The Aeneid Part 21

Howeer the doubtful fact is understood, 'T is love of honor, and his country's good: The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.

Behold Torquatus the same track pursue; And, next, the two devoted Decii view: The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home With standards well redeem'd, and foreign foes o'ercome The pair you see in equal armor shine, Now, friends below, in close embraces join; But, when they leave the shady realms of night, And, cloth'd in bodies, breathe your upper light, With mortal hate each other shall pursue: What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue!

From Alpine heights the father first descends; His daughter's husband in the plain attends: His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends.

Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more; Nor stain your country with her children's gore!

And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim, Thou, of my blood, who bearist the Julian name!

Another comes, who shall in triumph ride, And to the Capitol his chariot guide, From conquer'd Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.

And yet another, fam'd for warlike toils, On Argos shall impose the Roman laws, And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause; Shall drag in chains their Achillean race; Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace, And Pallas, for her violated place.

Great Cato there, for gravity renown'd, And conqu'ring Cossus goes with laurels crown'd.

Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare The Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war, The double bane of Carthage? Who can see Without esteem for virtuous poverty, Severe Fabricius, or can cease t' admire The plowman consul in his coa.r.s.e attire?

Tir'd as I am, my praise the Fabii claim; And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name, Ordain'd in war to save the sinking state, And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!

Let others better mold the running ma.s.s Of metals, and inform the breathing bra.s.s, And soften into flesh a marble face; Plead better at the bar; describe the skies, And when the stars descend, and when they rise.

But, Rome, 't is thine alone, with awful sway, To rule mankind, and make the world obey, Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way; To tame the proud, the fetter'd slave to free: These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."

He paus'd; and, while with wond'ring eyes they view'd The pa.s.sing spirits, thus his speech renew'd: "See great Marcellus! how, untir'd in toils, He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!

He, when his country, threaten'd with alarms, Requires his courage and his conqu'ring arms, Shall more than once the Punic bands affright; Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight; Then to the Capitol in triumph move, And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove."

Aeneas here beheld, of form divine, A G.o.dlike youth in glitt'ring armor shine, With great Marcellus keeping equal pace; But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.

He saw, and, wond'ring, ask'd his airy guide, What and of whence was he, who press'd the hero's side: "His son, or one of his ill.u.s.trious name?

How like the former, and almost the same!

Observe the crowds that compa.s.s him around; All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound: But hov'ring mists around his brows are spread, And night, with sable shades, involves his head."

"Seek not to know," the ghost replied with tears, "The sorrows of thy sons in future years.

This youth (the blissful vision of a day) Shall just be shown on earth, and s.n.a.t.c.h'd away.

The G.o.ds too high had rais'd the Roman state, Were but their gifts as permanent as great.

What groans of men shall fill the Martian field!

How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!

What fun'ral pomp shall floating Tiber see, When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!

No youth shall equal hopes of glory give, No youth afford so great a cause to grieve; The Trojan honor, and the Roman boast, Admir'd when living, and ador'd when lost!

Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!

Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!

No foe, unpunish'd, in the fighting field Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield; Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force, When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.

Ah! couldst thou break thro' fate's severe decree, A new Marcellus shall arise in thee!

Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring; Let me with fun'ral flow'rs his body strow; This gift which parents to their children owe, This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!"

Thus having said, he led the hero round The confines of the blest Elysian ground; Which when Anchises to his son had shown, And fir'd his mind to mount the promis'd throne, He tells the future wars, ordain'd by fate; The strength and customs of the Latian state; The prince, and people; and forearms his care With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.

Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn; Of polish'd ivory this, that of transparent horn: True visions thro' transparent horn arise; Thro' polish'd ivory pa.s.s deluding lies.

Of various things discoursing as he pa.s.s'd, Anchises. .h.i.ther bends his steps at last.

Then, thro' the gate of iv'ry, he dismiss'd His valiant offspring and divining guest.

Straight to the ships Aeneas his way, Embark'd his men, and skimm'd along the sea, Still coasting, till he gain'd Cajeta's bay.

At length on oozy ground his galleys moor; Their heads are turn'd to sea, their sterns to sh.o.r.e.

BOOK VII

And thou, O matron of immortal fame, Here dying, to the sh.o.r.e hast left thy name; Cajeta still the place is call'd from thee, The nurse of great Aeneas' infancy.

Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia's plains; Thy name ('t is all a ghost can have) remains.

Now, when the prince her fun'ral rites had paid, He plow'd the Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd.

From land a gentle breeze arose by night, Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, And the sea trembled with her silver light.

Now near the shelves of Circe's sh.o.r.es they run, (Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,) A dang'rous coast: the G.o.ddess wastes her days In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night, And cedar brands supply her father's light.

From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main, The roars of lions that refuse the chain, The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors' ears.

