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The Aeneid of Virgil
Book Seven
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ARGUMENT
Passing Caieta and Circeii, AEneas sails up the Tiber (1-45). Virgil
pauses to enumerate the old rulers of Latium and to describe the state
of the country at the coming of AEneas. Latinus is King. Oracles have
foretold that by marriage with an alien his only daughter is to become
the mother of an imperial line. Fresh signs and wonders enforce the
prophecy (46-126). The Trojans eat their tables (127-171). An
embassage is sent to the Latin capital, and after conference Latinus
offers peace to the Trojans and to AEneas his daughter's hand
(172-342). Juno, the evil genius of Troy, again intervenes and
summons to her aid the demon Alecto (341-410), who excites first
Amata then Turnus against the proposed peace, and finally (411-576)
provokes a pitched battle between Trojans and Latins (577-648).
Alecto is scornfully dismissed by Juno, who causes war to be formally
declared (649-747). The war-fever in Italy. Catalogue of the leaders
and nations that gather to destroy AEneas, chief among them being
Turnus and Camilla (748-981).
I. Thou too, Caieta, dying, to our shore,
AEneas' nurse, hast given a deathless fame,
E'en now thine honour guards it, as of yore,
Still doth thy tomb in great Hesperia frame
Glory--if that be glory--for thy name.
Here good AEneas paid his dues aright,
And raised a mound, and now, as evening came,
Sails forth; the faint winds whisper to the night;
Clear shines the Moon, and tips the trembling waves with light.
II. They skirt the coast, where Circe, maiden bright,
The Sun's rich daughter, wakes with melodies
The groves that none may enter. There each night,
As nimbly through the slender warp she plies
The whistling shuttle, through her chambers rise
The flames of odorous cedar. Thence the roar
Of lions, raging at their chains, the cries
Of bears close-caged, and many a bristly boar,
The yells of monstrous wolves at midnight fill the shore.
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III. All these with potent herbs the cruel queen
Had stripped of man's similitude, to wear
A brutal figure, and a bestial mien.
But kindly Neptune, with protecting care,
And loth to see the pious Trojans bear
A doom so vile, such prodigies as these,
Lest, borne perchance into the bay, they near
The baneful shore, fills out with favouring breeze
The sails, and speeds their flight across the boiling seas.
IV. Now blushed the deep beneath the dawning ray,
And in her rosy chariot borne on high,
Aurora, bright with saffron, brought the day.
Down drop the winds, the Zephyrs cease to sigh,
And not a breath is stirring in the sky,
And not a ripple on the marble seas,
As heavily the toiling oars they ply.
When near him from the deep AEneas sees
A mighty grove outspread, a forest thick with trees.
V. And in the midst of that delightful grove
Fair-flowing Tiber, eddying swift and strong,
Breaks to the main. Around them and above,
Gay-plumaged fowl, that to the stream belong,
And love the channel and the banks to throng,
Now skim the flood, now fly from bough to bough,
And charm the air with their melodious song.
Shoreward AEneas bids them turn the prow,
And up the shady stream with joyous hearts they row.
VI. Say, Erato, how Latium fared of yore,
What deeds were wrought, what rulers lived and died,
When strangers landed on Ausonia's shore,
And trace the rising of the war's dark tide.
Fierce feuds I sing--O Goddess, be my guide,--
Tyrrhenian hosts, the battle's armed array,
Proud kings who fought and perished in their pride,
And all Hesperia gathered to the fray,
A larger theme unfolds, and loftier is the lay.
VII. Long had Latinus ruled the peaceful state.
A nymph, Marica, of Laurentian breed,
Bore him to Faunus, who, as tales relate,
Derived through Picus his Saturnian seed.
No son was left Latinus to succeed,
His boy had died ere manhood; one alone
Remained, a daughter, so the Fates decreed,
To mind his palace and to heir his throne
Ripe now for marriage rites, to nuptial age full-grown.
VIII. Full many a prince from Latium far and wide,
And all Ausonia had essayed in vain
To win the fair Lavinia for his bride.
Her suitor now, the comeliest of the train,
Was Turnus, sprung from an illustrious strain.
Fair seemed his suit, for kindly was the maid,
And dearly the queen loved him, and was fain
His hopes to further, but the Fates gainsayed,
And boding signs from Heaven the purposed match delayed.
IX. Deep in the inmost palace, long rever'd,
There stood an ancient laurel. 'Twas the same
That sire Latinus, when the walls he reared,
Found there, and vowed to Phoebus, and the name
"Laurentines" thence his settlers taught to claim.
Here suddenly--behold a wondrous thing!--
Borne with loud buzzing through the air, down came
A swarm of bees. Around the top they cling,
And from a leafy branch in linked clusters swing.
X. "Behold, from yon same quarter," cried a seer,
"A stranger! see their swarming hosts conspire
To lord it o'er Laurentum; see them near."
He spake, but lo! while, standing by her sire,
The chaste Lavinia feeds the sacred fire,
The flames, O horror! on her locks lay hold:
Her beauteous head-dress and her rich attire,
Her hair, her coronal of gems and gold
Blaze, and the crackling flames her regal robe enfold.
XI. Wrapt, so it seemed, in clouds of smoke, but bright
With yellow flames, through all the house she fled,
Scattering a shower of sparkles. Sore affright
And wonder seized them, as the seer with dread
Explained the vision; 'twas a sign, he said,
That bright and glorious in the rolls of Fate
Her fame should flourish and her name be spread,
But dark should lour the fortunes of the state,
Whelmed in a mighty war and sunk in evil strait.
XII. Forth hastes Latinus, by these sights distressed,
To Faunus' oracle, his sire renowned,
And seeks the grove, beneath Albunea's crest,
And sacred spring, which, echoing from the ground,
Leaps up and flings its sulphurous fumes around.
Here, craving counsel when in doubtful plight,
Italians and OEnotria's tribes are found.
