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The Aeneid of Virgil
Book Eight
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ARGUMENT
Mustering of Italians, and embassage to Diomedes (1-18). Tiber in
a dream heartens AEneas and directs him to Evander for succour.
AEneas sacrifices the white sow and her litter to Juno, and reaches
Evander's city Pallanteum--the site of Rome (19-117). AEneas and
Evander meet and feast together. The story of Cacus and the praises
of Hercules are told and sung. Evander shows his city to AEneas
(118-432). Venus asks and obtains from Vulcan divine armour for her
son (433-531). At daybreak Evander promises AEneas further succour.
Their colloquy is interrupted by a sign from heaven (532-630).
Despatches are sent to Ascanius and prayers for aid to the Tuscans.
AEneas, his men and Evander's son Pallas are sent forth by Evander
with prayers for their success (631-720). Venus brings to AEneas the
armour wrought by Vulcan (721-738). Virgil describes the shield, on
which are depicted, not only the trials and triumphs of Rome's early
kings and champions, but the final conflict also at Actium between
East and West and the world-wide empire of Augustus (739-846).
I. When Turnus from Laurentum's tower afar
Signalled the strife, and bade the war-horns bray,
And stirred the mettled steeds, and woke the war,
Hearts leaped at once; all Latium swore that day
The oath of battle, burning for the fray.
Messapus, Ufens, and Mezentius vain,
Who scorned the Gods, ride foremost. Far away
They scour the fields; the shepherd and the swain
Rush to the war, and bare of ploughmen lies the plain.
II. To Diomed posts Venulus, to crave
His aid, and tell how Teucrians hold the land;
AEneas with his gods hath crossed the wave,
And claims the throne his vaunted Fates demand.
How many a tribe hath joined the Dardan's band,
How spreads his fame through Latium. What the foe
May purpose next, what conquest he hath planned,
Should friendly fortune speed the coming blow,
Better than Latium's king AEtolia's lord must know.
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III. So Latium fares. AEneas, tost with tides
Of thought, for well he marked the growing fight,
This way and that his eager mind divides,
Reflects, revolves and ponders on his plight.
As waters in a brazen urn flash bright,
Smit by the sunbeam or the moon's pale rays,
And round the chamber flits the trembling light,
And darts aloft, and on the ceiling plays,
So many a varying mood his anxious mind displays.
IV. 'Twas night; the tired world rested. Far and nigh
All slept, the cattle and the fowls of air.
Stretched on a bank, beneath the cold, clear sky,
Lay good AEneas, fain at length to share
Late slumber, troubled by the war with care.
When, 'twixt the poplars, where the fair stream flows,
With azure mantle, and with sedge-crowned hair,
The aged Genius of the place uprose,
And, standing by, thus spake, and comforted his woes:
V. "Blest seed of Heaven! who from the foemen's hand
Our Troy dost bring, and to an endless date Preservest Pergama; whom Latium's land
Hath looked for, and Laurentum's fields await,
Here, doubt not, are thy homegods, here hath Fate
Thy home decreed. Let not war's terrors seem
To daunt thee. Heaven is weary of its hate;
Its storms are spent. Distrust not, nor esteem
These words of idle worth, the coinage of a dream.
VI. "Hard by, beneath yon oak-trees, thou shalt see
A huge, white swine, and, clustering around
Her teats, are thirty young ones, white as she.
There shall thy labour with repose be crown'd,
Thy city set. There Alba's walls renowned,
When twice ten times hath rolled the circling year,
Called Alba Longa, shall Ascanius found.
Sure stands the word; and now attend and hear,
How best through present straits a prosperous course to steer.
VII. "Arcadians here, a race of old renown,
From Pallas sprung, with king Evander came,
And on the hill-side built a chosen town,
Called Pallanteum, from their founder's name.
Year after year they ply the war's rude game
With Latins. Go, and win them to thy side,
Bid them as fellows to thy camp, and frame
A league. Myself along the banks will guide,
And teach thy labouring oars to mount the opposing tide.
VIII. "Rise, Goddess-born, and, when the stars decline,
Pray first to Juno, and on bended knee
Subdue her wrath with supplication. Mine
Shall be the victor's homage; I am he,
Heaven's favoured stream, whose brimming waves ye see,
Borne in full flood these flowery banks between,
Chafe the fat soil and cleave the fruitful lea,
Blue Tiber. Here my dwelling shall be seen,
Fairest of lofty towns, the world's majestic queen."
IX. So saying, the Stream-god dived beneath the flood,
And sought the deep. Slumber at once and night
Forsook AEneas; he arose, and stood,
And eastward gazing at the dawning light,
Scooped up the stream, obedient to the rite,
And prayed, "O nymphs, Laurentian nymphs, whence spring
All rivers; father Tiber, blest and bright,
Receive AEneas as your own, and bring
Peace to his toil-worn heart, and shield the Dardan king.
X. "What pool soever holds thy source, where'er
The soil, from whence thou leapest to the day
In loveliness, these grateful hands shall bear
Due gifts, these lips shall hallow thee for aye,
Horned river, whom Hesperian streams obey,
Whose pity cheers; be with us, I entreat,
Confirm thy purpose, and thy power display."
