty
bow
Achates us'd to bear: the
leaders
first
He laid along, and then
the vulgar
pierc'd;
Nor ceas'd his arrows,
till the
shady plain
Sev'n mighty bodies with
their blood
distain.
For the sev'n ships he
made an equal
share,
And to the port return'd,
triumphant
from the war.
The jars of gen'rous wine
(Acestes'
gift,
When his Trinacrian shores
the navy
left)
He set abroach, and for
the feast
prepar'd,
In equal portions with the
ven'son
shar'd.
Thus while he dealt it
round, the
pious chief
With cheerful words
allay'd the
common grief:
"Endure, and conquer! Jove
will
soon dispose
To future good our past
and present
woes.
With me, the rocks of
Scylla you
have tried;
Th' inhuman Cyclops and
his den
defied.
What greater ills
hereafter can
you bear?
Resume your courage and
dismiss
your care,
An hour will come, with
pleasure
to relate
Your sorrows past, as
benefits of
Fate.
Thro' various hazards and
events,
we move
To Latium and the realms
foredoom'd
by Jove.
Call'd to the seat (the
promise
of the skies)
Where Trojan kingdoms once
again
may rise,
Endure the hardships of
your present
state;
Live, and reserve
yourselves for
better fate."
These words he
spoke, but
spoke not from his heart;
His outward smiles
conceal'd his
inward smart.
The jolly crew, unmindful
of the
past,
The quarry share, their
plenteous
dinner haste.
Some strip the skin; some
portion
out the spoil;
The limbs, yet trembling,
in the
caldrons boil;
Some on the fire the
reeking entrails
broil.
Stretch'd on the grassy
turf, at
ease they dine,
Restore their strength
with meat,
and cheer their souls with wine.
Their hunger thus
appeas'd, their
care attends
The doubtful fortune of
their absent
friends:
Alternate hopes and fears
their
minds possess,
Whether to deem 'em dead,
or in
distress.
Above the rest, AEneas
mourns the
fate
Of brave Orontes, and th'
uncertain
state
Of Gyas, Lycus, and of
Amycus.
The day, but not their
sorrows,
ended thus.
When, from aloft,
almighty
Jove surveys
Earth, air, and shores,
and navigable
seas,
At length on Libyan realms
he fix'd
his eyes--
Whom, pond'ring thus on
human miseries,
When Venus saw, she with a
lowly
look,
Not free from tears, her
heav'nly
sire bespoke:
"O King of Gods and
Men!
whose awful hand
Disperses thunder on the
seas and
land,
Disposing all with
absolute command;
How could my pious son thy
pow'r
incense?
Or what, alas! is vanish'd
Troy's
offense?
Our hope of Italy not only
lost,
On various seas by various
tempests
toss'd,
But shut from ev'ry shore,
and barr'd
from ev'ry coast.
You promis'd once, a
progeny divine
Of Romans, rising from the
Trojan
line,
In after times should hold
the world
in awe,
And to the land and ocean
give the
law.
How is your doom revers'd,
which
eas'd my care
When Troy was ruin'd in
that cruel
war?
Then fates to fates I
could oppose;
but now,
When Fortune still pursues
her former
blow,
What can I hope? What
worse can
still succeed?
What end of labors has
your will
decreed?
Antenor, from the midst of
Grecian
hosts,
Could pass secure, and
pierce th'
Illyrian coasts,
Where, rolling down the
steep, Timavus
raves
And thro' nine channels
disembogues
his waves.
At length he founded
Padua's happy
seat,
And gave his Trojans a
secure retreat;
There fix'd their arms,
and there
renew'd their name,
And there in quiet rules,
and crown'd
with fame.
But we, descended from
your sacred
line,
Entitled to your heav'n
and rites
divine,
Are banish'd earth; and,
for the
wrath of one,
Remov'd from Latium and
the promis'd
throne.
Are these our scepters?
these our
due rewards?
And is it thus that Jove
his plighted
faith regards?"
To whom the Father
of th'
immortal race,
Smiling with that serene
indulgent
face,
With which he drives the
clouds
and clears the skies,
First gave a holy kiss;
then thus
replies:
"Daughter, dismiss
thy fears;
to thy desire
The fates of thine are
fix'd, and
stand entire.
Thou shalt behold thy
wish'd Lavinian
walls;
And, ripe for heav'n, when
fate
AEneas calls,
Then shalt thou bear him
up, sublime,
to me:
No councils have revers'd
my firm
decree.
And, lest new fears
disturb thy
happy state,
Know, I have search'd the
mystic
rolls of Fate:
Thy son (nor is th'
appointed season
far)
In Italy shall wage
successful war,
Shall tame fierce nations
in the
bloody field,
And sov'reign laws impose,
and cities
build,
Till, after ev'ry foe
subdued, the
sun
Thrice thro' the signs his
annual
race shall run:
This is his time prefix'd.
