Book III

When Asia 's power and Priam's race and throne,

though guiltless, were cast down by Heaven's decree,

when Ilium proud had fallen, and Neptune's Troy

in smouldering ash lay level with the ground,

to wandering exile then and regions wild

the gods by many an augury and sign

compelled us forth. We fashioned us a fleet

within Antander's haven, in the shade

of Phrygian Ida's peak (though knowing not

whither our fate would drive, or where afford

a resting-place at last), and my small band

of warriors I arrayed. As soon as smiled

the light of summer's prime, my reverend sire

Anchises bade us on the winds of Fate

to spread all sail. Through tears I saw recede

my native shore, the haven and the plains

where once was Troy . An exile on the seas,

with son and followers and household shrines,

and Troy 's great guardian-gods, I took my way.

There is a far-off land where warriors breed,

where Thracians till the boundless plains, and where

the cruel-eyed Lycurgus once was king.

Troy's old ally it was, its deities

had brotherhood with ours before our fall.

Thither I fared, and on its winding shores

set my first walls, though partial Fate opposed

our entrance there. In memory of my name

I called its people the Aeneadae.

Unto Dione's daughter, and all gods

who blessed our young emprise, due gifts were paid;

and unto the supreme celestial King

I slew a fair white bull beside the sea.

But haply near my place of sacrifice

a mound was seen, and on the summit grew

a copse of corner and a myrtle tree,

with spear-like limbs outbranched on every side.

This I approached, and tried to rend away

from its deep roots that grove of gloomy green,

and dress my altars in its leafy boughs.

But, horrible to tell, a prodigy

smote my astonished eyes: for the first tree,

which from the earth with broken roots I drew,

dripped black with bloody drops, and gave the ground

dark stains of gore. Cold horror shook my frame,

and every vein within me froze for fear.

Once more I tried from yet another stock

the pliant stem to tear, and to explore

the mystery within,—but yet again

the foul bark oozed with clots of blackest gore!

From my deep-shaken soul I made a prayer

to all the woodland nymphs and to divine

Gradivus, patron of the Thracian plain,

to bless this sight, to lift its curse away.

But when at a third sheaf of myrtle spears

I fell upon my knees, and tugged amain

against the adverse ground (I dread to tell!),

a moaning and a wail from that deep grave

burst forth and murmured in my listening ear:

“Why wound me, great Aeneas, in my woe?

O, spare the dead, nor let thy holy hands

do sacrilege and sin! I, Trojan-born,

was kin of thine. This blood is not of trees.

Haste from this murderous shore, this land of greed.

O, I am Polydorus! Haste away!

Here was I pierced; a crop of iron spears

has grown up o'er my breast, and multiplied

to all these deadly javelins, keen and strong.”

Then stood I, burdened with dark doubt and fear

I quailed, my hair rose and my utterance choked.

For once this Polydorus, with much gold,

ill-fated Priam sent by stealth away

for nurture with the Thracian king, what time

Dardania's war Iooked hopeless, and her towers

were ringed about by unrelenting siege.

That king, when Ilium 's cause was ebbing low,

and fortune frowned, gave o'er his plighted faith

to Agamemnon's might and victory;

he scorned all honor and did murder foul

on Polydorus, seizing lawlessly

on all the gold. O, whither at thy will,

curst greed of gold, may mortal hearts be driven?

Soon as my shuddering ceased, I told this tale

of prodigies before the people's chiefs,

who sat in conclave with my kingly sire,

and bade them speak their reverend counsel forth.

All found one voice; to leave that land of sin,

where foul abomination had profaned

a stranger's right; and once more to resign

our fleet unto the tempest and the wave.

But fit and solemn funeral rites were paid

to Polydorus. A high mound we reared

of heaped-up earth, and to his honored shade

built a perpetual altar, sadly dressed

in cypress dark and purple pall of woe.

Our Ilian women wailed with loosened hair;

new milk was sprinkled from a foaming cup,

and from the shallow bowl fresh blood out-poured

upon the sacred ground. So in its tomb

we laid his ghost to rest, and loudly sang,

with prayer for peace, the long, the last farewell.

After these things, when first the friendly sea

looked safe and fair, and o'er its tranquil plain

light-whispering breezes bade us launch away,

my men drew down our galleys to the brine,

thronging the shore. Soon out of port we ran,

and watched the hills and cities fading far.

There is a sacred island in mid-seas,

to fruitful Doris and to Neptune dear,

which grateful Phoebus, wielder of the bow,

the while it drifted loose from land to land,

chained firmly where the crags of Gyaros

and Myconos uptower, and bade it rest

immovable, in scorn of wind and wave.

Thither I sped; by this my weary ships

found undisturbed retreat and haven fair.

To land we came and saw with reverent eyes

Apollo's citadel. King Anius,

his people's king, and priest at Phoebus' fane,

came forth to meet us, wearing on his brow

the fillets and a holy laurel crown.

Unto Anchises he gave greeting kind,

claimed old acquaintance, grasped us by the hand,

and bade us both his roof and welcome share.