He spake, and chose two biremes from the fleet,
Equipped with oars, and rigged with crews and arms complete.
XI. Lo! now a portent, wondrous to be seen.
Stretched at full length along the bank, they view
The fateful swine, conspicuous on the green,
White, with her litter of the self-same hue.
Her good AEneas, as an offering due,
To Juno, mightiest of all powers divine,
Yea, e'en to thee, dread Juno, caught and slew,
And lit the altars and outpoured the wine,
And left the dam and brood together at the shrine.
XII. All night the Tiber stayed his swelling flood,
And with hushed wave, recoiling from the main,
Calm as some pool or quiet lake, he stood
And smoothed his waters like a liquid plain,
That not an oar should either strive or strain.
Thus on they go; smooth glides the bark of pine,
Borne with glad shouts; and ever and again
The woods and waters wonder, as the line
Of painted keels goes by, with arms of glittering shine.
XIII. All night and day outwearying, they steer
Up the long reaches, through the groves, that lie
With green trees shadowing the tranquil mere.
Now flamed the sun in the meridian high,
When walls afar and citadel they spy,
And scattered roofs. Where now the power of Rome
Hath made her stately structures mate the sky,
Then poor and lowly stood Evander's home.
Thither their prows are turned, and to the town they come.
XIV. That day, Arcadia's monarch, in a grove
Before the town, a solemn feast had planned
To Hercules and all the gods above.
His son, young Pallas, and a youthful band,
And humble senators around him stand,
Each offering incense, and the warm, fresh blood
Still smokes upon the shrines, when, hard at hand,
They see the tall ships, through the shadowy wood,
Glide up with silent oars along the sacred flood.
XV. Scared by the sudden sight, all quickly rise
And quit the board. But Pallas, bold of cheer,
Bids them not break the worship. Forth he flies
To meet the strangers, as their ships appear,
His right hand brandishing a glittering spear.
"Gallants," he hails them from a mound afar,
"What drove you hither by strange ways to steer?
Say whither wending? who and what ye are?
Your kin, and where your home? And bring ye peace or war?"
XVI. Then sire AEneas from the stern outheld
A branch of olive, and bespake him fair:
"Troy's sons ye see, by Latin pride expelled.
'Gainst Latin enemies these arms we bear.
We seek Evander. Go, the news declare:
Choice Dardan chiefs his friendship come to claim.
His aid we ask for, and his arms would share."
He ceased, and wonder and amazement came
On Pallas, struck with awe to hear the mighty name.
XVII. "Whoe'er thou art, hail, stranger," he replied,
"Step forth, and to my father tell thy quest,
And take the welcome that true hearts provide."
Forth as he leaped, the Dardan's hand he pressed,
And, pressing, held it, and embraced his guest.
So from the river through the grove they fare,
And reach the place, where, feasting with the rest,
They find Evander. Him with speeches fair
AEneas hails, and hastes his errand to declare.
XVIII. "O best of Greeks, whom thus with olive bough
Hath Fortune willed me to entreat; yet so
I shunned thee not, albeit Arcadian thou,
A Danaan leader, in whose veins doth flow
The blood of Atreus, and my country's foe.
My conscious worth, our ties of ancestry,
Thy fame, which rumour through the world doth blow,
And Heaven's own oracles, by Fate's decree,
My willing steps have led, and link my heart, to thee.
XIX. "Troy's founder, Dardanus, to the Teucrians came,
Child of Electra, so the Greeks declare.
Huge Atlas was Electra's sire, the same
Whose shoulders still the starry skies upbear.
Your sire is Mercury, whom Maia fair
On chill Cyllene's summit bore of old;
And Maia's sire, if aught of truth we hear,
Was Atlas, he who doth the spheres uphold.
Thus from a single stock the double stems unfold.
XX. "Trusting to this, no embassy I sent,
No arts employed, thy purpose to explore.
Myself, my proper person, I present,
And stand a humble suppliant at thy door.
Thy foes are ours, the Daunian race, and sore
They grind us. If they drive us hence, they say,
Their conquering arms shall stretch from shore to shore.
Plight we our troth; strong arms are ours to-day,
Stout hearts, and manhood proved in many a hard essay."
XXI. He ceased. Long while Evander marked with joy
His face and eyes, and scanned through and through,
Then spake: "O bravest of the sons of Troy!
What joy to greet thee; thine the voice, the hue,
The face of great Anchises, whom I knew.
Well I remember, how, in days forepast,
Old Priam came to Salamis, to view
His sister's realms, Hesione's, and passed
To far Arcadia, chilled with many a Northern blast.
XXII. "Scarce o'er my cheeks the callow down had crept,
With wondering awe I viewed the Trojan train,
And gazed at Priam. But Anchises stepped
The tallest. Boyish ardour made me fain
To greet the hero, and his hand to strain.
I ventured, and to Pheneus brought my guest.
A Lycian case of arrows, bridles twain,
All golden--Pallas holds them,--and a vest
And scarf of broidered gold his parting thanks expressed.