Ascanius
then,
Now call'd Iulus, shall
begin his
reign.
He thirty rolling years
the crown
shall wear,
Then from Lavinium shall
the seat
transfer,
And, with hard labor, Alba
Longa
build.
The throne with his
succession shall
be fill'd
Three hundred circuits
more: then
shall be seen
Ilia the fair, a priestess
and a
queen,
Who, full of Mars, in
time, with
kindly throes,
Shall at a birth two
goodly boys
disclose.
The royal babes a tawny
wolf shall
drain:
Then Romulus his
grandsire's throne
shall gain,
Of martial tow'rs the
founder shall
become,
The people Romans call,
the city
Rome.
To them no bounds of
empire I assign,
Nor term of years to their
immortal
line.
Ev'n haughty Juno, who,
with endless
broils,
Earth, seas, and heav'n,
and Jove
himself turmoils;
At length aton'd, her
friendly pow'r
shall join,
To cherish and advance the
Trojan
line.
The subject world shall
Rome's dominion
own,
And, prostrate, shall
adore the
nation of the gown.
An age is ripening in
revolving
fate
When Troy shall overturn
the Grecian
state,
And sweet revenge her
conqu'ring
sons shall call,
To crush the people that
conspir'd
her fall.
Then Caesar from the
Julian stock
shall rise,
Whose empire ocean, and
whose fame
the skies
Alone shall bound; whom,
fraught
with eastern spoils,
Our heav'n, the just
reward of human
toils,
Securely shall repay with
rites
divine;
And incense shall ascend
before
his sacred shrine.
Then dire debate and
impious war
shall cease,
And the stern age be
soften'd into
peace:
Then banish'd Faith shall
once again
return,
And Vestal fires in
hallow'd temples
burn;
And Remus with Quirinus
shall sustain
The righteous laws, and
fraud and
force restrain.
Janus himself before his
fane shall
wait,
And keep the dreadful
issues of
his gate,
With bolts and iron bars:
within
remains
Imprison'd Fury, bound in
brazen
chains;
High on a trophy rais'd,
of useless
arms,
He sits, and threats the
world with
vain alarms."
He said, and sent
Cyllenius
with command
To free the ports, and ope
the Punic
land
To Trojan guests; lest,
ignorant
of fate,
The queen might force them
from
her town and state.
Down from the steep of
heav'n Cyllenius
flies,
And cleaves with all his
wings the
yielding skies.
Soon on the Libyan shore
descends
the god,
Performs his message, and
displays
his rod:
The surly murmurs of the
people
cease;
And, as the fates
requir'd, they
give the peace:
The queen herself suspends
the rigid
laws,
The Trojans pities, and
protects
their cause.
Meantime, in shades
of night
AEneas lies:
Care seiz'd his soul, and
sleep
forsook his eyes.
But, when the sun restor'd
the cheerful
day,
He rose, the coast and
country to
survey,
Anxious and eager to
discover more.
It look'd a wild
uncultivated shore;
But, whether humankind, or
beasts
alone
Possess'd the new-found
region,
was unknown.
Beneath a ledge of rocks
his fleet
he hides:
Tall trees surround the
mountain's
shady sides;
The bending brow above a
safe retreat
provides.
Arm'd with two pointed
darts, he
leaves his friends,
And true Achates on his
steps attends.
Lo! in the deep recesses
of the
wood,
Before his eyes his
goddess mother
stood:
A huntress in her habit
and her
mien;
Her dress a maid, her air
confess'd
a queen.
Bare were her knees, and
knots her
garments bind;
Loose was her hair, and
wanton'd
in the wind;
Her hand sustain'd a bow;
her quiver
hung behind.
She seem'd a virgin of the
Spartan
blood:
With such array Harpalyce
bestrode
Her Thracian courser and
outstripp'd
the rapid flood.
"Ho, strangers! have you
lately
seen," she said,
"One of my sisters, like
myself
array'd,
Who cross'd the lawn, or
in the
forest stray'd?
A painted quiver at her
back she
bore;
Varied with spots, a
lynx's hide
she wore;
And at full cry pursued
the tusky
boar."
Thus Venus: thus
her son
replied again:
"None of your sisters have
we heard
or seen,
O virgin! or what other
name you
bear
Above that style--O more
than mortal
fair!
Your voice and mien
celestial birth
betray!
If, as you seem, the
sister of the
day,
Or one at least of chaste
Diana's
train,
Let not an humble
suppliant sue
in vain;
But tell a stranger, long
in tempests
toss'd,
What earth we tread, and
who commands
the coast?
Then on your name shall
wretched
mortals call,
And offer'd victims at
your altars
fall."
