No More Learning

He yonder, seest thou? the warrior leaning on his
pointless spear, holds the nearest place allotted in our groves, and
shall rise first into the air of heaven from the mingling blood of
Italy, Silvius of Alban name, the child of thine age, whom late in thy
length of days thy wife Lavinia shall nurture in the woodland, king and
father of kings; from him in Alba the Long shall our house have
dominion. He next him is Procas, glory of the Trojan race; and Capys and
Numitor; and he who shall renew thy name, Silvius Aeneas, eminent alike
in goodness or in arms, if ever he shall receive his kingdom in Alba.
Men of men! see what strength they display, and wear the civic oak
shading their brows. They shall establish Nomentum and Gabii and Fidena
city, they the Collatine hill-fortress, Pometii and the Fort of Inuus,
Bola and Cora: these shall be names that are now nameless lands. Nay,
Romulus likewise, seed of Mavors, shall join [778-810]his grandsire's
company, from his mother Ilia's nurture and Assaracus' blood. Seest thou
how the twin plumes straighten on his crest, and his father's own
emblazonment already marks him for upper air? Behold, O son! by his
augury shall Rome the renowned fill earth with her empire and heaven
with her pride, and gird about seven fortresses with her single wall,
prosperous mother of men; even as our lady of Berecyntus rides in her
chariot turret-crowned through the Phrygian cities, glad in the gods she
hath borne, clasping an hundred of her children's children, all
habitants of heaven, all dwellers on the upper heights. Hither now bend
thy twin-eyed gaze; behold this people, the Romans that are thine. Here
is Caesar and all Iulus' posterity that shall arise under the mighty
cope of heaven. Here is he, he of whose promise once and again thou
hearest, Caesar Augustus, a god's son, who shall again establish the
ages of gold in Latium over the fields that once were Saturn's realm,
and carry his empire afar to Garamant and Indian, to the land that lies
beyond our stars, beyond the sun's yearlong ways, where Atlas the
sky-bearer wheels on his shoulder the glittering star-spangled pole.
Before his coming even now the kingdoms of the Caspian shudder at
oracular answers, and the Maeotic land and the mouths of sevenfold Nile
flutter in alarm. Nor indeed did Alcides traverse such spaces of earth,
though he pierced the brazen-footed deer, or though he stilled the
Erymanthian woodlands and made Lerna tremble at his bow: nor he who
sways his team with reins of vine, Liber the conqueror, when he drives
his tigers from Nysa's lofty crest. And do we yet hesitate to give
valour scope in deeds, or shrink in fear from setting foot on Ausonian
land? Ah, and who is he apart, marked out with sprays of olive, offering
sacrifice? I know the locks and hoary chin of the king of Rome who shall
establish the infant city in his [811-843]laws, sent from little Cures'
sterile land to the majesty of empire. To him Tullus shall next succeed,
who shall break the peace of his country and stir to arms men rusted
from war and armies now disused to triumphs; and hard on him
over-vaunting Ancus follows, even now too elate in popular breath. Wilt
thou see also the Tarquin kings, and the haughty soul of Brutus the
Avenger, and the fasces regained? He shall first receive a consul's
power and the merciless axes, and when his children would stir fresh
war, the father, for fair freedom's sake, shall summon them to doom.
Unhappy! yet howsoever posterity shall take the deed, love of country
and limitless passion for honour shall prevail. Nay, behold apart the
Decii and the Drusi, Torquatus with his cruel axe, and Camillus
returning with the standards. Yonder souls likewise, whom thou
discernest gleaming in equal arms, at one now, while shut in Night, ah
me! what mutual war, what battle-lines and bloodshed shall they arouse,
so they attain the light of the living! father-in-law descending from
the Alpine barriers and the fortress of the Dweller Alone, son-in-law
facing him with the embattled East. Nay, O my children, harden not your
hearts to such warfare, neither turn upon her own heart the mastering
might of your country; and thou, be thou first to forgive, who drawest
thy descent from heaven; cast down the weapons from thy hand, O blood of
mine. . . . He shall drive his conquering chariot to the Capitoline
height triumphant over Corinth, glorious in Achaean slaughter. He shall
uproot Argos and Agamemnonian Mycenae, and the Aeacid's own heir, the
seed of Achilles mighty in arms, avenging his ancestors in Troy and
Minerva's polluted temple. Who might leave thee, lordly Cato, or thee,
Cossus, to silence? who the Gracchan family, or these two sons of the
Scipios, a double thunderbolt of war, Libya's bale? and Fabricius potent
in poverty, or [844-875]thee, Serranus, sowing in the furrow? Whither
whirl you me all breathless, O Fabii? thou art he, the most mighty, the
one man whose lingering retrieves our State. Others shall beat out the
breathing bronze to softer lines, I believe it well; shall draw living
lineaments from the marble; the cause shall be more eloquent on their
lips; their pencil shall portray the pathways of heaven, and tell the
stars in their arising: be thy charge, O Roman, to rule the nations in
thine empire; this shall be thine art, to lay down the law of peace, to
be merciful to the conquered and beat the haughty down. '

Thus lord Anchises, and as they marvel, he so pursues: 'Look how
Marcellus the conqueror marches glorious in the splendid spoils,
towering high above them all! He shall stay the Roman State, reeling
beneath the invading shock, shall ride down Carthaginian and insurgent
Gaul, and a third time hang up the captured armour before lord
Quirinus. '

And at this Aeneas, for he saw going by his side one excellent in beauty
and glittering in arms, but his brow had little cheer, and his eyes
looked down:

'Who, O my father, is he who thus attends him on his way? son, or other
of his children's princely race? How his comrades murmur around him! how
goodly of presence he is! but dark Night flutters round his head with
melancholy shade. '

Then lord Anchises with welling tears began: 'O my son, ask not of the
great sorrow of thy people. Him shall fate but shew to earth, and suffer
not to stay further. Too mighty, lords of heaven, did you deem the brood
of Rome, had this your gift been abiding. What moaning of men shall
arise from the Field of Mavors by the imperial city! what a funeral
train shalt thou see, O Tiber, as thou flowest by the new-made grave!
Neither shall the boyhood of any [876-901]of Ilian race raise his Latin
forefathers' hope so high; nor shall the land of Romulus ever boast of
any fosterling like this. Alas his goodness, alas his antique honour,
and right hand invincible in war! none had faced him unscathed in armed
shock, whether he met the foe on foot, or ran his spurs into the flanks
of his foaming horse. Ah me, the pity of thee, O boy! if in any wise
thou breakest the grim bar of fate, thou shalt be Marcellus. Give me
lilies in full hands; let me strew bright blossoms, and these gifts at
least let me lavish on my descendant's soul, and do the unavailing
service. '

Thus they wander up and down over the whole region of broad vaporous
plains, and scan all the scene. And when Anchises had led his son over
it, each point by each, and kindled his spirit with passion for the
glories on their way, he tells him thereafter of the war he next must
wage, and instructs him of the Laurentine peoples and the city of
Latinus, and in what wise each task may be turned aside or borne.

