Virgil's Æneid.
Book III
translated by John
Dryden.
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of Contents
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE
AENEIS
THE ARGUMENT.-- AEneas
proceeds
in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet with which he sail'd,
and the success of his first voyage to Thrace. From thence he directs
his
course to Delos, and asks the oracle what place the gods had appointed
for his habitation. By a mistake of the oracle's answer, he settles in
Crete; his household gods give him the true sense of the oracle, in a
dream.
He follows their advice, and makes the best of his way for Italy. He is
cast on several shores, and meets with very surprising adventures, till
at length he lands on Sicily, where his father Anchises dies. This is
the
place which he was sailing from, when the tempest rose, and threw him
upon
the Carthaginian coast.
"WHEN
Heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state
And Priam's throne, by too
severe
a fate;
When ruin'd Troy became
the Grecians'
prey,
And Ilium's lofty tow'rs
in ashes
lay;
Warn'd by celestial omens,
we retreat,
To seek in foreign lands a
happier
seat.
Near old Antandros, and at
Ida's
foot,
The timber of the sacred
groves
we cut,
And build our fleet;
uncertain yet
to find
What place the gods for
our repose
assign'd.
Friends daily flock; and
scarce
the kindly spring
Began to clothe the
ground, and
birds to sing,
When old Anchises summon'd
all to
sea:
The crew my father and the
Fates
obey.
With sighs and tears I
leave my
native shore,
And empty fields, where
Ilium stood
before.
My sire, my son, our less
and greater
gods,
All sail at once, and
cleave the
briny floods.
"Against our coast
appears
a spacious land,
Which once the fierce
Lycurgus did
command,
(Thracia the name--the
people bold
in war;
Vast are their fields, and
tillage
is their care,)
A hospitable realm while
Fate was
kind,
With Troy in friendship
and religion
join'd.
I land; with luckless
omens then
adore
Their gods, and draw a
line along
the shore;
I lay the deep foundations
of a
wall,
And AEnos, nam'd from me,
the city
call.
To Dionaean Venus vows are
paid,
And all the pow'rs that
rising labors
aid;
A bull on Jove's imperial
altar
laid.
Not far, a rising hillock
stood
in view;
Sharp myrtles on the
sides, and
cornels grew.
There, while I went to
crop the
sylvan scenes,
And shade our altar with
their leafy
greens,
I pull'd a plant--with
horror I
relate
A prodigy so strange and
full of
fate.
The rooted fibers rose,
and from
the wound
Black bloody drops
distill'd upon
the ground.
Mute and amaz'd, my hair
with terror
stood;
Fear shrunk my sinews, and
congeal'd
my blood.
Mann'd once again, another
plant
I try:
That other gush'd with the
same
sanguine dye.
Then, fearing guilt for
some offense
unknown,
With pray'rs and vows the
Dryads
I atone,
With all the sisters of
the woods,
and most
The God of Arms, who rules
the Thracian
coast,
That they, or he, these
omens would
avert,
Release our fears, and
better signs
impart.
Clear'd, as I thought, and
fully
fix'd at length
To learn the cause, I
tugged with
all my strength:
I bent my knees against
the ground;
once more
The violated myrtle ran
with gore.
Scarce dare I tell the
sequel: from
the womb
Of wounded earth, and
caverns of
the tomb,
A groan, as of a troubled
ghost,
renew'd
My fright, and then these
dreadful
words ensued:
'Why dost thou thus my
buried body
rend?
O spare the corpse of thy
unhappy
friend!
Spare to pollute thy pious
hands
with blood:
The tears distil not from
the wounded
wood;
But ev'ry drop this living
tree
contains
Is kindred blood, and ran
in Trojan
veins.
O fly from this
unhospitable shore,
Warn'd by my fate; for I
am Polydore!
Here loads of lances, in
my blood
embrued,
Again shoot upward, by my
blood
renew'd.'
"My falt'ring
tongue and
shiv'ring limbs declare
My horror, and in bristles
rose
my hair.
When Troy with Grecian
arms was
closely pent,
Old Priam, fearful of the
war's
event,
This hapless Polydore to
Thracia
sent:
Loaded with gold, he sent
his darling,
far
From noise and tumults,
and destructive
war,
Committed to the faithless
tyrant's
care;
Who, when he saw the pow'r
of Troy
decline,
Forsook the weaker, with
the strong
to join;
Broke ev'ry bond of nature
and of
truth,
And murder'd, for his
wealth, the
royal youth.
O sacred hunger of
pernicious gold!
What bands of faith can
impious
lucre hold?
Now, when my soul had
shaken off
her fears,
I call my father and the
Trojan
peers;
Relate the prodigies of
Heav'n,
require
What he commands, and
their advice
desire.
All vote to leave that
execrable
shore,
Polluted with the blood of
Polydore;
But, ere we sail, his
fun'ral rites
prepare,
Then, to his ghost, a tomb
and altars
rear.
In mournful pomp the
matrons walk
the round,
With baleful cypress and
blue fillets
crown'd,
With eyes dejected, and
with hair
unbound.
Then bowls of tepid milk
and blood
we pour,
And thrice invoke the soul
of Polydore.
"Now, when the
raging storms
no longer reign,
But southern gales invite
us to
the main,
We launch our vessels,
with a prosp'rous
wind,
And leave the cities and
the shores
behind.
"An island in th'
AEgaean
main appears;
Neptune and wat'ry Doris
claim it
theirs.
It floated once, till
Phoebus fix'd
the sides
To rooted earth, and now
it braves
the tides.
Here, borne by friendly
winds, we
come ashore,
With needful ease our
weary limbs
restore,
And the Sun's temple and
his town
adore.