Here, when the priest, his offerings paid aright,
On skins of slaughtered beasts, in stillness of the night,
XIII. Lies down to sleep, in visions he beholds
Weird shapes, and many a wondrous voice doth hear,
And, borne in spirit to Avernus, holds
Deep converse there with Acheron. 'Twas here
Latinus sought for answer from the seer.
A hundred ewes, obedient to the rite,
He slew, then rested, with expectant ear,
Stretched on their fleeces, when, at noon of night,
Straight from the grove's deep gloom forth pealed a voice of might:
XIV. "Seek not, my son, a Latin lord. Beware
The purposed bridal. Lo! a foreign guest
Is coming, born to raise thee as thine heir,
And sons of sons shall see their power confessed
From sea to sea, from farthest East to West."
These words, in stillness of the night's noon-tide,
Latinus hears, nor locks them in his breast.
Ausonia's towns have heard them far and wide,
Or ere by Tiber's banks the Dardan fleet doth ride.
XV. Stretched on the grass beneath a tall tree lie
Troy's chief and captains and Iulus fair,
And wheaten platters for their meal supply
('Twas Jove's command), the wilding fruits to bear.
When lack of food has forced them now to tear
The tiny cakes, and tooth and hand with zest
The fateful circles desecrate, nor spare
The sacred squares upon the rounds impressed,
"What! eating boards as well?" Iulus cries in jest.
XVI. 'Twas all; the sally, as we heard it, sealed
Our toils. AEneas caught it, as it flew,
And hushed them, marvelling at the sign revealed.
"Hail! land," he cries, "long destined for our due.
Hail, household deities, to Troy still true!
Here lies our home. Thus, thus, I mind the hour,
Anchises brought Fate's hidden things to view:
'My son, when famine on an unknown shore
Shall make thee, failing food, the very boards devour,
XVII. "'Then, worn and wearied, look to find a home,
And build thy walls, and bank them with a mound.'
This was that famine; this the last to come
Of all our woes, the woful term to bound.
Come then, at daybreak search the land around
(Each from the harbour separate let us fare)
And see what folk, and where their town, be found,
Now pour to Jove libations, and with prayer
Invoke Anchises' shade, and back the wine-cups bear."
XVIII. So saying, his brows he garlands, and with prayer
Invokes the Genius whom the place doth own,
And Earth, first Goddess, and the Nymphs who there
Inhabit, and the rivers yet unknown,
Night and the stars that glitter in her zone
He calls to aid him, and Idaean Jove,
And Phrygia's Mother on her heavenly throne,
And last, his parent deities to move,
Invokes his sire below and mother queen above.
XIX. Thrice Jove omnipotent from Heaven's blue height
Thunders aloud, and flashes in the skies
A cloud ablaze with rays of golden light.
'Tis come--so Rumour through the Trojans flies--
The day to bid their promised walls arise.
Cheered by the mighty omen and the sign,
They spread the feast, and each with other vies
To range the goblets and to wreath the wine,
And gladdening hearts rejoice to greet the day divine.
XX. Soon as the morrow bathed the world once more
In dawning light, by separate ways they fare
To search the town, the frontiers and the shore.
Here is Numicius' fountain, Tiber there,
Here dwell the Latins. Then Anchises' heir
Choice spokesmen to the monarch's city sends,
Five score, their peaceful errand to declare,
And royal presents to their charge commends,
And bids them claim of right the welcome due to friends.
XXI. At once the heralds hearken and obey,
And each and all, with rapid steps, and crowned
With Pallas' olive, hasten on their way.
Himself with shallow trench marks out the ground,
And, camp-like, girds with bastions and a mound
The new-formed settlement. Meanwhile the train
Of delegates their journey's end have found,
And greet with joy, uprising o'er the plain,
The Latin towers and homes, and now the walls attain.
XXII. Before the city, boys and youths contend
On horseback. Through the whirling dust they steer
Their chariots and the practised steeds, or bend
The tight-strung bow, or aim the limber spear,
Or urge fist-combat or the foot's career.
Now to their king a message quick has flown;
Tall men and strange, in foreign garb are here.
Latinus summons them within: anon,
Amidmost of his court he mounts the ancestral throne.
XXIII. Raised on a hundred columns, vast and tall,
Above the city reared its reverend head
A stately fabric, once the palace-hall
Of Picus. Dark woods shrouded, and the dread
Of ages filled, the precinct. Here, 'tis said,
Kings took the sceptre and the axe of fate,
Their senate house this temple; here were spread
The tables for the sacred feast, where sate,
What time the ram was slain, the elders of the State.
XXIV. In ancient cedar o'er the doors appear
The sculptured effigies of sires divine.
Grey Saturn, Italus, Sabinus here,
Curved hook in hand, the planter of the vine.
There two-faced Janus, and, in ordered line,
Old kings and patriot chieftains. Captive cars
Hang round, and arms upon the doorposts shine,
Curved axes, crests of helmets, towngates' bars,
Spears, shields and beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.
XXV. There Picus sat, with his Quirinal wand,
Tamer of steeds. The augur's gown he wore,
Short, striped and belted; and his lifted hand
The sacred buckler on the left upbore.
Him Circe, his enamoured bride, of yore,
Wild with desire, so ancient legends say,
Smote with her golden rod, and sprinkling o'er
His limbs her magic poisons, made a jay,
And sent to roam the air, with dappled plumage gay.
XXVI. Such is the temple, in whose sacred dome
Latinus waits the Teucrians on his throne,
And kindly thus accosts them as they come:
'Speak, Dardans,--for the Dardan name ye own;
Nor strange your race and city, nor unknown
Sail ye the plains of Ocean--tell me now,
What seek ye? By the tempest tost, or blown
At random, needful of what help and how
Came ye to Latin shores the dark-blue deep to plough?