"I dare not," she replied,
"assume
the name
Of goddess, or celestial
honors
claim:
For Tyrian virgins bows
and quivers
bear,
And purple buskins o'er
their ankles
wear.
Know, gentle youth, in
Libyan lands
you are--
A people rude in peace,
and rough
in war.
The rising city, which
from far
you see,
Is Carthage, and a Tyrian
colony.
Phoenician Dido rules the
growing
state,
Who fled from Tyre, to
shun her
brother's hate.
Great were her wrongs, her
story
full of fate;
Which I will sum in short.
Sichaeus,
known
For wealth, and brother to
the Punic
throne,
Possess'd fair Dido's bed;
and either
heart
At once was wounded with
an equal
dart.
Her father gave her, yet a
spotless
maid;
Pygmalion then the Tyrian
scepter
sway'd:
One who contemn'd divine
and human
laws.
Then strife ensued, and
cursed gold
the cause.
The monarch, blinded with
desire
of wealth,
With steel invades his
brother's
life by stealth;
Before the sacred altar
made him
bleed,
And long from her
conceal'd the
cruel deed.
Some tale, some new
pretense, he
daily coin'd,
To soothe his sister, and
delude
her mind.
At length, in dead of
night, the
ghost appears
Of her unhappy lord: the
specter
stares,
And, with erected eyes,
his bloody
bosom bares.
The cruel altars and his
fate he
tells,
And the dire secret of his
house
reveals,
Then warns the widow, with
her household
gods,
To seek a refuge in remote
abodes.
Last, to support her in so
long
a way,
He shows her where his
hidden treasure
lay.
Admonish'd thus, and
seiz'd with
mortal fright,
The queen provides
companions of
her flight:
They meet, and all combine
to leave
the state,
Who hate the tyrant, or
who fear
his hate.
They seize a fleet, which
ready
rigg'd they find;
Nor is Pygmalion's
treasure left
behind.
The vessels, heavy laden,
put to
sea
With prosp'rous winds; a
woman leads
the way.
I know not, if by stress
of weather
driv'n,
Or was their fatal course
dispos'd
by Heav'n;
At last they landed, where
from
far your eyes
May view the turrets of
new Carthage
rise;
There bought a space of
ground,
which (Byrsa call'd,
From the bull's hide) they
first
inclos'd, and wall'd.
But whence are you? what
country
claims your birth?
What seek you, strangers,
on our
Libyan earth?"
To whom, with
sorrow streaming
from his eyes,
And deeply sighing, thus
her son
replies:
"Could you with patience
hear, or
I relate,
O nymph, the tedious
annals of our
fate!
Thro' such a train of woes
if I
should run,
The day would sooner than
the tale
be done!
From ancient Troy, by
force expell'd,
we came--
If you by chance have
heard the
Trojan name.
On various seas by various
tempests
toss'd,
At length we landed on
your Libyan
coast.
The good AEneas am I
call'd--a name,
While Fortune favor'd, not
unknown
to fame.
My household gods,
companions of
my woes,
With pious care I rescued
from our
foes.
To fruitful Italy my
course was
bent;
And from the King of
Heav'n is my
descent.
With twice ten sail I
cross'd the
Phrygian sea;
Fate and my mother goddess
led my
way.
Scarce sev'n, the thin
remainders
of my fleet,
From storms preserv'd,
within your
harbor meet.
Myself distress'd, an
exile, and
unknown,
Debarr'd from Europe, and
from Asia
thrown,
In Libyan desarts wander
thus alone."
His tender parent
could no
longer bear;
But, interposing, sought
to soothe
his care.
"Whoe'er you are--not
unbelov'd
by Heav'n,
Since on our friendly
shore your
ships are driv'n--
Have courage: to the gods
permit
the rest,
And to the queen expose
your just
request.
Now take this earnest of
success,
for more:
Your scatter'd fleet is
join'd upon
the shore;
The winds are chang'd,
your friends
from danger free;
Or I renounce my skill in
augury.
Twelve swans behold in
beauteous
order move,
And stoop with closing
pinions from
above;
Whom late the bird of Jove
had driv'n
along,
And thro' the clouds
pursued the
scatt'ring throng:
Now, all united in a
goodly team,
They skim the ground, and
seek the
quiet stream.
As they, with joy
returning, clap
their wings,
And ride the circuit of
the skies
in rings;
Not otherwise your ships,
and ev'ry
friend,
Already hold the port, or
with swift
sails descend.
No more advice is needful;
but pursue
The path before you, and
the town
in view."
Thus having said,
she turn'd,
and made appear
Her neck refulgent, and
dishevel'd
hair,
Which, flowing from her
shoulders,
reach'd the ground.
And widely spread
ambrosial scents
around:
In length of train
descends her
sweeping gown;
And, by her graceful walk,
the Queen
of Love is known.
The prince pursued the
parting deity
With words like these:
"Ah! whither
do you fly?
