The Aeneids of Virgil Part 12

"Take them, O father, for indeed by such a sign I wot Olympus' King will have thee win all honour without lot.

This gift thou hast, Anchises' self, the ancient, had before, A bowl all stamped with images, which Cisseus once of yore, The Thracian, to my father gave, that he might bear the same A very tokening of his love and memory of his name."

So saying, a garland of green bay he doth his brows about, And victor over all the men Acestes giveth out: 540 Nor did the good Eurytion grudge his honour so preferred, Though he alone from height of heaven had brought adown the bird: But he came next in gift-giving who sheared the string, and last Was he who set his winged reed amidmost of the mast.

Now had aeneas called to him, ere yet the match was done, The child of Epytus, the guard, and fellow of his son, Beardless Iulus, and so spake into his faithful ear: "Go thou and bid Asoenius straight, if ready dight with gear He hath that army of the lads, and fair array of steeds, To bring unto his grandsire now, himself in warlike weeds, 550 That host of his."

The lord meanwhile biddeth all folk begone Who into the long course had poured, and leave the meadow lone.

Then come the lads: in equal ranks before their fathers' eyes They s.h.i.+ne upon their bitted steeds, and wondering murmurs rise From men of Troy and Sicily as on their ways they fare.

Due crown of well-ordained leaves bindeth their flowing hair, And each a pair of cornel shafts with iron head doth hold; And some the polished quiver bear at shoulder: limber gold, Ringing the neck with twisted stem, high on the breast is shown.

Three companies of horse they are by tale, and up and down 560 Three captains ride, and twice six lads each leadeth to the war: In bands of even tale they s.h.i.+ne, and like their leaders are.

Their first array all glad at heart doth little Priam lead, Who from his grandsire had his name, thy well-renowned seed, Polites, fated to beget Italian folk: him bore A Thracian piebald flecked with white, whose feet were white before, And white withal the crest of him that high aloft he flung.

Next Atys came, from whence the stem of Latin Atii sprung; Young Atys, whom Iulus young most well-beloved did call: Iulus last, in goodliness so far excelling all, 570 Upon a horse of Sidon came, whom that bright Dido gave To be a token of her love, her memory to save.

On horses of Acestes old, Trinacrian-nurtured beasts, The others of the youth are borne.

With praise they greet their fluttering hearts and look on them with joy, Those Dardan folk, who see in them the ancient eyes of Troy.

But after they had fared on steed the concourse all about Before the faces of their folk, Epytides did shout The looked-for sign afar to them, and cracked withal his whip: Then evenly they fall apart, in threesome order slip 580 Their cloven ranks; but, called again, aback upon their way They turn, and threatening levelled spears against each other lay.

Then they to other onset now and other wheeling take, In bands opposed, and tanglements of ring on ring they make; So with their weapons every show of very fight they stir, And now they bare their backs in flight, and now they turn the spear In hostile wise; now side by side in plighted peace they meet.

--E'en as they tell of Labyrinth that lies in lofty Crete, A road with blind walls crossed and crossed, an ever-s.h.i.+fting trap Of thousand ways, where he who seeks upon no sign may hap, 590 But midst of error, blind to seize or follow back, 'tis gone.

Not otherwise Troy's little ones the tangle follow on At top of speed, and interweave the flight and battle's play; E'en as the dolphins, swimming swift amid the watery way, Cleave Libyan or Carpathian sea and sport upon the wave.

This guise of riding, such-like play, his folk Ascanius gave Once more, when round the Long White Stead the walls of war he drew: Withal the Ancient Latin Folk he taught the games to do, Suchwise as he a lad had learned with lads from Troy that came: 599 That same the Albans taught their sons; most mighty Rome that same Took to her thence, and honoured so her sires of yore agone: Now name of Troy and Trojan host the play and boys have won.

