The Aeneid Part 19

Or, if by dearer ties you may be won, By your dead sire, and by your living son, Redeem from this reproach my wand'ring ghost; Or with your navy seek the Velin coast, And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose; Or, if a nearer way your mother shows, Without whose aid you durst not undertake This frightful pa.s.sage o'er the Stygian lake, Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o'er To the sweet banks of yon forbidden sh.o.r.e."

Scarce had he said, the prophetess began: "What hopes delude thee, miserable man?

Think'st thou, thus unintomb'd, to cross the floods, To view the Furies and infernal G.o.ds, And visit, without leave, the dark abodes?

Attend the term of long revolving years; Fate, and the dooming G.o.ds, are deaf to tears.

This comfort of thy dire misfortune take: The wrath of Heav'n, inflicted for thy sake, With vengeance shall pursue th' inhuman coast, Till they propitiate thy offended ghost, And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray'r; And Palinurus' name the place shall bear."

This calm'd his cares; sooth'd with his future fame, And pleas'd to hear his propagated name.

Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw: Whom, from the sh.o.r.e, the surly boatman saw; Observ'd their pa.s.sage thro' the shady wood, And mark'd their near approaches to the flood.

Then thus he call'd aloud, inflam'd with wrath: "Mortal, whate'er, who this forbidden path In arms presum'st to tread, I charge thee, stand, And tell thy name, and bus'ness in the land.

Know this, the realm of night- the Stygian sh.o.r.e: My boat conveys no living bodies o'er; Nor was I pleas'd great Theseus once to bear, Who forc'd a pa.s.sage with his pointed spear, Nor strong Alcides- men of mighty fame, And from th' immortal G.o.ds their lineage came.

In fetters one the barking porter tied, And took him trembling from his sov'reign's side: Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride."

To whom the Sibyl thus: "Compose thy mind; Nor frauds are here contriv'd, nor force design'd.

Still may the dog the wand'ring troops constrain Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train, And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain.

The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove, Much fam'd for arms, and more for filial love, Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove.

If neither piety, nor Heav'n's command, Can gain his pa.s.sage to the Stygian strand, This fatal present shall prevail at least."

Then shew'd the shining bough, conceal'd within her vest.

No more was needful: for the gloomy G.o.d Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod; Admir'd the destin'd off'ring to his queen- A venerable gift, so rarely seen.

His fury thus appeas'd, he puts to land; The ghosts forsake their seats at his command: He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight; The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight.

Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides; The pressing water pours within her sides.

His pa.s.sengers at length are wafted o'er, Expos'd, in muddy weeds, upon the miry sh.o.r.e.

No sooner landed, in his den they found The triple porter of the Stygian sound, Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear His crested snakes, and arm'd his bristling hair.

The prudent Sibyl had before prepar'd A sop, in honey steep'd, to charm the guard; Which, mix'd with pow'rful drugs, she cast before His greedy grinning jaws, just op'd to roar.

With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight, With hunger press'd, devours the pleasing bait.

Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave; He reels, and, falling, fills the s.p.a.cious cave.

The keeper charm'd, the chief without delay Pa.s.s'd on, and took th' irremeable way.

Before the gates, the cries of babes new born, Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, a.s.sault his ears: then those, whom form of laws Condemn'd to die, when traitors judg'd their cause.

Nor want they lots, nor judges to review The wrongful sentence, and award a new.

Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears; And lives and crimes, with his a.s.sessors, hears.

Round in his urn the blended b.a.l.l.s he rolls, Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls.

The next, in place and punishment, are they Who prodigally throw their souls away; Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, And loathing anxious life, suborn'd their fate.

With late repentance now they would retrieve The bodies they forsook, and wish to live; Their pains and poverty desire to bear, To view the light of heav'n, and breathe the vital air: But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, And with circling streams the captive souls inclose.

Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear So call'd from lovers that inhabit there.

The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, In secret solitude and myrtle shades Make endless moans, and, pining with desire, Lament too late their unextinguish'd fire.

Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found, Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there, With Phaedra's ghost, a foul incestuous pair.

There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves, Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves: Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man, But ending in the s.e.x she first began.

Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood, Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath'd in blood; Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view, (Doubtful as he who sees, thro' dusky night, Or thinks he sees, the moon's uncertain light,) With tears he first approach'd the sullen shade; And, as his love inspir'd him, thus he said: "Unhappy queen! then is the common breath Of rumor true, in your reported death, And I, alas! the cause? By Heav'n, I vow, And all the pow'rs that rule the realms below, Unwilling I forsook your friendly state, Commanded by the G.o.ds, and forc'd by fate- Those G.o.ds, that fate, whose unresisted might Have sent me to these regions void of light, Thro' the vast empire of eternal night.

Nor dar'd I to presume, that, press'd with grief, My flight should urge you to this dire relief.

Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows: 'T is the last interview that fate allows!"

In vain he thus attempts her mind to move With tears, and pray'rs, and late-repenting love.

Disdainfully she look'd; then turning round, But fix'd her eyes unmov'd upon the ground, And what he says and swears, regards no more Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar; But whirl'd away, to shun his hateful sight, Hid in the forest and the shades of night; Then sought Sichaeus thro' the shady grove, Who answer'd all her cares, and equal'd all her love.

Some pious tears the pitying hero paid, And follow'd with his eyes the flitting shade, Then took the forward way, by fate ordain'd, And, with his guide, the farther fields attain'd, Where, sever'd from the rest, the warrior souls remain'd.