There are twin portals of Sleep, whereof the one is fabled of horn, and
by it real shadows are given easy outlet; the other shining white of
polished ivory, but false visions issue upward from the ghostly world.
With these words then Anchises follows forth his son and the Sibyl
together there, and dismisses them by the ivory gate. He pursues his way
to the ships and revisits his comrades; then bears on to Caieta's haven
straight along the shore. The anchor is cast from the prow; the sterns
are grounded on the beach.




BOOK SEVENTH

THE LANDING IN LATIUM, AND THE ROLL OF THE ARMIES OF ITALY


Thou also, Caieta, nurse of Aeneas, gavest our shores an everlasting
renown in death; and still thine honour haunts thy resting-place, and a
name in broad Hesperia, if that be glory, marks thy dust. But when the
last rites are duly paid, and the mound smoothed over the grave, good
Aeneas, now the high seas are hushed, bears on under sail and leaves his
haven. Breezes blow into the night, and the white moonshine speeds them
on; the sea glitters in her quivering radiance. Soon they skirt the
shores of Circe's land, where the rich daughter of the Sun makes her
untrodden groves echo with ceaseless song; and her stately house glows
nightlong with burning odorous cedarwood, as she runs over her delicate
web with the ringing comb. Hence are heard afar angry cries of lions
chafing at their fetters and roaring in the deep night; bears and
bristly swine rage in their pens, and vast shapes of wolves howl; whom
with her potent herbs the deadly divine Circe had disfashioned, face and
body, into wild beasts from the likeness of men. But lest the good
Trojans might suffer so dread a change, might enter her haven or draw
nigh the ominous shores, Neptune filled [23-55]their sails with
favourable winds, and gave them escape, and bore them past the seething
shallows.

And now the sea reddened with shafts of light, and high in heaven the
yellow dawn shone rose-charioted; when the winds fell, and every breath
sank suddenly, and the oar-blades toil through the heavy ocean-floor.
And on this Aeneas descries from sea a mighty forest. Midway in it the
pleasant Tiber stream breaks to sea in swirling eddies, laden with
yellow sand. Around and above fowl many in sort, that haunt his banks
and river-channel, solaced heaven with song and flew about the forest.
He orders his crew to bend their course and turn their prows to land,
and glides joyfully into the shady river.

* * * * *

Forth now, Erato! and I will unfold who were the kings, what the tides
of circumstance, how it was with ancient Latium when first that foreign
army drew their fleet ashore on Ausonia's coast; I will recall the
preluding of battle. Thou, divine one, inspire thou thy poet. I will
tell of grim wars, tell of embattled lines, of kings whom honour drove
on death, of the Tyrrhenian forces, and all Hesperia enrolled in arms. A
greater history opens before me, a greater work I essay.

Latinus the King, now growing old, ruled in a long peace over quiet
tilth and town. He, men say, was sprung of Faunus and the nymph Marica
of Laurentum. Faunus' father was Picus; and he boasts himself, Saturn,
thy son; thou art the first source of their blood. Son of his, by divine
ordinance, and male descent was none, cut off in the early spring of
youth. One alone kept the household and its august home, a daughter now
ripe for a husband and of full years for marriage. Many wooed her from
wide Latium and all Ausonia. Fairest and foremost of all [56-93]is
Turnus, of long and lordly ancestry; but boding signs from heaven, many
and terrible, bar the way. Within the palace, in the lofty inner courts,
was a laurel of sacred foliage, guarded in awe through many years, which
lord Latinus, it was said, himself found and dedicated to Phoebus when
first he would build his citadel; and from it gave his settlers their
name, Laurentines. High atop of it, wonderful to tell, bees borne with
loud humming across the liquid air girt it thickly about, and with
interlinked feet hung in a sudden swarm from the leafy bough.
Straightway the prophet cries: 'I see a foreigner draw nigh, an army
from the same quarter seek the same quarter, and reign high in our
fortress. ' Furthermore, while maiden Lavinia stands beside her father
feeding the altars with holy fuel, she was seen, oh, horror! to catch
fire in her long tresses, and burn with flickering flame in all her
array, her queenly hair lit up, lit up her jewelled circlet; till,
enwreathed in smoke and lurid light, she scattered fire over all the
palace. That sight was rumoured wonderful and terrible. Herself, they
prophesied, she should be glorious in fame and fortune; but a great war
was foreshadowed for her people. But the King, troubled by the omen,
visits the oracle of his father Faunus the soothsayer, and the groves
deep under Albunea, where, queen of the woods, she echoes from her holy
well, and breathes forth a dim and deadly vapour. Hence do the tribes of
Italy and all the Oenotrian land seek answers in perplexity; hither the
priest bears his gifts, and when he hath lain down and sought slumber
under the silent night on the spread fleeces of slaughtered sheep, sees
many flitting phantoms of wonderful wise, hears manifold voices, and
attains converse of the gods, and hath speech with Acheron and the deep
tract of hell. Here then, likewise seeking an answer, lord Latinus paid
fit sacrifice of an hundred woolly ewes, and [94-127]lay couched on the
strewn fleeces they had worn. Out of the lofty grove a sudden voice was
uttered: 'Seek not, O my child, to unite thy daughter in Latin
espousals, nor trust her to the bridal chambers ready to thine hand;
foreigners shall come to be thy sons, whose blood shall raise our name
to heaven, and the children of whose race shall see, where the circling
sun looks on either ocean, all the rolling world swayed beneath their
feet. ' This his father Faunus' answer and counsel given in the silent
night Latinus restrains not in his lips; but wide-flitting Rumour had
already borne it round among the Ausonian cities, when the children of
Laomedon moored their fleet to the grassy slope of the river bank.

Aeneas, with the foremost of his captains and fair Iulus, lay them down
under the boughs of a high tree and array the feast. They spread wheaten
cakes along the sward under their meats--so Jove on high prompted--and
crown the platter of corn with wilding fruits. Here haply when the rest
was spent, and scantness of food set them to eat their thin bread, and
with hand and venturous teeth do violence to the round cakes fraught
with fate and spare not the flattened squares: _Ha! Are we eating our
tables too? _ cries Iulus jesting, and stops. At once that accent heard
set their toils a limit; and at once as he spoke his father caught it
from his lips and hushed him, in amazement at the omen. Straightway
'Hail, O land! ' he cries, 'my destined inheritance! and hail, O
household gods, faithful to your Troy! here is home; this is our native
country. For my father Anchises, now I remember it, bequeathed me this
secret of fate: "When hunger shall drive thee, O son, to consume thy
tables where the feast fails, on the unknown shores whither thou shalt
sail; then, though outwearied, hope for home, and there at last let
thine hand remember to set thy house's foundations and bulwarks. " This
was [128-162]the hunger, this the last that awaited us, to set the
promised end to our desolations . . . Up then, and, glad with the first
sunbeam, let us explore and search all abroad from our harbour, what is
the country, who its habitants, where is the town of the nation. Now
pour your cups to Jove, and call in prayer on Anchises our father,
setting the wine again upon the board. ' So speaks he, and binding his
brows with a leafy bough, he makes supplication to the Genius of the
ground, and Earth first of deities, and the Nymphs, and the Rivers yet
unknown; then calls on Night and Night's rising signs, and next on Jove
of Ida, and our lady of Phrygia, and on his twain parents, in heaven and
in the under world. At this the Lord omnipotent thrice thundered sharp
from high heaven, and with his own hand shook out for a sign in the sky
a cloud ablaze with luminous shafts of gold. A sudden rumour spreads
among the Trojan array, that the day is come to found their destined
city. Emulously they renew the feast, and, glad at the high omen, array
the flagons and engarland the wine.

