The Aeneids of Virgil Part 13

Nor less upon the earth my care aeneas did embrace; Xanthus and Simos witness it!--When, following up the chace, The all-unheartened host of Troy 'gainst Troy Achilles bore, And many a thousand gave to death; choked did the rivers roar Nor any way might Xanthus find to roll his flood to sea: aeneas then in hollow cloud I caught away, when he Would meet Pelides' might with hands and G.o.ds not strong enow.

Yea, that was when from lowest base I wrought to overthrow 810 The walls of that same Troy forsworn my very hands had wrought.

And now cast all thy fear away, my mind hath shifted nought; Avernus' haven shall he reach, e'en as thou deemest good, And one alone of all his folk shall seek amidst the flood; One head shall pay for all the rest."

So when these words had brought to peace the G.o.ddess' joyful heart, The Father yokes his steeds with gold, and bridles the wild things With o'erfoamed bit, and loose in hand the rein above them flings, And light in coal-blue car he flies o'er topmost of the sea: The waves sink down, the heaped main lays his waters peacefully 820 Before the thunder of his wheels; from heaven all cloud-flecks fail.

Lo, diverse bodies of his folk; lo, many a mighty whale; And Glaucus' ancient fellowship, Palaemon Ino's son, And Tritons swift, and all the host that Phorcus leadeth on; Maid Panopea and Melite, Cymodoce the fair, Nesaea, Spio, and Thalia, with Thetis leftward bear.

Now to aeneas' overstrained heart the kindly joy and soft Sinks deep: herewith he biddeth men raise all the masts aloft At swiftest, and along the yards to spread the sails to wind: So all sheet home together then; then leftward with one mind 830 They tack; then tack again to right: the yard-horns up in air They shift and shift, while kindly winds seaward the ship-host bear.

But first before all other keels did Palinurus lead The close array, and all were charged to have his course in heed.

And now the midmost place of heaven had dewy night drawn nigh, And 'neath the oars on benches hard scattered the shipmen lie, Who all the loosened limbs of them to gentle rest had given; When lo, the very light-winged Sleep stooped from the stars of heaven, Thrusting aside the dusky air and cleaving night atwain: The sackless Palinure he sought with evil dreams and vain. 840 So on the high p.o.o.p sat the G.o.d as Phorbas fashioned, And as he sat such-like discourse from out his mouth he shed: "Iasian Palinure, unasked the waves our ship-host bear; Soft blow the breezes steadily; the hour for rest is here: Lay down thine head, steal weary eyes from toil a little s.p.a.ce, And I will do thy deeds awhile and hold me in thy place."

But Palinure with scarce-raised eyes e'en such an answer gave: "To gentle countenance of sea and quiet of the wave Deem'st thou me dull? would'st have me trow in such a monster's truth?

And shall I mine aeneas trust to lying breeze forsooth, 850 I, fool of peaceful heaven and sea so many times of old?"

So saying to the helm he clung, nor ever left his hold, And all the while the stars above his eyen toward them drew.

But lo, the G.o.d brought forth a bough wet with Lethean dew, And sleepy with the might of Styx, and shook it therewithal Over his brow, and loosed his lids delaying still to fall: But scarce in first of stealthy sleep his limbs all loosened lay, When, weighing on him, did he tear a s.p.a.ce of stern away, And rolled him, helm and wrack and all, into the flowing wave Headlong, and crying oft in vain for fellowship to save: 860 Then Sleep himself amid thin air flew, borne upon the wing.

No less the ship-host sails the sea, its safe way following Untroubled 'neath the plighted word of Father Neptune's mouth.

So to the Sirens' rocks they draw, a dangerous pa.s.s forsooth In yore agone, now white with bones of many a perished man.