These from their caverns, at the close of night, Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.

Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe's pow'r, (That watch'd the moon and planetary hour,) With words and wicked herbs from humankind Had alter'd, and in brutal shapes confin'd.

Which monsters lest the Trojans' pious host Should bear, or touch upon th' inchanted coast, Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night With rising gales that sped their happy flight.

Supplied with these, they skim the sounding sh.o.r.e, And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.

Now, when the rosy morn began to rise, And wav'd her saffron streamer thro' the skies; When Thetis blush'd in purple not her own, And from her face the breathing winds were blown, A sudden silence sate upon the sea, And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.

The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood: Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, That drove the sand along, he took his way, And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea.

About him, and above, and round the wood, The birds that haunt the borders of his flood, That bath'd within, or basked upon his side, To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.

The captain gives command; the joyful train Glide thro' the gloomy shade, and leave the main.

Now, Erato, thy poet's mind inspire, And fill his soul with thy celestial fire!

Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings; Declare the past and state of things, When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought, And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought.

These are my theme, and how the war began, And how concluded by the G.o.dlike man: For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage, Which princes and their people did engage; And haughty souls, that, mov'd with mutual hate, In fighting fields pursued and found their fate; That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms, And peaceful Italy involv'd in arms.

A larger scene of action is display'd; And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh'd.

Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd The Latin scepter, and his people blest: His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame His mother; fair Marica was her name.

But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew His birth from Saturn, if records be true.

Thus King Latinus, in the third degree, Had Saturn author of his family.

But this old peaceful prince, as Heav'n decreed, Was blest with no male issue to succeed: His sons in blooming youth were s.n.a.t.c.h'd by fate; One only daughter heir'd the royal state.

Fir'd with her love, and with ambition led, The neighb'ring princes court her nuptial bed.

Among the crowd, but far above the rest, Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd.

Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien, Was first, and favor'd by the Latian queen; With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand, But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand.

Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood; Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair Was kept and cut with superst.i.tious care.

This plant Latinus, when his town he wall'd, Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call'd; And last, in honor of his new abode, He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's G.o.d.

It happen'd once (a boding prodigy!) A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky, (Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,) Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight; There with their clasping feet together clung, And a long cl.u.s.ter from the laurel hung.

An ancient augur prophesied from hence: "Behold on Latian sh.o.r.es a foreign prince!

From the same parts of heav'n his navy stands, To the same parts on earth; his army lands; The town he conquers, and the tow'r commands."

Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire Before the G.o.ds, and stood beside her sire, (Strange to relate!) the flames, involv'd in smoke Of incense, from the sacred altar broke, Caught her dishevel'd hair and rich attire; Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire: From thence the fuming trail began to spread And lambent glories danc'd about her head.

This new portent the seer with wonder views, Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews: "The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around, Shall shine with honor, shall herself be crown'd; But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate, War shall the country waste, and change the state."

Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent, For counsel to his father Faunus went, And sought the shades renown'd for prophecy Which near Albunea's sulph'rous fountain lie.

To these the Latian and the Sabine land Fly, when distress'd, and thence relief demand.

The priest on skins of off'rings takes his ease, And nightly visions in his slumber sees; A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears, And, flutt'ring round his temples, deafs his ears: These he consults, the future fates to know, From pow'rs above, and from the fiends below.

Here, for the G.o.ds' advice, Latinus flies, Off'ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice: Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd, He laid beneath him, and to rest retir'd.

No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound, When, from above, a more than mortal sound Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke: "Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke Our fair Lavinia, nor the G.o.ds provoke.

A foreign son upon thy sh.o.r.e descends, Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends.

His race, in arms and arts of peace renown'd, Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound: 'T is theirs whate'er the sun surveys around."

These answers, in the silent night receiv'd, The king himself divulg'd, the land believ'd: The fame thro' all the neighb'ring nations flew, When now the Trojan navy was in view.

Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread His table on the turf, with cakes of bread; And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed.

They sate; and, (not without the G.o.d's command,) Their homely fare dispatch'd, the hungry band Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour, To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.

Ascanius this observ'd, and smiling said: "See, we devour the plates on which we fed."

The speech had omen, that the Trojan race Should find repose, and this the time and place.

Aeneas took the word, and thus replies, Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes: "All hail, O earth! all hail, my household G.o.ds!

Behold the destin'd place of your abodes!

For thus Anchises prophesied of old, And this our fatal place of rest foretold: 'When, on a foreign sh.o.r.e, instead of meat, By famine forc'd, your trenchers you shall eat, Then ease your weary Trojans will attend, And the long labors of your voyage end.

Remember on that happy coast to build, And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.'

This was that famine, this the fatal place Which ends the wand'ring of our exil'd race.