The Aeneids of Virgil Part 2

So hasten now to enter in 'neath roofs of me and mine.

Me too a fortune such as yours, me tossed by many a toil, Hath pleased to give abiding-place at last upon this soil, Learned in illhaps full wise am I unhappy men to aid." 630

Such tale she told, and therewith led to house full kingly made aeneas, bidding therewithal the G.o.ds with gifts to grace; Nor yet their fellows she forgat upon the sea-beat place, But sendeth them a twenty bulls, an hundred bristling backs Of swine, an hundred fatted lambs, whereof his ewe none lacks, And gifts and gladness of the G.o.d.

Meanwhile the gleaming house within with kingly pomp is dight, And in the midmost of the hall a banquet they prepare: Cloths laboured o'er with handicraft, and purple proud is there; Great is the silver on the board, and carven out of gold 640 The mighty deeds of father-folk, a long-drawn tale, is told, Brought down through many and many an one from when their race began.

aeneas, through whose father's heart unquiet love there ran, Sent on the swift Achates now unto the ships to speed, To bear Ascanius all these haps, and townward him to lead; For on Ascanius well beloved was all his father's thought: And therewithal gifts good to give from Ilium's ruin caught He bade him bring: a cope all stiff with golden imagery; With saffron soft acanthus twine a veil made fair to see; The Argive Helen's braveries, brought from Mycenae erst, 650 When she was seeking Pergamos and wedding all accursed: Her mother Leda gave her these and marvellous they were.

A sceptre too that Ilione in days agone did bear, The eldest-born of Priam's maids; a neckchain pearl bestrown, And, doubly wrought with gold and gems, a kingly-fashioned crown.

So to the ships Achates went these matters forth to speed.

But Cytherea in her heart turned over new-wrought rede, New craft; how, face and fashion changed, her son the very Love For sweet Ascanius should come forth, and, gift-giving, should move The Queen to madness, make her bones the yoke-fellows of flame. 660 Forsooth the doubtful house she dreads, the two-tongued Tyrian name; And bitter Juno burneth her, and care the night doth wake: Now therefore to the winged Love such words as this she spake:

"O son, my might, my only might, who fearest nought at all How his, the highest Father's bolts, Typhoeus' bane, may fall, To thee I flee, and suppliant so thy G.o.dhead's power beseech: Thy brother, e'en aeneas, tossed on every sea-side beach Thou knowest; all the fashioning of wrongful Juno's hate Thou knowest; oft upon my grief with sorrow wouldst thou wait.

Him now Phoenician Dido holds, and with kind words enow 670 Delays him there, but unto what Junonian welcomes grow I fear me: will she hold her hand when thus the hinge is dight?

Now therefore am I compa.s.sing to catch their craft in flight, To ring the Queen about with flame that her no power may turn, That she may cling to me and sore for mine aeneas yearn.

Now hearken how I counsel thee to bring about my will: The kingly boy his father calls, he whom I cherish still, To that Sidonian city now is ready dight to fare, And gifts, the gleanings of the sea and flames of Troy, doth bear, Whom soaked in sleep forthwith will I in high Cythera hide, 680 Or in Idalium's holy place where I am wont to bide, Lest any one the guile should know and thrust themselves between: But thou with craft his fashion feign, and with his face be seen Well known of all, for no more s.p.a.ce than one night's wearing by; And so, when Dido, gladdest grown, shall take thee up to lie Upon her breast 'twixt queenly board and great Lyaeus' wave, And thou the winding of her arms and kisses sweet shalt have, Then breathe the hidden flame in her and forge thy venomed guile."

His lovesome mother Love obeyed, and doffed his wings awhile, And as Iulus goeth now rejoicing on his way. 690 But Venus all Ascanius' limbs in quiet rest doth lay, And cherished in her G.o.ddess' breast unto Idalian groves She bears him, where the marjoram still soft about him moves And breatheth sweet from scented shade and blossoms on the air.