XXVII. "But, whether wandering from your course, or cast
By storms--such ills as oft-times on the main
O'ertake poor mariners--your ships at last
Our stream have entered, and the port attain.
Shun not a welcome, nor our cheer disdain.
For dear to Saturn, whom our sires adored,
Was Latium. Manners, not the laws, constrain
To justice. Freely, of our own accord,
We mind the golden age, and virtues of our lord.
XXVIII. "Now, I remember, old Auruncans told
(Age dims, but memory can the tale retrace)
How, born in Latium, Dardanus of old
Went forth to northern Samos, styled of Thrace,
And reached the towns at Phrygian Ida's base.
From Tuscan Corythus in days gone by
He went, and now among the stars hath place,
Throned in the golden palace of the sky.
On earth his altar marks one godhead more on high."
XXIX. He spake: Ilioneus this answer gave:
"O King, blest seed of Faunus! Star nor strand
Misled us, nor hath stress of storm or wave
Forced us to seek the shelter of your land.
Freewill hath brought us hither, forethought planned
Our flight; for we are outcasts, every one,
The toil-worn remnant of an exiled band,
Driven from a mighty empire; mightier none
In bygone years was known beneath the wandering sun.
XXX. "From Jove we spring; Jove Dardans hail with joy
Their parent; he who sends us is our lord
AEneas, Jove-born and a prince of Troy.
How fierce a tempest from Mycenae poured
O'er Ida's fields; how Fate with fire and sword
Made Europe clash with Asia, he hath known
Whoe'er to Ocean's limits hath explored
The utmost earth, or in the central zone
Dwells, if a man there be, in torrid climes unknown.
XXXI. "Swept by that deluge o'er the deep, we crave
A home for home-gods, shelter on the strand,
And man's free privilege of air and wave.
We shall not shame the lustre of your land,
Nor stint the gratitude kind deeds demand.
Grant Troy a refuge, and Ausonians ne'er
Shall rue the welcome proffered by your hand.
Yea, scorn us not, that thus unsought we bear
The lowly suppliant's wreath, and speak the words of prayer.
XXXII. "Full many a people,--let the fates attest
Of great AEneas, and his hand of might,
Ne'er pledged in vain, our bravest and our best--
Full many a tribe, though lowly be our plight,
Have sought with ours their fortunes to unite.
Fate bade us seek your country and her King.
Hither, where Dardanus first saw the light,
Apollo back the Dardan race would bring,
To Tuscan Tiber's banks and pure Numicius' spring.
XXXIII. "These gifts AEneas to our charge commends,
Poor relics saved from Ilion, but a sign
Of ancient greatness, and the gifts of friends.
See, from this golden goblet at the shrine
His sire Anchises poured the sacred wine;
Clad in these robes sat Priam, when of old
The laws he ministered. These robes are thine,
This sceptre, this embroidered vest,--behold,
'Twas wrought by Trojan dames,--this diadem of gold."
XXXIV. Mute sat and motionless, with looks bent down,
Latinus; but his restless eyes confessed
His musings. Not the sceptre nor the gown
Of purple moved him, but his pensive breast
Dwelt on his daughter's marriage, till he guessed
The meaning of old Faunus. This was he,
His destined heir, the bridegroom and the guest,
Whose glorious progeny, by Fate's decree,
The Latin throne should share, and rule from sea to sea.
XXXV. "Heaven prosper," joyfully he cried, "our deed,
And heaven's own augury. Your wish shall stand;
I take the gifts. Yours, Trojans, all ye need--
The wealth of Troy, the fatness of the land,--
Nought shall ye lack from King Latinus' hand.
Let but AEneas, if he longs so fain
To claim our friendship, and a home demand,
Come here, nor fear to greet us. Not in vain
'Twixt monarchs stands the peace, which plighted hands ordain.
XXXVI. "Let now this message to your King be given.
'A child, the daughter of my heart, is mine,
Whom neither frequent prodigies from heaven,
Nor voices uttered from my father's shrine,
Permit with one of Latin birth to join.
Strange sons--so Latin oracles conspire--
Shall come, whose offspring shall exalt our line.
Thy King the bridegroom whom the Fates require
I deem, and, if in aught I read the truth, desire.'"
XXXVII. So speaks Latinus, and with kindly care
Choice steeds selects. Three hundred of the best
Stand in his lofty stables, sleek and fair;
And forth in order for each Teucrian guest
His servants led them, at their King's behest.
Rich housings, wrought in many a purple fold,
And broidered rugs adorn them; o'er each breast
Hang golden poitrels, glorious to behold.
Each champs with foaming mouth a chain of glittering gold.
XXXVIII. A car he orders for the Dardan sire,
And twin-yoked coursers of ethereal seed,
Whose snorting nostrils breathe the flames of fire.
Half-mortal, half-immortal was each steed,
The bastard birth of that celestial breed,
Which cunning Circe from a mortal mare
Raised to her sire the Sun-god. So with speed
The mounted Trojans to their prince repair,
Pleased with the gifts and words, for peaceful news they bear.
XXXIX. Lo! from Inachian Argos through the skies
Jove's consort her avenging flight pursues,
And far off, from Pachynus, as she flies
O'er Sicily, beholds the Dardan crews
And great AEneas, gladdening at the news.
The rising settlement, the new-tilled shore,
The ships deserted for the land she views,
And shaking her imperial brows, and sore
With anguish, from her breast these wrathful words doth pour:
XL. "Ah, hateful race! Ah, Phrygian fates abhorred!
What, fell they not on the Sigean plain?
Must captives be twice captured? Have the sword
And flames of Troy avenged me but in vain?
Have foes and fire found passage for the slain?
Sooth, then, my godhead sleepeth, and that hand
Is tired of hate, which whilom o'er the main
Dared chase these outcasts and their paths withstand,
Where'er the deep sea rolled, far from their native land!