XXIII. "Take then the hand thou seekest; be it thine,
The plighted pact; and when to-morrow's ray
Shall chase the shadows, and the dawn shall shine,
Aid will I give you, and due stores purvey,
And send you hence rejoicing on your way.
Meanwhile, since Heaven forbids us to postpone
These yearly rites, and we are friends, be gay
And share with us the banquet. Sit ye down,--
Behold, the boards are spread,--and make the feast your own."
XXIV. He spake, and back, at his command, they bring
The food and wine. The chiefs, in order meet,
Along the grass he ranges, and their king
Leads to his throne; of maple was the seat;
A lion's hide lay bristling at his feet.
Youths and the altar's minister bring wine,
And heap the bread, and serve the roasted meat.
On lustral entrails and the bull's whole chine,
Couched round the Trojan king, the Trojan warriors dine.
XXV. Then, when at last desire of food had ceased,
Thus spake Evander: "Lo, this solemn show,
This sacred altar, and this ordered feast,
No idle witchwork are they. Well we know
The ancient gods. Saved from a fearful foe,
Each year the deed we celebrate. See there
Yon nodding crag; behold the rocks below,
Tost in huge ruin, and the lonely lair,
Scooped from the mountain's side, how wild the waste and bare!
XXVI. "There yawned the cavern, in the rock's dark womb,
Wherein the monster Cacus dwelt of yore,
Half-human. Never sunlight pierced the gloom;
But day by day the rank earth reeked with gore,
And human faces, nailed above the door,
Hung, foul and ghastly. From the loins he came
Of Vulcan, and his huge mouth evermore
Spewed forth a torrent of Vulcanian flame;
Proudly he stalked the earth, and shook the world's fair frame.
XXVII. "But time, in answer to our prayers, one day
Brought aid,--a God to help us in our need.
Flushed with the death of Geryon, came this way
Alcides, glorying in the victor's meed,
And hither drove his mighty bulls to feed.
These, pasturing in the valley, from his lair
Fierce Cacus saw, and, scorning in his greed
To leave undone what crime or craft could dare,
Four beauteous heifers stole, four oxen sleek and fair.
XXVIII. "Then, lest their footprints should the track declare,
Back by their tails he dragged the captured kine,
With hoofs reversed, and shut them in his lair,
And whoso sought the cavern found no sign.
But when at last Amphitryon's son divine,
His feasted herds, preparing to remove,
Called from their pastures, and in long-drawn line,
With plaintive lowing, the departing drove
Trooped from the echoing hills, and clamours filled the grove,
XXIX. "One of the heifers from the cave again
Lowed back, in answer to the sound, and broke
The hopes of Cacus, and his theft was plain.
Black choler in Alcides' breast awoke.
Grasping his arms and club of knotted oak,
Straight to the sky-capt Aventine he hies,
And scales the steep. Then, not till then, our folk
Saw Cacus tremble. To the cave he flies,
Wing'd like the wind with fear, and terror in his eyes.
XXX. "Scarce in, the rock he loosened with a blow,
Slung high in iron by his father's care,
And with the barrier blocked the door; when lo,
With heart aflame, great Hercules was there,
And searched each way for access to his lair,
Grinding his teeth. Thrice round the mount he threw
His vengeful eyes, thrice strove from earth to tear
The stone, and storm the threshold, thrice withdrew,
And in the vale sat down, and nursed his wrath anew.
XXXI. "Sharp-pointed, sheer above the dungeon, stood
A crag, fit home for evil birds to light.
This, where it frowned to leftward o'er the flood,
Alcides shook, and, heaving from the right,
Tore from its roots, and headlong down the height
Impelled it. With the impulse and the fall
Heaven thunders; back the river in affright
Shrinks to its source. Bank leaps from bank, and all
The mountain, yawning, shows the monster's cave and hall.
XXXII. "Stript of their roof, the dark abodes far back
Lie open to their inmost; e'en as though
Earth, rent asunder with convulsive wrack,
And opening to the centre, gaped to show
Hell's regions, and the gloomy realms of woe,
Abhorr'd of gods, and bare to mortals lay
The vast abyss, while in the gulf below
The pallid spectres, huddling in dismay,
Looked up with dazzled eyes, at influx of the day.
XXXIII. "Caught in his den, the startled monster strove,
With uncouth bellowing, to elude the light.
With darts Alcides plies him from above,
Huge trunks and millstones seizing for the fight,
Hard pressed at length, and desperate for flight,
Black smoke he vomits, wondrous to be told,
That shrouds the cavern, and obscures the sight,
And, denser than the night, around his hold
Thick darkness, mixt with fire, and smothering fumes are rolled.
XXXIV. "Scorn filled Alcides, and his wrath outbroke,
And through the fire, indignant, with a bound
He dashes, where thickest rolled the cloud of smoke,
And in black vapours all the cave was drowned.
Here, vomiting his idle flames, he found
Huge Cacus in the darkness. Like a thread
He twists him--chokes him--pins him to the ground,
The strangled eyeballs starting from his head;
Blood leaves the blackened throat, the giant form lies dead.
