| |
| HE said, and wept; then spread his sails before | |
| The winds, and reach’d at length the Cumæan shore: | |
| Their anchors dropp’d, his crew the vessels moor. | |
| They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land, | |
| And greet with greedy joy th’ Italian strand. | 5 |
| Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed; | |
| Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed, | |
| Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods, | |
| Or trace thro’ valleys the discover’d floods. | |
| Thus, while their sev’ral charges they fulfil, | 10 |
| The pious prince ascends the sacred hill | |
| Where Phœbus is ador’d; and seeks the shade | |
| Which hides from sight his venerable maid. | |
| Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode; | |
| Thence full of fate returns, and of the god. | 15 |
| Thro’ Trivia’s grove they walk; and now behold, | |
| And enter now, the temple roof’d with gold. | |
| When Dædalus, to fly the Cretan shore, | |
| His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore, | |
| (The first who sail’d in air,) ’t is sung by Fame, | 20 |
| To the Cumæan coast at length he came, | |
| And here alighting, built this costly frame. | |
| Inscrib’d to Phœbus, here he hung on high | |
| The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky: | |
| Then o’er the lofty gate his art emboss’d | 25 |
| Androgeos’ death, and off’rings to his ghost; | |
| Sev’n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet | |
| The fate appointed by revengeful Crete. | |
| And next to those the dreadful urn was plac’d, | |
| In which the destin’d names by lots were cast: | 30 |
| The mournful parents stand around in tears, | |
| And rising Crete against their shore appears. | |
| There too, in living sculpture, might be seen | |
| The mad affection of the Cretan queen; | |
| Then how she cheats her bellowing lover’s eye; | 35 |
| The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny, | |
| The lower part a beast, a man above, | |
| The monument of their polluted love. | |
| Not far from thence he grav’d the wondrous maze, | |
| A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways: | 40 |
| Here dwells the monster, hid from human view, | |
| Not to be found, but by the faithful clew; | |
| Till the kind artist, mov’d with pious grief, | |
| Lent to the loving maid this last relief, | |
| And all those erring paths describ’d so well | 45 |
| That Theseus conquer’d and the monster fell. | |
| Here hapless Icarus had found his part, | |
| Had not the father’s grief restrain’d his art. | |
| He twice assay’d to cast his son in gold; | |
| Twice from his hands he dropp’d the forming mold. | 50 |
| All this with wond’ring eyes Æneas view’d; | |
| Each varying object his delight renew’d: | |
| Eager to read the rest—Achates came, | |
| And by his side the mad divining dame, | |
| The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name. | 55 |
| “Time suffers not,” she said, “to feed your eyes | |
| With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice. | |
| Sev’n bullocks, yet unyok’d, for Phœbus choose, | |
| And for Diana sev’n unspotted ewes.” | |
| This said, the servants urge the sacred rites, | 60 |
| While to the temple she the prince invites. | |
| A spacious cave, within its farmost part, | |
| Was hew’d and fashion’d by laborious art | |
| Thro’ the hill’s hollow sides: before the place, | |
| A hundred doors a hundred entries grace; | 65 |
| As many voices issue, and the sound | |
| Of Sybil’s words as many times rebound. | |
| Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries: | |
| “This is the time; enquire your destinies. | |
| He comes; behold the god!” Thus while she said, | 70 |
| (And shiv’ring at the sacred entry stay’d,) | |
| Her color chang’d; her face was not the same, | |
| And hollow groans from her deep spirit came. | |
| Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess’d | |
| Her trembling limbs, and heav’d her lab’ring breast. | 75 |
| Greater than humankind she seem’d to look, | |
| And with an accent more than mortal spoke. | |
| Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll; | |
| When all the god came rushing on her soul. | |
| Swiftly she turn’d, and, foaming as she spoke: | 80 |
| “Why this delay?” she cried—“the pow’rs invoke! | |
| Thy pray’rs alone can open this abode; | |
| Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god.” | |
| She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear, | |
| O’erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear. | 85 |
| The prince himself, with awful dread possess’d, | |
| His vows to great Apollo thus address’d: | |
| “Indulgent god, propitious pow’r to Troy, | |
| Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy, | |
| Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart | 90 |
| Pierc’d the proud Grecian’s only mortal part: | |
| Thus far, by fate’s decrees and thy commands, | |