XLI. "Have sea and sky been wielded to destroy,
Nor Syrtes yet, nor Scylla's fierce embrace,
Nor vast Charybdis whelmed the sons of Troy,
Who, safe in Tiber, flout me to the face?
Yet Mars from earth, and for a less disgrace
Could sweep the Lapithae, and Heaven's great Sire
Doomed ancient Calydon and OEneus' race
To rue the vengeance of Diana's ire.
Did ever crime of theirs the Dardans' meed require?
XLII. "But I, Jove's consort, who have stooped to seek
All shifts, all ventures and devices, I
Am vanquished by AEneas! If too weak
Myself, some other godhead will I try,
And Hell shall hear, if Heaven its aid deny.
Grant that these Dardans must in Latium reign,
That fixt and changeless stands the doom, whereby
His bride shall be Lavinia, that in vain
Can Juno thwart whate'er the Destinies ordain;
XLIII. "Yet time delayed can make occasion lost,
Yet mutual strife each nation may devour,
And Kings plight marriage at their peoples' cost.
Troy's blood and Latium's, maiden, be thy dower.
Bellona lights thee to thy bridal bower.
Not only Hecuba--Ah, sweet the joy!--
Conceives a firebrand. Born in evil hour,
The child of Venus shall her hopes destroy,
And, like another Paris, fire a new-born Troy."
XLIV. She spake, and earthward darting, fierce and fell,
Calls sad Alecto from her dark retreat
Among the Furies in the shades of Hell.
Sweet are war's sorrows to her soul, and sweet
Are evil deeds, and hatred and deceit.
E'en Pluto, e'en her sister-fiends detest
The monstrous shape, so many forms complete
The grisly horrors of that hateful pest,
So many a coal-black snake sprouts from her threatening crest.
XLV. Her Juno finds, and thus new rage inspires:
"Grant, virgin daughter of eternal Night,
This boon, the labour that thy soul desires.
Lest here my fame and honour lose their might,
And Troy gain Italy, and craft unite
Troy's prince with Latium's heiress. Thou can'st turn
Fond hearts to feuds, and brethren arm for fight.
Thou know'st, for savage is thy mood and stern,
To breed domestic strife and happy homes to burn.
XLVI. "A thousand names, a thousand means hast thou
Of mischief. Search thy fertile breast, and break
The plighted peace. Breed calumnies, and sow
The strife. Let youth desire, demand and take
Thy weapons."--Wreathed with many a Gorgon snake,
To Latium's court Alecto flew unseen,
And by Amata's chamber sate, nor spake;
While, musing on her new-come guests, the queen,
Wroth for her Turnus, boiled with woman's rage and spleen.
XLVII. At her the goddess from her dark locks threw
A snake, and lodged the monster in her breast,
To make her fury all the house undo.
In glides, impalpable, the maddening pest
Between the dainty bosom and the vest,
Breathing its venom. Like a necklace thin
It hung, all golden, like a wreath, caressed
Her temples, like a ribbon, wove within
Her hair its slippery coils, and wandered o'er her skin.
XLVIII. So, while the taint, first stealing through her frame,
Slipped in, with slimy venom, and the pest
Thrilled every sense, and wrapped her bones in flame,
Nor yet her soul had caught it, or confessed
The fiery fever that consumed her breast;
Soft, like a mother, and with tears, she cried,
Grieved for her child, and pondering with unrest
The Phrygian match, "Ah, woe the day betide,
If Teucrian exiles win Lavinia for a bride!
XLIX. "Hast thou no pity for thy child, nor thee,
O father! nor her mother, left forlorn,
When, with the rising North-wind, o'er the sea
Yon faithless pirate hath the maiden borne?
Not so, forsooth, did Lacedaemon mourn
Robbed Helen, when the Phrygian shepherd planned
Her capture. Is thy sacred faith forsworn?
Where is thy old affection? Where that hand
So oft to Turnus pledged, thy kinsman of the land?
L. "If Latins for Lavinia needs must find
A foreign mate; if so the Fates constrain,
And Faunus' words weigh heavy on thy mind,
All lands, that yield not to the Latin reign,
I count as foreign; so the Gods speak plain;
And foreign then is Turnus, if we trace
The first beginning of his princely strain.
Greeks were his grandsires; Argos was the place
Where old Acrisius ruled, where dwelt th' Inachian race."
LI. So pleading, and so weeping, she essayed
To move the king; but when her prayers were vain,
Nor tears Latinus from his purpose stayed,
And now the viper with its deadly bane
Crept to her inmost parts, and through each vein
The maddening poison to her heartstrings stole,
Then, scared by monstrous phantoms of the brain,
Poor queen! she raved, and maddening past control,
Ran through the crowded streets in impotence of soul.
LII. Like as a whip-top by the lash is sent
In widening orbs to spin, when lads among
The empty courtyards urge their merriment;
And, scourged in circling courses by the thong
It wheels and eddies, while the beardless throng
Bend over, lost in ignorant surprise,
And marvel, as the boxwood whirls along,
Stirred by each stroke; so fast Amata flies
From street to street, while crowds look on with lowering eyes.
LIII. Nay, simulating Bacchus, now she dares
To feign new orgies, and her crime complete.
Swift with her daughter to the woods she fares,
And hides her on the mountains, fain to cheat
The Trojans, and the purposed rites defeat.
"Hail, thou alone art worthy of the fair!
Evoe, Bacchus! for thy name is sweet.
For thee she grows her dedicated hair,
For thee she leads the dance, the ivied wand doth bear."
LIV. The matrons then--so fast the rumour flew,--
Fired like the Queen, and frenzied with despair,
Rush forth, and leave their ancient homes for new,
And to the breezes give their necks and hair.
These with their tremulous wailings fill the air,
And, girt about with fawn-skins, bear along
The vine-branch javelins, and Amata there,
Herself ablaze with fury, o'er the throng
A blazing pine-torch waves, and chants the nuptial song
LV. Of Turnus and Lavinia. Fiercely roll
Her blood-shot eyes, and, frowning, suddenly
She pours the frantic passions of her soul.