XXXV. "Then suddenly, as back the doors are torn,
The gloomy den stands open, and the prey,
The stolen oxen, and the spoils forsworn,
Are bared to heaven, and by the heels straightway
He drags the grisly carcase to the day.
All, thronging round, with hungry gaze admire
The monster. Lost in wonder and dismay
They mark the eyes, late terrible with ire,
The face, the bristly breast, the jaw's extinguished fire.
XXXVI. "Henceforth they solemnise this day divine,
Their glad posterity from year to year,
Potitius first, and the Pinarian line,
Preserve the praise of Hercules; and here
This altar named 'the Greatest' did they rear.
(Greatest 'twill be for ever). Come then, all,
And give such worth due honour. Wreathe your hair,
And pass the wine-bowl merrily, and call
Each on our common God, the guardian of us all."
XXXVII. He spake; the God's own poplar, fleckt with white,
Hung, twining o'er his brows. His right hand bore
The sacred bowl. All, gladdening, hail the rite,
And pour libations, and the Gods adore.
'Twas evening, and the Western star once more
Sloped towards Olympus. Forth Potitius came,
Leading the priests, girt roughly, as of yore,
With skins of beasts, and bearing high the flame.
Fresh, dainty gifts they bring, the second course to frame.
XXXVIII. Next came the Salians, dancing as they sung
Around the blazing altars. Poplar crowned
Their brows; a double chorus, old and young,
Chant forth the glories and the deeds renowned
Of Hercules; how, potent to confound
His stepdame's hate, he crushed the serpents twain;
What towns in war he levelled to the ground,
Troy and OEchalia; how with infinite pain
Eurystheus' tasks he sped, and Juno's fates were vain:
XXXIX. "Oh thou, unconquered, whose resistless hand
Smote the twin giants of the cloud-born crew,
Pholus, Hylaeus; and the Cretan land
Freed from its monster; and in Nemea slew
The lion! Styx hath trembled at thy view,
And Cerberus, when, smeared with gore, he lay
On bones half-mumbled in his darksome mew.
Thee not Typhoeus, when in armed array
He towered erect, could daunt, nor grisly shapes dismay.
XL. "Prompt was thy wit, when, powerless to prevail,
Around thee twined, the beast of Lerna's fen
Hissed with the legion of its heads. O hail,
True son of Jove, the praise of mortal men,
And Heaven's new glory. Hither turn thy ken,
And cheer thy votaries." So with heart and will
They chant his praise, nor less the monster's den,
And Cacus, breathing flames. The loud notes fill
The sacred grove around, and echo to the hill.
XLI. The rites thus ended, to the town they fare.
In front, the good Evander, old and grey,
Moves 'twixt AEneas and his youthful heir,
And oft with various converse, as they stray,
Beguiles the lightened labour of the way.
Now this, now that the Trojan chief admires,
Filled with new pleasure, as his eyes survey
Each place in turn. Oft, gladly he enquires
The tokens, one by one, and tales of ancient sires.
XLII. Then he, who built the citadel of Rome,
Spake thus--the good Evander: "Yonder view
The forest; 'twas the Fauns' and Wood-nymphs' home.
Their birth from trunks and rugged oaks they drew;
No arts they had, nor settled life, nor knew
To yoke the ox, or lay up stores, or spare
What wealth they gathered; but their wants were few;
The branches gave them sustenance, whate'er
In toilsome chase they won, composed their scanty fare.
XLIII. "Then first came Saturn from Olympus' height,
Flying from Jove, his kingdom barred and banned,
He taught the scattered hillsmen to unite,
And gave them laws, and bade the name to stand
Of Latium, he safe latent in the land.
Then tranquilly the happy seasons rolled
Year after year, and Peace, with plenteous hand,
Smiled on his sceptre. 'Twas the Age of Gold,
So well his placid sway the willing folk controlled.
XLIV. "Then waxed the times degenerate, and the stain
With stealthy growth gave birth to deeds of shame,
The rage of battle, and the lust of gain.
Then came Ausonians, then Sicanians came,
And oft the land of Saturn changed its name.
Strange tyrants came, and ruled Italia's shore,
Grim-visaged Thybris, of gigantic frame;
His name henceforth the river Tiber bore,
And Albula's old name was known, alas! no more.
XLV. "Me, from my country driven forth to roam
The utmost deep, perforce the Fates' design
And Fortune's power drove hitherward. This home
My mother, Nymph Carmentis, warned was mine;
A god, Apollo, did these shores assign."
So saying, he shows the altar and the gate
Long called Carmental, from the Nymph divine,
First seer who sang, with faithful voice, how great
AEneas' race should rise, and Pallanteum's fate.
XLVI. He shows the grove of Romulus, his famed
Asylum; then, beneath the rock's cold crest
Lupercal's cave, from Pan Lycaean named;
Then, Argiletum's grove, whose shades attest
The death of Argus, once the monarch's guest;
Tarpeia's rock, the Capitolian height,
Now golden--rugged 'twas of old, a nest
Of tangled brakes, yet hallowed was the site
E'en then, and wood and rock filled the rude hinds with fright.