"Anius, the priest
and king,
with laurel crown'd,
His hoary locks with
purple fillets
bound,
Who saw my sire the Delian
shore
ascend,
Came forth with eager
haste to meet
his friend;
Invites him to his palace;
and,
in sign
Of ancient love, their
plighted
hands they join.
Then to the temple of the
god I
went,
And thus, before the
shrine, my
vows present:
'Give, O Thymbraeus, give
a resting
place
To the sad relics of the
Trojan
race;
A seat secure, a region of
their
own,
A lasting empire, and a
happier
town.
Where shall we fix? where
shall
our labors end?
Whom shall we follow, and
what fate
attend?
Let not my pray'rs a
doubtful answer
find;
But in clear auguries
unveil thy
mind.'
Scarce had I said: he
shook the
holy ground,
The laurels, and the lofty
hills
around;
And from the tripos rush'd
a bellowing
sound.
Prostrate we fell;
confess'd the
present god,
Who gave this answer from
his dark
abode:
'Undaunted youths, go,
seek that
mother earth
From which your ancestors
derive
their birth.
The soil that sent you
forth, her
ancient race
In her old bosom shall
again embrace.
Thro' the wide world th'
AEneian
house shall reign,
And children's children
shall the
crown sustain.'
Thus Phoebus did our
future fates
disclose:
A mighty tumult, mix'd
with joy,
arose.
"All are concern'd
to know
what place the god
Assign'd, and where
determin'd our
abode.
My father, long revolving
in his
mind
The race and lineage of
the Trojan
kind,
Thus answer'd their
demands: 'Ye
princes, hear
Your pleasing fortune, and
dispel
your fear.
The fruitful isle of
Crete, well
known to fame,
Sacred of old to Jove's
imperial
name,
In the mid ocean lies,
with large
command,
And on its plains a
hundred cities
stand.
Another Ida rises there,
and we
From thence derive our
Trojan ancestry.
From thence, as 't is
divulg'd by
certain fame,
To the Rhoetean shores old
Teucrus
came;
There fix'd, and there the
seat
of empire chose,
Ere Ilium and the Trojan
tow'rs
arose.
In humble vales they built
their
soft abodes,
Till Cybele, the mother of
the gods,
With tinkling cymbals
charm'd th'
Idaean woods,
She secret rites and
ceremonies
taught,
And to the yoke the savage
lions
brought.
Let us the land which
Heav'n appoints,
explore;
Appease the winds, and
seek the
Gnossian shore.
If Jove assists the
passage of our
fleet,
The third propitious dawn
discovers
Crete.'
Thus having said, the
sacrifices,
laid
On smoking altars, to the
gods he
paid:
A bull, to Neptune an
oblation due,
Another bull to bright
Apollo slew;
A milk-white ewe, the
western winds
to please,
And one coal-black, to
calm the
stormy seas.
Ere this, a flying rumor
had been
spread
That fierce Idomeneus from
Crete
was fled,
Expell'd and exil'd; that
the coast
was free
From foreign or domestic
enemy.
"We leave the
Delian ports,
and put to sea;
By Naxos, fam'd for
vintage, make
our way;
Then green Donysa pass;
and sail
in sight
Of Paros' isle, with
marble quarries
white.
We pass the scatter'd
isles of Cyclades,
That, scarce
distinguish'd, seem
to stud the seas.
The shouts of sailors
double near
the shores;
They stretch their canvas,
and they
ply their oars.
'All hands aloft! for
Crete! for
Crete!' they cry,
And swiftly thro' the
foamy billows
fly.
Full on the promis'd land
at length
we bore,
With joy descending on the
Cretan
shore.
With eager haste a rising
town I
frame,
Which from the Trojan
Pergamus I
name:
The name itself was
grateful; I
exhort
To found their houses, and
erect
a fort.
Our ships are haul'd upon
the yellow
strand;
The youth begin to till
the labor'd
land;
And I myself new marriages
promote,
Give laws, and dwellings I
divide
by lot;
When rising vapors choke
the wholesome
air,
And blasts of noisome
winds corrupt
the year;
The trees devouring
caterpillars
burn;
Parch'd was the grass, and
blighted
was the corn:
Nor 'scape the beasts; for
Sirius,
from on high,
With pestilential heat
infects the
sky:
My men--some fall, the
rest in fevers
fry.
Again my father bids me
seek the
shore
Of sacred Delos, and the
god implore,
To learn what end of woes
we might
expect,
And to what clime our
weary course
direct.
"'T was night, when
ev'ry
creature, void of cares,
The common gift of balmy
slumber
shares:
The statues of my gods
(for such
they seem'd),
Those gods whom I from
flaming Troy
redeem'd,
Before me stood,
majestically bright,
Full in the beams of
Phoebe's ent'ring
light.
Then thus they spoke, and
eas'd
my troubled mind:
'What from the Delian god
thou go'st
to find,
He tells thee here, and
sends us
to relate.
Those pow'rs are we,
companions
of thy fate,
Who from the burning town
by thee
were brought,
Thy fortune follow'd, and
thy safety
wrought.
Thro' seas and lands as we
thy steps
attend,
So shall our care thy
glorious race
befriend.
An ample realm for thee
thy fates
ordain,
A town that o'er the
conquer'd world
shall reign.
Thou, mighty walls for
mighty nations
build;
Nor let thy weary mind to
labors
yield:
But change thy seat; for
not the
Delian god,
Nor we, have giv'n thee
Crete for
our abode.
A land there is, Hesperia
call'd
of old,
(The soil is fruitful, and
the natives
bold--
Th' OEnotrians held it
once,) by
later fame
Now call'd Italia, from
the leader's
name.
Iasius there and Dardanus
were born;
From thence we came, and
thither
must return.
Rise, and thy sire with
these glad
tidings greet.