"Ho! Latin mothers all, where'er ye be,
Here, if ye love me, if a mother's plea
Deserve your pity, let your hair be seen
Loosed from the fillets, and be mad, like me."
So through the woods, the wild-beasts' lairs between,
With Bacchanalian goads Alecto drives the Queen.
LVI. When now thus fairly was the work begun,
The barbs of anger planted, pleased to view
Latinus' purpose and his house undone,
On dusky wings the Goddess soared, and through
The liquid air to neighbouring Ardea flew,
The bold Rutulian's city, built of yore
By Danae, thither when the South-wind blew
Her and her followers. Ardea's name it bore,
And Ardea's name still lives, though fortune smiles no more.
LVII. There in his palace, locked in sleep's embrace,
Lay Turnus. Straight Alecto, versed in snares,
Doffs the fiend's figure and her frowning face.
The likeness of a withered crone she wears,
With wrinkled forehead and with hoary hairs.
Her fillet and her olive crown proclaim
The priestess. Changed in semblance, she appears
Like Calybe, great Juno's sacred dame;
Thus to the youth she comes, and hails him by his name.
LVIII. "Fie! Turnus, fie! wilt thou behold unstirred
Such labours wasted, and thy hopes belied?
Thy sceptre to a Dardan guest transferred?
See, now, to thee Latinus hath denied
Thy blood-bought dowry, and thy promised bride,
And seeks a stranger for his throne. Away
To thankless perils, while thy friends deride!
Go, strew the Tuscans, scatter their array,
Till Latins, saved once more, their plighted word betray.
LIX. "This mandate great Saturnia bade me bear,
Thou sleeping. Up, then! greet the welcome hour;
Arm, arm the youth, and from the towngates fare!
These Phrygian vessels with the flames devour,
Moored yonder in fair Tiber. 'Tis the power
Of Heaven that bids thee. Let Latinus, too,
If false and faithless he withhold the dower,
And grudge thy marriage, learn the deed to rue,
And taste at length and try what Turnus armed can do."
LX. Then he in scorn: "Yea, Tiber's waves beset
With foreign ships--I know it; wherefore feign
For me such terrors? Juno guards me yet.
Good mother, dotage wears thee, and thy brain
Is rusty; age hath troubled thee in vain,
And, 'midst the feuds of monarchs, mocks with fright
A priestess. Go; 'tis thine to guard the fane
And sacred statues; these be thy delight;
Leave peace and war to men, whose business is to fight."
LXI. Therewith in fire Alecto's wrath outbroke,
A sudden tremor through his limbs ran fast,
His stony eyeballs stiffened as he spoke.
So hissed the Fury with her snakes, so vast
Her shape appeared, so fierce the look she cast,
As back she thrust him with her flaming eyes,
Fain to say more, but faltering and aghast.
Two serpents from her Gorgon locks uprise;
Shrill sounds her scorpion lash, as, foaming, thus she cries:
LXII. "Behold me, worn with dotage! me, whom age
Hath rusted, and, while monarchs fight, would scare
With empty fears! Behold me in my rage!
I come, the Furies' minister; see there,
War, death and havoc in these hands I bear."
Full at his breast a firebrand, as she spoke,
Black with thick smoke, but bright with lurid glare,
The Fiend outflung. In terror he awoke,
And o'er his bones and limbs a clammy sweat outbroke.
LXIII. "Arms, arms!" he yells, and searches for his sword
In couch and chamber, maddening at the core
With war's fierce passion, and the lust abhorred
Of slaughter, and with bitter wrath yet more.
As when a wood-fire crackles with fierce roar,
Heaped round a caldron, and the simmering stream
Foams, fumes, and bubbles, and at last boils o'er,
And upward shoots the mingled smoke and steam;
So Turnus boils with wrath, so dire his rage doth seem.
LXIV. Choice youths he sends, to let Latinus know
The peace was torn, then musters his array
To guard Italia and expel the foe.
Let Trojans league with Latins as they may,
Himself can match them, and he comes to slay.
So saying, his vows he renders. Ardour fires
The fierce Rutulians, and each hails the fray;
And one his youth, and one his grace admires,
And one his valorous deeds, and one his kingly sires.
LXV. So Turnus the Rutulians stirred to war.
Meanwhile the Fury to the Trojans bent
Her flight; with wily eye she marked afar,
With snares and steeds upon the chase intent,
Iulus. On his hounds at once she sent
A sudden madness, and fierce rage awoke
To chase the stag, as with the well-known scent
She lured their nostrils.--Thus the feud outbroke;
So small a cause of strife could rustic hearts provoke.
LXVI. Broad-antlered, beauteous was the stag, which erst
The sons of Tyrrheus (Tyrrheus kept whilere
The royal herd and pastures), fostering nursed,
Snatched from the dam. Their sister, Silvia fair,
Oft wreathed his horns, and oft with tender care
She washed him, and his shaggy coat would comb.
So tamed, and trained his master's board to share,
The gentle favourite in the woods would roam;
Each night, how late soe'er, he sought the well-known home.
LXVII. Him the fierce hounds now startle far astray,
As down the stream he floats, or, crouching low,
Rests on the green bank from the noontide ray.
Athirst for praise, Ascanius bends his bow;
Loud whirs the arrow, for Fate aims the blow,
And cleaves his flank and belly. Homeward flies
The wounded creature, moaning in his woe.
Blood-stained, with piteous and imploring eyes,
Like one who sues for life, he fills the house with cries.
LXVIII. Smiting the breast, poor Silvia calls for aid.
Forth rush the churls, scarce waiting her demand,
Roused by the Fury in the wood's still shade.
One grasps a club, another wields a brand;
Rage makes a weapon of what comes to hand.