Then, kneeling at the shrine of time-worn stone:

“Thou who at Thymbra on the Trojan shore

hast often blessed my prayer, O, give to me

a hearth and home, and to this war-worn band

defensive towers and offspring multiplied

in an abiding city; give to Troy

a second citadel, that shall survive

Achilles' wrath and all our Argive foe.

Whom shall we follow? Whither lies our way?

Where wilt thou grant us an abiding-place?

Send forth, O King, thy voice oracular,

and on our spirits move.” Scarce had I spoke

when sudden trembling through the laurels ran

and smote the holy portals; far and wide

the mighty ridges of the mountain shook,

and from the opening shrine the tripod moaned.

Prostrate to earth we fall, as on our ears

this utterance breaks: “O breed of iron men,

ye sons of Dardanus! the self-same land

where bloomed at first your far-descended stem

shall to its bounteous bosom draw ye home.

Seek out your ancient Mother! There at last

Aeneas' race shall reign on every shore,

and his sons' sons, and all their house to be.”

So Phoebus spoke; and mighty joy uprose

from all my thronging people, who would know

where Phoebus' city lay, and whitherward

the god ordained the wandering tribe's return.

Then spake my father, pondering olden days

and sacred memories of heroes gone:

“Hear, chiefs and princes, what your hopes shall be!

The Isle of Crete , abode of lofty Jove,

rests in the middle sea. Thence Ida soars;

there is the cradle of our race. It boasts

a hundred cities, seats of fruitful power.

Thence our chief sire, if duly I recall

the olden tale, King Teucer sprung, who first

touched on the Trojan shore, and chose his seat

of kingly power. There was no Ilium then

nor towered Pergama; in lowly vales

their dwelling; hence the ancient worship given

to the Protectress of Mount Cybele,

mother of Gods, what time in Ida's grove

the brazen Corybantic cymbals clang,

or sacred silence guards her mystery,

and lions yoked her royal chariot draw.

Up, then, and follow the behests divine!

Pour offering to the winds, and point your keels

unto that realm of Minos. It is near.

if Jove but bless, the third day's dawn should see

our ships at Cretan land.” So, having said,

he slew the victims for each altar's praise.

A bull to Neptune, and a bull to thee,

o beauteous Apollo! A black lamb

unto the clouds and storms; but fleece of snow

to the mild zephyrs was our offering.

The tale was told us that Idomeneus,

from his hereditary kindgom driven,

had left his Crete abandoned, that no foe

now harbored there, but all its dwellings lay

untenanted of man. So forth we sailed

out of the port of Delos , and sped far

along the main. The maenad-haunted hills

of Naxos came in view; the ridges green

of fair Donysa, with Olearos,

and Paros , gleaming white, and Cyclades

scattered among the waves, as close we ran

where thick-strewn islands vex the channelled seas

with rival shout the sailors cheerly called:

“On, comrades! On, to Crete and to our sires!”

Freely behind us blew the friendly winds,

and gave smooth passage to that fabled shore,

the land of the Curetes, friends of Jove.

There eagerly I labored at the walls

of our long-prayed-for city; and its name

was Pergamea; to my Trojan band,

pleased with such name, I gave command to build

altar and hearth, and raise the lofty tower.

But scarce the ships were beached along the strand

(While o'er the isle my busy mariners

ploughed in new fields and took them wives once more, —

I giving homes and laws) when suddenly

a pestilence from some infectious sky

seized on man's flesh, and horribly exhaled

o'er trees and crops a fatal year of plague.

Some breathed their last, while others weak and worn

lived on; the dog-star parched the barren fields;

grass withered, and the sickly, mouldering corn

refused us life. My aged father then

bade us re-cross the waves and re-implore

Apollo's mercy at his island shrine;

if haply of our weariness and woe

he might vouchsafe the end, or bid us find

help for our task, or guidance o'er the sea.

'T was night, and sleep possessed all breathing things;

when, lo! the sacred effigies divine,

the Phrygian gods which through the flames I bore

from fallen Troy , seemed in a vision clear

to stand before me where I slumbering lay,

bathed in bright beams which from the moon at full

streamed through the latticed wall: and thus they spoke

to soothe my care away. “Apollo's word,

which in far Delos the god meant for thee,

is uttered here. Behold, he sends ourselves

to this thy house, before thy prayer is made.

We from Troy 's ashes have companioned thee

in every fight; and we the swollen seas,

guided by thee, in thine own ships have crossed;

our power divine shall set among the stars

thy seed to be, and to thy city give

dominion evermore. For mighty men

go build its mighty walls! Seek not to shun

the hard, long labors of an exile's way.

Change this abode! Not thine this Cretan shore,

nor here would Delian Phoebus have thee bide.

There is a land the roving Greeks have named

Hesperia. It is a storied realm

made mighty by great wars and fruitful land.

Oenotrians had it, and their sons, 't is said,

have called it Italy , a chieftain's name

to a whole region given. That land alone

our true abode can be; for Dardanus

was cradled there, and old Iasius,

their blood the oldest of our ancient line.

Arise! go forth and cheer thy father gray

with the glad tidings! Bid him doubt no more!

Ausonia seek and Corythus; for Jove

denies this Cretan realm to thine and thee.”