Unkind and cruel! to
deceive your
son
In borrow'd shapes, and
his embrace
to shun;
Never to bless my sight,
but thus
unknown;
And still to speak in
accents not
your own."
Against the goddess these
complaints
he made,
But took the path, and her
commands
obey'd.
They march, obscure; for
Venus kindly
shrouds
With mists their persons,
and involves
in clouds,
That, thus unseen, their
passage
none might stay,
Or force to tell the
causes of their
way.
This part perform'd, the
goddess
flies sublime
To visit Paphos and her
native clime;
Where garlands, ever green
and ever
fair,
With vows are offer'd, and
with
solemn pray'r:
A hundred altars in her
temple smoke;
A thousand bleeding hearts
her pow'r
invoke.
They climb the next
ascent,
and, looking down,
Now at a nearer distance
view the
town.
The prince with wonder
sees the
stately tow'rs,
Which late were huts and
shepherds'
homely bow'rs,
The gates and streets; and
hears,
from ev'ry part,
The noise and busy
concourse of
the mart.
The toiling Tyrians on
each other
call
To ply their labor: some
extend
the wall;
Some build the citadel;
the brawny
throng
Or dig, or push unwieldly
stones
along.
Some for their dwellings
choose
a spot of ground,
Which, first design'd,
with ditches
they surround.
Some laws ordain; and some
attend
the choice
Of holy senates, and elect
by voice.
Here some design a mole,
while others
there
Lay deep foundations for a
theater;
From marble quarries
mighty columns
hew,
For ornaments of scenes,
and future
view.
Such is their toil, and
such their
busy pains,
As exercise the bees in
flow'ry
plains,
When winter past, and
summer scarce
begun,
Invites them forth to
labor in the
sun;
Some lead their youth
abroad, while
some condense
Their liquid store, and
some in
cells dispense;
Some at the gate stand
ready to
receive
The golden burthen, and
their friends
relieve;
All with united force,
combine to
drive
The lazy drones from the
laborious
hive:
With envy stung, they view
each
other's deeds;
The fragrant work with
diligence
proceeds.
"Thrice happy you, whose
walls already
rise!"
AEneas said, and view'd,
with lifted
eyes,
Their lofty tow'rs; then,
ent'ring
at the gate,
Conceal'd in clouds
(prodigious
to relate)
He mix'd, unmark'd, among
the busy
throng,
Borne by the tide, and
pass'd unseen
along.
Full in the center
of the
town there stood,
Thick set with trees, a
venerable
wood.
The Tyrians, landing near
this holy
ground,
And digging here, a
prosp'rous omen
found:
From under earth a
courser's head
they drew,
Their growth and future
fortune
to foreshew.
This fated sign their
foundress
Juno gave,
Of a soil fruitful, and a
people
brave.
Sidonian Dido here with
solemn state
Did Juno's temple build,
and consecrate,
Enrich'd with gifts, and
with a
golden shrine;
But more the goddess made
the place
divine.
On brazen steps the marble
threshold
rose,
And brazen plates the
cedar beams
inclose:
The rafters are with
brazen cov'rings
crown'd;
The lofty doors on brazen
hinges
sound.
What first AEneas in this
place
beheld,
Reviv'd his courage, and
his fear
expell'd.
For while, expecting there
the queen,
he rais'd
His wond'ring eyes, and
round the
temple gaz'd,
Admir'd the fortune of the
rising
town,
The striving artists, and
their
arts' renown;
He saw, in order painted
on the
wall,
Whatever did unhappy Troy
befall:
The wars that fame around
the world
had blown,
All to the life, and ev'ry
leader
known.
There Agamemnon, Priam
here, he
spies,
And fierce Achilles, who
both kings
defies.
He stopp'd, and weeping
said: "O
friend! ev'n here
The monuments of Trojan
woes appear!
Our known disasters fill
ev'n foreign
lands:
See there, where old
unhappy Priam
stands!
Ev'n the mute walls relate
the warrior's
fame,
And Trojan griefs the
Tyrians' pity
claim."
He said (his tears a ready
passage
find),
Devouring what he saw so
well design'd,
And with an empty picture
fed his
mind:
For there he saw the
fainting Grecians
yield,
And here the trembling
Trojans quit
the field,
Pursued by fierce Achilles
thro'
the plain,
On his high chariot
driving o'er
the slain.
The tents of Rhesus next
his grief
renew,
By their white sails
betray'd to
nightly view;
And wakeful Diomede, whose
cruel
sword
The sentries slew, nor
spar'd their
slumb'ring lord,
Then took the fiery
steeds, ere
yet the food
Of Troy they taste, or
drink the
Xanthian flood.