Forth from his work ran Tyrrheus, who an oak
Was cleaving with the wedge, and cheered the band.
His hand still grasped the hatchet for the stroke,
And bitter wrath he breathed, and fierce the words he spoke.
LXIX. The Fury snatched the moment; forth she flew,
And, perching on the cabin-roof, looked round,
And from the curved horn of the shepherds blew
A blast of Tartarus, that shook the ground,
And made the forests and the groves rebound
The infernal echoes. Trivia's lakes afar,
And Velia's fountains heard the dreadful sound;
The white waves heard it of the sulphurous Nar,
And mothers clasped their babes, and trembled at the war.
LXX. Swift at the summons, as the trumpet brayed,
The sturdy shepherds arm them for the fray.
Swift pour the Trojans from their camp, to aid
Ascanius. Lo! 'tis battle's stern array,
No village brawl, where churls dispute the day
With charred oak-staves and cudgels. Broadswords clash
With broadswords, and War's harvest far away
Stands, bristling black with iron, as they dash
Together, and drawn swords in doubtful conflict flash.
LXXI. And brazen arms shoot many a blinding ray,
Smit by the sun, as clouds that fill the sky,
Disparting, show the splendours of the fray.
As when a light wind o'er the sea doth fly,
And the wave whitens as the breeze goes by,
And by degrees the bosom of the deep
Heaves up and swells, till higher and more high
The billows rise, and, gathering in a heap,
From Ocean's caves mount up, and storm the ethereal steep.
LXXII. First falls the son of Tyrrheus, stretched in death,
Young Almo. In his throat the deadly bane
Stuck fast, and choked the humid pass of breath,
And clipped the thin-spun life. There, too, is slain
Grey-haired Galaesus, parleying but in vain.
More righteous none, though many around lie killed,
None wealthier did Ausonia's realm contain.
Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures filled,
And with a hundred ploughs his fruitful lands he tilled.
LXXIII. Thus while the conflict wavered on the plain,
The Fury, pleased her triumph to survey,
Her pledge fulfilled,--War crimsoned with the stain
Of gore, and grim Death busy with his prey,--
Swift from Hesperia wings her airy way,
And proudly speaks to Juno: "See, 'tis done;
The discord perfect in the dolorous fray,
And War with all its miseries begun.
Now bid, forsooth, the foes plight friendship and be one.
LXXIV. "Steeped are thy Trojans in Ausonian gore.
Yet speak, and more will I perform, if so
Thy purpose holds. Along the neighbouring shore
Each town shall hear the rumour of the foe,
Each breast with frenzy for the strife shall glow,
Till all bring aid, and fruitful is the land
In deeds of blood."--Then Juno: "Nay, not so;
Enough of fraud and terror. Firmly stand
The causes of the feud; they battle hand to hand,
LXXV. "And fresh blood stains the weapons chance supplied.
Such joy the bridal to Latinus bear,
And Venus' wondrous offspring, and his bride.
But thou--for scarce Olympus' king would bear
Thy lawless roving in ethereal air,--
Give place; myself will guide the rest aright."
Saturnia spoke; Alecto then and there
Her wings, that hiss with serpents, spreads for flight,
And to Cocytus dives, and leaves the realms of light.
LXXVI. In mid Italia lies a vale renowned,
Amsanctus. Dark woods down the mountain grow
This side and that; a torrent with the sound
Of thunder roars among the rocks below.
There, black as night, an awful cave they show,
The gorge of Dis. Dread Acheron from beneath
Bursts in a whirlpool, with its waves of woe,
And jaws that gape with pestilential death.
There plunged the hateful Fiend, and earth and air took breath.
LXXVII. Nor less, meanwhile, Saturnia hastes to crown
The war's mad tumult. Home the shepherds bore
Their dead from out the battle to the town.
Young Almo, and Galaesus, fouled with gore.
All bid Latinus witness, and implore
The gods, and while the blood-cry calls for flame
And slaughter, Turnus swells the wild uproar.
What! he an outcast? Shall the Trojans claim
The realm, and bastards dare the Latin race to shame?
LXXVIII. Then they, whose mothers through the pathless vales
And forests, fired with Bacchic frenzy, ply
Their orgies--so Amata's name prevails--
Come forth, and, gathering from far and nigh,
Weary the War-god with their clamorous cry,
Till, thwarting Heaven's high purpose, each and all
Omens at once and oracles defy,
And swarm around Latinus in his hall,
War now is all their wish, "to arms" the general call.
LXXIX. Firm stands the monarch as a sea-girt rock,
A sea-girt rock against the roaring main,
Which, spite of barking billows and the shock
Of Ocean, doth its own huge mass sustain.
The foaming crags around it chafe in vain,
And back it flings the seaweed from its side.
Too weak at length their madness to restrain,
For things move on as Juno's whims decide,
Oft to the gods, and oft to empty air he cried.
LXXX. "Ah me! the tempest hurries us along.
Fate grinds us sore. Poor Latins! ye must sate,
Your blood must pay, the forfeit for your wrong.
Thee, Turnus, thee the avenging fiends await,
Thou, too, the gods shalt weary, but too late.
My rest is won, and in the port I ride;
Happy in all, had not an envious fate
Denied a happy ending." Thus he cried,
And to his chamber fled, and flung the crown aside.
LXXXI. A custom in Hesperian Latium reigned,
Which Alban cities kept with sacred care,
And Rome, the world's great mistress, hath retained.
Thus still they wake the War-god, whensoe'er
For Arabs or Hyrcanians they prepare,
Or Getic tribes the tearful woes of war,
Or push to Ind their distant arms, or dare
To track the footsteps of the Morning star,
And claim their standards back from Parthia's hosts afar.
LXXXII. Twain are the Gates of War, to dreadful Mars
With awe kept sacred and religious pride.
A hundred brazen bolts and iron bars
Shut fast the doors, and Janus stands beside.