| Thro’ ambient seas and thro’ devouring sands, | |
| Our exil’d crew has sought th’ Ausonian ground; | |
| And now, at length, the flying coast is found. | 95 |
| Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place, | |
| With fury has pursued her wand’ring race. | |
| Here cease, ye pow’rs, and let your vengeance end: | |
| Troy is no more, and can no more offend. | |
| And thou, O sacred maid, inspir’d to see | 100 |
| Th’ event of things in dark futurity; | |
| Give me what Heav’n has promis’d to my fate, | |
| To conquer and command the Latian state; | |
| To fix my wand’ring gods, and find a place | |
| For the long exiles of the Trojan race. | 105 |
| Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear | |
| To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray’r; | |
| And annual rites, and festivals, and games, | |
| Shall be perform’d to their auspicious names. | |
| Nor shalt thou want thy honors in my land; | 110 |
| For there thy faithful oracles shall stand, | |
| Preserv’d in shrines; and ev’ry sacred lay, | |
| Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey: | |
| All shall be treasur’d by a chosen train | |
| Of holy priests, and ever shall remain. | 115 |
| But O! commit not thy prophetic mind | |
| To flitting leaves, the sport of ev’ry wind, | |
| Lest they disperse in air our empty fate; | |
| Write not, but, what the pow’rs ordain, relate.” | |
| Struggling in vain, impatient of her load, | 120 |
| And lab’ring underneath the pond’rous god, | |
| The more she strove to shake him from her breast, | |
| With more and far superior force he press’d; | |
| Commands his entrance, and, without control, | |
| Usurps her organs and inspires her soul. | 125 |
| Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors | |
| Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars | |
| Within the cave, and Sibyl’s voice restores: | |
| “Escap’d the dangers of the wat’ry reign, | |
| Yet more and greater ills by land remain. | 130 |
| The coast, so long desir’d (nor doubt th’ event), | |
| Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach’d, repent. | |
| Wars, horrid wars, I view—a field of blood, | |
| And Tiber rolling with a purple flood. | |
| Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there: | 135 |
| A new Achilles shall in arms appear, | |
| And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno’s hate, | |
| Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate. | |
| To what strange nations shalt not thou resort, | |
| Driv’n to solicit aid at ev’ry court! | 140 |
| The cause the same which Ilium once oppress’d; | |
| A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest. | |
| But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes, | |
| The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose. | |
| The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown | 145 |
| From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town.” | |
| Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke, | |
| And the resisting air the thunder broke; | |
| The cave rebellow’d, and the temple shook. | |
| Th’ ambiguous god, who rul’d her lab’ring breast, | 150 |
| In these mysterious words his mind express’d; | |
| Some truths reveal’d, in terms involv’d the rest. | |
| At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas’d, | |
| And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas’d. | |
| Then thus the chief: “No terror to my view, | 155 |
| No frightful face of danger can be new. | |
| Inur’d to suffer, and resolv’d to dare, | |
| The Fates, without my pow’r, shall be without my care. | |
| This let me crave, since near your grove the road | |
| To hell lies open, and the dark abode | 160 |
| Which Acheron surrounds, th’ innavigable flood; | |
| Conduct me thro’ the regions void of light, | |
| And lead me longing to my father’s sight. | |
| For him, a thousand dangers I have sought, | |
| And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought, | 165 |
| Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought. | |
| He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried, | |
| And wrath of Heav’n, my still auspicious guide, | |
| And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied. | |
| Oft, since he breath’d his last, in dead of night | 170 |
| His reverend image stood before my sight; | |
| Enjoin’d to seek, below, his holy shade; | |
| Conducted there by your unerring aid. | |
| But you, if pious minds by pray’rs are won, | |
| Oblige the father, and protect the son. | 175 |
| Yours is the pow’r; nor Proserpine in vain | |
| Has made you priestess of her nightly reign. | |
| If Orpheus, arm’d with his enchanting lyre, | |
| The ruthless king with pity could inspire, | |
| And from the shades below redeem his wife; | 180 |
| If Pollux, off’ring his alternate life, | |
| Could free his brother, and can daily go | |
| By turns aloft, by turns descend below— | |
| Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend, | |
| Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend? | 185 |
| Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came; | |
| My mother greater, my descent the same.” | |
| So pray’d the Trojan prince, and, while he pray’d, | |
| His hand upon the holy altar laid. | |
| Then thus replied the prophetess divine: | 190 |
| “O goddess-born of great Anchises’ line, | |
| The gates of hell are open night and day; | |
| Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: | |
| But to return, and view the cheerful skies, | |
| In this the task and mighty labor lies. | 195 |
| To few great Jupiter imparts this grace, | |
| And those of shining worth and heav’nly race. | |
| Betwixt those regions and our upper light, | |
| Deep forests and impenetrable night | |
| Possess the middle space: th’ infernal bounds | 200 |
| Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds. | |
| But if so dire a love your soul invades, | |
| As twice below to view the trembling shades; | |
| If you so hard a toil will undertake, | |
| As twice to pass th’ innavigable lake; | 205 |
| Receive my counsel. In the neighb’ring grove | |
| There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove | |
| Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night | |
| Conceal the happy plant from human sight. | |
| One bough it bears; but (wondrous to behold!) | 210 |
| The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold: | |
| This from the vulgar branches must be torn, | |
| And to fair Proserpine the present borne, | |
| Ere leave be giv’n to tempt the nether skies. | |
| The first thus rent a second will arise, | 215 |
| And the same metal the same room supplies. | |
| Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see | |
| The lurking gold upon the fatal tree: | |
| Then rend it off, as holy rites command; | |
| The willing metal will obey thy hand, | 220 |
| Following with ease, if favor’d by thy fate, | |
| Thou art foredoom’d to view the Stygian state: | |
| If not, no labor can the tree constrain; | |
| And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain. | |
| Besides, you know not, while you here attend, | 225 |
| Th’ unworthy fate of your unhappy friend: | |
| Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost, | |
| Depriv’d of fun’ral rites, pollutes your host. | |
| Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead, | |
| Two sable sheep around his hearse be led; | 230 |
| Then, living turfs upon his body lay: | |
| This done, securely take the destin’d way, | |
| To find the regions destitute of day.” | |
| She said, and held her peace. Æneas went | |
| Sad from the cave, and full of discontent, | 235 |
| Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant. | |
| Achates, the companion of his breast, | |
| Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress’d. | |
| Walking, they talk’d, and fruitlessly divin’d | |
| What friend the priestess by those words design’d. | 240 |
| But soon they found an object to deplore: | |
| Misenus lay extended on the shore; | |
| Son of the God of Winds: none so renown’d | |
| The warrior trumpet in the field to sound; | |
| With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms, | 245 |
| And rouse to dare their fate in honorable arms. | |
| He serv’d great Hector, and was ever near, | |
| Not with his trumpet only, but his spear. | |
| But by Pelides’ arms when Hector fell, | |
| He chose Æneas; and he chose as well. | 250 |
| Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more, | |
| He now provokes the sea gods from the shore; | |
| With envy Triton heard the martial sound, | |
| And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown’d; | |
| Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand: | 255 |
| The gazing crowd around the body stand. | |
| All weep; but most Æneas mourns his fate, | |
| And hastens to perform the funeral state. | |
| In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear; | |
| The basis broad below, and top advanc’d in air. | 260 |
| An ancient wood, fit for the work design’d, | |
| (The shady covert of the salvage kind,) | |
| The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied; | |
| Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow’ring pride | |
| Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, | 265 |
| And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. | |
| Huge trunks of trees, fell’d from the steepy crown | |
| Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down. | |
| Arm’d like the rest the Trojan prince appears, | |
| And by his pious labor urges theirs. | 270 |
| Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind | |
| The ways to compass what his wish design’d, | |
| He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove, | |
| And then with vows implor’d the Queen of Love: | |
| “O may thy pow’r, propitious still to me, | 275 |
| Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree, | |
| In this deep forest; since the Sibyl’s breath | |
| Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus’ death.” | |
| Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight, | |
| Two doves, descending from their airy flight, | 280 |
| Secure upon the grassy plain alight. | |
| He knew his mother’s birds; and thus he pray’d: | |
| “Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid, | |
| And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found, | |
| Whose glitt’ring shadow gilds the sacred ground. | 285 |
| And thou, great parent, with celestial care, | |
| In this distress be present to my pray’r!’ | |
| Thus having said, he stopp’d with watchful sight, | |
| Observing still the motions of their flight, | |
| What course they took, what happy signs they shew. | 290 |
| They fed, and, flutt’ring, by degrees withdrew | |
| Still farther from the place, but still in view: | |
| Hopping and flying, thus they led him on | |
| To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun | |
| They wing’d their flight aloft; then, stooping low, | 295 |
| Perch’d on the double tree that bears the golden bough. | |
| Thro’ the green leafs the glitt’ring shadows glow; | |
| As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe, | |
| Where the proud mother views her precious brood, | |
| And happier branches, which she never sow’d. | 300 |
| Such was the glitt’ring; such the ruddy rind, | |
| And dancing leaves, that wanton’d in the wind. | |
| He seiz’d the shining bough with griping hold, | |
| And rent away, with ease, the ling’ring gold; | |
| Then to the Sibyl’s palace bore the prize. | 305 |
| Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes, | |
| To dead Misenus pay his obsequies. | |
| First, from the ground a lofty pile they rear, | |
| Of pitch trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir: | |
| The fabric’s front with cypress twigs they strew, | 310 |
| And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew. | |
| The topmost part his glitt’ring arms adorn; | |
| Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne, | |
| Are pour’d to wash his body, joint by joint, | |
| And fragrant oils the stiffen’d limbs anoint. | 315 |
| With groans and cries Misenus they deplore: | |
| Then on a bier, with purple cover’d o’er, | |
| The breathless body, thus bewail’d, they lay, | |
| And fire the pile, their faces turn’d away— | |
| Such reverend rites their fathers us’d to pay. | 320 |
| Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw, | |
| And fat of victims, which his friends bestow. | |
| These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour; | |
| Then on the living coals red wine they pour; | |
| And, last, the relics by themselves dispose, | 325 |
| Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose. | |
| Old Corynæus compass’d thrice the crew, | |
| And dipp’d an olive branch in holy dew; | |
| Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud | |
| Invok’d the dead, and then dismiss’d the crowd. | 330 |
| But good Æneas order’d on the shore | |
| A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore, | |
| A soldier’s fauchion, and a seaman’s oar. | |
| Thus was his friend interr’d; and deathless fame | |
| Still to the lofty cape consigns his name. | 335 |
| These rites perform’d, the prince, without delay, | |
| Hastes to the nether world his destin’d way. | |
| Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went | |
| From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent; | |
| And here th’ access a gloomy grove defends, | 340 |
| And there th’ unnavigable lake extends, | |
| O’er whose unhappy waters, void of light, | |
| No bird presumes to steer his airy flight; | |
| Such deadly stenches from the depths arise, | |
| And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies. | 345 |
| From hence the Grecian bards their legends make, | |
| And give the name Avernus to the lake. | |
| Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught, | |
| For sacrifice the pious hero brought. | |
| The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns; | 350 |
| Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns, | |
| Invoking Hecate hither to repair: | |
| A pow’rful name in hell and upper air. | |
| The sacred priests with ready knives bereave | |
| The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive | 355 |
| The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night | |
| (The sable wool without a streak of white) | |
| Æneas offers; and, by fate’s decree, | |
| A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee, | |
| With holocausts he Pluto’s altar fills; | 360 |
| Sev’n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills; | |
| Then on the broiling entrails oil he pours; | |
| Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours. | |
| Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun, | |
| Nor ended till the next returning sun. | 365 |
| Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance, | |