Search Italy; for Jove
denies thee
Crete.'
"Astonish'd at
their voices
and their sight,
(Nor were they dreams, but
visions
of the night;
I saw, I knew their faces,
and descried,
In perfect view, their
hair with
fillets tied;)
I started from my couch; a
clammy
sweat
On all my limbs and
shiv'ring body
sate.
To heav'n I lift my hands
with pious
haste,
And sacred incense in the
flames
I cast.
Thus to the gods their
perfect honors
done,
More cheerful, to my good
old sire
I run,
And tell the pleasing
news. In little
space
He found his error of the
double
race;
Not, as before he deem'd,
deriv'd
from Crete;
No more deluded by the
doubtful
seat:
Then said: 'O son,
turmoil'd in
Trojan fate!
Such things as these
Cassandra did
relate.
This day revives within my
mind
what she
Foretold of Troy renew'd
in Italy,
And Latian lands; but who
could
then have thought
That Phrygian gods to
Latium should
be brought,
Or who believ'd what mad
Cassandra
taught?
Now let us go where
Phoebus leads
the way.'
"He said; and we
with glad
consent obey,
Forsake the seat, and,
leaving few
behind,
We spread our sails before
the willing
wind.
Now from the sight of land
our galleys
move,
With only seas around and
skies
above;
When o'er our heads
descends a burst
of rain,
And night with sable
clouds involves
the main;
The ruffling winds the
foamy billows
raise;
The scatter'd fleet is
forc'd to
sev'ral ways;
The face of heav'n is
ravish'd from
our eyes,
And in redoubled peals the
roaring
thunder flies.
Cast from our course, we
wander
in the dark.
No stars to guide, no
point of land
to mark.
Ev'n Palinurus no
distinction found
Betwixt the night and day;
such
darkness reign'd around
Three starless nights the
doubtful
navy strays,
Without distinction, and
three sunless
days;
The fourth renews the
light, and,
from our shrouds,
We view a rising land,
like distant
clouds;
The mountain-tops confirm
the pleasing
sight,
And curling smoke
ascending from
their height.
The canvas falls; their
oars the
sailors ply;
From the rude strokes the
whirling
waters fly.
At length I land upon the
Strophades,
Safe from the danger of
the stormy
seas.
Those isles are compass'd
by th'
Ionian main,
The dire abode where the
foul Harpies
reign,
Forc'd by the winged
warriors to
repair
To their old homes, and
leave their
costly fare.
Monsters more fierce
offended Heav'n
ne'er sent
From hell's abyss, for
human punishment:
With virgin faces, but
with wombs
obscene,
Foul paunches, and with
ordure still
unclean;
With claws for hands, and
looks
for ever lean.
"We landed at the
port, and
soon beheld
Fat herds of oxen graze
the flow'ry
field,
And wanton goats without a
keeper
stray'd.
With weapons we the
welcome prey
invade,
Then call the gods for
partners
of our feast,
And Jove himself, the
chief invited
guest.
We spread the tables on
the greensward
ground;
We feed with hunger, and
the bowls
go round;
When from the
mountain-tops, with
hideous cry,
And clatt'ring wings, the
hungry
Harpies fly;
They snatch the meat,
defiling all
they find,
And, parting, leave a
loathsome
stench behind.
Close by a hollow rock,
again we
sit,
New dress the dinner, and
the beds
refit,
Secure from sight, beneath
a pleasing
shade,
Where tufted trees a
native arbor
made.
Again the holy fires on
altars burn;
And once again the
rav'nous birds
return,
Or from the dark recesses
where
they lie,
Or from another quarter of
the sky;
With filthy claws their
odious meal
repeat,
And mix their loathsome
ordures
with their meat.
I bid my friends for
vengeance then
prepare,
And with the hellish
nation wage
the war.
They, as commanded, for
the fight
provide,
And in the grass their
glitt'ring
weapons hide;
Then, when along the
crooked shore
we hear
Their clatt'ring wings,
and saw
the foes appear,
Misenus sounds a charge:
we take
th' alarm,
And our strong hands with
swords
and bucklers arm.
In this new kind of combat
all employ
Their utmost force, the
monsters
to destroy.
In vain--the fated skin is
proof
to wounds;
And from their plumes the
shining
sword rebounds.
At length rebuff'd, they
leave their
mangled prey,
And their stretch'd
pinions to the
skies display.
Yet one remain'd--the
messenger
of Fate:
High on a craggy cliff
Celaeno sate,
And thus her dismal errand
did relate:
'What! not contented with
our oxen
slain,
Dare you with Heav'n an
impious
war maintain,
And drive the Harpies from
their
native reign?
Heed therefore what I say;
and keep
in mind
What Jove decrees, what
Phoebus
has design'd,
And I, the Furies' queen,
from both
relate--
You seek th' Italian
shores, foredoom'd
by fate:
Th' Italian shores are
granted you
to find,
And a safe passage to the
port assign'd.
But know, that ere your
promis'd
walls you build,
My curses shall severely
be fulfill'd.
Fierce famine is your lot
for this
misdeed,
Reduc'd to grind the
plates on which
you feed.'
She said, and to the
neighb'ring
forest flew.
Our courage fails us, and
our fears
renew.
Hopeless to win by war, to
pray'rs
we fall,
And on th' offended
Harpies humbly
call,
And whether gods or birds
obscene
they were,
Our vows for pardon and
for peace
prefer.
But old Anchises, off'ring
sacrifice,
And lifting up to heav'n
his hands
and eyes,
Ador'd the greater gods:
'Avert,'
said he,
'These omens; render vain
this prophecy,
And from th' impending
curse a pious
people free!'
"Thus having said,
he bids
us put to sea;
We loose from shore our
haulsers,
and obey,
And soon with swelling
sails pursue
the wat'ry way.