Here, when the senators on war decide,
The Consul, decked in his Quirinal pall
And Gabine cincture, flings the portals wide,
And cries to arms; the warriors, one and all,
With blare of brazen horns make answer to the call.
LXXXIII. 'Twas thus that now Latinus they require
To dare AEneas' followers to the fray,
And ope the portals. But the good old Sire
Shrank from the touch, and, shuddering with dismay,
Shunned the foul office, and abjured the day.
Then, downward darting from the skies afar,
Heaven's empress with her right hand wrenched away
The lingering bars. The grating hinges jar,
As back Saturnia thrusts the iron gates of War.
LXXXIV. Then woke Ausonia from her sleep. Forth swarm
Footmen and horsemen, and in wild career
Whirl up the dust. "Arm," cry the warriors, "arm!"
With unctuous lard their polished shields they smear,
And whet the axe, and scour the rusty spear.
Their banners wave, their trumpets sound the fight.
Five towns their anvils for the war uprear,
Crustumium, Tibur, glorying in her might,
Ardea, Atina strong, Antemnae's tower-girt height.
LXXXV. Lithe twigs of osier in their shields they weave,
And shape the casque, and in the mould prepare
The brazen breastplate and the silver greave.
Scorned lie the spade, the sickle and the share,
Their fathers' falchions to the forge they bear.
Now peals the clarion; through the host hath spread
The watch-word. Helmets from the walls they tear,
And yoke the steeds. In triple gold arrayed,
Each grasps the burnished shield, and girds the trusty blade.
LXXXVI. Now open Helicon; awake the strain,
Ye Muses. Aid me, that the tale be told,
What kings were roused, what armies filled the plain,
What battles blazed, what men of valiant mould
Graced fair Italia in those days of old.
Aid ye, for ye are goddesses, and clear
Can ye remember, and the tale unfold.
But faint and feeble is the voice we hear,
A slender breath of Fame, that falters on the ear.
LXXXVII. First came with armed men from Etruria's coast
Mezentius, scorner of the Gods. Next came
His son, young Lausus, comeliest of the host,
Save Turnus--Lausus, who the steed could tame,
And quell wild beasts and track the woodland game.
A hundred warriors from Agylla's town
He leads--ah vainly! though he died with fame.
Proud had he been and worthy to have known
A nobler sire's commands, a nobler sire to own.
LXXXVIII. With conquering steeds triumphant o'er the mead,
His chariot, crowned with palm-leaves, proudly wheeled
The comely Aventinus, glorious seed
Of glorious Hercules; the blazoned shield
His father's Hydra and her snakes revealed.
Him, when of old, the monstrous Geryon slain,
The lord of Tiryns, victor of the field,
Reached in his wanderings the Laurentian plain,
And bathed in Tiber's stream the captured herds of Spain,
LXXXIX. The priestess Rhea, in the secret shade
Of wooded Aventine, brought forth to light,
A god commingling with a mortal maid.
With pikes and poles his followers join the fight,
Their swords are sharp, their Sabine spears are bright.
Himself afoot, a lion's bristling hide
With sharp teeth set in rows of glittering white,
Swings o'er his forehead, as with eager stride,
Clad in his father's cloak, he seeks the monarch's side.
XC. Twin brothers came from Tibur--such the name
Tiburtus gave it--one Catillus hight,
And one fierce Coras, each of Argive fame,
Each in the van, where deadliest raves the fight.
As when two cloud-born Centaurs in their might
From some tall mountain with swift strides descend,
Steep Homole, or Othrys' snow-capt height;
The thickets yield, trees crash, and branches bend,
As with resistless force the trampled woods they rend.
XCI. Nor lacked Praeneste's founder, Vulcan's child,
Found on the hearthstone--if the tale be true,--
Brave Caeculus, the Shepherds' monarch styled.
Forth from Praeneste swarmed the rustic crew,
From Juno's Gabium to the fight they flew,
From ice-cold Anio, swoln with wintry rain,
From Hernic rocks, which mountain streams bedew,
From fat Anagnia's pastures, from the plain
Where Amasenus rolls majestic to the main.
XCII. With diverse arms they hasten to the war;
Not all can boast the clashing of the shield,
Not all the thunder of the rattling car.
These sling their leaden bullets o'er the field,
Those in each hand the deadly javelin wield.
With caps of fur their rugged brows are dight,
The tawny covering from the dark wolf peeled;
Bare is the left foot, as they march to fight,
And, rough with raw bull's-hide, a sandal guards the right.
XCIII. Next came Messapus, tamer of the steed,
Great Neptune's son. Fire nor the steel's sharp stroke
Could lay him lifeless, so the Fates decreed.
Grasping his sword, a laggard race he woke,
Disused to war, and tardy to provoke.
Behind him throng Fescennia's ranks to fight,
Men from Flavinia, and Faliscum's folk,
And those whom fair Capena's groves delight,
Ciminius' mount and lake, and steep Soracte's height.
XCIV. With measured tramp, their monarch's praise they sing,
Like snowy swans, the liquid clouds among,
Which homeward from their feeding ply the wing,
When o'er Cayster's marish, loud and long,
The echoes float of their melodious song.
None, sure, such countless multitudes would deem
The mail-clad warriors of an armed throng:
Nay, rather, like a dusky cloud they seem
Of sea-fowl, landward driven with many a hoarse-voiced scream.
XCV. Lo, Clausus next; a mighty host he led,
Himself a host. From Sabine sires he came,
And Latium thence the Claudian house o'erspread,
When Romans first with Sabines dared to claim
Coequal lordship and a share of fame.
With Amiternus came Eretum's band;
From fair Velinus' dewy fields they came,
From olive-crowned Mutusca, from the land
Where proud Nomentum's towers the fruitful plains command.
XCVI. From the rough crags of Tetrica came down
Her hosts; they came from tall Severus' flank,
From Foruli and fam'd Casperia's town,
Wash'd by Himella's waves, and those who drank
Of Fabaris, or dwelt on Tiber's bank.