Soon as the morrow bathed the lands in its dawning light, they part to
search out the town, and the borders and shores of the nation: these are
the pools and spring of Numicus; this is the Tiber river; here dwell the
brave Latins. Then the seed of Anchises commands an hundred envoys
chosen of every degree to go to the stately royal city, all with the
wreathed boughs of Pallas, to bear him gifts and desire grace for the
Teucrians. Without delay they hasten on their message, and advance with
swift step. Himself he traces the city walls with a shallow trench, and
builds on it; and in fashion of a camp girdles this first settlement on
the shore with mound and battlements. And now his men had traversed
their way; they espied the towers and steep roofs of the Latins, and
drew near the wall. Before the city boys and men in their early
[163-196]bloom exercise on horseback, and break in their teams on the
dusty ground, or draw ringing bows, or hurl tough javelins from the
shoulder, and contend in running and boxing: when a messenger riding
forward brings news to the ears of the aged King that mighty men are
come thither in unknown raiment. He gives orders to call them within his
house, and takes his seat in the midst on his ancestral throne. His
house, stately and vast, crowned the city, upreared on an hundred
columns, once the palace of Laurentian Picus, amid awful groves of
ancestral sanctity. Here their kings receive the inaugural sceptre, and
have the fasces first raised before them; this temple was their
senate-house; this their sacred banqueting-hall; here, after sacrifice
of rams, the elders were wont to sit down at long tables. Further, there
stood arow in the entry images of the forefathers of old in ancient
cedar, Italus, and lord Sabinus, planter of the vine, still holding in
show the curved pruning-hook, and gray Saturn, and the likeness of Janus
the double-facing, and the rest of their primal kings, and they who had
borne wounds of war in fighting for their country. Armour besides hangs
thickly on the sacred doors, captured chariots and curved axes,
helmet-crests and massy gateway-bars, lances and shields, and beaks torn
from warships. He too sat there, with the divining-rod of Quirinus, girt
in the short augural gown, and carrying on his left arm the sacred
shield, Picus the tamer of horses; he whom Circe, desperate with amorous
desire, smote with her golden rod and turned by her poisons into a bird
with patches of colour on his wings. Of such wise was the temple of the
gods wherein Latinus, sitting on his father's seat, summoned the
Teucrians to his house and presence; and when they entered in, he thus
opened with placid mien:

'Tell, O Dardanians, for we are not ignorant of your city and race, nor
unheard of do you bend your course [197-228]overseas, what seek you?
what the cause or whereof the need that hath borne you over all these
blue waterways to the Ausonian shore? Whether wandering in your course,
or tempest-driven (such perils manifold on the high seas do sailors
suffer), you have entered the river banks and lie in harbour; shun not
our welcome, and be not ignorant that the Latins are Saturn's people,
whom no laws fetter to justice, upright of their own free will and the
custom of the god of old. And now I remember, though the story is dimmed
with years, thus Auruncan elders told, how Dardanus, born in this our
country, made his way to the towns of Phrygian Ida and to the Thracian
Samos that is now called Samothrace. Here was the home he left,
Tyrrhenian Corythus; now the palace of heaven, glittering with golden
stars, enthrones and adds him to the ranged altars of the gods. '

He ended; and Ilioneus pursued his speech with these words:

'King, Faunus' illustrious progeny, neither hath black tempest driven us
with stress of waves to shelter in your lands, nor hath star or shore
misled us on the way we went. Of set purpose and willing mind do we draw
nigh this thy city, outcasts from a realm once the greatest that the sun
looked on as he came from Olympus' utmost border. From Jove hath our
race beginning; in Jove the men of Dardania rejoice as ancestor; our
King himself of Jove's supreme race, Aeneas of Troy, hath sent us to thy
courts. How terrible the tempest that burst from fierce Mycenae over the
plains of Ida, driven by what fate Europe and Asia met in the shock of
two worlds, even he hath heard who is sundered in the utmost land where
the ocean surge recoils, and he whom stretching midmost of the four
zones the zone of the intolerable sun holds in severance. Borne by that
flood over many desolate seas, we crave a scant dwelling [229-261]for
our country's gods, an unmolested landing-place, and the air and water
that are free to all. We shall not disgrace the kingdom; nor will the
rumour of your renown be lightly gone or the grace of all you have done
fade away; nor will Ausonia be sorry to have taken Troy to her breast.
By the fortunes of Aeneas I swear, by that right hand mighty, whether
tried in friendship or in warlike arms, many and many a people and
nation--scorn us not because we advance with hands proffering chaplets
and words of supplication--hath sought us for itself and desired our
alliance; but yours is the land that heaven's high ordinance drove us
forth to find. Hence sprung Dardanus: hither Apollo recalls us, and
pushes us on with imperious orders to Tyrrhenian Tiber and the holy
pools of Numicus' spring. Further, he presents to thee these small
guerdons of our past estate, relics saved from burning Troy. From this
gold did lord Anchises pour libation at the altars; this was Priam's
array when he delivered statutes to the nations assembled in order; the
sceptre, the sacred mitre, the raiment wrought by the women of
Ilium. . . . '

At these words of Ilioneus Latinus holds his countenance in a steady
gaze, and stays motionless on the floor, casting his intent eyes around.
Nor does the embroidered purple so move the King, nor the sceptre of
Priam, as his daughter's marriage and the bridal chamber absorb him, and
the oracle of ancient Faunus stirs deep in his heart. This is he, the
wanderer from a foreign home, foreshewn of fate for his son, and called
to a realm of equal dominion, whose race should be excellent in valour
and their might overbear all the world. At last he speaks with good
cheer:

'The gods prosper our undertaking and their own augury! What thou
desirest, Trojan, shall be given; nor do I spurn your gifts. While
Latinus reigns you shall not [262-294]lack foison of rich land nor
Troy's own riches. Only let Aeneas himself come hither, if desire of us
be so strong, if he be in haste to join our friendship and be called our
ally. Let him not shrink in terror from a friendly face. A term of the
peace for me shall be to touch your monarch's hand. Do you now convey in
answer my message to your King. I have a daughter whom the oracles of my
father's shrine and many a celestial token alike forbid me to unite to
one of our own nation; sons shall come, they prophesy, from foreign
coasts, such is the destiny of Latium, whose blood shall exalt our name
to heaven. He it is on whom fate calls; this I think, this I choose, if
there be any truth in my soul's foreshadowing. '

Thus he speaks, and chooses horses for all the company. Three hundred
stood sleek in their high stalls; for all the Teucrians in order he
straightway commands them to be led forth, fleet-footed, covered with
embroidered purple: golden chains hang drooping over their chests,
golden their housings, and they champ on bits of ruddy gold: for the
absent Aeneas a chariot and pair of chariot horses of celestial breed,
with nostrils breathing flame; of the race of those which subtle Circe
bred by sleight on her father, the bastard issue of a stolen union. With
these gifts and words the Aeneadae ride back from Latinus carrying
peace.