XLVII. "These wooded steeps," he said, "this sacred grove
What godhead haunts, we know not; legends say
Arcadians here have seen the form of Jove,
And seen his right hand, with resistless sway,
Shake the dread AEgis, and the clouds array.
See, yon two cities, once renowned by fame,
Now ruined walls and crumbling to decay;
This Janus built, those walls did Saturn frame;
Janiculum was this, that bore Saturnia's name."
XLVIII. So talking, to Evander's lowly seat
They journeyed. Herds were lowing on the plain,
Where stand the Forum and Carinae's street.
"These gates," said he, "did great Alcides deign
To pass; this palace did the god contain.
Dare thou to quit thee like the god, nor dread
To scorn mere wealth, nor humble cheer disdain."
So saying, AEneas through the door he led,
And skins of Libyan bears on garnered leaves outspread.
XLIX. Night, with dark wings descending, wrapt the world,
When Venus, harassed, nor in vain, with fear,
To see the menace at Laurentum hurled,
To Vulcan, on his golden couch, drew near,
Breathing immortal passion: "Husband dear,
When Greeks the fated citadel of Troy
With fire and sword were ravaging, or ere
Her towers had fallen, I sought not to employ
Arms, arts or aid of thine, their purpose to destroy.
L. "Ne'er taxed I then thy labours, dearest love,
Large as my debt to Priam's sons, and sore
My grief for poor AEneas. Now, since Jove
Hath brought him here to the Rutulian shore,
Thine arms I ask, thy deity implore,
A mother for her son. Dread power divine,
Whom Thetis, whom Tithonus' spouse of yore
Could move with tears, behold, what hosts combine,
What towns, with barr'd gates, arm to ruin me and mine."
LI. She spake, and both her snowy arms outflung
Around him doubting, and embraced the Sire,
And, softly fondling, kissed him as she clung.
Through bones and veins her melting charms inspire
The well-known heat, and reawake desire.
So, riven by the thunder, through the pile
Of storm-clouds runs the glittering cleft of fire.
Proud of her beauty, with a conscious smile,
The Goddess feels her power, and gladdens at the guile.
LII. Then Vulcan, mastered by immortal love,
Answers his spouse, "Why, Goddess mine, invent
Such far-fetched pleas? Dost thou thy faith remove,
And cease to trust in Vulcan? Had thy bent
So moved thee then, arms quickly had I lent
To aid thy Trojans, and thy wish were gained,
Nor envious Fate, nor Jove omnipotent
Had crossed my purpose; then had Troy remained,
And Priam ten years more the kingly line sustained.
LIII. "E'en now, if war thou seekest to prepare,
And thither tends thy purpose, be it sped.
Whate'er my craft can promise, whatso'er
Is wrought with iron, ivory or lead,
Fanned with the blast, or molten in the bed,
Thine be it all; forbear a suppliant's quest,
Nor wrong thy beauty's potency." He said,
And gave the love she longed for; on her breast
Outpoured at length he slept, and loosed his limbs with rest.
LIV. 'Twas midnight; sleep had faded from its prime,
The hour, when housewives, who a scanty fare
Eke out with loom and distaff, rise in time
To wake the embers, and the night outwear;
Then call their handmaids, by the light to share
The task, that keeps the husband's bed from shame,
And earns a pittance for the babes. So there,
Nor tardier, to his toil the Lord of Flame
Springs from his couch of down, the workmen's task to frame.
LV. Hard by AEolian Lipare, before
Sicania, looms an island from the deep,
With smoking rocks. There AEtna's caverns roar,
Hewn by the Cyclop's forges from the steep.
There the steel hisses and the sparks upleap,
And clanging anvils, smit with dexterous aim,
Groan through the cavern, as their strokes they heap,
And restless in the furnace pants the flame.
'Twas Vulcan's house, the land even yet bears Vulcan's name.
LVI. Down to this cavern came the Lord of Flame,
And found Pyracmon, naked as he strove,
Brontes and Steropes. Their hands still frame
A thunderbolt unfinished, such as Jove
Rains thickly from his armouries above,
Tipt with twelve barbs and never known to fail.
Part still remain unwrought; three rays they wove
Of ruddy fire, three of the Southern gale,
Three of the watery cloud, and three of twisted hail.
LVII. They blend the frightful flashes and the peals,
Sound, fear, and fury with the flames behind.
These forge the War-Gods' chariot and swift wheels,
Which stir up cities, and arouse mankind.
Here, burnished bright for wrathful Pallas, shined,
With serpent scales, and golden links firm bound,
Her dreadful AEgis, and the snakes entwined;
And on her breast, with severed neck, still frowned
Medusa's head, and rolled her dying eyes around.
LVIII. "Cease now," said Vulcan, "and these toils forbear,
Cyclops of AEtna; hither turn your heed.
Arms for a hero must the forge prepare.
Now use your strength and nimble hands; ye need
A master's cunning; to your tasks with speed."
He spake; each quickly at the word once more
Falls to his labour, as the lots decreed.