Thence ever roared the salt sea now as on the rocks it ran; And there the Father felt the ship fare wild and fitfully, Her helmsman lost; so he himself steered o'er the night-tide sea, Sore weeping; for his fellow's end his inmost heart did touch: "O Palinure, that trowed the sky and soft seas overmuch, 870 Now naked on an unknown sh.o.r.e thy resting-place shall be!"

BOOK VI.

ARGUMENT.

aeNEAS COMETH TO THE SIBYL OF c.u.mae, AND BY HER IS LED INTO THE UNDER-WORLD, AND THERE BEHOLDETH MANY STRANGE THINGS, AND IN THE END MEETETH HIS FATHER, ANCHISES, WHO TELLETH HIM OF THE DAYS TO COME.

So spake he weeping, and his host let loose from every band, Until at last they draw anigh c.u.mae's Euboean strand.

They turn the bows from off the main; the toothed anchors' grip Makes fast the keels; the sh.o.r.e is hid by many a curved ship.

Hot-heart the youthful company leaps on the Westland's sh.o.r.e; Part falleth on to seek them out the seed of fiery store That flint-veins hide; part runneth through the dwellings of the deer, The thicket steads, and each to each the hidden streams they bare.

But good aeneas seeks the house where King Apollo bides, The mighty den, the secret place set far apart, that hides 10 The awful Sibyl, whose great soul and heart he seeketh home, The Seer of Delos, showing her the hidden things to come: And so the groves of Trivia and golden house they gain.

Now Daedalus, as tells the tale, fleeing from Minos' reign, Durst trust himself to heaven on wings swift hastening, and swim forth Along the road ne'er tried before unto the chilly north; So light at last o'er Chalcis' towers he hung amid the air, Then, come adown to earth once more, to thee he hallowed here, O Phoebus, all his winged oars, and built thee mighty fane: Androgeus' death was on the doors; then paying of the pain 20 By those Cecropians; bid, alas, each year to give in turn Seven bodies of their sons;--lo there, the lots drawn from the urn.

But facing this the Gnosian land draws up amid the sea: There is the cruel bull-l.u.s.t wrought, and there Pasiphae Embraced by guile: the blended babe is there, the twiformed thing, The Minotaur, that evil sign of Venus' cherishing; And there the tangled house and toil that ne'er should be undone: But ruth of Daedalus himself a queen's love-sorrow won, And he himself undid the snare and winding wilderment.

Guiding the blind feet with the thread. Thou, Icarus, wert blent 30 Full oft with such a work be sure, if grief forbade it not; But twice he tried to shape in gold the picture of thy lot, And twice the father's hands fell down.

Long had their eyes read o'er Such matters, but Achates, now, sent on a while before, Was come with that Dephobe, the Glaucus' child, the maid Of Phoebus and of Trivia, and such a word she said: "The hour will have no tarrying o'er fair shows for idle eyes; 'Twere better from an unyoked herd seven steers to sacrifice, And e'en so many hosts of ewes in manner due culled out."

She spake; her holy bidding then the warriors go about, 40 Nor tarry: into temple high she calls the Teucrian men, Where the huge side of c.u.mae's rock is carven in a den, Where are an hundred doors to come, an hundred mouths to go, Whence e'en so many awful sounds, the Sibyl's answers flow.

But at the threshold cried the maid: "Now is the hour awake For asking--Ah, the G.o.d, the G.o.d!"

And as the word she spake Within the door, all suddenly her visage and her hue Were changed, and all her sleeked hair, and gasping breath she drew, And with the rage her wild heart swelled, and greater was she grown, Nor mortal-voiced; for breath of G.o.d upon her heart was blown 50 As He drew nigher: "Art thou dumb of vows and prayers, forsooth, Trojan aeneas, art thou dumb? unprayed, the mighty mouth Of awe-mazed house shall open not."