Love wrought her will, and bearing now those royal gifts and rare, Unto the Tyrians joyous went, e'en as Achates led.

But when he came into the house, there on her golden bed With hangings proud Queen Dido lay amidmost of the place: The father then, aeneas, then the youth of Trojan race, There gather, and their bodies cast on purple spread abroad. 700 Folk serve them water for their hands, and speed the baskets stored With Ceres, and the towels soft of close-clipped nap they bear.

Within were fifty serving-maids, whose long array had care To furnish forth the meat and drink, and feed the house-G.o.ds' flame; An hundred more, and youths withal of age and tale the same, Set on the meat upon the board and lay the cups about.

And now through that wide joyous door came thronging from without The Tyrians, and, so bidden, lie on benches painted fair.

They wonder at aeneas' gifts, and at Iulus there, The flaming countenance of G.o.d, and speech so feigned and fine; 710 They wonder at the cope and veil with that acanthus twine.

And chiefly that unhappy one doomed to the coming ill, Nor hungry hollow of her heart nor burning eyes may fill With all beholding: gifts and child alike her heart do move.

But he, when he had satisfied his feigned father's love, And clipped aeneas all about, and round his neck had hung, Went to the Queen, who with her eyes and heart about him clung, And whiles would strain him to her breast--poor Dido! knowing nought What G.o.d upon her bosom sat; who ever had in thought His Acidalian mother's word, and slowly did begin 720 To end Sychaeus quite, and with a living love to win Her empty soul at rest, and heart unused a weary tide.

But when the feasting first was stayed, and boards were done aside, Great beakers there they set afoot, and straight the wine they crowned.

A shout goes up within the house, great noise they roll around The mighty halls: the candles hang adown from golden roof All lighted, and the torches' flame keeps dusky night aloof.

And now a heavy bowl of gold and gems the Queen bade bring And fill with all unwatered wine, which erst used Belus king, 729 And all from Belus come: therewith through the hushed house she said:

"O Jupiter! they say by thee the guesting laws were made; Make thou this day to Tyrian folk, and folk come forth from Troy, A happy day, and may our sons remember this our joy!

Mirth-giver Bacchus, fail thou not from midst our mirth! be kind, O Juno! and ye Tyrian folk, be glad this bond to bind!"

She spake, and on the table poured the glorious wave of wine, Then touched the topmost of the bowl with dainty lip and fine, And, egging on, to Bitias gave: nought slothful to be told The draught he drained, who bathed himself within the foaming gold; Then drank the other lords of them: long-haired Iopas then 740 Maketh the golden harp to sing, whom Atlas most of men Erst taught: he sings the wandering moon and toiling of the sun, And whence the kind of men and beasts, how rain and fire begun, Arcturus, the wet Hyades, and twin-wrought Northern Bears: And why so swift the winter sun unto his sea-bath fares, And what delayeth night so long upon the daylight's hem.

Then praise on praise the Tyrians shout, the Trojans follow them.

Meanwhile unhappy Dido wore the night-tide as it sank In diverse talk, and evermore long draughts of love she drank, And many a thing of Priam asked, of Hector many a thing: 750 With what-like arms Aurora's son had come unto the King; What were the steeds of Diomed, how great Achilles was.

At last she said: "But come, O guest, tell all that came to pa.s.s From earliest tide; of Danaan craft, and how thy land was lorn, And thine own wanderings; for as now the seventh year is worn That thee a-straying wide away o'er earth and sea hath borne."

BOOK II.

ARGUMENT.

aeNEAS TELLETH TO DIDO AND THE TYRIANS THE STORY OF TROY'S OVERTHROW.

All hearkened hushed, and fixed on him was every face of man, As from the couch high set aloft aeneas thus began:

"Unutterable grief, O Queen, thou biddest me renew The falling of the Trojan weal and realm that all shall rue 'Neath Danaan might; which thing myself unhappy did behold, Yea, and was no small part thereof. What man might hear it told Of Dolopes, or Myrmidons, or hard Ulysses' band, And keep the tears back? Dewy night now falleth from the land Of heaven, and all the setting stars are bidding us to sleep: But if to know our evil hap thy longing is so deep, 10 If thou wilt hear a little word of Troy's last agony, Though memory shuddereth, and my heart shrunk up in grief doth lie, I will begin.