Amidst our course,
Zacynthian woods
appear;
And next by rocky Neritos
we steer:
We fly from Ithaca's
detested shore,
And curse the land which
dire Ulysses
bore.
At length Leucate's cloudy
top appears,
And the Sun's temple,
which the
sailor fears.
Resolv'd to breathe a
while from
labor past,
Our crooked anchors from
the prow
we cast,
And joyful to the little
city haste.
Here, safe beyond our
hopes, our
vows we pay
To Jove, the guide and
patron of
our way.
The customs of our country
we pursue,
And Trojan games on Actian
shores
renew.
Our youth their naked
limbs besmear
with oil,
And exercise the
wrastlers' noble
toil;
Pleas'd to have sail'd so
long before
the wind,
And left so many Grecian
towns behind.
The sun had now fulfill'd
his annual
course,
And Boreas on the seas
display'd
his force:
I fix'd upon the temple's
lofty
door
The brazen shield which
vanquish'd
Abas bore;
The verse beneath my name
and action
speaks:
'These arms AEneas took
from conqu'ring
Greeks.'
Then I command to weigh;
the seamen
ply
Their sweeping oars; the
smoking
billows fly.
The sight of high Phaeacia
soon
we lost,
And skimm'd along Epirus'
rocky
coast.
"Then to Chaonia's
port our
course we bend,
And, landed, to Buthrotus'
heights
ascend.
Here wondrous things were
loudly
blaz'd by fame:
How Helenus reviv'd the
Trojan name,
And reign'd in Greece;
that Priam's
captive son
Succeeded Pyrrhus in his
bed and
throne;
And fair Andromache,
restor'd by
fate,
Once more was happy in a
Trojan
mate.
I leave my galleys riding
in the
port,
And long to see the new
Dardanian
court.
By chance, the mournful
queen, before
the gate,
Then solemniz'd her former
husband's
fate.
Green altars, rais'd of
turf, with
gifts she crown'd,
And sacred priests in
order stand
around,
And thrice the name of
hapless Hector
sound.
The grove itself resembles
Ida's
wood;
And Simois seem'd the
well-dissembled
flood.
But when at nearer
distance she
beheld
My shining armor and my
Trojan shield,
Astonish'd at the sight,
the vital
heat
Forsakes her limbs; her
veins no
longer beat:
She faints, she falls, and
scarce
recov'ring strength,
Thus, with a falt'ring
tongue, she
speaks at length:
"'Are you alive, O
goddess-born?'
she said,
'Or if a ghost, then where
is Hector's
shade?'
At this, she cast a loud
and frightful
cry.
With broken words I made
this brief
reply:
'All of me that remains
appears
in sight;
I live, if living be to
loathe the
light.
No phantom; but I drag a
wretched
life,
My fate resembling that of
Hector's
wife.
What have you suffer'd
since you
lost your lord?
By what strange blessing
are you
now restor'd?
Still are your Hector's?
or is Hector
fled,
And his remembrance lost
in Pyrrhus'
bed?'
With eyes dejected, in a
lowly tone,
After a modest pause she
thus begun:
"'O only happy maid
of Priam's
race,
Whom death deliver'd from
the foes'
embrace!
Commanded on Achilles'
tomb to die,
Not forc'd, like us, to
hard captivity,
Or in a haughty master's
arms to
lie.
In Grecian ships unhappy
we were
borne,
Endur'd the victor's lust,
sustain'd
the scorn:
Thus I submitted to the
lawless
pride
Of Pyrrhus, more a
handmaid than
a bride.
Cloy'd with possession, he
forsook
my bed,
And Helen's lovely
daughter sought
to wed;
Then me to Trojan Helenus
resign'd,
And his two slaves in
equal marriage
join'd;
Till young Orestes,
pierc'd with
deep despair,
And longing to redeem the
promis'd
fair,
Before Apollo's altar slew
the ravisher.
By Pyrrhus' death the
kingdom we
regain'd:
At least one half with
Helenus remain'd.
Our part, from Chaon, he
Chaonia
calls,
And names from Pergamus
his rising
walls.
But you, what fates have
landed
on our coast?
What gods have sent you,
or what
storms have toss'd?
Does young Ascanius life
and health
enjoy,
Sav'd from the ruins of
unhappy
Troy?
O tell me how his mother's
loss
he bears,
What hopes are promis'd
from his
blooming years,
How much of Hector in his
face appears?'
She spoke; and mix'd her
speech
with mournful cries,
And fruitless tears came
trickling
from her eyes.
"At length her lord
descends
upon the plain,
In pomp, attended with a
num'rous
train;
Receives his friends, and
to the
city leads,
And tears of joy amidst
his welcome
sheds.
Proceeding on, another
Troy I see,
Or, in less compass,
Troy's epitome.
A riv'let by the name of
Xanthus
ran,
And I embrace the Scaean
gate again.
My friends in porticoes
were entertain'd,
And feasts and pleasures
thro' the
city reign'd.
The tables fill'd the
spacious hall
around,
And golden bowls with
sparkling
wine were crown'd.
Two days we pass'd in
mirth, till
friendly gales,
Blown from the south,
supplied our
swelling sails.
Then to the royal seer I
thus began:
'O thou, who know'st,
beyond the
reach of man,
The laws of heav'n, and
what the
stars decree;
Whom Phoebus taught
unerring prophecy,
From his own tripod, and
his holy
tree;
Skill'd in the wing'd
inhabitants
of air,
What auspices their notes
and flights
declare:
O say--for all religious
rites portend
A happy voyage, and a
prosp'rous
end;
And ev'ry power and omen
of the
sky
Direct my course for
destin'd Italy;
But only dire Celaeno,
from the
gods,
A dismal famine fatally
forebodes--
O say what dangers I am
first to
shun,
What toils to vanquish,
and what
course to run.'