Even such a word she said, Then hushed: through hardened Teucrian bones swift ran the chilly dread, And straight the king from inmost heart the flood of prayers doth pour: "Phoebus, who all the woe of Troy hast pitied evermore, Who Dardan shaft and Paris' hands in time agone didst speed Against Achilles' body there, who me withal didst lead Over the seas that go about so many a mighty land, Through those Ma.s.sylian folks remote, and length of Syrtes' sand, 60 Till now I hold that Italy that ever drew aback; And now perchance a Trojan fate we, even we may lack.

Ye now, O G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, to whom a stumbling-stone Was Ilium in the days of old, and Dardan folk's renown, May spare the folk of Pergamus. But thou, O holiest, O Maid that knowest things to come, grant thou the Latin rest To Teucrian men, and G.o.ds of Troy, the straying way-worn powers!

For surely now no realm I ask but such as Fate makes ours.

To Phoebus and to Trivia then a temple will I raise, A marble world; in Phoebus' name will hallow festal days: 70 Thee also in our realm to be full mighty shrines await, There will I set thine holy lots and hidden words of fate Said to my folk, and hallow there well-chosen men for thee, O Holy One: But give thou not thy songs to leaf of tree, Lest made a sport to hurrying gales confusedly they wend; But sing them thou thyself, I pray!"

Therewith his words had end.

Meanwhile the Seer-maid, not yet tamed to Phoebus, raves about The cave, still striving from her breast to cast the G.o.dhead out; But yet the more the mighty G.o.d her mouth bewildered wears, Taming her wild heart, fashioning her soul with weight of fears. 80 At last the hundred mighty doors fly open, touched of none, And on the air the answer floats of that foreseeing one:

"O Thou, who dangers of the sea hast throughly worn away, Abides thee heavier toil of earth: the Dardans on a day Shall come to that Lavinian land,--leave fear thereof afar: Yet of their coming shall they rue. Lo, war, war, dreadful war!

And Tiber bearing plenteous blood upon his foaming back.

Nor Simos there, nor Xanthus' stream, nor Dorian camp shall lack: Yea, once again in Latin land Achilles is brought forth, G.o.d-born no less: nor evermore shall mighty Juno's wrath 90 Fail Teucrian men. Ah, how shalt thou, fallen on evil days, To all Italian lands and folks thine hands beseeching raise!

Lo, once again a stranger bride brings woeful days on Troy, Once more the wedding of a foe.

But thou, yield not to any ill, but set thy face, and wend The bolder where thy fortune leads; the dawn of perils' end, Whence least thou mightest look for it, from Greekish folk shall come."

Suchwise the Seer of c.u.mae sang from out her inner home The dreadful double words, wherewith the cavern moans again, As sooth amid the mirk she winds: Apollo shakes the rein 100 Over the maddened one, and stirs the strings about her breast; But when her fury lulled awhile and maddened mouth had rest, Hero aeneas thus began: "No face of any care, O maiden, can arise on me in any wise unware: Yea, all have I forecast; my mind hath worn through everything.

One prayer I pray, since this they call the gateway of the King Of Nether-earth, and Acheron's o'erflow this mirky mere: O let me meet the eyes and mouth of my dead father dear; O open me the holy gate, and teach me where to go!

I bore him on these shoulders once from midmost of the foe, 110 From flame and weapons thousandfold against our goings bent; My yoke-fellow upon the road o'er every sea he went, 'Gainst every threat of sea and sky a hardy heart he held, Though worn and feeble past decay and feebleness of eld.

Yea, he it was who bade me wend, a suppliant, to thy door, And seek thee out: O holy one, cast thou thy pity o'er Father and son! All things thou canst, nor yet hath Hecate Set thee to rule Avernus' woods an empty Queen to be.

Yea, Orpheus wrought with Thracian harp and strings of tuneful might To draw away his perished love from midmost of the night. 120 Yea, Pollux, dying turn for turn, his brother borrowed well, And went and came the road full oft--Of Theseus shall I tell?

Or great Alcides? Ah, I too from highest Jove am sprung."