And lo! the fierce wife of Jove was returning from Inachian Argos, and
held her way along the air, when out of the distant sky, far as from
Sicilian Pachynus, she espied the rejoicing of Aeneas and the Dardanian
fleet. She sees them already house-building, already trusting in the
land, their ships left empty. She stops, shot with sharp pain; then
shaking her head, she pours forth these words:

'Ah, hated brood, and doom of the Phrygians that thwarts our doom! Could
they perish on the Sigean [295-326]plains? Could they be ensnared when
taken? Did the fires of Troy consume her people? Through the midst of
armies and through the midst of flames they have found their way. But, I
think, my deity lies at last outwearied, or my hatred sleeps and is
satisfied? Nay, it is I who have been fierce to follow them over the
waves when hurled from their country, and on all the seas have crossed
their flight. Against the Teucrians the forces of sky and sea are spent.
What hath availed me Syrtes or Scylla, what desolate Charybdis? they
find shelter in their desired Tiber-bed, careless of ocean and of me.
Mars availed to destroy the giant race of the Lapithae; the very father
of the gods gave over ancient Calydon to Diana's wrath: for forfeit of
what crime in the Lapithae, what in Calydon? But I, Jove's imperial
consort, who have borne, ah me! to leave naught undared, who have
shifted to every device, I am vanquished by Aeneas. If my deity is not
great enough, I will not assuredly falter to seek succour where it may
be; if the powers of heaven are inflexible, I will stir up Acheron. It
may not be to debar him of a Latin realm; well; and Lavinia is destined
his bride unalterably. But it may be yet to defer, to make all this
action linger; but it may be yet to waste away the nation of either
king; at such forfeit of their people may son-in-law and father-in-law
enter into union. Blood of Troy and Rutulia shall be thy dower, O
maiden, and Bellona is the bridesmaid who awaits thee. Nor did Cisseus'
daughter alone conceive a firebrand and travail of bridal flames. Nay,
even such a birth hath Venus of her own, a second Paris, another
balefire for Troy towers reborn. '

These words uttered, she descends to earth in all her terrors, and calls
dolorous Allecto from the home of the Fatal Sisters in nether gloom,
whose delight is in woeful wars, in wrath and treachery and evil feuds:
hateful to [327-360]lord Pluto himself, hateful and horrible to her
hell-born sisters; into so many faces does she turn, so savage the guise
of each, so thick and black bristles she with vipers. And her Juno spurs
on with words, saying thus:

'Grant me, virgin born of Night, this thy proper task and service, that
the rumour of our renown may not crumble away, nor the Aeneadae have
power to win Latinus by marriage or beset the borders of Italy. Thou
canst set brothers once united in armed conflict, and overturn families
with hatreds; thou canst launch into houses thy whips and deadly brands;
thine are a thousand names, a thousand devices of injury. Stir up thy
teeming breast, sunder the peace they have joined, and sow seeds of
quarrel; let all at once desire and demand and seize on arms. '

Thereon Allecto, steeped in Gorgonian venom, first seeks Latium and the
high house of the Laurentine monarch, and silently sits down before
Amata's doors, whom a woman's distress and anger heated to frenzy over
the Teucrians' coming and the marriage of Turnus. At her the goddess
flings a snake out of her dusky tresses, and slips it into her bosom to
her very inmost heart, that she may embroil all her house under its
maddening magic. Sliding between her raiment and smooth breasts, it
coils without touch, and instils its viperous breath unseen; the great
serpent turns into the twisted gold about her neck, turns into the long
ribbon of her chaplet, inweaves her hair, and winds slippery over her
body. And while the gliding infection of the clammy poison begins to
penetrate her sense and run in fire through her frame, nor as yet hath
all her breast caught fire, softly she spoke and in mothers' wonted
wise, with many a tear over her daughter and the Phrygian bridal:

'Is it to exiles, to Teucrians, that Lavinia is proffered in marriage, O
father? and hast thou no compassion on [361-392]thy daughter and on
thyself? no compassion on her mother, whom with the first northern wind
the treacherous rover will abandon, steering to sea with his maiden
prize? Is it not thus the Phrygian herdsman wound his way to Lacedaemon,
and carried Leda's Helen to the Trojan towns? Where is thy plighted
faith? Where thine ancient care for thy people, and the hand Turnus thy
kinsman hath so often clasped? If one of alien race from the Latins is
sought for our son, if this stands fixed, and thy father Faunus'
commands are heavy upon thee, all the land whose freedom severs it from
our sway is to my mind alien, and of this is the divine word. And
Turnus, if one retrace the earliest source of his line, is born of
Inachus and Acrisius, and of the midmost of Mycenae.
'

When in this vain essay of words she sees Latinus fixed against her, and
the serpent's maddening poison is sunk deep in her vitals and runs
through and through her, then indeed, stung by infinite horrors, hapless
and frenzied, she rages wildly through the endless city. As whilome a
top flying under the twisted whipcord, which boys busy at their play
drive circling wide round an empty hall, runs before the lash and spins
in wide gyrations; the witless ungrown band hang wondering over it and
admire the whirling boxwood; the strokes lend it life: with pace no
slacker is she borne midway through towns and valiant nations. Nay, she
flies into the woodland under feigned Bacchic influence, assumes a
greater guilt, arouses a greater frenzy, and hides her daughter in the
mountain coverts to rob the Teucrians of their bridal and stay the
marriage torches. 'Hail, Bacchus! ' she shrieks and clamours; 'thou only
art worthy of the maiden; for to thee she takes up the lissom wands,
thee she circles in the dance, to thee she trains and consecrates her
tresses. ' Rumour flies abroad; and the matrons, their breasts kindled by
the furies, run all at once [393-426]with a single ardour to seek out
strange dwellings. They have left their homes empty, they throw neck and
hair free to the winds; while others fill the air with ringing cries,
girt about with fawnskins, and carrying spears of vine. Amid them the
infuriate queen holds her blazing pine-torch on high, and chants the
wedding of Turnus and her daughter; and rolling her bloodshot gaze,
cries sudden and harsh: 'Hear, O mothers of Latium, wheresoever you be;
if unhappy Amata hath yet any favour in your affection, if care for a
mother's right pierces you, untie the chaplets from your hair, begin the
orgies with me. ' Thus, amid woods and wild beasts' solitary places, does
Allecto goad the queen with the encircling Bacchic madness.