"The prophet first
with sacrifice
adores
The greater gods; their
pardon then
implores;
Unbinds the fillet from
his holy
head;
To Phoebus, next, my
trembling steps
he led,
Full of religious doubts
and awful
dread.
Then, with his god
possess'd, before
the shrine,
These words proceeded from
his mouth
divine:
'O goddess-born, (for
Heav'n's appointed
will,
With greater auspices of
good than
ill,
Foreshows thy voyage, and
thy course
directs;
Thy fates conspire, and
Jove himself
protects,)
Of many things some few I
shall
explain,
Teach thee to shun the
dangers of
the main,
And how at length the
promis'd shore
to gain.
The rest the fates from
Helenus
conceal,
And Juno's angry pow'r
forbids to
tell.
First, then, that happy
shore, that
seems so nigh,
Will far from your deluded
wishes
fly;
Long tracts of seas divide
your
hopes from Italy:
For you must cruise along
Sicilian
shores,
And stem the currents with
your
struggling oars;
Then round th' Italian
coast your
navy steer;
And, after this, to
Circe's island
veer;
And, last, before your new
foundations
rise,
Must pass the Stygian
lake, and
view the nether skies.
Now mark the signs of
future ease
and rest,
And bear them safely
treasur'd in
thy breast.
When, in the shady shelter
of a
wood,
And near the margin of a
gentle
flood,
Thou shalt behold a sow
upon the
ground,
With thirty sucking young
encompass'd
round;
The dam and offspring
white as falling
snow--
These on thy city shall
their name
bestow,
And there shall end thy
labors and
thy woe.
Nor let the threaten'd
famine fright
thy mind,
For Phoebus will assist,
and Fate
the way will find.
Let not thy course to that
ill coast
be bent,
Which fronts from far th'
Epirian
continent:
Those parts are all by
Grecian foes
possess'd;
The salvage Locrians here
the shores
infest;
There fierce Idomeneus his
city
builds,
And guards with arms the
Salentinian
fields;
And on the mountain's brow
Petilia
stands,
Which Philoctetes with his
troops
commands.
Ev'n when thy fleet is
landed on
the shore,
And priests with holy vows
the gods
adore,
Then with a purple veil
involve
your eyes,
Lest hostile faces blast
the sacrifice.
These rites and customs to
the rest
commend,
That to your pious race
they may
descend.
"'When, parted
hence, the
wind, that ready waits
For Sicily, shall bear you
to the
straits
Where proud Pelorus opes a
wider
way,
Tack to the larboard, and
stand
off to sea:
Veer starboard sea and
land. Th'
Italian shore
And fair Sicilia's coast
were one,
before
An earthquake caus'd the
flaw: the
roaring tides
The passage broke that
land from
land divides;
And where the lands
retir'd, the
rushing ocean rides.
Distinguish'd by the
straits, on
either hand,
Now rising cities in long
order
stand,
And fruitful fields: so
much can
time invade
The mold'ring work that
beauteous
Nature made.
Far on the right, her dogs
foul
Scylla hides:
Charybdis roaring on the
left presides,
And in her greedy
whirlpool sucks
the tides;
Then spouts them from
below: with
fury driv'n,
The waves mount up and
wash the
face of heav'n.
But Scylla from her den,
with open
jaws,
The sinking vessel in her
eddy draws,
Then dashes on the rocks.
A human
face,
And virgin bosom, hides
her tail's
disgrace:
Her parts obscene below
the waves
descend,
With dogs inclos'd, and in
a dolphin
end.
'T is safer, then, to bear
aloof
to sea,
And coast Pachynus, tho'
with more
delay,
Than once to view
misshapen Scylla
near,
And the loud yell of
wat'ry wolves
to hear.
"'Besides, if faith
to Helenus
be due,
And if prophetic Phoebus
tell me
true,
Do not this precept of
your friend
forget,
Which therefore more than
once I
must repeat:
Above the rest, great
Juno's name
adore;
Pay vows to Juno; Juno's
aid implore.
Let gifts be to the mighty
queen
design'd,
And mollify with pray'rs
her haughty
mind.
Thus, at the length, your
passage
shall be free,
And you shall safe descend
on Italy.
Arriv'd at Cumae, when you
view
the flood
Of black Avernus, and the
sounding
wood,
The mad prophetic Sibyl
you shall
find,
Dark in a cave, and on a
rock reclin'd.
She sings the fates, and,
in her
frantic fits,
The notes and names,
inscrib'd,
to leafs commits.
What she commits to leafs,
in order
laid,
Before the cavern's
entrance are
display'd:
Unmov'd they lie; but, if
a blast
of wind
Without, or vapors issue
from behind,
The leafs are borne aloft
in liquid
air,
And she resumes no more
her museful
care,
Nor gathers from the rocks
her scatter'd
verse,
Nor sets in order what the
winds
disperse.
Thus, many not succeeding,
most
upbraid
The madness of the
visionary maid,
And with loud curses leave
the mystic
shade.
"'Think it not loss
of time
a while to stay,
Tho' thy companions chide
thy long
delay;
Tho' summon'd to the seas,
tho'
pleasing gales
Invite thy course, and
stretch thy
swelling sails:
But beg the sacred
priestess to
relate
With willing words, and
not to write
thy fate.
The fierce Italian people
she will
show,
And all thy wars, and all
thy future
woe,
And what thou may'st
avoid, and
what must undergo.
She shall direct thy
course, instruct
thy mind,
And teach thee how the
happy shores
to find.