Thus far unto the Holy Sire the games were carried through, When Fortune turned her faith at last and changed her mind anew: For while the diverse hallowed games about the tomb they spent, Saturnian Juno Iris fair from heights of heaven hath sent Unto the Ilian s.h.i.+ps, and breathed fair wind behind her ways, For sore she brooded, nor had spent her wrath of ancient days.

So now the maid sped swift along her thousand-coloured bow, And swiftly ran adown the path where none beheld her go. 610 And there she saw that gathering great, and swept the strand with eye, And saw the haven void of folk, the s.h.i.+ps unheeded lie.

But far away on lonely beach the Trojan women weep The lost Anchises; and all they look ever on the deep Amid their weeping: "Woe are we! what waters yet abide!

What ocean-waste for weary folk!" So one and all they cried, And all they yearn for city's rest: sea-toil is loathsome grown.

So she, not lacking craft of guile, amidst them lighted down, When she hath put away from her G.o.d's raiment and G.o.d's mien, And but as wife of Doryclus, the Tmarian man, is seen, 620 Old Beroe, who once had sons and lordly race and name; Amid the Dardan mother-folk such wise the G.o.ddess came:

"O wretched ones!" she said, "O ye whom armed Achaean hand Dragged not to death before the walls that stayed your fatherland!

Unhappy folk! and why hath Fate held back your doom till now?

The seventh year is on the turn since Troy-town's overthrow; And we all seas the while, all lands, all rocks and skies that hate The name of guest, have wandered o'er, and through the sea o'ergreat Still chase that fleeing Italy mid wallowing waters tossed.

Lo, here is Eryx' brother-land; Acestes is our host; 630 What banneth us to found our walls and lawful cities gain?

O Fatherland! O House-G.o.ds s.n.a.t.c.hed from midst the foe in vain!

Shall no walls more be called of Troy? Shall I see never more Xanthus or Simos, like the streams where Hector dwelt of yore?

Come on, and those unhappy s.h.i.+ps burn up with aid of me; For e'en now mid the dreams of sleep Ca.s.sandra did I see, Who gave me burning brand, and said, 'Here seek your Troy anew: This is the house that ye shall have.'--And now is time to do!

No tarrying with such tokens toward! Lo, altars four are here Of Neptune: very G.o.d for us heart and the fire doth bear!" 640

So saying, first she caught upon the fiery bane, and raised Her hand aloft, and mightily she whirled it as it blazed And cast it: but the Ilian wives, their straining hearts are torn, Their souls bewildered: one of them, yea, and their eldest-born, Pyrgo, the queenly fosterer of many a Priam's son, Cried: "Mothers, nay no Beroe, nay no Rhoeteian one, The wife of Doryclus is this: lo, G.o.dhead's beauty there!

Behold the gleaming of her eyes, note how she breathes the air; Note ye her countenance and voice, the gait wherewith she goes.

Yea, I myself left Beroe e'en now amidst her woes; 650 Sick, sad at heart that she alone must fail from such a deed, Nor bear unto Anchises' ghost his glory's righteous meed."

Such were the words she spake to them.

But now those mothers, at the first doubtful, with evil eyes Gazed on the s.h.i.+ps awhile between unhappy craving stayed For land they stood on, and the thought of land that Fortune bade: When lo! with even spread of wings the G.o.ddess rose to heaven, And in her flight the cloudy lift with mighty bow was riven.

Then, wildered by such tokens dread, p.r.i.c.ked on by maddened hearts, Shrieking they s.n.a.t.c.h the hearthstone's fire and brand from inner parts; While some, they strip the altars there, and flaming leaf and bough 661 Cast forth: and Vulcan, let aloose, is swiftly raging now Along the thwarts, along the oars, and stems of painted fir.

But now with news of flaming s.h.i.+ps there goes a messenger, Eumelus, to Anchises' tomb, and theatre-seats, and they Look round themselves and see the soot black in the smoke-cloud play.

Then first Ascanius, e'en as blithe the riding-play he led, So eager now he rode his ways to camp bewildered, And nowise might they hold him back, his masters spent of breath.