By battle broke, and thrust aback by Fate Through all the wearing of the years, the Danaan lords yet wait And build a horse up mountain-huge by Pallas' art divine, Fair fashioning the ribs thereof with timbers of the pine, And feign it vowed for safe return, and let the fame fly forth.

Herein by stealth a sort of men chosen for bodies' worth Amid its darkness do they shut; the caverns inly lost Deep in the belly of the thing they fill with armed host. 20

In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an island known of all, And rich in wealth before the realm of Priam had its fall, Now but a bay and roadstead poor, where scarcely ships may ride.

So thither now they sail away in desert place to hide.

We thought them gone, and that they sought Mycenae on a wind, Whereat the long-drawn grief of Troy fell off from every mind.

The gates are opened; sweet it is the Dorian camp to see, The dwellings waste, the sh.o.r.e all void where they were wont to be: Here dwelt the band of Dolopes, here was Achilles set, 29 And this was where their ships were beached; here edge to edge we met.

Some wonder at unwedded maid Minerva's gift of death, That baneful mountain of a horse; and first Thymoetes saith 'Twere good in walls to lead the thing, on topmost burg to stand; Whether such word the fate of Troy or evil treason planned I know not: Capys and the rest, who better counsel have, Bid take the fashioned guile of Greeks, the doubtful gift they gave, To tumble it adown to sea, with piled-up fire to burn, Or bore the belly of the beast its hidden holes to learn; So cleft atwain is rede of men abiding there in doubt.

But first before all others now with much folk all about 40 Laoc.o.o.n the fiery man runs from the burg adown, And shouts from far: 'O wretched men, how hath such madness grown?

Deem ye the foe hath fared away? Deem ye that Danaan gifts May ever lack due share of guile? Are these Ulysses' shifts?

For either the Achaeans lurk within this fashioned tree, Or 'tis an engine wrought with craft bane of our walls to be, To look into our very homes, and scale the town perforce: Some guile at least therein abides: Teucrians, trust not the horse!

Whatso it is, the Danaan folk, yea gift-bearing I fear.' 49

Thus having said, with valiant might he hurled a huge-wrought spear Against the belly of the beast swelled out with rib and stave; It stood a-trembling therewithal; its hollow caverns gave From womb all shaken with the stroke a mighty sounding groan.

And but for G.o.d's heart turned from us, for G.o.d's fate fixed and known, He would have led us on with steel to foul the Argive den, And thou, O Troy, wert standing now, thou Priam's burg as then!

But lo, where Dardan shepherds lead, with plenteous clamour round, A young man unto Priam's place with hands behind him bound, Who privily had thrust himself before their way e'en now The work to crown, and into Troy an open way to show 60 Unto the Greeks; a steadfast soul, prepared for either end, Or utterly to work his craft or unto death to bend.

Eager to see him as he went around the Trojans flock On every side, and each with each contend the man to mock.

Lo now, behold the Danaan guile, and from one wrong they wrought Learn ye what all are like to be.

For as he stood in sight of all, bewildered, weaponless, And let his eyes go all around the gazing Phrygian press, He spake: 'What land shall have me now, what sea my head shall hide?

What then is left of deed to do that yet I must abide? 70 No place I have among the Greeks, and Dardan folk withal My foemen are, and b.l.o.o.d.y end, due doom, upon me call.'

And with that wail our hearts were turned, and somewhat backward hung The press of men: we bade him say from whence his blood was sprung, And what he did, and if indeed a captive we might trust; So thus he spake when now all fear from off his heart was thrust:

'Whatso betide, to thee, O King, the matter's verity Will I lay bare unto the end, nor Argive blood deny: This firstly; for if Fate indeed shaped Sinon for all bale To make him liar and empty fool her worst may not avail. 80 Perchance a rumour of men's talk about your ears hath gone, Telling of Palamedes' fame and glory that he won, The son of Belus: traitors' word undid him innocent; By unjust doom for banning war the way of death he went, Slain by Pelasgian men, that now his quenched light deplore.