Elsewhere he saw where
Troilus defied
Achilles, and unequal
combat tried;
Then, where the boy
disarm'd, with
loosen'd reins,
Was by his horses hurried
o'er the
plains,
Hung by the neck and hair,
and dragg'd
around:
The hostile spear, yet
sticking
in his wound,
With tracks of blood
inscrib'd the
dusty ground.
Meantime the Trojan dames,
oppress'd
with woe,
To Pallas' fane in long
procession
go,
In hopes to reconcile
their heav'nly
foe.
They weep, they beat their
breasts,
they rend their hair,
And rich embroider'd vests
for presents
bear;
But the stern goddess
stands unmov'd
with pray'r.
Thrice round the Trojan
walls Achilles
drew
The corpse of Hector, whom
in fight
he slew.
Here Priam sues; and
there, for
sums of gold,
The lifeless body of his
son is
sold.
So sad an object, and so
well express'd,
Drew sighs and groans from
the griev'd
hero's breast,
To see the figure of his
lifeless
friend,
And his old sire his
helpless hand
extend.
Himself he saw amidst the
Grecian
train,
Mix'd in the bloody battle
on the
plain;
And swarthy Memnon in his
arms he
knew,
His pompous ensigns, and
his Indian
crew.
Penthisilea there, with
haughty
grace,
Leads to the wars an
Amazonian race.
In their right hands a
pointed dart
they wield;
The left, for ward,
sustains the
lunar shield.
Athwart her breast a
golden belt
she throws,
Amidst the press alone
provokes
a thousand foes,
And dares her maiden arms
to manly
force oppose.
Thus while the
Trojan prince
employs his eyes,
Fix'd on the walls with
wonder and
surprise,
The beauteous Dido, with a
num'rous
train
And pomp of guards,
ascends the
sacred fane.
Such on Eurotas' banks, or
Cynthus'
height,
Diana seems; and so she
charms the
sight,
When in the dance the
graceful goddess
leads
The choir of nymphs, and
overtops
their heads:
Known by her quiver, and
her lofty
mien,
She walks majestic, and
she looks
their queen;
Latona sees her shine
above the
rest,
And feeds with secret joy
her silent
breast.
Such Dido was; with such
becoming
state,
Amidst the crowd, she
walks serenely
great.
Their labor to her future
sway she
speeds,
And passing with a
gracious glance
proceeds;
Then mounts the throne,
high plac'd
before the shrine:
In crowds around, the
swarming people
join.
She takes petitions, and
dispenses
laws,
Hears and determines ev'ry
private
cause;
Their tasks in equal
portions she
divides,
And, where unequal, there
by lots
decides.
Another way by chance
AEneas bends
His eyes, and unexpected
sees his
friends,
Antheus, Sergestus grave,
Cloanthus
strong,
And at their backs a
mighty Trojan
throng,
Whom late the tempest on
the billows
toss'd,
And widely scatter'd on
another
coast.
The prince, unseen,
surpris'd with
wonder stands,
And longs, with joyful
haste, to
join their hands;
But, doubtful of the
wish'd event,
he stays,
And from the hollow cloud
his friends
surveys,
Impatient till they told
their present
state,
And where they left their
ships,
and what their fate,
And why they came, and
what was
their request;
For these were sent,
commission'd
by the rest,
To sue for leave to land
their sickly
men,
And gain admission to the
gracious
queen.
Ent'ring, with cries they
fill'd
the holy fane;
Then thus, with lowly
voice, Ilioneus
began:
"O queen! indulg'd
by favor
of the gods
To found an empire in
these new
abodes,
To build a town, with
statutes to
restrain
The wild inhabitants
beneath thy
reign,
We wretched Trojans,
toss'd on ev'ry
shore,
From sea to sea, thy
clemency implore.
Forbid the fires our
shipping to
deface!
Receive th' unhappy
fugitives to
grace,
And spare the remnant of a
pious
race!
We come not with design of
wasteful
prey,
To drive the country,
force the
swains away:
Nor such our strength, nor
such
is our desire;
The vanquish'd dare not to
such
thoughts aspire.
A land there is, Hesperia
nam'd
of old;
The soil is fruitful, and
the men
are bold--
Th' OEnotrians held it
once--by
common fame
Now call'd Italia, from
the leader's
name.
To that sweet region was
our voyage
bent,
When winds and ev'ry
warring element
Disturb'd our course, and,
far from
sight of land,
Cast our torn vessels on
the moving
sand:
The sea came on; the
South, with
mighty roar,
Dispers'd and dash'd the
rest upon
the rocky shore.
Those few you see escap'd
the storm,
and fear,
Unless you interpose, a
shipwreck
here.
What men, what monsters,
what inhuman
race,
What laws, what barb'rous
customs
of the place,
Shut up a desart shore to
drowning
men,
And drive us to the cruel
seas again?
If our hard fortune no
compassion
draws,
Nor hospitable rights, nor
human
laws,
The gods are just, and
will revenge
our cause.