"O what new madness then is this? What, what will ye?" he saith.

"O wretched townswomen, no foe, no camp of Argive men 671 Ye burn, but your own hopes ye burn. Lo, your Ascanius then!"

Therewith before their feet he cast his empty helm afar, Dight wherewithal he stirred in sport that image of the war.

And thither now aeneas sped, and crowd of Teucrian folk; Whereat the women diversely along the sea-sh.o.r.e broke, Fleeing afeard, and steal to woods and whatso hollow den, And loathe their deed, and loathe the light, as changed they know again Their very friends, and Juno now from every heart is cast.

But none the less the flaming rage for ever holdeth fast 680 With might untamed; the fire lives on within the timbers wet, The caulking sends forth sluggish smoke, the slow heat teeth doth set Upon the keel; to inmost heart down creeps the fiery bale; Nor all the might of mighty men nor rivers poured avail.

Then good aeneas from his back the raiment off him tore, And called the G.o.ds to aid, and high his palms to heaven upbore:

"Great Jove, if not all utterly a hater thou art grown Of Trojan folk, and if thy love of old yet looketh down On deeds of men, give to our s.h.i.+ps to win from out the flame, O Father, now, and s.n.a.t.c.h from death the feeble Teucrian name, 690 Or else thrust down the remnant left, if so we merit aught, With bolt of death, and with thine hand sweep us away to nought!"

Scarce had he given forth the word, ere midst outpouring rain, The black storm rageth measureless, and earthly height and plain Shake to the thundering; all the sky casts forth confused flood, Most black with gathering of the South: then all the s.h.i.+p-hulls stood Fulfilled with water of the heavens; the half-burned oak was drenched, Until at last to utmost spark the smouldering fire is quenched, And all the s.h.i.+ps escaped the bane of fiery end save four.

But, shaken by such bitter hap, Father aeneas bore 700 This way and that; and turned the cares on all sides in his breast: Whether amid Sicilian fields to set him down in rest, Forgetting Fate, or yet to strive for sh.o.r.es of Italy.

Then the old Nautes, whom erewhile had Pallas set on high By her exceeding plenteous craft and lore that she had taught:-- She gave him answers; telling him how wrath of G.o.d was wrought, And how it showed, and what the law of fate would ask and have:-- This man unto aeneas now such words of solace gave:

"O G.o.ddess-born, Fate's ebb and flow still let us follow on, Whate'er shall be, by bearing all must Fortune's fight be won. 710 Dardan Acestes have ye here, sprung of the G.o.dhead's seed; Take his goodwill and fellows.h.i.+p to help thee in thy rede.

Give him the crews of those burnt s.h.i.+ps; to him let such-like go As faint before thy mighty hope and s.h.i.+fting weal and woe.

The mothers weary of the sea, the elders spent with years, And whatsoever feeble is and whatsoever fears, Choose out, and in this land of his walls let the weary frame; And they their town by leave of thee shall e'en Acesta name."

So was he kindled by the speech of that wise ancient friend, Yet still down every way of care his thought he needs must send. 720

But now the wain of mirky night was holding middle sky, When lo, his father's image seemed to fall from heaven the high, And suddenly Anchises' lips such words to him poured forth:

"O son, that while my life abode more than my life wert worth; O son, well learned in Ilium's fates, hither my ways I take By Jove's commands, who even now the fiery bane did slake Amid thy s.h.i.+ps, and now at last in heaven hath pitied thee: Yield thou to elder Nautes' redes; exceeding good they be: The very flower of all thy folk, the hearts that hardiest are, Take thou to Italy; for thee in Latium bideth war 730 With hardy folk of nurture rude: but first must thou be gone To nether dwelling-place of Dis: seek thou to meet me, son, Across Avernus deep: for me the wicked house of h.e.l.l The dusk unhappy holdeth not; in pleasant place I dwell, Elysium, fellows.h.i.+p of good: there shall the holy Maid, The Sibyl, bring thee; plenteous blood of black-wooled ewes being paid: There shalt thou learn of all thy race, and gift of fated walls.