Fellow to him, and nigh akin, I went unto the war, Sent by my needy father forth, e'en from my earliest years; Now while he reigned in health, a king fair blooming mid his peers In council of the kings, I too had share of name and worth.

But after he had gone his way from land of upper earth, 90 Thrust down by sly Ulysses' hate, (I tell all men's belief), Then beaten down I dragged my life through shadowy ways of grief, And heavily I took the death of him my sackless friend, Nor held my peace, O fool! but vowed revenge if time should send A happy tide; if I should come to Argos any more, A victor then: so with my words I drew down hatred sore.

This was the first fleck of my ill; Ulysses ever now Would threaten with some new-found guilt, and mid the folk would sow Dark sayings, and knowing what was toward, sought weapons new at need; Nor wearied till with Calchas now to help him to the deed.-- 100 --But why upturn these ugly things, or spin out time for nought?

For if ye deem all Greekish men in one same mould are wrought: It is enough. Come make an end; Ulysses' hope fulfil!

With great price would the Atridae buy such working of their will.'

Then verily to know the thing and reach it deep we burned, So little in Pelasgian guile and evil were we learned.

He takes the tale up; fluttering-voiced from lying heart he speaks:

'The longing to be gone from Troy fell oft upon the Greeks, And oft they fain had turned their backs on war without an end, (I would they had), and oft as they were e'en at point to wend 110 A tempest would forbid the sea, or southern gale would scare, And chiefly when with maple-beams this horse that standeth here They fashioned, mighty din of storm did all the heavens fulfil.

So held aback, Eurypylus we sent to learn the will Of Phoebus: from the shrine he brought such heavy words as these: _With blood and with a virgin's death did ye the winds appease_ _When first ye came, O Danaan folk, unto the Ilian sh.o.r.e;_ _With blood and with an Argive soul the G.o.ds shall ye adore_ _For your return._ 'Now when that word men's ears had gone about Their hearts stood still, and tremors cold took all their bones for doubt What man the Fates had doomed thereto, what man Apollo would. 121 Amidst us then the Ithacan drags in with clamour rude Calchas the seer, and wearieth him the G.o.ds' will to declare.

Of that craftsmaster's cruel guile had many bade beware In words, and many silently foresaw the coming death.

Twice five days Calchas holdeth peace and, hidden, gainsayeth To speak the word that any man to very death should cast, Till hardly, by Ulysses' noise sore driven, at the last He brake out with the speech agreed, and on me laid the doom; All cried a.s.sent, and what each man feared on himself might come, 130 'Gainst one poor wretch's end of days with ready hands they bear.

Now came the evil day; for me the rites do men prepare, The salted cakes, the holy strings to do my brows about.

I needs must say I brake my bonds, from Death's house gat me out, And night-long lay amid the sedge by muddy marish side Till they spread sail, if they perchance should win their sailing tide.

Nor have I hope to see again my fatherland of old; My longed-for father and sweet sons I never shall behold; On whom the guilt of me who fled mayhappen men will lay, And with their death for my default the hapless ones shall pay. 140 But by the might of very G.o.d, all sooth that knoweth well, By all the unstained faith that yet mid mortal men doth dwell, If aught be left, I pray you now to pity such distress!

Pity a heart by troubles tried beyond its worthiness!'

His weeping won his life of us, and pity thereunto, And Priam was the first who bade his irons to undo, And hand-bonds, and in friendly words unto the man he speaks:

'Whoso thou art, henceforward now forget thy missing Greeks; Thou shalt be ours: but learn me now, who fain the sooth would wot, Wherefore they built this world of horse, what craftsman him begot, 150 And what to do? What gift for G.o.ds; what gin of war is he?'