Those, too, whom Nursia sendeth from the snows,
And Horta's sons, in many an ordered rank,
And tribes of Latin origin, and those
Between whose parted fields th' ill-omened Allia flows.
XCVII. As roll the billows on the Libyan deep,
When fierce Orion in the wintry main
Sinks, dark with tempests, and the waves upleap;
As, parched with suns of summer, stands the grain
On Hermus' fields, or Lycia's golden plain;
So countless swarm the multitudes around
Bold Clausus, and the wide air rings again
With echoes, as their clashing shields resound,
And with the tramp of feet they shake the trembling ground.
XCVIII. There Agamemnon's kinsman yokes his steeds,
Halaesus. Trojans were his foes, his friend
Was Turnus. Lo, a thousand tribes he leads;
Those who on Massic hills the vineyards tend,
Those whom Auruncans from their mountains send.
From Sidicinum and her neighbouring plain,
From Cales, from Volturnus' shoals they wend.
From steep Saticulum the sturdy swain,
Fierce for the fray, comes down and joins the Oscan train.
XCIX. Light barbs they fling, from pliant thongs of hide,
A leathern target o'er the left is strung,
And short, curved daggers the close fight decide.
Nor, OEbalus, those gallant hosts among,
Shalt thou go nameless, and thy praise unsung,
Thou, from old Telon, as the tale hath feigned,
And beauteous Sebethis, the wood-nymph, sprung,
O'er Teleboan Caprea when he reigned;
But Caprea's narrow realm proud OEbalus disdained.
C. Far stretched his rule; Sarrastians owned his sway,
And they, whose lands the Sarnian waters drain,
And they, who till Celenna's fields, and they
Whom Batulum and Rufrae's walls contain,
And where through apple-orchards o'er the plain
Shines fair Abella. Deftly can they wield
Their native arms; the Teuton's lance they strain;
Bark helmets guard them, from the cork-tree peeled,
And brazen are their swords, and brazen every shield.
CI. From Nersa's hills, by prosperous arms renowned,
Comes Ufens, with his AEquians, in array.
Rude huntsmen these; in arms the stubborn ground
They till, themselves as stubborn. Day by day
They snatch fresh plunder, and they live by prey.
There, too, brave Umbro, of Marruvian fame,
Sent by his king Archippus, joins the fray.
Around his helmet, for in arms he came,
The auspicious olive's leaves the sacred priest proclaim.
CII. The rank-breath'd Hydra and the viper's rage
With hand and voice he lulled asleep; his art
Their bite could heal, their fury could assuage.
Alas! no medicine can heal the smart
Wrought by the griding of the Dardan dart.
Nor Massic herbs, nor slumberous charms avail
To cure the wound, that rankles in his heart.
Ah, hapless! thee Anguitia's bowering vale,
Thee Fucinus' clear waves and liquid lakes bewail!
CIII. Next came to war Hippolytus' fair child,
The comely Virbius, whom Aricia bore
Amid Egeria's grove, where rich and mild
Stands Dian's altar on the meadowy shore.
For when (Fame tells) Hippolytus of yore
Was slain, the victim of a stepdame's spite,
And, torn by frightened horses, quenched with gore
His father's wrath, famed Paeon's herbs of might
And Dian's fostering love restored him to the light.
CIV. Wroth then was Jove, that one of mortal clay
Should rise by mortal healing from the grave,
And change the nether darkness for the day,
And him, whose leechcraft thus availed to save,
Hurled with his lightning to the Stygian wave.
But kind Diana, in her pitying love,
Concealed her darling in a secret cave,
And fair Egeria nursed him in her grove,
Far from the view of men, and wrath of mighty Jove.
CV. There, changed in name to Virbius, but to fame
Unknown, through life in Latin woods he strayed.
Thenceforth, in memory of the deed of shame,
No horn-hoof'd steeds are suffered to invade
Chaste Trivia's temple or her sacred glade,
Since, scared by Ocean's monsters, from his car
They dashed him by the deep. Yet, undismayed,
His son, young Virbius, o'er the plains afar
The fleet-horsed chariot drives, and hastens to the war.
CVI. High in the forefront towered with stately frame
Turnus himself. His three-plumed helmet bore
A dragon fierce, that breathed AEtnean flame.
The bloodier waxed the battle, so the more
Its fierceness blazed, the louder was its roar.
Behold, the heifer on his shield, the sign
Of Io's fate; there Argus ever o'er
The virgin watches, and the stream doth shine,
Poured from the pictured urn of Inachus divine.
CVII. Next come the shielded footmen in a cloud,
Auruncan bands, Sicanians famed of yore,
Argives, Rutulians, and Sacranians proud.
Their painted shields the brave Labicians bore;
From Tibur's glades, from blest Numicia's shore,
From Circe's mount, from where great Jove presides
O'er Anxur, from Feronia's grove they pour,
From Satura's dark pool, where Ufens glides
Cold through the deepening vales, and mingles with the tides.
CVIII. Last came Camilla, with the Volscian bands,
Fierce horsemen, each in glittering arms bedight,
A warrior-virgin; ne'er her tender hands
Had plied the distaff; war was her delight,
Her joy to race the whirlwind and to fight.
Swift as the breeze, she skimmed the golden grain,
Nor bent the tapering wheatstalks in her flight,
So swift, the billows of the heaving main
Touched not her flying fleet, she scoured the watery plain.
CIX. Forth from each field and homestead, hurrying, throng,
With wonder, men and matrons, young and old,
And greet the maiden as she moves along.
Entranced with greedy rapture, they behold
Her royal scarf, in many a purple fold,
Float o'er her shining shoulders, and her hair
Bound in a coronal of clasping gold,
Her Lycian quiver, and her pastoral spear
Of myrtle, tipt with steel, and her, the maid, how fair!
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