Now flows the copper, now the golden ore;
Now melts the deadly steel; the flames resume their roar.
LIX. A mighty shield they fashion, fit to meet
Singly all arms of Latium. Layer on layer,
Seven folds in circles on its face they beat.
These from the windy bellows force the air,
These hissing copper for the forge prepare,
Dipt in the trough. The cavern floor below
Groans with the anvils and the strokes they bear,
As strong arms timed heap measured blow on blow,
And, turned with griping tongs, the molten mass doth glow.
LX. While on AEolia's coast the Lemnian sire
Wrought thus, the fair Dawn, mantling in the skies,
Awakes Evander, and the lowly choir
Of birds beneath the eaves invites to rise.
The Tuscan sandals to his feet he ties,
The kirtle dons, the Tegeaean sword
Links to his side. A panther's skin supplies
His scarf, hung leftward, and his watchful ward,
Two dogs, the threshold leave, and 'company their lord.
LXI. So to the chamber of his Dardan guest
The good Evander for his promise' sake
Full early hastens pondering in his breast
The tale he listened to, the words he spake.
Nor less AEneas, with the dawn awake,
Goes forth. Achates at his side attends,
His son, young Pallas, doth Evander take.
So meeting, each a willing hand extends,
And host and guest sit down, and frankly talk as friends.
LXII. First spake the King: "Great Chief of Trojan fame,
Who living, ne'er the Trojan state is lost.
Small is our strength for war, though great our name.
Here Tiber bounds us, there Rutulians boast
To rend our walls, and thunder with their host.
But mighty tribes and wealthy realms shall band
Their arms with mine. Chance, where unlooked-for most,
Points to this succour. By the Fate's command
Thou comest; thee the gods have guided to our land.
LXIII. "Not far from here, upon an aged rock,
There stands a town, Agylla is its name,
Where on Etruscan ridges dwells the stock
Of ancient Lydia, men of warlike fame.
Long years it flourished, till Mezentius came
And ruled it fiercely, with a tyrant's sway.
Ah me! why tell the nameless deeds of shame,
The savage murders wrought from day to day?
May Heaven on him and his those cruelties repay!
LXIV. "Nay more, he joined the living to the dead,
Hand linked to hand in torment, face to face.
The rank flesh mouldered, and the limbs still bled,
Till death, O misery, with lingering pace,
Loosed the foul union and the long embrace.
Worn out at last with all his crimes abhorred,
Around the horrid madman swarmed apace
The armed Agyllans. On his roof they poured
The firebrands, seized his guards and slew them with the sword.
LXV. "He safely through the carnage slunk away
To fields Rutulian, where with sheltering hand
Great Turnus shields the tyrant. So to-day,
Stirred with just fury, all Etruria's land
Springs to the war, prompt vengeance to demand.
Thine be these all, for thousands can I boast,
AEneas, thine to captain and command.
Mark now their shouts; already roars the host,
'Arm, bring the banners forth'; their vessels crowd the coast.
LXVI. "An aged seer thus warns them to refrain,
Expounding Fate: 'Choice youths, the flower and show
Of ancient warriors of Meonian strain,
Whom just resentment arms against the foe,
Whose souls with hatred of Mezentius glow,
No man of Italy is fit to lead
So vast a multitude, the Fates say "No;
Seek ye a foreign captain."' Awed, they heed
The warning words divine, and camp upon the mead.
LXVII. "Lo, Tarchon sends ambassadors; they bring
The crown, and sceptre, and the signs of state,
And bid me join the Tuscans as their king.
But frosty years have dulled me; life is late,
And envious Age forbids an Empire's weight.
Fit were my son, but half Italian he,
His mother born a Sabine. Thee hath Fate
Endowed with years and proper birth; for thee
The Gods this throne have willed, and, what they will, decree.
LXVIII. "Advance, brave Chief of Italy and Troy!
Advance; young Pallas at thy side shall fare,
My hope, my solace, and my heart's best joy.
With thee to teach him, he shall learn to share
The war's grim work, the warrior's toil to bear;
From earliest youth to marvel at thy deeds,
And try to match them. Horsemen shall be there,
Ten score, the choicest that Arcadia breeds;
Two hundred more, his own, the gallant stripling leads."
LXIX. He spake: AEneas and Achates stood
With down-fixt eyes, musing the strange event.
Dark thoughts were theirs, and sorrowful their mood;
When lo, to leftward Cytherea sent
A sign amid the open firmament.
A flash of lightning swift from ether sprang
With thunder. Turmoil universal blent
Earth, sea and sky; the empyrean rang
With arms, and loudly pealed the Tuscan trumpet's clang.
LXX. Upward they look: again and yet again
Comes the loud crash of thunder, and between
A cloud that frets the firmamental plain,
With bright, red flash amid the sky serene,
The glitter of resounding arms is seen.
All tremble; but AEneas hails the sign
Long-promised. "Ask not," he exclaims, "what mean
These prodigies and portents; they are mine.
Me great Olympus calls; I hear the voice divine.