And now farewell: for dewy night from mid way-faring falls, The panting steeds of cruel dawn are on me with their breath."

He spake, and midst thin air he fled as smoke-wreath vanisheth. 740 "Where rushest thou?" aeneas cried: "where hurriest thou again?

Whom fleest thou? who driveth thee from these embraces fain?"

So saying, the flame asleep in ash he busied him to wake, And wors.h.i.+pped with the censer full and holy-kneaded cake The sacred Vesta's shrine and G.o.d of Pergamean wall.

Then for his fellows doth he send, Acestes first of all, And teacheth them of Jove's command, and what his sire beloved Had bidden him, and whitherwise his heart thereto was moved.

No tarrying there was therein, Acestes gainsaid nought; They write the mothers on the roll; thither a folk is brought, 750 Full willing hearts, who nothing crave the great reward of fame: But they themselves shape thwarts anew; and timbers gnawed by flame Make new within their s.h.i.+ps again, and oars and rudders fit.

A little band it is by tale, but valour lives in it.

Meanwhile aeneas marketh out the city with the plough, And, portioning the houses out, bids Troy and Ilium grow: Therewith Acestes, Trojan king, joys in his lords.h.i.+p fair; Sets forth the court, and giveth laws to fathers gathered there: Then on the head of Eryx huge a house that neareth heaven To Venus of Idalia is reared: a priest is given 760 And holy grove wide spread around, where old Anchises lay.

Now all the folk for nine days' s.p.a.ce have made them holyday And wors.h.i.+pped G.o.d; and quiet winds have lowly laid the main, And ever gentle Southern breath woos to the deep again: Then all along the hollow sh.o.r.e ariseth weeping great, And 'twixt farewells and many a kiss a night and day they wait: Yea e'en the mothers, yea e'en they to whom so hard and drear The sea had seemed, a dreadful name they had no heart to bear, Are fain to go, are fain to take all toil the way may find.

Whom good aeneas solaceth with friendly words and kind, 770 As to Acestes' kindred heart weeping he giveth them.

Three calves to Eryx then he bids slay on the ocean's hem; To wind and weather an ewe lamb; then biddeth cast aloose: And he himself, begarlanded with olive clipped close, Stands, cup in hand, on furthest prow, and casts upon the brine The inner meat, and poureth forth the flowing of the wine.

They gather way; springs up astern the fair and following breeze; The fellows strive in smiting brine and sweep the level seas.

But meanwhile Venus, sorely stirred by cares and all unrest, Hath speech of Neptune, pouring forth complaining from her breast: "The cruel wrath that Juno bears, and heart insatiate, 781 Drive me, O Neptune, prayer-fulfilled upon thy power to wait: She softeneth not by lapse of days nor piety's increase, Nor yielding unto Jove and Fate from troubling will she cease.

'Tis not enough to tear away from heart of Phrygian folk Their city by her cruel hate; nor with all ills to yoke Troy's remnant; but its ash and bones through death she followeth on.

What! doth her own heart know the deed that all this wrath hath won?

Be thou my witness how of late she stirred up suddenly Wild tumult of the Libyan sea! all waters with the sky 790 She mingled, trusting all in vain to storm of aeolus: This in thy very realm she dared.

E'en now mad hearts to Trojan wives by wickedness she gave, And foully burned his s.h.i.+ps; and him with crippled s.h.i.+p-host drave To leave his fellow-folk behind upon an outland sh.o.r.e.

I pray thee let the remnant left sail safe thine ocean o'er, And let them come where into sea Laurentian Tiber falls, If right I ask, and unto these Fate giveth fateful walls."

Then Saturn's son, the sea-tamer, gave forth such words as these: "'Tis utter right, O Cytherean, to trust thee to my seas, 800 Whence thou wert born; and I myself deserve no less; e'en I, Who oft for thee refrain the rage of maddened sea and sky.