Such were the words he prayed withal and round the altars clung: Then she fell speaking: "Man of Troy, from blood of G.o.dhead grown, Anchises' child, Avernus' road is easy faring down; All day and night is open wide the door of Dis the black; But thence to gain the upper air, and win the footsteps back, This is the deed, this is the toil: Some few have had the might, Beloved by Jove the just, upborne to heaven by valour's light, 130 The Sons of G.o.d. 'Twixt it and us great thicket fills the place That slow Cocytus' mirky folds all round about embrace; But if such love be in thine heart, such yearning in thee lie, To swim twice o'er the Stygian mere and twice to see with eye Black Tartarus, and thou must needs this idle labour win, Hearken what first there is to do: the dusky tree within Lurks the gold bough with golden leaves and limber twigs of gold, To nether Juno consecrate; this all these woods enfold, Dim shadowy places cover it amid the hollow dale; To come unto the under-world none living may avail 140 Till he that growth of golden locks from off the tree hath shorn; For this fair Proserpine ordained should evermore be borne Her very gift: but, plucked away, still faileth not the thing, Another golden stem instead hath leafy tide of spring.

So throughly search with eyes: thine hand aright upon it lay When thou hast found: for easily 'twill yield and come away If the Fates call thee: otherwise no might may overbear Its will, nor with the hardened steel the marvel mayst thou shear.

--Ah! further,--of thy perished friend as yet thou nothing know'st, Whose body lying dead and cold defileth all thine host, 150 While thou beseechest answering words, and hangest on our door: Go, bring him to his own abode and heap the grave mound o'er; Bring forth the black-wooled ewes to be first bringing back of grace: So shalt thou see the Stygian groves, so shalt thou see the place That hath no road for living men."

So hushed her mouth shut close: But sad-faced and with downcast eyes therefrom aeneas goes, And leaves the cave, still turning o'er those coming things, so dim, So dark to see. Achates fares nigh fellow unto him, And ever 'neath like load of cares he lets his footsteps fall: And many diverse words they cast each unto each withal, 160 What was the dead friend and the grave whereof the seer did teach.

But when they gat them down at last upon the barren beach, They saw Misenus lying dead by death but lightly earned; Misenus, son of aeolus; no man more n.o.bly learned In waking up the war with bra.s.s and singing Mars alight.

Great Hector's fellow was he erst, with Hector through the fight He thrust, by horn made glorious, made glorious by the spear.

But when from Hector life and all Achilles' hand did tear, Dardan aeneas' man became that mightiest under shield, Nor unto any worser lord his fellowship would yield. 170 Now while by chance through hollow sh.e.l.l he blew across the sea, And witless called the very G.o.ds his singing-foes to be, The envious Triton caught him up, if ye the tale may trow, And sank the hero 'twixt the rocks in foaming waters' flow.

Wherefore about him weeping sore were gathered all the men, And good aeneas chief of all: the Sibyl's bidding then Weeping they speed, and loiter not, but heap the tree-boughs high Upon the altar of the dead to raise it to the sky: Then to the ancient wood they fare, high dwelling of wild things; They fell the pine, and 'neath the axe the smitten holm-oak rings; 180 With wedge they cleave the ashen logs, and knitted oaken bole, Full fain to split; and mighty elms down from the mountains roll.

Amid the work aeneas is, who hearteneth on his folk, As with such very tools as they he girds him for the stroke; But through the sorrow of his heart such thought as this there strays, And looking toward the waste of wood such word as this he prays: "O if that very golden bough would show upon the tree, In such a thicket and so great; since all she told of thee, The seer-maid, O Misenus lost, was true and overtrue!"

But scarcely had he spoken thus, when lo, from heaven there flew 190 Two doves before his very eyes, who settled fluttering On the green gra.s.s: and therewithal that mightiest battle-king Knoweth his mother's birds new-come, and joyful poureth prayer: "O, if a way there be at all, lead ye amid the air, Lead on unto the thicket place where o'er the wealthy soil The rich bough casteth shadow down! Fail not my eyeless toil, O G.o.ddess-mother!"