LXXI. "This sign my Goddess-mother vowed to send,
If war should threaten; thus in armed array
From heaven with aid she promised to descend.
Ah, woe for thee, Laurentum, soon the prey
Of foeman! What a reckoning shalt thou pay
To me, ill-fated Turnus! How thy wave
Shall redden, Tiber, as it rolls away
Helmets, and shields and bodies of the brave!
Ay, let them break the league, and bid the War-god rave."
LXXII. He spake, and, rising from his seat, renews
The slumbering fires of Hercules, and tends
The hearth-god's shrine of yesterday. Choice ewes
They slay--Evander and his Trojan friends.
Then to his comrades and the shore he wends,
Arrays the crews, and takes the bravest there
To follow him in fight. The rest he sends
To young Ascanius down the stream, to bear
News of his absent sire, and how the cause doth fare.
LXXIII. With steeds, to aid the Tuscans, they provide
The Teucrians. For AEneas forth is led
The choicest, with a tawny lion's hide,
All glittering with gilded claws, bespread.
Now rumour through the little town hath sped,
Of horsemen for the Tuscan king, with spear
And shield for battle. Mothers, pale with dread,
Heap vows on vows. The War-god, drawing near,
Looms larger, and more close to danger draws the fear.
LXXIV. Then cries Evander, clinging, and with tears
Insatiate, loth to see his Pallas go,
"Ah! would but Jove bring back the bygone years,
As when beneath Praeneste long ago
I strowed the van, and laid their mightiest low,
And burned their shields, and with this hand to Hell
Hurled down King Erulus, the monstrous foe,
To whom Feronia, terrible to tell,
Three lives had given, and thrice to battle ere he fell.
LXXV. "Twice up he rose, but thrice I slew the slain,
Thrice of his life I robbed him, till he died,
Thrice stripped his arms. O, were I such again,
Danger, nor death, nor aught of ill beside,
Sweet son, should ever tear me from thy side.
Ne'er had Mezentius then, the neighbouring lord,
Dared thus to flout me, nor this arm defied.
Nor wrought such havoc and such crimes abhorred,
Nor made a weeping town thus widowed by the sword.
LXXVI. "O Gods, and thou, who rulest earth and air,
Great Jove, their mightiest, pity, I implore,
Arcadia's King, and hear a father's prayer.
If Fate this happiness reserve in store,
To gaze upon my Pallas' face once more,
If living means to meet my son again,
Then let me live; how hard soe'er and sore
My trials, gladly will I count them gain.
Sweet will the suffering seem, and light the load of pain.
LXXVII. "But O, if Fortune, with malignant spite,
Some blow past utterance for my life prepare,
Now, now this moment rid me of the light,
While fears are vague, nor hoping breeds despair,
While, dearest boy, my late and only care,
Thus--thus I fold thee in my arms to-day.
Nor wound with news too sorrowful to bear
A father's ears!" He spake, and swooned away;
Back to his home the slaves their fainting lord convey.
LXXVIII. Forth troop the horsemen from the gates. First ride
AEneas and Achates; in the rear
Troy's nobles, led by Pallas, in the pride
Of broidered scarf and figured arms, appear.
As when bright Lucifer, to Venus dear
Beyond all planets and each starry beam,
High up in heaven his sacred head doth rear,
Bathed in the freshness of the Ocean stream,
And melts the dark, so fair the gallant youth doth seem.
LXXIX. The matrons stand upon the walls, distraught,
And mark the dust-cloud and the mail-clad train.
These through the brushwood, where the road lies short,
Move on in arms. The war-shout peals again,
The hard hoofs clattering shake the crumbling plain.
And now, where, cold with crystal waves, is found
Fair Caere's stream, a spreading grove they gain.
Ages have spread its sanctity, and, crowned
With pine-woods dark as night, the hollow hills stand round.
LXXX. This grove, 'tis said, the tribes Pelasgian--they,
Who first in Latin marches dwelt of old--
Kept sacred to Silvanus, and the day
Vowed to the guardian of the field and fold.
Hard by, brave Tarchon and his Tuscans bold
Lay camped. His legions, stretching o'er the meads,
The Trojans from a rising ground behold.
AEneas here his toil-worn warriors leads;
Food for themselves they bring, and forage for their steeds.
LXXXI. Meanwhile fair Venus through the clouds came down,
Bearing her gifts. Couched in a secret glade,
By a cool river, she espies her son,
And hails him: "See the promised gifts displayed,
Wrought by my husband's cunning for thine aid.
Thy prowess now let proud Laurentum taste,
Nor fear with Turnus to contend." So said
Cythera's goddess, and her child embraced,
And on an oak in front the radiant arms she placed.
LXXXII. Joy fills AEneas; with insatiate gaze
He views the gifts, and marvels at the sight.
In turn he handles, and in turn surveys
The helmet tall with fiery crest bedight,
The fateful sword, the breastplate's brazen might,
Blood-red, and huge, and glorious to behold
As some dark cloud, far-blazing with the light
Of sunset; then the polished greaves of gold,
The spear, the mystic shield, too wondrous to be told.
