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The Aeneid
19 BC THE AENEID by Virgil
BOOK I
Arms, 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 vessels 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."