The Aeneid Part 17

Now loud laments along the sh.o.r.es resound, Of parting friends in close embraces bound.

The trembling women, the degenerate train, Who shunn'd the frightful dangers of the main, Ev'n those desire to sail, and take their share Of the rough pa.s.sage and the promis'd war: Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends To their new master's care his fearful friends.

On Eryx's altars three fat calves he lays; A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas; Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs.

High on the deck the G.o.dlike hero stands, With olive crown'd, a charger in his hands; Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine, And pour'd the sacrifice of purple wine.

Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie, And brush the buxom seas, and o'er the billows fly.

Meantime the mother G.o.ddess, full of fears, To Neptune thus address'd, with tender tears: "The pride of Jove's imperious queen, the rage, The malice which no suff'rings can a.s.suage, Compel me to these pray'rs; since neither fate, Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate: Ev'n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife; Still vanquish'd, yet she still renews the strife.

As if 't were little to consume the town Which aw'd the world, and wore th' imperial crown, She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains, And gnaws, ev'n to the bones, the last remains.

Let her the causes of her hatred tell; But you can witness its effects too well.

You saw the storm she rais'd on Libyan floods, That mix'd the mounting billows with the clouds; When, bribing Aeolus, she shook the main, And mov'd rebellion in your wat'ry reign.

With fury she possess'd the Dardan dames, To burn their fleet with execrable flames, And forc'd Aeneas, when his s.h.i.+ps were lost, To leave his foll'wers on a foreign coast.

For what remains, your G.o.dhead I implore, And trust my son to your protecting pow'r.

If neither Jove's nor Fate's decree withstand, Secure his pa.s.sage to the Latian land."

Then thus the mighty Ruler of the Main: "What may not Venus hope from Neptune's reign?

My kingdom claims your birth; my late defense Of your indanger'd fleet may claim your confidence.

Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare How much your lov'd Aeneas is my care.

Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest.

Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press'd, And drove before him headlong on the plain, And dash'd against the walls the trembling train; When floods were fill'd with bodies of the slain; When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way, Stood up on ridges to behold the sea; (New heaps came tumbling in, and chok'd his way;) When your Aeneas fought, but fought with odds Of force unequal, and unequal G.o.ds; I spread a cloud before the victor's sight, Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secur'd his flight; Ev'n then secur'd him, when I sought with joy The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy.

My will's the same: fair G.o.ddess, fear no more, Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian sh.o.r.e; Their lives are giv'n; one destin'd head alone Shall perish, and for mult.i.tudes atone."

Thus having arm'd with hopes her anxious mind, His finny team Saturnian Neptune join'd, Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws, And to the loosen'd reins permits the laws.

High on the waves his azure car he guides; Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides, And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides.

The tempests fly before their father's face, Trains of inferior G.o.ds his triumph grace, And monster whales before their master play, And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat'ry way.

The marshal'd pow'rs in equal troops divide To right and left; the G.o.ds his better side Inclose, and on the worse the Nymphs and Nereids ride.

Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude, Within the hero's mind his joys renew'd.

He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display; The cheerful crew with diligence obey; They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea.

Ahead of all the master pilot steers; And, as he leads, the following navy veers.

The steeds of Night had travel'd half the sky, The drowsy rowers on their benches lie, When the soft G.o.d of Sleep, with easy flight, Descends, and draws behind a trail of light.

Thou, Palinurus, art his destin'd prey; To thee alone he takes his fatal way.

Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears; And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears.

Then thus the traitor G.o.d began his tale: "The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale; The s.h.i.+ps, without thy care, securely sail.

Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I Will take the rudder and thy room supply."

To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep: "Me dost thou bid to trust the treach'rous deep, The harlot smiles of her dissembling face, And to her faith commit the Trojan race?

Shall I believe the Siren South again, And, oft betray'd, not know the monster main?"

He said: his fasten'd hands the rudder keep, And, fix'd on heav'n, his eyes repel invading sleep.

The G.o.d was wroth, and at his temples threw A branch in Lethe dipp'd, and drunk with Stygian dew: The pilot, vanquish'd by the pow'r divine, Soon clos'd his swimming eyes, and lay supine.

Scarce were his limbs extended at their length, The G.o.d, insulting with superior strength, Fell heavy on him, plung'd him in the sea, And, with the stern, the rudder tore away.

Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main, Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain.

The victor daemon mounts obscure in air, While the s.h.i.+p sails without the pilot's care.

On Neptune's faith the floating fleet relies; But what the man forsook, the G.o.d supplies, And o'er the dang'rous deep secure the navy flies; Glides by the Sirens' cliffs, a shelfy coast, Long infamous for s.h.i.+ps and sailors lost, And white with bones. Th' impetuous ocean roars, And rocks rebellow from the sounding sh.o.r.es.

The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found The tossing vessel sail'd on shoaly ground.

Sure of his pilot's loss, he takes himself The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf.

Inly he griev'd, and, groaning from the breast, Deplor'd his death; and thus his pain express'd: "For faith repos'd on seas, and on the flatt'ring sky, Thy naked corpse is doom'd on sh.o.r.es unknown to lie."

BOOK VI

He said, and wept; then spread his sails before The winds, and reach'd at length the c.u.maean sh.o.r.e: Their anchors dropp'd, his crew the vessels moor.

They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land, And greet with greedy joy th' Italian strand.

Some strike from clas.h.i.+ng flints their fiery seed; Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed, Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods, Or trace thro' valleys the discover'd floods.