AEneas was our prince: a
juster
lord,
Or nobler warrior, never
drew a
sword;
Observant of the right,
religious
of his word.
If yet he lives, and draws
this
vital air,
Nor we, his friends, of
safety shall
despair;
Nor you, great queen,
these offices
repent,
Which he will equal, and
perhaps
augment.
We want not cities, nor
Sicilian
coasts,
Where King Acestes Trojan
lineage
boasts.
Permit our ships a shelter
on your
shores,
Refitted from your woods
with planks
and oars,
That, if our prince be
safe, we
may renew
Our destin'd course, and
Italy pursue.
But if, O best of men, the
Fates
ordain
That thou art swallow'd in
the Libyan
main,
And if our young Iulus be
no more,
Dismiss our navy from your
friendly
shore,
That we to good Acestes
may return,
And with our friends our
common
losses mourn."
Thus spoke Ilioneus: the
Trojan
crew
With cries and clamors his
request
renew.
The modest queen a
while,
with downcast eyes,
Ponder'd the speech; then
briefly
thus replies:
"Trojans, dismiss your
fears; my
cruel fate,
And doubts attending an
unsettled
state,
Force me to guard my coast
from
foreign foes.
Who has not heard the
story of your
woes,
The name and fortune of
your native
place,
The fame and valor of the
Phrygian
race?
We Tyrians are not so
devoid of
sense,
Nor so remote from
Phoebus' influence.
Whether to Latian shores
your course
is bent,
Or, driv'n by tempests
from your
first intent,
You seek the good Acestes'
government,
Your men shall be
receiv'd, your
fleet repair'd,
And sail, with ships of
convoy for
your guard:
Or, would you stay, and
join your
friendly pow'rs
To raise and to defend the
Tyrian
tow'rs,
My wealth, my city, and
myself are
yours.
And would to Heav'n, the
storm,
you felt, would bring
On Carthaginian coasts
your wand'ring
king.
My people shall, by my
command,
explore
The ports and creeks of
ev'ry winding
shore,
And towns, and wilds, and
shady
woods, in quest
Of so renown'd and so
desir'd a
guest."
Rais'd in his mind
the Trojan
hero stood,
And long'd to break from
out his
ambient cloud:
Achates found it, and thus
urg'd
his way:
"From whence, O
goddess-born, this
long delay?
What more can you desire,
your welcome
sure,
Your fleet in safety, and
your friends
secure?
One only wants; and him we
saw in
vain
Oppose the storm, and
swallow'd
in the main.
Orontes in his fate our
forfeit
paid;
The rest agrees with what
your mother
said."
Scarce had be spoken, when
the cloud
gave way,
The mists flew upward and
dissolv'd
in day.
The Trojan chief
appear'd
in open sight,
August in visage, and
serenely bright.
His mother goddess, with
her hands
divine,
Had form'd his curling
locks, and
made his temples shine,
And giv'n his rolling eyes
a sparkling
grace,
And breath'd a youthful
vigor on
his face;
Like polish'd iv'ry,
beauteous to
behold,
Or Parian marble, when
enchas'd
in gold:
Thus radiant from the
circling cloud
he broke,
And thus with manly
modesty he spoke:
"He whom you seek
am I; by
tempests toss'd,
And sav'd from shipwreck
on your
Libyan coast;
Presenting, gracious
queen, before
your throne,
A prince that owes his
life to you
alone.
Fair majesty, the refuge
and redress
Of those whom fate
pursues, and
wants oppress,
You, who your pious
offices employ
To save the relics of
abandon'd
Troy;
Receive the shipwreck'd on
your
friendly shore,
With hospitable rites
relieve the
poor;
Associate in your town a
wand'ring
train,
And strangers in your
palace entertain:
What thanks can wretched
fugitives
return,
Who, scatter'd thro' the
world,
in exile mourn?
The gods, if gods to
goodness are
inclin'd;
If acts of mercy touch
their heav'nly
mind,
And, more than all the
gods, your
gen'rous heart,
Conscious of worth,
requite its
own desert!
In you this age is happy,
and this
earth,
And parents more than
mortal gave
you birth.
While rolling rivers into
seas shall
run,
And round the space of
heav'n the
radiant sun;
While trees the mountain
tops with
shades supply,
Your honor, name, and
praise shall
never die.
Whate'er abode my fortune
has assign'd,
Your image shall be
present in my
mind."
Thus having said, he
turn'd with
pious haste,
And joyful his expecting
friends
embrac'd:
With his right hand
Ilioneus was
grac'd,
Serestus with his left;
then to
his breast
Cloanthus and the noble
Gyas press'd;
And so by turns descended
to the
rest.