When their frenzy seemed heightened and her first task complete, the
purpose and all the house of Latinus turned upside down, the dolorous
goddess flies on thence, soaring on dusky wing, to the walls of the
gallant Rutulian, the city which Danae, they say, borne down on the
boisterous south wind, built and planted with Acrision's people. The
place was called Ardea once of old; and still Ardea remains a mighty
name; but its fortune is no more. Here in his high house Turnus now took
rest in the black midnight. Allecto puts off her grim feature and the
body of a Fury; she transforms her face to an aged woman's, and furrows
her brow with ugly wrinkles; she puts on white tresses chaplet-bound,
and entwines them with an olive spray; she becomes aged Calybe,
priestess of Juno's temple, and presents herself before his eyes,
uttering thus:

'Turnus, wilt thou brook all these toils poured out in vain, and the
conveyance of thy crown to Dardanian settlers? The King denies thee thy
bride and the dower thy blood had earned; and a foreigner is sought for
heir to the kingdom. Forth now, dupe, and face thankless perils; forth,
cut down the Tyrrhenian lines; give the [427-458]Latins peace in thy
protection. This Saturn's omnipotent daughter in very presence commanded
me to pronounce to thee, as thou wert lying in the still night.
Wherefore arise, and make ready with good cheer to arm thy people and
march through thy gates to battle; consume those Phrygian captains that
lie with their painted hulls in the beautiful river. All the force of
heaven orders thee on. Let King Latinus himself know of it, unless he
consents to give thee thy bridal, and abide by his words, when he shall
at last make proof of Turnus' arms. '

But he, deriding her inspiration, with the words of his mouth thus
answers her again:

'The fleets ride on the Tiber wave; that news hath not, as thou deemest,
escaped mine ears. Frame not such terrors before me. Neither is Queen
Juno forgetful of us. . . . But thee, O mother, overworn old age,
exhausted and untrue, frets with vain distress, and amid embattled kings
mocks thy presage with false dismay. Thy charge it is to keep the divine
image and temple; war and peace shall be in the hands of men and
warriors. '

At such words Allecto's wrath blazed out. But amid his utterance a quick
shudder overruns his limbs; his eyes are fixed in horror; so thickly
hiss the snakes of the Fury, so vast her form expands. Then rolling her
fiery eyes, she thrust him back as he would stammer out more, raised two
serpents in her hair, and, sounding her whip, resumed with furious tone:

'Behold me the overworn! me whom old age, exhausted and untrue, mocks
with false dismay amid embattled kings! Look on this! I am come from the
home of the Dread Sisters: war and death are in my hand. . . . '

So speaking, she hurled her torch at him, and pierced his breast with
the lurid smoking brand. He breaks from sleep in overpowering fear, his
limbs and body bathed in [459-494]sweat that breaks out all over him;
he shrieks madly for arms, searches for arms on his bed and in his
palace. The passion of the sword rages high, the accursed fury of war,
and wrath over all: even as when flaming sticks are heaped roaring loud
under the sides of a seething cauldron, and the boiling water leaps up;
the river of water within smokes furiously and swells high in
overflowing foam, and now the wave contains itself no longer; the dark
steam flies aloft. So, for the stain of the broken peace, he orders his
chief warriors to march on King Latinus, and bids prepare for battle, to
defend Italy and drive the foe from their borders; himself will suffice
for Trojans and Latins together. When he uttered these words and called
the gods to hear his vows, the Rutulians stir one another up to arms.
One is moved by the splendour of his youthful beauty, one by his royal
ancestry, another by the noble deeds of his hand.

While Turnus fills the Rutulian minds with valour, Allecto on Stygian
wing hastens towards the Trojans. With fresh wiles she marked the spot
where beautiful Iulus was trapping and coursing game on the bank; here
the infernal maiden suddenly crosses his hounds with the maddening touch
of a familiar scent, and drives them hotly on the stag-hunt. This was
the source and spring of ill, and kindled the country-folk to war. The
stag, beautiful and high-antlered, was stolen from his mother's udder
and bred by Tyrrheus' boys and their father Tyrrheus, master of the
royal herds, and ranger of the plain. Their sister Silvia tamed him to
her rule, and lavished her care on his adornment, twining his antlers
with delicate garlands, and combed his wild coat and washed him in the
clear spring. Tame to her hand, and familiar to his master's table, he
would wander the woods, and, however late the night, return home to the
door he knew. Far astray, he floated idly down the stream, and allayed
his heat on the green bank, when Iulus' [495-528]mad hounds started him
in their hunting; and Ascanius himself, kindled with desire of the chief
honour, aimed a shaft from his bended bow. A present deity suffered not
his hand to stray, and the loud whistling reed came driven through his
belly and flanks. But the wounded beast fled within the familiar roof
and crept moaning to the courtyard, dabbled with blood, and filling all
the house with moans as of one beseeching. Sister Silvia, smiting her
arms with open hands, begins to call for aid, and gathers the hardy
rustics with her cries. They, for a fell destroyer is hidden in the
silent woodland, are there before her expectation, one armed with a
stake hardened in the fire, one with a heavy knotted trunk; what each
one searches and finds, wrath turns into a weapon. Tyrrheus cheers on
his array, panting hard, with his axe caught up in his hand, as he was
haply splitting an oaken log in four clefts with cross-driven wedges.

But the grim goddess, seizing from her watch-tower the moment of
mischief, seeks the steep farm-roof and sounds the pastoral war-note
from the ridge, straining the infernal cry on her twisted horn; it
spread shuddering over all the woodland, and echoed through the deep
forests: the lake of Trivia heard it afar; Nar river heard it with white
sulphurous water, and the springs of Velinus; and fluttered mothers
clasped their children to their breast. Then, hurrying to the voice of
the terrible trumpet-note, on all sides the wild rustics snatch their
arms and stream in: therewithal the men of Troy pour out from their
camp's open gates to succour Ascanius. The lines are ranged; not now in
rustic strife do they fight with hard trunks or burned stakes; the
two-edged steel sways the fight, the broad cornfields bristle dark with
drawn swords, and brass flashes smitten by the sunlight, and casts a
gleam high into the cloudy air: as when the wind begins to blow and the
flood [529-560]to whiten, gradually the sea lifts his waves higher and
yet higher, then rises from the bottom right into the air. Here in the
front rank young Almo, once Tyrrheus' eldest son, is struck down by a
whistling arrow; for the wound, staying in his throat, cut off in blood
the moist voice's passage and the thin life. Around many a one lies
dead, aged Galaesus among them, slain as he throws himself between them
for a peacemaker, once incomparable in justice and wealth of Ausonian
fields; for him five flocks bleated, a five-fold herd returned from
pasture, and an hundred ploughs upturned the soil.