This is what Heav'n allows
me to
relate:
Now part in peace; pursue
thy better
fate,
And raise, by strength of
arms,
the Trojan state.'
"This when the
priest with
friendly voice declar'd,
He gave me license, and
rich gifts
prepar'd:
Bounteous of treasure, he
supplied
my want
With heavy gold, and
polish'd elephant;
Then Dodonaean caldrons
put on board,
And ev'ry ship with sums
of silver
stor'd.
A trusty coat of mail to
me he sent,
Thrice chain'd with gold,
for use
and ornament;
The helm of Pyrrhus added
to the
rest,
That flourish'd with a
plume and
waving crest.
Nor was my sire forgotten,
nor my
friends;
And large recruits he to
my navy
sends:
Men, horses, captains,
arms, and
warlike stores;
Supplies new pilots, and
new sweeping
oars.
Meantime, my sire commands
to hoist
our sails,
Lest we should lose the
first auspicious
gales.
"The prophet
bless'd the
parting crew, and last,
With words like these, his
ancient
friend embrac'd:
'Old happy man, the care
of gods
above,
Whom heav'nly Venus
honor'd with
her love,
And twice preserv'd thy
life, when
Troy was lost,
Behold from far the wish'd
Ausonian
coast:
There land; but take a
larger compass
round,
For that before is all
forbidden
ground.
The shore that Phoebus has
design'd
for you,
At farther distance lies,
conceal'd
from view.
Go happy hence, and seek
your new
abodes,
Blest in a son, and
favor'd by the
gods:
For I with useless words
prolong
your stay,
When southern gales have
summon'd
you away.'
"Nor less the queen
our parting
thence deplor'd,
Nor was less bounteous
than her
Trojan lord.
A noble present to my son
she brought,
A robe with flow'rs on
golden tissue
wrought,
A Phrygian vest; and loads
with
gifts beside
Of precious texture, and
of Asian
pride.
'Accept,' she said, 'these
monuments
of love,
Which in my youth with
happier hands
I wove:
Regard these trifles for
the giver's
sake;
'T is the last present
Hector's
wife can make.
Thou call'st my lost
Astyanax to
mind;
In thee his features and
his form
I find:
His eyes so sparkled with
a lively
flame;
Such were his motions;
such was
all his frame;
And ah! had Heav'n so
pleas'd, his
years had been the same.'
"With tears I took
my last
adieu, and said:
'Your fortune, happy pair,
already
made,
Leaves you no farther
wish. My diff'rent
state,
Avoiding one, incurs
another fate.
To you a quiet seat the
gods allow:
You have no shores to
search, no
seas to plow,
Nor fields of flying Italy
to chase:
(Deluding visions, and a
vain embrace!)
You see another Simois,
and enjoy
The labor of your hands,
another
Troy,
With better auspice than
her ancient
tow'rs,
And less obnoxious to the
Grecian
pow'rs.
If e'er the gods, whom I
with vows
adore,
Conduct my steps to
Tiber's happy
shore;
If ever I ascend the
Latian throne,
And build a city I may
call my own;
As both of us our birth
from Troy
derive,
So let our kindred lines
in concord
live,
And both in acts of equal
friendship
strive.
Our fortunes, good or bad,
shall
be the same:
The double Troy shall
differ but
in name;
That what we now begin may
never
end,
But long to late posterity
descend.'
"Near the Ceraunian
rocks
our course we bore;
The shortest passage to
th' Italian
shore.
Now had the sun withdrawn
his radiant
light,
And hills were hid in
dusky shades
of night:
We land, and, on the bosom
of the
ground,
A safe retreat and a bare
lodging
found.
Close by the shore we lay;
the sailors
keep
Their watches, and the
rest securely
sleep.
The night, proceeding on
with silent
pace,
Stood in her noon, and
view'd with
equal face
Her steepy rise and her
declining
race.
Then wakeful Palinurus
rose, to
spy
The face of heav'n, and
the nocturnal
sky;
And listen'd ev'ry breath
of air
to try;
Observes the stars, and
notes their
sliding course,
The Pleiads, Hyads, and
their wat'ry
force;
And both the Bears is
careful to
behold,
And bright Orion, arm'd
with burnish'd
gold.
Then, when he saw no
threat'ning
tempest nigh,
But a sure promise of a
settled
sky,
He gave the sign to weigh;
we break
our sleep,
Forsake the pleasing
shore, and
plow the deep.
"And now the rising
morn
with rosy light
Adorns the skies, and puts
the stars
to flight;
When we from far, like
bluish mists,
descry
The hills, and then the
plains,
of Italy.
Achates first pronounc'd
the joyful
sound;
Then, 'Italy!' the
cheerful crew
rebound.
My sire Anchises crown'd a
cup with
wine,
And, off'ring, thus
implor'd the
pow'rs divine:
'Ye gods, presiding over
lands and
seas,
And you who raging winds
and waves
appease,
Breathe on our swelling
sails a
prosp'rous wind,
And smooth our passage to
the port
assign'd!'
The gentle gales their
flagging
force renew,
And now the happy harbor
is in view.
Minerva's temple then
salutes our
sight,
Plac'd, as a landmark, on
the mountain's
height.
We furl our sails, and
turn the
prows to shore;
The curling waters round
the galleys
roar.
The land lies open to the
raging
east,
Then, bending like a bow,
with rocks
compress'd,
Shuts out the storms; the
winds
and waves complain,
And vent their malice on
the cliffs
in vain.
The port lies hid within;
on either
side
Two tow'ring rocks the
narrow mouth
divide.
The temple, which aloft we
view'd
before,
To distance flies, and
seems to
shun the shore.
Scarce landed, the first
omens I
beheld
Were four white steeds
that cropp'd
the flow'ry field.