The Tyrian queen
stood fix'd
upon his face,
Pleas'd with his motions,
ravish'd
with his grace;
Admir'd his fortunes, more
admir'd
the man;
Then recollected stood,
and thus
began:
"What fate, O
goddess-born; what
angry pow'rs
Have cast you shipwrack'd
on our
barren shores?
Are you the great AEneas,
known
to fame,
Who from celestial seed
your lineage
claim?
The same AEneas
whom fair
Venus bore
To fam'd Anchises on th'
Idaean
shore?
It calls into my mind,
tho' then
a child,
When Teucer came, from
Salamis exil'd,
And sought my father's
aid, to be
restor'd:
My father Belus then with
fire and
sword
Invaded Cyprus, made the
region
bare,
And, conqu'ring, finish'd
the successful
war.
From him the Trojan siege
I understood,
The Grecian chiefs, and
your illustrious
blood.
Your foe himself the
Dardan valor
prais'd,
And his own ancestry from
Trojans
rais'd.
Enter, my noble guest, and
you shall
find,
If not a costly welcome,
yet a kind:
For I myself, like you,
have been
distress'd,
Till Heav'n afforded me
this place
of rest;
Like you, an alien in a
land unknown,
I learn to pity woes so
like my
own."
She said, and to the
palace led
her guest;
Then offer'd incense, and
proclaim'd
a feast.
Nor yet less careful for
her absent
friends,
Twice ten fat oxen to the
ships
she sends;
Besides a hundred boars, a
hundred
lambs,
With bleating cries,
attend their
milky dams;
And jars of gen'rous wine
and spacious
bowls
She gives, to cheer the
sailors'
drooping souls.
Now purple hangings clothe
the palace
walls,
And sumptuous feasts are
made in
splendid halls:
On Tyrian carpets, richly
wrought,
they dine;
With loads of massy plate
the sideboards
shine,
And antique vases, all of
gold emboss'd
(The gold itself inferior
to the
cost),
Of curious work, where on
the sides
were seen
The fights and figures of
illustrious
men,
From their first founder
to the
present queen.
The good AEneas,
whose paternal
care
Iulus' absence could no
longer bear,
Dispatch'd Achates to the
ships
in haste,
To give a glad relation of
the past,
And, fraught with precious
gifts,
to bring the boy,
Snatch'd from the ruins of
unhappy
Troy:
A robe of tissue, stiff
with golden
wire;
An upper vest, once
Helen's rich
attire,
From Argos by the fam'd
adultress
brought,
With golden flow'rs and
winding
foliage wrought,
Her mother Leda's present,
when
she came
To ruin Troy and set the
world on
flame;
The scepter Priam's eldest
daughter
bore,
Her orient necklace, and
the crown
she wore;
Of double texture,
glorious to behold,
One order set with gems,
and one
with gold.
Instructed thus, the wise
Achates
goes,
And in his diligence his
duty shows.
But Venus, anxious
for her
son's affairs,
New counsels tries, and
new designs
prepares:
That Cupid should assume
the shape
and face
Of sweet Ascanius, and the
sprightly
grace;
Should bring the presents,
in her
nephew's stead,
And in Eliza's veins the
gentle
poison shed:
For much she fear'd the
Tyrians,
double-tongued,
And knew the town to
Juno's care
belong'd.
These thoughts by night
her golden
slumbers broke,
And thus alarm'd, to
winged Love
she spoke:
"My son, my strength,
whose mighty
pow'r alone
Controls the Thund'rer on
his awful
throne,
To thee thy much-afflicted
mother
flies,
And on thy succor and thy
faith
relies.
Thou know'st, my son, how
Jove's
revengeful wife,
By force and fraud,
attempts thy
brother's life;
And often hast thou
mourn'd with
me his pains.
Him Dido now with
blandishment detains;
But I suspect the town
where Juno
reigns.
For this 't is needful to
prevent
her art,
And fire with love the
proud Phoenician's
heart:
A love so violent, so
strong, so
sure,
As neither age can change,
nor art
can cure.
How this may be perform'd,
now take
my mind:
Ascanius by his father is
design'd
To come, with presents
laden, from
the port,
To gratify the queen, and
gain the
court.
I mean to plunge the boy
in pleasing
sleep,
And, ravish'd, in Idalian
bow'rs
to keep,
Or high Cythera, that the
sweet
deceit
May pass unseen, and none
prevent
the cheat.
Take thou his form and
shape. I
beg the grace
But only for a night's
revolving
space:
Thyself a boy, assume a
boy's dissembled
face;
That when, amidst the
fervor of
the feast,
The Tyrian hugs and fonds
thee on
her breast,
And with sweet kisses in
her arms
constrains,
Thou may'st infuse thy
venom in
her veins."
The God of Love obeys, and
sets
aside
His bow and quiver, and
his plumy
pride;
He walks Iulus in his
mother's sight,
And in the sweet
resemblance takes
delight.