I marvelled at the heavenly presences

so vocal and so bright, for 't was not sleep;

but face to face I deemed I could discern

each countenance august and holy brow,

each mantled head; and from my body ran

cold sweat of awe. From my low couch I sprang,

lifting to heaven my suppliant hands and prayer,

and o'er my hearth poured forth libations free.

After th' auspicious offering, I told

Anchises the whole tale in order due.

He owned our stock two-branched, of our great sires

the twofold line, and that his thought had strayed,

in new confusion mingling ancient names;

then spoke: “O son, in Ilium 's doom severe

afflicted ever! To my ears alone

this dark vicissitude Cassandra sang.

I mind me now that her wild tongue foretold

such destiny. For oft she called aloud

‘Hesperia!’ oft ‘ Italia 's kingdom!’ called.

But who had faith that Teucer's sons should come

to far Hesperia? What mortal ear

gave heed to sad Cassandra's voice divine?

Now Phoebus speaks. Obedient let us be,

and, warned by him, our happier Iot pursue!”

He spoke: with heart of hope we all obeyed;

again we changed abode; and, leaving there

a feeble few, again with spreading sails

we coursed in hollow ship the spacious sea.

When from the deep the shores had faded far,

and only sky and sea were round our way,

full in the zenith hung a purple cloud,

storm-laden, dark as night, and every wave

grew black and angry, while perpetual gales

came rolling o'er the main, and mountain-high

the wreckful surges rose; our ships were hurled

wide o'er the whirling waters; thunder-clouds

and misty murk of night made end of all

the light of heaven, save where the rifted storm

flashed with the oft-reiterate shaft of Jove.

Then went we drifting, beaten from our course,

upon a trackless sea. Not even the eyes

of Palinurus could tell night from noon

or ken our way. Three days of blinding dark,

three nights without a star, we roved the seas;

The fourth, land seemed to rise. Far distant hills

and rolling smoke we saw. Down came our sails,

out flew the oars, and with prompt stroke the crews

swept the dark waves and tossed the crested foam.

From such sea-peril safe, I made the shores

of Strophades,—a name the Grecians gave

to islands in the broad Ionic main, —

the Strophades, where dread Celaeno bides,

with other Harpies, who had quit the halls

of stricken Phineus, and for very fear

fled from the routed feast; no prodigy

more vile than these, nor plague more pitiless

ere rose by wrath divine from Stygian wave;

birds seem they, but with face like woman-kind;

foul-flowing bellies, hands with crooked claws,

and ghastly lips they have, with hunger pale.

Scarce had we made the haven, when, behold!

Fair herds of cattle roaming a wide plain,

and horned goats, untended, feeding free

in pastures green, surprised our happy eyes.

with eager blades we ran to take and slay,

asking of every god, and chicfly Jove,

to share the welcome prize: we ranged a feast,

with turf-built couches and a banquet-board

along the curving strand. But in a trice,

down from the high hills swooping horribly,

the Harpies loudly shrieking, flapped their wings,

snatched at our meats, and with infectious touch

polluted all; infernal was their cry,

the stench most vile. Once more in covert far

beneath a caverned rock, and close concealed

with trees and branching shade, we raised aloft

our tables, altars, and rekindled fires.

Once more from haunts unknown the clamorous flock

from every quarter flew, and seized its prey

with taloned feet and carrion lip most foul.

I called my mates to arms and opened war

on that accursed brood. My band obeyed;

and, hiding in deep grass their swords and shields,

in ambush lay. But presently the foe

swept o'er the winding shore with loud alarm :

then from a sentry-crag, Misenus blew

a signal on his hollow horn. My men

flew to the combat strange, and fain would wound

with martial steel those foul birds of the sea;

but on their sides no wounding blade could fall,

nor any plume be marred. In swiftest flight

to starry skies they soared, and left on earth

their half-gnawed, stolen feast, and footprints foul.

Celaeno only on a beetling crag

took lofty perch, and, prophetess of ill,

shrieked malediction from her vulture breast:

“Because of slaughtered kine and ravished herd,

sons of Laomedon, have ye made war?

And will ye from their rightful kingdom drive

the guiltless Harpies? Hear, O, hear my word

(Long in your bosoms may it rankle sore!)

which Jove omnipotent to Phoebus gave,

Phoebus to me: a word of doom, which I,

the Furies' elder sister, here unfold:

‘To Italy ye fare. The willing winds

your call have heard; and ye shall have your prayer

in some Italian haven safely moored.

But never shall ye rear the circling walls

of your own city, till for this our blood

by you unjustly spilt, your famished jaws

bite at your tables, aye,—and half devour.’”

She spoke: her pinions bore her to the grove,

and she was seen no more. But all my band

shuddered with shock of fear in each cold vein;

their drooping spirits trusted swords no more,

but turned to prayers and offerings, asking grace,

scarce knowing if those creatures were divine,

or but vast birds, ill-omened and unclean.

Father Anchises to the gods in heaven

uplifted suppliant hands, and on that shore

due ritual made, crying aloud; “Ye gods

avert this curse, this evil turn away!