LXXXIII. There did the Fire-king, who the future cons,
The tale of ancient Italy portray,
Rome's triumphs, and Ascanius' distant sons,
Their wars in order, and each hard-fought fray.
There, in the cave of Mars all verdurous, lay
The fostering she-wolf with the twins; they hung
About her teats, and licked in careless play
Their mother. She, with slim neck backward flung,
In turn caressed them both, and shaped them with her tongue.
LXXXIV. There, later Rome, and there, the Sabine dames
Amid the crowded theatre he viewed,
Raped by the Romans at the Circus games;
The sudden war, that from the deed ensued,
With aged Tatius and his Cures rude.
There stand the kings, still armed, but foes no more,
Beside Jove's altar, and abjure the feud.
Goblet in hand, the sacred wine they pour,
And o'er the slaughtered swine the plighted peace restore.
LXXXV. Next, Mettus, by the four-horsed chariot torn.
('Twere better, perjured Alban, to be true!)
Fierce Tullus dragged the traitor's limbs in scorn
Through brambles, dripping with the crimson dew.
Porsenna there around the city drew
His 'leaguering host. But freedom fired the blood
Of Romans. Idle was his rage, to view
How Cocles on the battered bridge withstood,
And Cloelia burst her bonds, and singly stemmed the flood.
LXXXVI. Next, Manlius guards the Capitol; see here
The straw-thatched palace. Silvered in the gold,
The fluttering goose proclaims the Gauls are near.
They, screened by darkness, thread the woods, and hold
With arms the slumbering citadel. Behold
Their beards all golden, and their golden hair,
Their white necks gleaming with the twisted gold,
Their chequered plaids. Each hand an Alpine spear
Waves, and an oblong shield their stalwart arms upbear.
LXXXVII. There danced the Salians, the Luperci reeled
Half-naked. See them sculptured in array,
With caps wool-tufted, and the sky-dropt shield.
Chaste dames, in cushioned chariots, lead the way
Through the glad city. Elsewhere, far away,
Loom Dis and Tartarus, where the guilty pine,
And Catiline, upon a rock for aye
Hangs, shuddering at the Furies. Distant shine
The just, where Cato stands, dealing the law divine.
LXXXVIII. The swelling ocean in the midst is seen,
All golden, but the billow's hoary spray
Foams o'er the blue. Dolphins of silvery sheen
Lash the white eddies with their tails in play,
Cleaving the surges. In the centre lay
The brazen fleets, all panoplied for war,
'Tis Actium's fight; Leucate's headland grey
Boils with the tumult of the distant jar,
And golden glow the waves, effulgent from afar.
LXXXIX. Augustus his Italians leads from home,
High on the stern. The Senators stand round,
The people, and the guardian gods of Rome.
With double flame his joyous brows are crowned;
The constellation of his sire renowned
Beams o'er his head. There too, his ships in line,
With winds and gods to prosper him, is found
Agrippa. Radiant on his head doth shine
The crown of golden beaks, the battle's glorious sign.
XC. Here, late from Parthia and the Red-sea coast,
With motley legions and barbaric pride,
Comes Anthony. From Egypt swarms his host,
From India and far Bactra. At his side
Stands--shame to tell it--an Egyptian bride.
See now the fight; prows churn and oar-blades lash
The foam. 'Twould seem the Cyclads swim the tide,
Torn from his moorings, or the mountains clash,
So huge the tower-crowned ships, so terrible the crash.
XCI. Winged darts are hurled, and flaming tow; the leas
Of Neptune redden. There the queen stands by,
And sounds the timbrel for the fray, nor sees
The asps behind. All monsters of the sky
With Neptune, Venus, and Minerva vie.
In vain Anubis barks; Mars raves among
The combatants; the Furies frown on high.
With mantle rent, glad Discord joins the throng;
Behind, with bloody scourge, Bellona stalks along.
XCII. There Actian Phoebus, gazing on the scene,
Bent his dread bow. Egypt, Arabia fled,
And India turned in terror. There, the queen
Calls to the winds; behold, the sails are spread.
Her, pale with thoughts of dying, through the dead
The waves and zephyrs--so the gold expressed--
Bear onward. Yonder, to his sheltering bed
Nile, sorrowing, calls the fugitives to rest,
Unfolds his winding robes, and bares his azure breast.
XCIII. There, Caesar sacred to his gods proclaims
Three hundred temples, each a stately fane.
Behold his triple triumph. Shouts and games
Gladden the streets; glad matrons chant the strain
At every altar, and the steers are slain.
He takes the offerings, and reviews the throng,
Throned in the portal of Apollo's fane.
Below, the captive nations march along,
Diverse in arms and garb, and each of different tongue.
XCIV. Wild Nomads, Africans uncinctured came,
Carians, Gelonian bowmen, and behind
The Leleges, the Dahae, hard to tame,
The Morini, extreme of human-kind.
Last, proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind,
Euphrates humbled, and the horned Rhine.
All this, by Vulcan on the shield designed,
He sees, and, gladdening at the gift divine,
Upbears aloft the fame and fortunes of his line.
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