The goddess then to
young
Ascanius flies,
And in a pleasing slumber
seals
his eyes:
Lull'd in her lap, amidst
a train
of Loves,
She gently bears him to
her blissful
groves,
Then with a wreath of
myrtle crowns
his head,
And softly lays him on a
flow'ry
bed.
Cupid meantime assum'd his
form
and face,
Foll'wing Achates with a
shorter
pace,
And brought the gifts. The
queen
already sate
Amidst the Trojan lords,
in shining
state,
High on a golden bed: her
princely
guest
Was next her side; in
order sate
the rest.
Then canisters with bread
are heap'd
on high;
Th' attendants water for
their hands
supply,
And, having wash'd, with
silken
towels dry.
Next fifty handmaids in
long order
bore
The censers, and with
fumes the
gods adore:
Then youths, and virgins
twice as
many, join
To place the dishes, and
to serve
the wine.
The Tyrian train, admitted
to the
feast,
Approach, and on the
painted couches
rest.
All on the Trojan gifts
with wonder
gaze,
But view the beauteous boy
with
more amaze,
His rosy-color'd cheeks,
his radiant
eyes,
His motions, voice, and
shape, and
all the god's disguise;
Nor pass unprais'd the
vest and
veil divine,
Which wand'ring foliage
and rich
flow'rs entwine.
But, far above the rest,
the royal
dame,
(Already doom'd to love's
disastrous
flame,)
With eyes insatiate, and
tumultuous
joy,
Beholds the presents, and
admires
the boy.
The guileful god about the
hero
long,
With children's play, and
false
embraces, hung;
Then sought the queen: she
took
him to her arms
With greedy pleasure, and
devour'd
his charms.
Unhappy Dido little
thought what
guest,
How dire a god, she drew
so near
her breast;
But he, not mindless of
his mother's
pray'r,
Works in the pliant bosom
of the
fair,
And molds her heart anew,
and blots
her former care.
The dead is to the living
love resign'd;
And all AEneas enters in
her mind.
Now, when the rage
of hunger
was appeas'd,
The meat remov'd, and
ev'ry guest
was pleas'd,
The golden bowls with
sparkling
wine are crown'd,
And thro' the palace
cheerful cries
resound.
From gilded roofs
depending lamps
display
Nocturnal beams, that
emulate the
day.
A golden bowl, that shone
with gems
divine,
The queen commanded to be
crown'd
with wine:
The bowl that Belus us'd,
and all
the Tyrian line.
Then, silence thro' the
hall proclaim'd,
she spoke:
"O hospitable Jove! we
thus invoke,
With solemn rites, thy
sacred name
and pow'r;
Bless to both nations this
auspicious
hour!
So may the Trojan and the
Tyrian
line
In lasting concord from
this day
combine.
Thou, Bacchus, god of joys
and friendly
cheer,
And gracious Juno, both be
present
here!
And you, my lords of Tyre,
your
vows address
To Heav'n with mine, to
ratify the
peace."
The goblet then she took,
with nectar
crown'd
(Sprinkling the first
libations
on the ground,)
And rais'd it to her mouth
with
sober grace;
Then, sipping, offer'd to
the next
in place.
'T was Bitias whom she
call'd, a
thirsty soul;
He took the challenge, and
embrac'd
the bowl,
With pleasure swill'd the
gold,
nor ceas'd to draw,
Till he the bottom of the
brimmer
saw.
The goblet goes around:
Iopas brought
His golden lyre, and sung
what ancient
Atlas taught:
The various labors of the
wand'ring
moon,
And whence proceed th'
eclipses
of the sun;
Th' original of men and
beasts;
and whence
The rains arise, and fires
their
warmth dispense,
And fix'd and erring stars
dispose
their influence;
What shakes the solid
earth; what
cause delays
The summer nights and
shortens winter
days.
With peals of shouts the
Tyrians
praise the song:
Those peals are echo'd by
the Trojan
throng.
Th' unhappy queen with
talk prolong'd
the night,
And drank large draughts
of love
with vast delight;
Of Priam much enquir'd, of
Hector
more;
Then ask'd what arms the
swarthy
Memnon wore,
What troops he landed on
the Trojan
shore;
The steeds of Diomede
varied the
discourse,
And fierce Achilles, with
his matchless
force;
At length, as fate and her
ill stars
requir'd,
To hear the series of the
war desir'd.
"Relate at large, my
godlike guest,"
she said,
"The Grecian stratagems,
the town
betray'd:
The fatal issue of so long
a war,
Your flight, your
wand'rings, and
your woes, declare;
For, since on ev'ry sea,
on ev'ry
coast,
Your men have been
distress'd, your
navy toss'd,
Sev'n times the sun has
either tropic
view'd,
The winter banish'd, and
the spring
renew'd."
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