'War, war is threaten'd
from this
foreign ground,'
My father cried, 'where
warlike
steeds are found.
Yet, since reclaim'd to
chariots
they submit,
And bend to stubborn
yokes, and
champ the bit,
Peace may succeed to war.'
Our way
we bend
To Pallas, and the sacred
hill ascend;
There prostrate to the
fierce virago
pray,
Whose temple was the
landmark of
our way.
Each with a Phrygian
mantle veil'd
his head,
And all commands of
Helenus obey'd,
And pious rites to Grecian
Juno
paid.
These dues perform'd, we
stretch
our sails, and stand
To sea, forsaking that
suspected
land.
"From hence
Tarentum's bay
appears in view,
For Hercules renown'd, if
fame be
true.
Just opposite, Lacinian
Juno stands;
Caulonian tow'rs, and
Scylacaean
strands,
For shipwrecks fear'd.
Mount AEtna
thence we spy,
Known by the smoky flames
which
cloud the sky.
Far off we hear the waves
with surly
sound
Invade the rocks, the
rocks their
groans rebound.
The billows break upon the
sounding
strand,
And roll the rising tide,
impure
with sand.
Then thus Anchises, in
experience
old:
''T is that Charybdis
which the
seer foretold,
And those the promis'd
rocks! Bear
off to sea!'
With haste the frighted
mariners
obey.
First Palinurus to the
larboard
veer'd;
Then all the fleet by his
example
steer'd.
To heav'n aloft on ridgy
waves we
ride,
Then down to hell descend,
when
they divide;
And thrice our galleys
knock'd the
stony ground,
And thrice the hollow
rocks return'd
the sound,
And thrice we saw the
stars, that
stood with dews around.
The flagging winds forsook
us, with
the sun;
And, wearied, on Cyclopian
shores
we run.
The port capacious, and
secure from
wind,
Is to the foot of
thund'ring AEtna
join'd.
By turns a pitchy cloud
she rolls
on high;
By turns hot embers from
her entrails
fly,
And flakes of mounting
flames, that
lick the sky.
Oft from her bowels massy
rocks
are thrown,
And, shiver'd by the
force, come
piecemeal down.
Oft liquid lakes of
burning sulphur
flow,
Fed from the fiery springs
that
boil below.
Enceladus, they say,
transfix'd
by Jove,
With blasted limbs came
tumbling
from above;
And, where he fell, th'
avenging
father drew
This flaming hill, and on
his body
threw.
As often as he turns his
weary sides,
He shakes the solid isle,
and smoke
the heavens hides.
In shady woods we pass the
tedious
night,
Where bellowing sounds and
groans
our souls affright,
Of which no cause is
offer'd to
the sight;
For not one star was
kindled in
the sky,
Nor could the moon her
borrow'd
light supply;
For misty clouds involv'd
the firmament,
The stars were muffled,
and the
moon was pent.
"Scarce had the
rising sun
the day reveal'd,
Scarce had his heat the
pearly dews
dispell'd,
When from the woods there
bolts,
before our sight,
Somewhat betwixt a mortal
and a
sprite,
So thin, so ghastly
meager, and
so wan,
So bare of flesh, he
scarce resembled
man.
This thing, all tatter'd,
seem'd
from far t' implore
Our pious aid, and pointed
to the
shore.
We look behind, then view
his shaggy
beard;
His clothes were tagg'd
with thorns,
and filth his limbs besmear'd;
The rest, in mien, in
habit, and
in face,
Appear'd a Greek, and such
indeed
he was.
He cast on us, from far, a
frightful
view,
Whom soon for Trojans and
for foes
he knew;
Stood still, and paus'd;
then all
at once began
To stretch his limbs, and
trembled
as he ran.
Soon as approach'd, upon
his knees
he falls,
And thus with tears and
sighs for
pity calls:
'Now, by the pow'rs above,
and what
we share
From Nature's common gift,
this
vital air,
O Trojans, take me hence!
I beg
no more;
But bear me far from this
unhappy
shore.
'T is true, I am a Greek,
and farther
own,
Among your foes besieg'd
th' imperial
town.
For such demerits if my
death be
due,
No more for this abandon'd
life
I sue;
This only favor let my
tears obtain,
To throw me headlong in
the rapid
main:
Since nothing more than
death my
crime demands,
I die content, to die by
human hands.'
He said, and on his knees
my knees
embrac'd:
I bade him boldly tell his
fortune
past,
His present state, his
lineage,
and his name,
Th' occasion of his fears,
and whence
he came.
The good Anchises rais'd
him with
his hand;
Who, thus encourag'd,
answer'd our
demand:
'From Ithaca, my native
soil, I
came
To Troy; and Achaemenides
my name.
Me my poor father with
Ulysses sent;
(O had I stay'd, with
poverty content!)
But, fearful for
themselves, my
countrymen
Left me forsaken in the
Cyclops'
den.
The cave, tho' large, was
dark;
the dismal floor
Was pav'd with mangled
limbs and
putrid gore.
Our monstrous host, of
more than
human size,
Erects his head, and
stares within
the skies;
Bellowing his voice, and
horrid
is his hue.
Ye gods, remove this
plague from
mortal view!
The joints of slaughter'd
wretches
are his food;
And for his wine he quaffs
the streaming
blood.
These eyes beheld, when
with his
spacious hand
He seiz'd two captives of
our Grecian
band;
Stretch'd on his back, he
dash'd
against the stones
Their broken bodies, and
their crackling
bones:
With spouting blood the
purple pavement
swims,
While the dire glutton
grinds the
trembling limbs.