Smile, Heaven, upon your faithful votaries.”

Then bade he launch away, the chain undo,

set every cable free and spread all sail.

O'er the white waves we flew, and took our way

where'er the helmsman or the winds could guide.

Now forest-clad Zacynthus met our gaze,

engirdled by the waves; Dulichium,

same, and Neritos, a rocky steep,

uprose. We passed the cliffs of Ithaca

that called Laertes king, and flung our curse

on fierce Ulysses' hearth and native land.

nigh hoar Leucate's clouded crest we drew,

where Phoebus' temple, feared by mariners,

loomed o'er us; thitherward we steered and reached

the little port and town. Our weary fleet

dropped anchor, and lay beached along the strand.

So, safe at land, our hopeless peril past,

we offered thanks to Jove, and kindled high

his altars with our feast and sacrifice;

then, gathering on Actium 's holy shore,

made fair solemnities of pomp and game.

My youth, anointing their smooth, naked limbs,

wrestled our wonted way. For glad were we,

who past so many isles of Greece had sped

and 'scaped our circling foes. Now had the sun

rolled through the year's full circle, and the waves

were rough with icy winter's northern gales.

I hung for trophy on that temple door

a swelling shield of brass (which once was worn

by mighty Abas) graven with this line:

SPOIL OF AENEAS FROM TRIUMPHANT FOES.

Then from that haven I command them forth;

my good crews take the thwarts, smiting the sea

with rival strokes, and skim the level main.

Soon sank Phaeacia's wind-swept citadels

out of our view; we skirted the bold shores

of proud Epirus , in Chaonian land,

and made Buthrotum 's port and towering town.

Here wondrous tidings met us, that the son

of Priam, Helenus, held kingly sway

o'er many Argive cities, having wed

the Queen of Pyrrhus, great Achilles' son,

and gained his throne; and that Andromache

once more was wife unto a kindred lord.

Amazement held me; all my bosom burned

to see the hero's face and hear this tale

of strange vicissitude. So up I climbed,

leaving the haven, fleet, and friendly shore.

That self-same hour outside the city walls,

within a grove where flowed the mimic stream

of a new Simois, Andromache,

with offerings to the dead, and gifts of woe,

poured forth libation, and invoked the shade

of Hector, at a tomb which her fond grief

had consecrated to perpetual tears,

though void; a mound of fair green turf it stood,

and near it rose twin altars to his name.

She saw me drawing near; our Trojan helms

met her bewildered eyes, and, terror-struck

at the portentous sight, she swooning fell

and lay cold, rigid, lifeless, till at last,

scarce finding voice, her lips addressed me thus :

“Have I true vision? Bringest thou the word

Of truth, O goddess-born? Art still in flesh?

Or if sweet light be fled, my Hector, where?”

With flood of tears she spoke, and all the grove

reechoed to her cry. Scarce could I frame

brief answer to her passion, but replied

with broken voice and accents faltering:

“I live, 't is true. I lengthen out my days

through many a desperate strait. But O, believe

that what thine eyes behold is vision true.

Alas! what lot is thine, that wert unthroned

from such a husband's side? What after-fate

could give thee honor due? Andromache,

once Hector's wife, is Pyrrhus still thy lord?”

With drooping brows and lowly voice she cried :

“O, happy only was that virgin blest,

daughter of Priam, summoned forth to die

in sight of Ilium , on a foeman's tomb!

No casting of the lot her doom decreed,

nor came she to her conqueror's couch a slave.

Myself from burning Ilium carried far

o'er seas and seas, endured the swollen pride

of that young scion of Achilles' race,

and bore him as his slave a son. When he

sued for Hermione, of Leda's line,

and nuptial-bond with Lacedaemon's Iords,

I, the slave-wife, to Helenus was given,

and slave was wed with slave. But afterward

Orestes, crazed by loss of her he loved,

and ever fury-driven from crime to crime,

crept upon Pyrrhus in a careless hour

and murdered him upon his own hearth-stone.

Part of the realm of Neoptolemus

fell thus to Helenus, who called his lands

Chaonian, and in Trojan Chaon's name

his kingdom is Chaonia. Yonder height

is Pergamus , our Ilian citadel.

What power divine did waft thee to our shore,

not knowing whither? Tell me of the boy

Ascanius! Still breathes he earthly air?

In Troy she bore him—is he mourning still

that mother ravished from his childhood's eyes?

what ancient valor stirs the manly soul

of thine own son, of Hector's sister's child?”

Thus poured she forth full many a doleful word

with unavailing tears. But as she ceased,

out of the city gates appeared the son

of Priam, Helenus, with princely train.

He welcomed us as kin, and glad at heart

gave guidance to his house, though oft his words

fell faltering and few, with many a tear.

Soon to a humbler Troy I lift my eyes,

and of a mightier Pergamus discern

the towering semblance; there a scanty stream

runs on in Xanthus ' name, and my glad arms

the pillars of a Scaean gate embrace.

My Teucrian mariners with welcome free

enjoyed the friendly town; his ample halls

our royal host threw wide; full wine-cups flowed

within the palace; golden feast was spread,

and many a goblet quaffed. Day followed day,

while favoring breezes beckoned us to sea,

and swelled the waiting canvas as they blew.