But while thus in even battle they fight on the broad plain, the
goddess, her promise fulfilled, when she hath dyed the war in blood, and
mingled death in the first encounter, quits Hesperia, and, glancing
through the sky, addresses Juno in exultant tone:

'Lo, discord is ripened at thy desire into baleful war: tell them now to
mix in amity and join alliance. Insomuch as I have imbued the Trojans in
Ausonian blood, this likewise will I add, if I have assurance of thy
will. With my rumours I will sweep the bordering towns into war, and
kindle their spirit with furious desire for battle, that from all
quarters help may come; I will sow the land with arms. '

Then Juno answering: 'Terror and harm is wrought abundantly. The springs
of war are aflow: they fight with arms in their grasp, the arms that
chance first supplied, that fresh blood stains. Let this be the union,
this the bridal that Venus' illustrious progeny and Latinus the King
shall celebrate. Our Lord who reigns on Olympus' summit would not have
thee stray too freely in heaven's upper air. Withdraw thy presence.
Whatsoever future remains in the struggle, that I myself will sway. '

Such accents uttered the daughter of Saturn; and the [561-594]other
raises her rustling snaky wings and darts away from the high upper air
to Cocytus her home. There is a place midmost of Italy, deep in the
hills, notable and famed of rumour in many a country, the Vale of
Amsanctus; on either hand a wooded ridge, dark with thick foliage, hems
it in, and midway a torrent in swirling eddies shivers and echoes over
the rocks. Here is shewn a ghastly pool, a breathing-hole of the grim
lord of hell, and a vast chasm breaking into Acheron yawns with
pestilential throat. In it the Fury sank, and relieved earth and heaven
of her hateful influence.

But therewithal the queenly daughter of Saturn puts the last touch to
war. The shepherds pour in full tale from the battlefield into the town,
bearing back their slain, the boy Almo and Galaesus' disfigured face,
and cry on the gods and call on Latinus. Turnus is there, and amid the
heat and outcry at the slaughter redoubles his terrors, crying that
Teucrians are bidden to the kingdom, that a Phrygian race is mingling
its taint with theirs, and he is thrust out of their gates. They too,
the matrons of whose kin, struck by Bacchus, trample in choirs down the
pathless woods--nor is Amata's name a little thing--they too gather
together from all sides and weary themselves with the battle-cry. Omens
and oracles of gods go down before them, and all under malign influence
clamour for awful war. Emulously they surround Latinus' royal house. He
withstands, even as a rock in ocean unremoved, as a rock in ocean when
the great crash comes down, firm in its own mass among many waves
slapping all about: in vain the crags and boulders hiss round it in
foam, and the seaweed on its side is flung up and sucked away. But when
he may in nowise overbear their blind counsel, and all goes at fierce
Juno's beck, with many an appeal to gods and void sky, 'Alas! ' he cries,
'we are broken of fate and driven helpless in the [595-626]storm. With
your very blood will you pay the price of this, O wretched men! Thee, O
Turnus, thy crime, thee thine awful punishment shall await; too late
wilt thou address to heaven thy prayers and supplication. For my rest
was won, and my haven full at hand; I am robbed but of a happy death. '
And without further speech he shut himself in the palace, and dropped
the reins of state.

There was a use in Hesperian Latium, which the Alban towns kept in holy
observance, now Rome keeps, the mistress of the world, when they stir
the War-God to enter battle; whether their hands prepare to carry war
and weeping among Getae or Hyrcanians or Arabs, or to reach to India and
pursue the Dawn, and reclaim their standards from the Parthian. There
are twain gates of War, so runs their name, consecrate in grim Mars'
sanctity and terror. An hundred bolts of brass and masses of everlasting
iron shut them fast, and Janus the guardian never sets foot from their
threshold. There, when the sentence of the Fathers stands fixed for
battle, the Consul, arrayed in the robe of Quirinus and the Gabine
cincture, with his own hand unbars the grating doors, with his own lips
calls battles forth; then all the rest follow on, and the brazen
trumpets blare harsh with consenting breath. With this use then likewise
they bade Latinus proclaim war on the Aeneadae, and unclose the baleful
gates. He withheld his hand, and shrank away averse from the abhorred
service, and hid himself blindly in the dark. Then the Saturnian queen
of heaven glided from the sky, with her own hand thrust open the
lingering gates, and swung sharply back on their hinges the iron-bound
doors of war. Ausonia is ablaze, till then unstirred and immoveable.
Some make ready to march afoot over the plains; some, mounted on tall
horses, ride amain in clouds of dust. All seek out arms; and now they
rub their shields smooth and make their spearheads glitter with
[627-659]fat lard, and grind their axes on the whetstone: rejoicingly
they advance under their standards and hear the trumpet note. Five great
cities set up the anvil and sharpen the sword, strong Atina and proud
Tibur, Ardea and Crustumeri, and turreted Antemnae. They hollow out
head-gear to guard them, and plait wickerwork round shield-bosses;
others forge breastplates of brass or smooth greaves of flexible silver.
To this is come the honour of share and pruning-hook, to this all the
love of the plough: they re-temper their fathers' swords in the furnace.
And now the trumpets blare; the watchword for war passes along. One
snatches a helmet hurriedly from his house, another backs his neighing
horses into the yoke; and arrays himself in shield and mail-coat
triple-linked with gold, and girds on his trusty sword.

Open now the gates of Helicon, goddesses, and stir the song of the kings
that rose for war, the array that followed each and filled the plains,
the men that even then blossomed, the arms that blazed in Italy the
bountiful land: for you remember, divine ones, and you can recall; to us
but a breath of rumour, scant and slight, is wafted down.

First from the Tyrrhene coast savage Mezentius, scorner of the gods,
opens the war and arrays his columns. By him is Lausus, his son,
unexcelled in bodily beauty by any save Laurentine Turnus, Lausus tamer
of horses and destroyer of wild beasts; he leads a thousand men who
followed him in vain from Agylla town; worthy to be happier in ancestral
rule, and to have other than Mezentius for father.

After them beautiful Aventinus, born of beautiful Hercules, displays on
the sward his palm-crowned chariot and victorious horses, and carries on
his shield his father's device, the hundred snakes of the Hydra's
serpent-wreath. Him, in the wood of the hill Aventine, Rhea the
priestess [660-693]bore by stealth into the borders of light, a woman
mingled with a god, after the Tirynthian Conqueror had slain Geryon and
set foot on the fields of Laurentum, and bathed his Iberian oxen in the
Tuscan river. These carry for war javelins and grim stabbing weapons,
and fight with the round shaft and sharp point of the Sabellian pike.
Himself he went on foot swathed in a vast lion skin, shaggy with
bristling terrors, whose white teeth encircled his head; in such wild
dress, the garb of Hercules clasped over his shoulders, he entered the
royal house.

Next twin brothers leave Tibur town, and the people called by their
brother Tiburtus' name, Catillus and valiant Coras, the Argives, and
advance in the forefront of battle among the throng of spears: as when
two cloud-born Centaurs descend from a lofty mountain peak, leaving
Homole or snowy Othrys in rapid race; the mighty forest yields before
them as they go, and the crashing thickets give them way.