Thus, while their sev'ral charges they fulfil, The pious prince ascends the sacred hill Where Phoebus is ador'd; and seeks the shade Which hides from sight his venerable maid.

Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode; Thence full of fate returns, and of the G.o.d.

Thro' Trivia's grove they walk; and now behold, And enter now, the temple roof'd with gold.

When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan sh.o.r.e, His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore, (The first who sail'd in air,) 't is sung by Fame, To the c.u.maean coast at length he came, And here alighting, built this costly frame.

Inscrib'd to Phoebus, here he hung on high The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky: Then o'er the lofty gate his art emboss'd Androgeos' death, and off'rings to his ghost; Sev'n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet The fate appointed by revengeful Crete.

And next to those the dreadful urn was plac'd, In which the destin'd names by lots were cast: The mournful parents stand around in tears, And rising Crete against their sh.o.r.e appears.

There too, in living sculpture, might be seen The mad affection of the Cretan queen; Then how she cheats her bellowing lover's eye; The rus.h.i.+ng leap, the doubtful progeny, The lower part a beast, a man above, The monument of their polluted love.

Not far from thence he grav'd the wondrous maze, A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways: Here dwells the monster, hid from human view, Not to be found, but by the faithful clew; Till the kind artist, mov'd with pious grief, Lent to the loving maid this last relief, And all those erring paths describ'd so well That Theseus conquer'd and the monster fell.

Here hapless Icarus had found his part, Had not the father's grief restrain'd his art.

He twice a.s.say'd to cast his son in gold; Twice from his hands he dropp'd the forming mold.

All this with wond'ring eyes Aeneas view'd; Each varying object his delight renew'd: Eager to read the rest- Achates came, And by his side the mad divining dame, The priestess of the G.o.d, Deiphobe her name.

"Time suffers not," she said, "to feed your eyes With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice.

Sev'n bullocks, yet unyok'd, for Phoebus choose, And for Diana sev'n unspotted ewes."

This said, the servants urge the sacred rites, While to the temple she the prince invites.

A s.p.a.cious cave, within its farmost part, Was hew'd and fas.h.i.+on'd by laborious art Thro' the hill's hollow sides: before the place, A hundred doors a hundred entries grace; As many voices issue, and the sound Of Sybil's words as many times rebound.

Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries: "This is the time; enquire your destinies.

He comes; behold the G.o.d!" Thus while she said, (And s.h.i.+v'ring at the sacred entry stay'd,) Her color chang'd; her face was not the same, And hollow groans from her deep spirit came.

Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess'd Her trembling limbs, and heav'd her lab'ring breast.

Greater than humankind she seem'd to look, And with an accent more than mortal spoke.

Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll; When all the G.o.d came rus.h.i.+ng on her soul.

Swiftly she turn'd, and, foaming as she spoke: "Why this delay?" she cried- "the pow'rs invoke!

Thy pray'rs alone can open this abode; Else vain are my demands, and dumb the G.o.d."

She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear, O'erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear.

The prince himself, with awful dread possess'd, His vows to great Apollo thus address'd: "Indulgent G.o.d, propitious pow'r to Troy, Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy, Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart Pierc'd the proud Grecian's only mortal part: Thus far, by fate's decrees and thy commands, Thro' ambient seas and thro' devouring sands, Our exil'd crew has sought th' Ausonian ground; And now, at length, the flying coast is found.

Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place, With fury has pursued her wand'ring race.

Here cease, ye pow'rs, and let your vengeance end: Troy is no more, and can no more offend.

And thou, O sacred maid, inspir'd to see Th' event of things in dark futurity; Give me what Heav'n has promis'd to my fate, To conquer and command the Latian state; To fix my wand'ring G.o.ds, and find a place For the long exiles of the Trojan race.

Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear To the twin G.o.ds, with vows and solemn pray'r; And annual rites, and festivals, and games, Shall be perform'd to their auspicious names.

Nor shalt thou want thy honors in my land; For there thy faithful oracles shall stand, Preserv'd in shrines; and ev'ry sacred lay, Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey: All shall be treasur'd by a chosen train Of holy priests, and ever shall remain.

But O! commit not thy prophetic mind To flitting leaves, the sport of ev'ry wind, Lest they disperse in air our empty fate; Write not, but, what the pow'rs ordain, relate."

Struggling in vain, impatient of her load, And lab'ring underneath the pond'rous G.o.d, The more she strove to shake him from her breast, With more and far superior force he press'd; Commands his entrance, and, without control, Usurps her organs and inspires her soul.

Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors Ope of themselves; a rus.h.i.+ng whirlwind roars Within the cave, and Sibyl's voice restores: "Escap'd the dangers of the wat'ry reign, Yet more and greater ills by land remain.

The coast, so long desir'd (nor doubt th' event), Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach'd, repent.

Wars, horrid wars, I view- a field of blood, And Tiber rolling with a purple flood.

Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there: A new Achilles shall in arms appear, And he, too, G.o.ddess-born. Fierce Juno's hate, Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.

To what strange nations shalt not thou resort, Driv'n to solicit aid at ev'ry court!

The cause the same which Ilium once oppress'd; A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.

But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes, The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose.

The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town."

Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke, And the resisting air the thunder broke; The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook.

Th' ambiguous G.o.d, who rul'd her lab'ring breast, In these mysterious words his mind express'd; Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest.

At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas'd, And, ebbing in her soul, the G.o.d decreas'd.

Then thus the chief: "No terror to my view, No frightful face of danger can be new.