Then to the prophet-priest I made this prayer:

“Offspring of Troy , interpreter of Heaven!

Who knowest Phoebus' power, and readest well

the tripod, stars, and vocal laurel leaves

to Phoebus dear, who know'st of every bird

the ominous swift wing or boding song,

o, speak! For all my course good omens showed,

and every god admonished me to sail

in quest of Italy 's far-distant shores;

but lone Celaeno, heralding strange woe,

foretold prodigious horror, vengeance dark,

and vile, unnatural hunger. How elude

such perils? Or by what hard duty done

may such huge host of evils vanquished be?”

Then Helenus, with sacrifice of kine

in order due, implored the grace of Heaven,

unloosed the fillets from his sacred brow,

and led me, Phoebus, to thy temple's door,

awed by th' o'er-brooding godhead, whose true priest,

with lips inspired, made this prophetic song:

“O goddess-born, indubitably shines

the blessing of great gods upon thy path

across the sea; the heavenly King supreme

thy destiny ordains; 't is he unfolds

the grand vicissitude, which now pursues

a course immutable. I will declare

of thy large fate a certain bounded part;

that fearless thou may'st view the friendly sea,

and in Ausonia's haven at the last

find thee a fixed abode. Than this no more

the Sister Fates to Helenus unveil,

and Juno, Saturn's daughter, grants no more.

First, that Italia (which nigh at hand

thou deemest, and wouldst fondly enter in

by yonder neighboring bays) lies distant far

o'er trackless course and long, with interval

of far-extended lands. Thine oars must ply

the waves of Sicily ; thy fleet must cleave

the large expanse of that Ausonian brine;

the waters of Avernus thou shalt see,

and that enchanted island where abides

Aeaean Circe, ere on tranquil shore

thou mayest plant thy nation. Lo! a sign

I tell thee; hide this wonder in thy heart:

Beside a certain stream's sequestered wave,

thy troubled eyes, in shadowy flex grove

that fringes on the river, shall descry

a milk-white, monstrous sow, with teeming brood

of thirty young, new littered, white like her,

all clustering at her teats, as prone she lies.

There is thy city's safe, predestined ground,

and there thy labors' end. Vex not thy heart

about those ‘tables bitten’, for kind fate

thy path will show, and Phoebus bless thy prayer.

But from these lands and yon Italian shore,

where from this sea of ours the tide sweeps in,

escape and flee, for all its cities hold

pernicious Greeks, thy foes: the Locri there

have builded walls; the wide Sallentine fields

are filled with soldiers of Idomeneus;

there Meliboean Philoctetes' town,

petilia, towers above its little wall.

Yea, even when thy fleet has crossed the main,

and from new altars built along the shore

thy vows to Heaven are paid, throw o'er thy head

a purple mantle, veiling well thy brows,

lest, while the sacrificial fire ascends

in offering to the gods, thine eye behold

some face of foe, and every omen fail.

Let all thy people keep this custom due,

and thou thyself be faithful; let thy seed

forever thus th' immaculate rite maintain.

After departing hence, thou shalt be blown

toward Sicily , and strait Pelorus' bounds

will open wide. Then take the leftward way:

those leftward waters in long circuit sweep,

far from that billowy coast, the opposing side.

These regions, so they tell, in ages gone

by huge and violent convulsion riven

(Such mutability is wrought by time),

sprang wide asunder; where the doubled strand

sole and continuous lay, the sea's vast power

burst in between, and bade its waves divide

Hesperia's bosom from fair Sicily ,

while with a straitened firth it interflowed

their fields and cities sundered shore from shore.

The right side Scylla keeps; the left is given

to pitiless Charybdis, who draws down

to the wild whirling of her steep abyss

the monster waves, and ever and anon

flings them at heaven, to lash the tranquil stars.

But Scylla, prisoned in her eyeless cave,

thrusts forth her face, and pulls upon the rocks

ship after ship; the parts that first be seen

are human; a fair-breasted virgin she,

down to the womb; but all that lurks below

is a huge-membered fish, where strangely join

the flukes of dolphins and the paunch of wolves.

Better by far to round the distant goal

of the Trinacrian headlands, veering wide

from thy true course, than ever thou shouldst see

that shapeless Scylla in her vaulted cave,

where grim rocks echo her dark sea-dogs' roar.

Yea, more, if aught of prescience be bestowed

on Helenus, if trusted prophet he,

and Phoebus to his heart true voice have given,

o goddess-born, one counsel chief of all

I tell thee oft, and urge it o'er and o'er.

To Juno's godhead lift thy Ioudest prayer;

to Juno chant a fervent votive song,

and with obedient offering persuade

that potent Queen. So shalt thou, triumphing,

to Italy be sped, and leave behind

Trinacria . When wafted to that shore,

repair to Cumae 's hill, and to the Lake

Avernus with its whispering grove divine.