Nor was the founder of Praeneste city absent, the king who, as every age
hath believed, was born of Vulcan among the pasturing herds, and found
beside the hearth, Caeculus. On him a rustic battalion attends in loose
order, they who dwell in steep Praeneste and the fields of Juno of
Gabii, on the cool Anio and the Hernican rocks dewy with streams; they
whom rich Anagnia, and whom thou, lord Amasenus, pasturest. Not all of
them have armour, nor shields and clattering chariots. The most part
shower bullets of dull lead; some wield in their hand two darts, and
have for head-covering caps of tawny wolfskin; their left foot is bare
wherewith to plant their steps; the other is covered with a boot of raw
hide.

But Messapus, tamer of horses, the seed of Neptune, whom none might ever
strike down with steel or fire, calls quickly to arms his long unstirred
peoples and bands [694-727]disused to war, and again handles the sword.
These are of the Fescennine ranks and of Aequi Falisci, these of
Soracte's fortresses and the fields of Flavina, and Ciminus' lake and
hill, and the groves of Capena. They marched in even time, singing their
King; as whilome snowy swans among the thin clouds, when they return
from pasturage, and utter resonant notes through their long necks; far
off echoes the river and the smitten Asian fen. . . . Nor would one
think these vast streaming masses were ranks clad in brass; rather that,
high in air, a cloud of hoarse birds from the deep gulf was pressing to
the shore.

Lo, Clausus of the ancient Sabine blood, leading a great host, a great
host himself; from whom now the Claudian tribe and family is spread
abroad since Rome was shared with the Sabines. Alongside is the broad
battalion of Amiternum, and the Old Latins, and all the force of Eretum
and the Mutuscan oliveyards; they who dwell in Nomentum town, and the
Rosean country by Velinus, who keep the crags of rough Tetrica and Mount
Severus, Casperia and Foruli, and the river of Himella; they who drink
of Tiber and Fabaris, they whom cold Nursia hath sent, and the squadrons
of Horta and the tribes of Latinium; and they whom Allia, the
ill-ominous name, severs with its current; as many as the waves that
roll on the Libyan sea-floor when fierce Orion sets in the wintry surge;
as thick as the ears that ripen in the morning sunlight on the plain of
the Hermus or the yellowing Lycian tilth. Their shields clatter, and
earth is amazed under the trampling of their feet.

Here Agamemnonian Halaesus, foe of the Trojan name, yokes his chariot
horses, and draws a thousand warlike peoples to Turnus; those who turn
with spades the Massic soil that is glad with wine; whom the elders of
Aurunca sent from their high hills, and the Sidicine low country
[728-761]hard by; and those who leave Cales, and the dweller by the
shallows of Volturnus river, and side by side the rough Saticulan and
the Oscan bands. Polished maces are their weapons, and these it is their
wont to fit with a tough thong; a target covers their left side, and for
close fighting they have crooked swords.

Nor shalt thou, Oebalus, depart untold of in our verses, who wast borne,
men say, by the nymph Sebethis to Telon, when he grew old in rule over
Capreae the Teleboic realm: but not so content with his ancestral
fields, his son even then held down in wide sway the Sarrastian peoples
and the meadows watered by Sarnus, and the dwellers in Rufrae and
Batulum, and the fields of Celemnae, and they on whom from her apple
orchards Abella city looks down. Their wont was to hurl lances in
Teutonic fashion; their head covering was stripped bark of the cork
tree, their shield-plates glittering brass, glittering brass their
sword.

Thee too, Ufens, mountainous Nersae sent forth to battle, of noble fame
and prosperous arms, whose race on the stiff Aequiculan clods is rough
beyond all other, and bred to continual hunting in the woodland; they
till the soil in arms, and it is ever their delight to drive in fresh
spoils and live on plunder.

Furthermore there came, sent by King Archippus, the priest of the
Marruvian people, dressed with prosperous olive leaves over his helmet,
Umbro excellent in valour, who was wont with charm and touch to sprinkle
slumberous dew on the viper's brood and water-snakes of noisome breath.
Yet he availed not to heal the stroke of the Dardanian spear-point, nor
was the wound of him helped by his sleepy charms and herbs culled on the
Massic hills. Thee the woodland of Angitia, thee Fucinus' glassy wave,
thee the clear pools wept. . . .

Likewise the seed of Hippolytus marched to war, Virbius [762-796]most
excellent in beauty, sent by his mother Aricia. The groves of Egeria
nursed him round the spongy shore where Diana's altar stands rich and
gracious. For they say in story that Hippolytus, after he fell by his
stepmother's treachery, torn asunder by his frightened horses to fulfil
a father's revenge, came again to the daylight and heaven's upper air,
recalled by Diana's love and the drugs of the Healer. Then the Lord
omnipotent, indignant that any mortal should rise from the nether shades
to the light of life, launched his thunder and hurled down to the
Stygian water the Phoebus-born, the discoverer of such craft and cure.
But Trivia the bountiful hides Hippolytus in a secret habitation, and
sends him away to the nymph Egeria and the woodland's keeping, where,
solitary in Italian forests, he should spend an inglorious life, and
have Virbius for his altered name. Whence also hoofed horses are kept
away from Trivia's temple and consecrated groves, because, affrighted at
the portents of the sea, they overset the chariot and flung him out upon
the shore. Notwithstanding did his son train his ruddy steeds on the
level plain, and sped charioted to war.

Himself too among the foremost, splendid in beauty of body, Turnus moves
armed and towers a whole head over all. His lofty helmet, triple-tressed
with horse-hair, holds high a Chimaera breathing from her throat Aetnean
fires, raging the more and exasperate with baleful flames, as the battle
and bloodshed grow fiercer. But on his polished shield was emblazoned in
gold Io with uplifted horns, already a heifer and overgrown with hair, a
lofty design, and Argus the maiden's warder, and lord Inachus pouring
his stream from his embossed urn. Behind comes a cloud of infantry, and
shielded columns thicken over all the plains; the Argive men and
Auruncan forces, the Rutulians and old Sicanians, the Sacranian ranks
and Labicians with [797-817]painted shields; they who till thy dells, O
Tiber, and Numicus' sacred shore, and whose ploughshare goes up and down
on the Rutulian hills and the Circaean headland, over whose fields
Jupiter of Anxur watches, and Feronia glad in her greenwood: and where
the marsh of Satura lies black, and cold Ufens winds his way along the
valley-bottoms and sinks into the sea.

Therewithal came Camilla the Volscian, leading a train of cavalry,
squadrons splendid with brass: a warrior maiden who had never used her
woman's hands to Minerva's distaff or wool-baskets, but hardened to
endure the battle shock and outstrip the winds with racing feet. She
might have flown across the topmost blades of unmown corn and left the
tender ears unhurt as she ran; or sped her way over mid sea upborne by
the swelling flood, nor dipt her swift feet in the water. All the people
pour from house and field, and mothers crowd to wonder and gaze at her
as she goes, in rapturous astonishment at the royal lustre of purple
that drapes her smooth shoulders, at the clasp of gold that intertwines
her tresses, at the Lycian quiver she carries, and the pastoral myrtle
shaft topped with steel.