So he saith, and stays his feet to heed What token they may bring to him, and whitherward they speed.

So on they flutter pasturing, with such a s.p.a.ce between, As they by eyes of following folk may scantly well be seen; 200 But when Avernus' jaws at last, the noisome place, they reach, They rise aloft and skim the air, and settle each by each Upon the very wished-for place, yea high amid the tree, Where the changed light through twigs of gold shines forth diversedly; As in the woods mid winter's chill puts forth the mistletoe, And bloometh with a leaf.a.ge strange his own tree ne'er did sow, And with his yellow children hath the rounded trunk in hold, So in the dusky holm-oak seemed that bough of leafy gold, As through the tinkling shaken foil the gentle wind went by: Then straight aeneas caught and culled the tough stem greedily, 210 And to the Sibyl's dwelling-place the gift in hand he bore.

Nor less meanwhile the Teucrians weep Misenus on the sh.o.r.e, And do last service to the dead that hath no thanks to pay.

And first fat f.a.gots of the fir and oaken logs they lay, And pile a mighty bale and rich, and weave the dusk-leaved trees Between its sides, and set before the funeral cypresses, And over all in seemly wise the gleaming weapons pile: But some speed fire bewaved bra.s.s and water's warmth meanwhile, And wash all o'er and sleek with oil the cold corpse of the dead: Goes up the wail; the limbs bewept they streak upon the bed, 220 And cast thereon the purple cloths, the well-known n.o.ble gear.

Then some of them, they shoulder up the mighty-fashioned bier, Sad service! and put forth the torch with faces from him turned, In fashion of the fathers old: there the heaped offerings burned, The frankincense, the dainty meats, the bowls o'erflowed with oil.

But when the ashes were sunk down and fire had rest from toil, The relics and the thirsty ash with unmixed wine they wet.

Then the gleaned bones in brazen urn doth Corynaeus set, Who thrice about the gathered folk the stainless water bore.

As from the fruitful olive-bough light dew he sprinkled o'er, 230 And cleansed the men, and spake withal last farewell to the dead.

But good aeneas raised a tomb, a mound huge fashioned, And laid thereon the hero's arms and oar and battle-horn, Beneath an airy hill that thence Misenus' name hath borne, And still shall bear it, not to die till time hath faded out.

This done, those deeds the Sibyl bade he setteth swift about: A deep den is there, pebble-piled, with mouth that gapeth wide; Black mere and thicket shadowy-mirk the secret of it hide.

And over it no fowl there is may wend upon the wing And 'scape the bane; its blackened jaws bring forth such venoming. 240 Such is the breath it bears aloft unto the hollow heaven; So to the place the Greekish folk have name of Fowl-less given.

Here, first of all, four black-skinned steers the priestess sets in line, And on the foreheads of all these out-pours the bowl of wine.

Then 'twixt the horns she culleth out the topmost of the hair, And lays it on the holy fire, the first-fruits offered there, And cries aloud on Hecate, of might in heaven and h.e.l.l; While others lay the knife to throat and catch the blood that fell Warm in the bowls: aeneas then an ewe-lamb black of fleece Smites down with sword to her that bore the dread Eumenides, 250 And her great sister; and a cow yet barren slays aright To thee, O Proserpine, and rears the altars of the night Unto the Stygian King, and lays whole bulls upon the flame, Pouring rich oil upon the flesh that rush of fire o'ercame.

But now, when sunrise is at hand, and dawning of the day, The earth falls moaning 'neath their feet, the wooded ridges sway, And dogs seem howling through the dusk as now she drew anear The G.o.ddess. "O be far away, ye unclean!" cries the seer.

"Be far away! ah, get ye gone from all the holy wood!

But thou, aeneas, draw thy steel and take thee to the road; 260 Now needeth all thine hardihood and steadfast heart and brave."