There shalt thou see a frenzied prophetess,

who from beneath the hollow scarped crag

sings oracles, or characters on leaves

mysterious names. Whate'er the virgin writes,

on leaves inscribing the portentous song,

she sets in order, and conceals them well

in her deep cave, where they abide unchanged

in due array. Yet not a care has she,

if with some swinging hinge a breeze sweeps in,

to catch them as they whirl: if open door

disperse them flutterlig through the hollow rock,

she will not link their shifted sense anew,

nor re-invent her fragmentary song.

Oft her unanswered votaries depart,

scorning the Sibyl's shrine. But deem not thou

thy tarrying too Iong, whate'er thy stay.

Though thy companions chide, though winds of power

invite thy ship to sea, and well would speed

the swelling sail, yet to that Sibyl go.

Pray that her own lips may sing forth for thee

the oracles, uplifting her dread voice

in willing prophecy. Her rede shall tell

of Italy , its wars and tribes to be,

and of what way each burden and each woe

may be escaped, or borne. Her favoring aid

will grant swift, happy voyages to thy prayer.

Such counsels Heaven to my lips allows.

arise, begone! and by thy glorious deeds

set Troy among the stars! “

So spake the prophet with benignant voice.

Then gifts he bade be brought of heavy gold

and graven ivory, which to our ships

he bade us bear; each bark was Ioaded full

with messy silver and Dodona 's pride

of brazen cauldrons; a cuirass he gave

of linked gold enwrought and triple chain;

a noble helmet, too, with flaming crest

and lofty cone, th' accoutrement erewhile

of Neoptolemus. My father too

had fit gifts from the King; whose bounty then

gave steeds and riders; and new gear was sent

to every sea-worn ship, while he supplied

seafarers, kit to all my loyal crews.

Anchises bade us speedily set sail,

nor lose a wind so fair; and answering him,

Apollo's priest made reverent adieu:

“Anchises, honored by the love sublime

of Venus, self and twice in safety borne

from falling Troy , chief care of kindly Heaven,

th' Ausonian shore is thine. Sail thitherward!

For thou art pre-ordained to travel far

o'er yonder seas; far in the distance lies

that region of Ausonia, Phoebus' voice

to thee made promise of. Onward, I say,

o blest in the exceeding loyal love

of thy dear son! Why keep thee longer now?

Why should my words yon gathering winds detain?”

Likewise Andromache in mournful guise

took last farewell, bringing embroidered robes

of golden woof; a princely Phrygian cloak

she gave Ascanius, vying with the King

in gifts of honor; and threw o'er the boy

the labors of her loom, with words like these:

“Accept these gifts, sweet youth, memorials

of me and my poor handicraft, to prove

th' undying friendship of Andromache,

once Hector's wife. Take these last offerings

of those who are thy kin—O thou that art

of my Astyanax in all this world

the only image! His thy lovely eyes!

Thy hands, thy lips, are even what he bore,

and like thy own his youthful bloom would be.”

Thus I made answer, turning to depart

with rising tears: “Live on, and be ye blessed,

whose greatness is accomplished! As for me,

from change to change Fate summons, and I go;

but ye have won repose. No leagues of sea

await your cleaving keel. Not yours the quest

of fading Italy 's delusive shore.

Here a new Xanthus and a second Troy

your labor fashioned and your eyes may see—

more blest, I trust, less tempting to our foes!

If e'er on Tiber and its bordering vales

I safely enter, and these eyes behold

our destined walls, then in fraternal bond

let our two nations live, whose mutual boast

is one Dardanian blood, one common story.

Epirus with Hesperia shall be

one Troy in heart and soul. But this remains

for our sons' sons the happy task and care.”

Forth o'er the seas we sped and kept our course

nigh the Ceraunian headland, where begins

the short sea-passage unto Italy .

Soon sank the sun, while down the shadowed hills

stole deeper gloom; then making shore, we flung

our bodies on a dry, sea-bordering sand,

couched on earth's welcome breast; the oars were ranged

in order due; the tides of slumber dark

o'erflowed our lives. But scarce the chariot

of Night, on wings of swift, obedient Hours,

had touched the middle sky, when wakeful sprang

good Palinurus from his pillowed stone:

with hand at ear he caught each airy gust

and questioned of the winds; the gliding stars

he called by name, as onward they advanced

through the still heaven; Arcturus he beheld,

the Hyades, rain-bringers, the twin Bears,

and vast Orion girt in golden arms.

He blew a trumpet from his ship; our camp

stirred to the signal for embarking; soon

we rode the seas once more with swelling sail.

Scarce had Aurora's purple from the sky

warned off the stars, when Iying very low

along th' horizon, the dimmed hills we saw

of Italy ; Achates first gave cry

“ Italia !” with answering shouts of joy,

my comrades' voices cried, “ Italia , hail!”

Anchises, then, wreathed a great bowl with flowers

and filled with wine, invoking Heaven to bless,

and thus he prayed from our ship's lofty stern:

“O Iords of land and sea and every storm!

Breathe favoring breezes for our onward way!”

Fresh blew the prayed-for winds. A haven fair

soon widened near us; and its heights were crowned

by a Greek fane to Pallas. Yet my men

furled sail and shoreward veered the pointing prow.

the port receding from the orient wave

is curved into a bow; on either side

the jutting headlands toss the salt sea-foam

and hide the bay itself. Like double wall

the towered crags send down protecting arms,

while distant from the shore the temple stands.