BOOK EIGHTH

THE EMBASSAGE TO EVANDER


When Turnus ran up the flag of war on the towers of Laurentum, and the
trumpets blared with harsh music, when he spurred his fiery steeds and
clashed his armour, straightway men's hearts are in tumult; all Latium
at once flutters in banded uprisal, and her warriors rage furiously.
Their chiefs, Messapus, and Ufens, and Mezentius, scorner of the gods,
begin to enrol forces on all sides, and dispeople the wide fields of
husbandmen. Venulus too is sent to the town of mighty Diomede to seek
succour, to instruct him that Teucrians set foot in Latium; that Aeneas
in his fleet invades them with the vanquished gods of his home, and
proclaims himself the King summoned of fate; that many tribes join the
Dardanian, and his name swells high in Latium. What he will rear on
these foundations, what issue of battle he desires, if Fortune attend
him, lies clearer to his own sight than to King Turnus or King Latinus.

Thus was it in Latium. And the hero of Laomedon's blood, seeing it all,
tosses on a heavy surge of care, and throws his mind rapidly this way
and that, and turns it on all hands in swift change of thought: even as
when the quivering light of water brimming in brass, struck back
[23-56]from the sunlight or the moon's glittering reflection, flickers
abroad over all the room, and now mounts aloft and strikes the high
panelled roof. Night fell, and over all lands weary creatures were fast
in deep slumber, the race of fowl and of cattle; when lord Aeneas, sick
at heart of the dismal warfare, stretched him on the river bank under
the cope of the cold sky, and let sleep, though late, overspread his
limbs. To him the very god of the ground, the pleasant Tiber stream,
seemed to raise his aged form among the poplar boughs; thin lawn veiled
him with its gray covering, and shadowy reeds hid his hair. Thereon he
addressed him thus, and with these words allayed his distresses:

'O born of the family of the gods, thou who bearest back our Trojan city
from hostile hands, and keepest Troy towers in eternal life; O long
looked for on Laurentine ground and Latin fields! here is thine assured
home, thine home's assured gods. Draw not thou back, nor be alarmed by
menace of war. All the anger and wrath of the gods is passed away . . .
And even now for thine assurance, that thou think not this the idle
fashioning of sleep, a great sow shall be found lying under the oaks on
the shore, with her new-born litter of thirty head: white she couches on
the ground, and the brood about her teats is white. By this token in
thirty revolving years shall Ascanius found a city, Alba of bright name.
My prophecy is sure. Now hearken, and I will briefly instruct thee how
thou mayest unravel and overcome thy present task. An Arcadian people
sprung of Pallas, following in their king Evander's company beneath his
banners, have chosen a place in these coasts, and set a city on the
hills, called Pallanteum after Pallas their forefather. These wage
perpetual war with the Latin race; these do thou take to thy camp's
alliance, and join with them in league. Myself I [57-89]will lead thee
by my banks and straight along my stream, that thou mayest oar thy way
upward against the river. Up and arise, goddess-born, and even with the
setting stars address thy prayers to Juno as is meet, and vanquish her
wrath and menaces with humble vows. To me thou shalt pay a conqueror's
sacrifice. I am he whom thou seest washing the banks with full flood and
severing the rich tilth, glassy Tiber, best beloved by heaven of rivers.
Here is my stately home; my fountain-head is among high cities. '

Thus spoke the River, and sank in the depth of the pool: night and sleep
left Aeneas. He arises, and, looking towards the radiant sky of the
sunrising, holds up water from the river in fitly-hollowed palms, and
pours to heaven these accents:

'Nymphs, Laurentine Nymphs, from whom is the generation of rivers, and
thou, O father Tiber, with thine holy flood, receive Aeneas and deign to
save him out of danger. What pool soever holds thy source, who pitiest
our discomforts, from whatsoever soil thou dost spring excellent in
beauty, ever shall my worship, ever my gifts frequent thee, the horned
river lord of Hesperian waters. Ah, be thou only by me, and graciously
confirm thy will. ' So speaks he, and chooses two galleys from his fleet,
and mans them with rowers, and withal equips a crew with arms.

And lo! suddenly, ominous and wonderful to tell, the milk-white sow, of
one colour with her white brood, is espied through the forest couched on
the green brink; whom to thee, yes to thee, queenly Juno, good Aeneas
offers in sacrifice, and sets with her offspring before thine altar. All
that night long Tiber assuaged his swelling stream, and silently stayed
his refluent wave, smoothing the surface of his waters to the fashion of
still pool and quiet mere, to spare [90-121]labour to the oar. So they
set out and speed on their way with prosperous cries; the painted fir
slides along the waterway; the waves and unwonted woods marvel at their
far-gleaming shields, and the gay hulls afloat on the river. They
outwear a night and a day in rowing, ascend the long reaches, and pass
under the chequered shadows of the trees, and cut through the green
woodland in the calm water. The fiery sun had climbed midway in the
circle of the sky when they see afar fortress walls and scattered house
roofs, where now the might of Rome hath risen high as heaven; then
Evander held a slender state. Quickly they turn their prows to land and
draw near the town.

It chanced on that day the Arcadian king paid his accustomed sacrifice
to the great son of Amphitryon and all the gods in a grove before the
city. With him his son Pallas, with him all the chief of his people and
his poor senate were offering incense, and the blood steamed warm at
their altars. When they saw the high ships, saw them glide up between
the shady woodlands and rest on their silent oars, the sudden sight
appals them, and all at once they rise and stop the banquet. Pallas
courageously forbids them to break off the rites; snatching up a spear,
he flies forward, and from a hillock cries afar: 'O men, what cause hath
driven you to explore these unknown ways? or whither do you steer? What
is your kin, whence your habitation? Is it peace or arms you carry
hither? ' Then from the lofty stern lord Aeneas thus speaks, stretching
forth in his hand an olive bough of peace-bearing:

'Thou seest men born of Troy and arms hostile to the Latins, who have
driven us to flight in insolent warfare. We seek Evander; carry this
message, and tell him that chosen men of the Dardanian captains are come
pleading for an armed alliance. '

Pallas stood amazed at the august name. 'Descend,' [122-154]he cries,
'whoso thou art, and speak with my father face to face, and enter our
home and hospitality. ' And giving him the grasp of welcome, he caught
and clung to his hand. Advancing, they enter the grove and leave the
river. Then Aeneas in courteous words addresses the King:

'Best of the Grecian race, thou whom fortune hath willed that I
supplicate, holding before me boughs dressed in fillets, no fear stayed
me because thou wert a Grecian chief and an Arcadian, or allied by
descent to the twin sons of Atreus. Nay, mine own prowess and the
sanctity of divine oracles, our ancestral kinship, and the fame of thee
that is spread abroad over the earth, have allied me to thee and led me
willingly on the path of fate. Dardanus, who sailed to the Teucrian
land, the first father and founder of the Ilian city, was born, as
Greeks relate, of Electra the Atlantid; Electra's sire is ancient Atlas,
whose shoulder sustains the heavenly spheres. Your father is Mercury,
whom white Maia conceived and bore on the cold summit of Cyllene; but
Maia, if we give any credence to report, is daughter of Atlas, that same
Atlas who bears up the starry heavens; so both our families branch from
a single blood.