Tydeus he met, with Meleager's race, The pride of armies, and the soldiers' grace; And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face.

Of Trojan chiefs he view'd a num'rous train, All much lamented, all in battle slain; Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest, Antenor's sons, and Ceres' sacred priest.

And proud Idaeus, Priam's charioteer, Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear.

The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend And with unwearied eyes behold their friend; Delight to hover near, and long to know What bus'ness brought him to the realms below.

But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon's train, When his refulgent arms flash'd thro' the shady plain, Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear, As when his thund'ring sword and pointed spear Drove headlong to their ships, and glean'd the routed rear.

They rais'd a feeble cry, with trembling notes; But the weak voice deceiv'd their gasping throats.

Here Priam's son, Deiphobus, he found, Whose face and limbs were one continued wound: Dishonest, with lopp'd arms, the youth appears, Spoil'd of his nose, and shorten'd of his ears.

He scarcely knew him, striving to disown His blotted form, and blushing to be known; And therefore first began: "O Teucer's race, Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface?

What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace?

'Twas fam'd, that in our last and fatal night Your single prowess long sustain'd the fight, Till tir'd, not forc'd, a glorious fate you chose, And fell upon a heap of slaughter'd foes.

But, in remembrance of so brave a deed, A tomb and fun'ral honors I decreed; Thrice call'd your manes on the Trojan plains: The place your armor and your name retains.

Your body too I sought, and, had I found, Design'd for burial in your native ground."

The ghost replied: "Your piety has paid All needful rites, to rest my wand'ring shade; But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, To Grecian swords betray'd my sleeping life.

These are the monuments of Helen's love: The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above.

You know in what deluding joys we pa.s.s'd The night that was by Heav'n decreed our last: For, when the fatal horse, descending down, Pregnant with arms, o'erwhelm'd th' unhappy town She feign'd nocturnal orgies; left my bed, And, mix'd with Trojan dames, the dances led Then, waving high her torch, the signal made, Which rous'd the Grecians from their ambuscade.

With watching overworn, with cares oppress'd, Unhappy I had laid me down to rest, And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess'd.

Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid, And from beneath my head my sword convey'd; The door unlatch'd, and, with repeated calls, Invites her former lord within my walls.

Thus in her crime her confidence she plac'd, And with new treasons would redeem the past.

What need I more? Into the room they ran, And meanly murther'd a defenseless man.

Ulysses, basely born, first led the way.

Avenging pow'rs! with justice if I pray, That fortune be their own another day!

But answer you; and in your turn relate, What brought you, living, to the Stygian state: Driv'n by the winds and errors of the sea, Or did you Heav'n's superior doom obey?

Or tell what other chance conducts your way, To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats, Tumults and torments of th' infernal seats."

While thus in talk the flying hours they pa.s.s, The sun had finish'd more than half his race: And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent The little time of stay which Heav'n had lent; But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay: "Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day: 'T is here, in different paths, the way divides; The right to Pluto's golden palace guides; The left to that unhappy region tends, Which to the depth of Tartarus descends; The seat of night profound, and punish'd fiends."

Then thus Deiphobus: "O sacred maid, Forbear to chide, and be your will obey'd!

Lo! to the secret shadows I retire, To pay my penance till my years expire.

Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown'd, And born to better fates than I have found."

He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn'd To secret shadows, and in silence mourn'd.

The hero, looking on the left, espied A lofty tow'r, and strong on ev'ry side With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds, Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds; And, press'd betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais'd on high With adamantine columns, threats the sky.

Vain is the force of man, and Heav'n's as vain, To crush the pillars which the pile sustain.

Sublime on these a tow'r of steel is rear'd; And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward, Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day, Observant of the souls that pa.s.s the downward way.

From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains.

The Trojan stood astonish'd at their cries, And ask'd his guide from whence those yells arise; And what the crimes, and what the tortures were, And loud laments that rent the liquid air.

She thus replied: "The chaste and holy race Are all forbidden this polluted place.

But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods, Then led me trembling thro' these dire abodes, And taught the tortures of th' avenging G.o.ds.

These are the realms of unrelenting fate; And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state.

He hears and judges each committed crime; Enquires into the manner, place, and time.

The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, (Loth to confess, unable to conceal), From the first moment of his vital breath, To his last hour of unrepenting death.

Straight, o'er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes, And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes.

Then, of itself, unfolds th' eternal door; With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar.

You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post.

More formidable Hydra stands within, Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin.

The gaping gulf low to the center lies, And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies.

The rivals of the G.o.ds, the t.i.tan race, Here, sing'd with lightning, roll within th' unfathom'd s.p.a.ce.

Here lie th' Alaean twins, (I saw them both,) Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth, Who dar'd in fight the Thund'rer to defy, Affect his heav'n, and force him from the sky.

Salmoneus, suff'ring cruel pains, I found, For emulating Jove; the rattling sound Of mimic thunder, and the glitt'ring blaze Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays.

Thro' Elis and the Grecian towns he flew; Th' audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew: He wav'd a torch aloft, and, madly vain, Sought G.o.dlike worship from a servile train.

Ambitious fool! with h.o.r.n.y hoofs to pa.s.s O'er hollow arches of resounding bra.s.s, To rival thunder in its rapid course, And imitate inimitable force!

But he, the King of Heav'n, obscure on high, Bar'd his red arm, and, launching from the sky His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke, Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook.

There t.i.tyus was to see, who took his birth From heav'n, his nursing from the foodful earth.

Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace, Infold nine acres of infernal s.p.a.ce.