Here on a green sward, the first omen given,

I saw four horses grazing through the field,

each white as snow. Father Anchises cried:

“Is war thy gift, O new and alien land?

Horses make war; of war these creatures bode.

Yet oft before the chariot of peace

their swift hoofs go, and on their necks they bear

th' obedient yoke and rein. Therefore a hope

of peace is also ours.” Then we implored

Minerva's mercy, at her sacred shrine,

the mail-clad goddess who gave welcome there;

and at an altar, mantling well our brows

the Phrygian way, as Helenus ordained,

we paid the honors his chief counsel urged,

with blameless rite, to Juno, Argive Queen.

No tarrying now, but after sacrifice

we twirled the sailyards and shook out all sail,

leaving the cities of the sons of Greece

and that distrusted land. Tarentum 's bay

soon smiled before us, town of Hercules,

if fame be true; opposing it uptowers

Lacinia's headland unto Juno dear,

the heights of Caulon, and that sailors' bane,

ship-shattering Scylaceum. Thence half seen,

trinacrian Aetna cleaves th' horizon line;

we hear from far the crash of shouting seas,

where lifted billows leap the tide-swept sand.

Father Anchises cried: “'T is none but she—

Charybdis! Helenus this reef foretold,

and rocks of dreadful name. O, fly, my men!

Rise like one man with long, strong sweep of oars!”

Not unobedient they! First Palinure

veered to the leftward wave the willing keel,

and sails and oars together leftward strove.

We shot to skyward on the arching surge,

then, as she sank, dropped deeper than the grave;

thrice bellowed the vast cliffs from vaulted wall;

thrice saw we spouted foam and showers of stars.

After these things both wind and sun did fail;

and weary, worn, not witting of our way,

we drifted shoreward to the Cyclops' land.

A spreading bay is there, impregnable

to all invading storms; and Aetna 's throat

with roar of frightful ruin thunders nigh.

Now to the realm of light it lifts a cloud

of pitch-black, whirling smoke, and fiery dust,

shooting out globes of flame, with monster tongues

that lick the stars; now huge crags of itself,

out of the bowels of the mountain torn,

its maw disgorges, while the molten rock

rolls screaming skyward; from the nether deep

the fathomless abyss makes ebb and flow.

Enceladus, his body lightning-scarred,

lies prisoned under all, so runs the tale:

o'er him gigantic Aetna breathes in fire

from crack and seam; and if he haply turn

to change his wearied side, Trinacria 's isle

trembles and moans, and thick fumes mantle heaven.

That night in screen and covert of a grove

we bore the dire convulsion, unaware

whence the loud horror came. For not a star

its lamp allowed, nor burned in upper sky

the constellated fires, but all was gloom,

and frowning night confined the moon in cloud.

When from the eastern waves the light of morn

began to peer, and from the upper sky

Aurora flamed away the dark and dew,

out of the forest sprang a startling shape

of hunger-wasted misery; a man

in wretched guise, who shoreward came with hands

outstretched in supplication. We turned back

and scanned him well. All grime and foulness he,

with long and tangled beard, his savage garb

fastened with thorns; but in all else he seemed

a Greek, and in his country's league of arms

sent to the seige of Troy . Then he beheld

the Dardan habit, and our Trojan steel,

he somewhat paused, as if in dread dismay

such sight to see, and falteringly moved;

but soon with headlong steps he sought the shore,

ejaculating broken sobs and prayers:

“By stars above! By gods on high! O, hear!

By this bright heavenly air we mortals breathe,

save me, sweet Trojans! Carry me away

unto what land ye will! I ask no more.

I came, I know it, in the ships of Greece ;

and I did war, 't is true, with Ilium 's gods.

O, if the crime deserve it, fling my corse

on yonder waves, and in the boundless brine

sink me forever! Give me in my death

the comfort that by human hands I die.”

He clasped our knees, and writhing on his own

clung fast. We bid him tell his race and name,

and by what fate pursued. Anchises gave

his own right hand in swift and generous aid,

and by prompt token cheered the exile's heart,

who, banishing his fears, poured forth this tale :—

“My home was Ithaca , and I partook

the fortunes of Ulysses evil-starred.

My name is Achemenides, my sire

was Adamastus, and I sailed for Troy ,

being so poor,—O, that I ne'er had change

the lot I bore! In yon vast Cyclops' cave

my comrades, flying from its gruesome door,

left me behind, forgotten. 'T is a house

of gory feasts of flesh, 't is deep and dark,

and vaulted high. He looms as high as heaven;

I pray the blessed gods to rid the earth

of the vile monster! None can look on him,

none speak with him. He feeds on clotted gore

of disembowelled men. These very eyes

saw him seize two of our own company,

and, as he lolled back in the cave, he clutched

and dashed them on the stones, fouling the floor

with torrent of their blood; myself I saw him

crunch with his teeth the dripping, bloody limbs

still hot and pulsing on his hungry jaw.