"'Not unreveng'd
Ulysses
bore their fate,
Nor thoughtless of his own
unhappy
state;
For, gorg'd with flesh,
and drunk
with human wine
While fast asleep the
giant lay
supine,
Snoring aloud, and
belching from
his maw
His indigested foam, and
morsels
raw;
We pray; we cast the lots,
and then
surround
The monstrous body,
stretch'd along
the ground:
Each, as he could approach
him,
lends a hand
To bore his eyeball with a
flaming
brand.
Beneath his frowning
forehead lay
his eye;
For only one did the vast
frame
supply--
But that a globe so large,
his front
it fill'd,
Like the sun's disk or
like a Grecian
shield.
The stroke succeeds; and
down the
pupil bends:
This vengeance follow'd
for our
slaughter'd friends.
But haste, unhappy
wretches, haste
to fly!
Your cables cut, and on
your oars
rely!
Such, and so vast as
Polypheme appears,
A hundred more this hated
island
bears:
Like him, in caves they
shut their
woolly sheep;
Like him, their herds on
tops of
mountains keep;
Like him, with mighty
strides, they
stalk from steep to steep.
And now three moons their
sharpen'd
horns renew,
Since thus, in woods and
wilds,
obscure from view,
I drag my loathsome days
with mortal
fright,
And in deserted caverns
lodge by
night;
Oft from the rocks a
dreadful prospect
see
Of the huge Cyclops, like
a walking
tree:
From far I hear his
thund'ring voice
resound,
And trampling feet that
shake the
solid ground.
Cornels and salvage
berries of the
wood,
And roots and herbs, have
been my
meager food.
While all around my
longing eyes
I cast,
I saw your happy ships
appear at
last.
On those I fix'd my hopes,
to these
I run;
'T is all I ask, this
cruel race
to shun;
What other death you
please, yourselves
bestow.'
"Scarce had he
said, when
on the mountain's brow
We saw the giant shepherd
stalk
before
His following flock, and
leading
to the shore:
A monstrous bulk,
deform'd, depriv'd
of sight;
His staff a trunk of pine,
to guide
his steps aright.
His pond'rous whistle from
his neck
descends;
His woolly care their
pensive lord
attends:
This only solace his hard
fortune
sends.
Soon as he reach'd the
shore and
touch'd the waves,
From his bor'd eye the
gutt'ring
blood he laves:
He gnash'd his teeth, and
groan'd;
thro' seas he strides,
And scarce the topmost
billows touch'd
his sides.
"Seiz'd with a
sudden fear,
we run to sea,
The cables cut, and silent
haste
away;
The well-deserving
stranger entertain;
Then, buckling to the
work, our
oars divide the main.
The giant harken'd to the
dashing
sound:
But, when our vessels out
of reach
he found,
He strided onward, and in
vain essay'd
Th' Ionian deep, and durst
no farther
wade.
With that he roar'd aloud:
the dreadful
cry
Shakes earth, and air, and
seas;
the billows fly
Before the bellowing noise
to distant
Italy.
The neighb'ring AEtna
trembling
all around,
The winding caverns echo
to the
sound.
His brother Cyclops hear
the yelling
roar,
And, rushing down the
mountains,
crowd the shore.
We saw their stern
distorted looks,
from far,
And one-eye'd glance, that
vainly
threaten'd war:
A dreadful council, with
their heads
on high;
(The misty clouds about
their foreheads
fly;)
Not yielding to the
tow'ring tree
of Jove,
Or tallest cypress of
Diana's grove.
New pangs of mortal fear
our minds
assail;
We tug at ev'ry oar, and
hoist up
ev'ry sail,
And take th' advantage of
the friendly
gale.
Forewarn'd by Helenus, we
strive
to shun
Charybdis' gulf, nor dare
to Scylla
run.
An equal fate on either
side appears:
We, tacking to the left,
are free
from fears;
For, from Pelorus' point,
the North
arose,
And drove us back where
swift Pantagias
flows.
His rocky mouth we pass,
and make
our way
By Thapsus and Megara's
winding
bay.
This passage Achaemenides
had shown,
Tracing the course which
he before
had run.
"Right o'er against
Plemmyrium's
wat'ry strand,
There lies an isle once
call'd th'
Ortygian land.
Alpheus, as old fame
reports, has
found
From Greece a secret
passage under
ground,
By love to beauteous
Arethusa led;
And, mingling here, they
roll in
the same sacred bed.
As Helenus enjoin'd, we
next adore
Diana's name, protectress
of the
shore.
With prosp'rous gales we
pass the
quiet sounds
Of still Elorus, and his
fruitful
bounds.
Then, doubling Cape
Pachynus, we
survey
The rocky shore extended
to the
sea.
The town of Camarine from
far we
see,
And fenny lake, undrain'd
by fate's
decree.
In sight of the Geloan
fields we
pass,
And the large walls, where
mighty
Gela was;
Then Agragas, with lofty
summits
crown'd,
Long for the race of
warlike steeds
renown'd.
We pass'd Selinus, and the
palmy
land,
And widely shun the
Lilybaean strand,
Unsafe, for secret rocks
and moving
sand.
At length on shore the
weary fleet
arriv'd,
Which Drepanum's unhappy
port receiv'd.
Here, after endless
labors, often
toss'd
By raging storms, and
driv'n on
ev'ry coast,
My dear, dear father,
spent with
age, I lost:
Ease of my cares, and
solace of
my pain,
Sav'd thro' a thousand
toils, but
sav'd in vain.
The prophet, who my future
woes
reveal'd,
Yet this, the greatest and
the worst,
conceal'd;
And dire Celaeno, whose
foreboding
skill
Denounc'd all else, was
silent of
this ill.
This my last labor was.
Some friendly
god
From thence convey'd us to
your
blest abode."
Thus, to the
list'ning queen,
the royal guest
His wand'ring course and
all his
toils express'd;
And here concluding, he
retir'd
to rest.
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