But not without reward! For such a sight

Ulysses would not brook, and Ithaca

forgot not in such strait the name he bore.

For soon as, gorged with feasting and o'ercome

with drunken slumber, the foul giant lay

sprawled through the cave, his head dropped helpless down,

disgorging as he slept thick drool of gore

and gobbets drenched with bloody wine; then we,

calling on Heaven and taking place by lot,

drew round him like one man, and with a beam

sharpened at end bored out that monster eye,

which, huge and sole, lay under the grim brow,

round as an Argive shield or Phoebus' star.

Thus took we joyful vengeance for the shades

of our lost mates. But, O ill-fated men!

Fly, I implore, and cut the cables free

along the beach! For in the land abide,

like Polyphemus, who in hollow cave

kept fleecy sheep, and milked his fruitful ewes,

a hundred other, huge as he, who rove

wide o'er this winding shore and mountains fair:

Cyclops accursed, bestial! Thrice the moon

has filled her horns with light, while here I dwell

in lonely woods and lairs of creatures wild;

or from tall cliffs out-peering I discern

the Cyclops, and shrink shuddering from the sound

of their vast step and cry. My sorry fare

is berries and hard corners dropped from trees,

or herb-roots torn out from the niggard ground.

Though watching the whole sea, only today

Have I had sight of ships. To you I fled.

Whate'er ye be, it was my only prayer

to 'scape that monster brood. I ask no more.

O, set me free by any death ye will!”

He scarce had said, when moving o'er the crest

of a high hill a giant shape we saw:

that shepherd Polyphemus, with his flocks

down-wending to the well-known water-side;

huge, shapeless, horrible, with blinded eye,

bearing a lopped pine for a staff, he made

his footing sure, while the white, fleecy sheep,

sole pleasure now, and solace of his woes,

ran huddling at his side.

Soon to the vast flood of the level brine

he came, and washed the flowing gore away

from that out-hollowed eye; he gnashed his teeth,

groaning, and deep into the watery way

stalked on, his tall bulk wet by scarce a wave.

We fled in haste, though far, and with us bore

the truthful suppliant; cut silently

the anchor-ropes, and, bending to the oar,

swept on with eager strokes clean out to sea.

Aware he was, and toward our loud halloo

whirled sudden round; but when no power had he

to seize or harm, nor could his fierce pursuit

o'ertake the Ionian surges as they rolled,

he raised a cry incredible; the sea

with all its billows trembled; the wide shore

of Italy from glens and gorges moaned,

and Aetna roared from every vaulted cave.

Then rallied from the grove-clad, Iofty isle

the Cyclops' clan, and lined the beach and bay.

We saw each lonely eyeball glare in vain,

as side by side those brothers Aetna-born

stood towering high, a conclave dark and dire:

as when, far up some mountain's famous crest,

wind-fronting oaks or cone-clad cypresses

have made assembling in the solemn hills,

Jove's giant wood or Dian's sacred grove.

We, terror-struck, would fly we knew not where,

with loosened sheet and canvas swelling strong

before a welcome wind; but Helenus

bade us both Scylla and Charybdis fear,

where 'twixt the twain death straitly hems the way;

and so the counsel was to veer our bark

the course it came. But lo! a northern gale

burst o'er us from Pelorus' narrowed side,

and on we rode far past Pantagia's bay

of unhewn rock, and past the haven strong

of Megara , and Thapsus Iying low.

Such were the names retold, and such the shores

shown us by Achemenides, whose fate

made him familiar there, for he had sailed

with evil-starred Ulysses o'er that sea.

Off the Sicilian shore an island lies,

wave-washed Plemmyrium, called in olden days

Ortygia; here Alpheus, river-god,

from Elis flowed by secret sluice, they say,

beneath the sea, and mingles at thy mouth,

fair Arethusa! with Sicilian waves.

Our voices hailed the great gods of the land

with reverent prayer; then skirted we the shore,

where smooth Helorus floods the fruitful plain.

Under Pachynus' beetling precipice

we kept our course; then Camarina rose

in distant view, firm-seated evermore

by Fate's decree; and that far-spreading vale

of Gela , with the name of power it takes

from its wide river; and, uptowering far,

the ramparts of proud Acragas appeared,

where fiery steeds were bred in days of old.

Borne by the winds, along thy coast I fled,

Selinus , green with palm! and past the shore

of Lilybaeum with its treacherous reef;

till at the last the port of Drepanum

received me to its melancholy strand.

Here, woe is me I outworn by stormful seas,

my sire, sole comfort of my grievous doom,

Anchises ceased to be. O best of sires!

Here didst thou leave me in the weary way;

through all our perils—O the bitter loss! —

borne safely, but in vain. King Helenus,

whose prophet-tongue of dark events foretold,

spoke not this woe; nor did Celeno's curse

of this forebode. Such my last loss and pain;

such, of my weary way, the destined goal.

From thence departing, the divine behest

impelled me to thy shores, O listening queen!

Such was, while all gave ear, the tale sublime

father Aeneas, none but he, set forth

of wanderings and of dark decrees divine:

silent at last, he ceased, and took repose.