| And howling dogs in glimm’ring light advance, | |
| Ere Hecate came. “Far hence be souls profane!” | |
| The Sibyl cried, “and from the grove abstain! | |
| Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford; | 370 |
| Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword.” | |
| She said, and pass’d along the gloomy space; | |
| The prince pursued her steps with equal pace. | |
| Ye realms, yet unreveal’d to human sight, | |
| Ye gods who rule the regions of the night, | 375 |
| Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate | |
| The mystic wonders of your silent state! | |
| Obscure they went thro’ dreary shades, that led | |
| Along the waste dominions of the dead. | |
| Thus wander travelers in woods by night, | 380 |
| By the moon’s doubtful and malignant light, | |
| When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies, | |
| And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes. | |
| Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, | |
| Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell, | 385 |
| And pale Diseases, and repining Age, | |
| Want, Fear, and Famine’s unresisted rage; | |
| Here Toils, and Death, and Death’s half-brother, Sleep, | |
| Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep; | |
| With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind, | 390 |
| Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind; | |
| The Furies’ iron beds; and Strife, that shakes | |
| Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes. | |
| Full in the midst of this infernal road, | |
| An elm displays her dusky arms abroad: | 395 |
| The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head, | |
| And empty dreams on ev’ry leaf are spread. | |
| Of various forms unnumber’d specters more, | |
| Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door. | |
| Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands, | 400 |
| And Briareus with all his hundred hands; | |
| Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame; | |
| And vain Chimæra vomits empty flame. | |
| The chief unsheath’d his shining steel, prepar’d, | |
| Tho’ seiz’d with sudden fear, to force the guard, | 405 |
| Off’ring his brandish’d weapon at their face; | |
| Had not the Sibyl stopp’d his eager pace, | |
| And told him what those empty phantoms were: | |
| Forms without bodies, and impassive air. | |
| Hence to deep Acheron they take their way, | 410 |
| Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay, | |
| Are whirl’d aloft, and in Cocytus lost. | |
| There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast— | |
| A sordid god: down from his hoary chin | |
| A length of beard descends, uncomb’d, unclean; | 415 |
| His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; | |
| A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire. | |
| He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers; | |
| The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears. | |
| He look’d in years; yet in his years were seen | 420 |
| A youthful vigor and autumnal green. | |
| An airy crowd came rushing where he stood, | |
| Which fill’d the margin of the fatal flood: | |
| Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids, | |
| And mighty heroes’ more majestic shades, | 425 |
| And youths, intomb’d before their fathers’ eyes, | |
| With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries. | |
| Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods, | |
| Or fowls, by winter forc’d, forsake the floods, | |
| And wing their hasty flight to happier lands; | 430 |
| Such, and so thick, the shiv’ring army stands, | |
| And press for passage with extended hands. | |
| Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore: | |
| The rest he drove to distance from the shore. | |
| The hero, who beheld with wond’ring eyes | 435 |
| The tumult mix’d with shrieks, laments, and cries, | |
| Ask’d of his guide, what the rude concourse meant; | |
| Why to the shore the thronging people bent; | |
| What forms of law among the ghosts were us’d; | |
| Why some were ferried o’er, and some refus’d. | 440 |
| “Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods,” | |
| The Sibyl said, “you see the Stygian floods, | |
| The sacred stream which heav’n’s imperial state | |
| Attests in oaths, and fears to violate. | |
| The ghosts rejected are th’ unhappy crew | 445 |
| Depriv’d of sepulchers and fun’ral due: | |
| The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host, | |
| He ferries over to the farther coast; | |
| Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves | |
| With such whose bones are not compos’d in graves. | 450 |
| A hundred years they wander on the shore; | |
| At length, their penance done, are wafted o’er.” | |
| The Trojan chief his forward pace repress’d, | |
| Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast, | |
| He saw his friends, who, whelm’d beneath the waves, | 455 |
| Their fun’ral honors claim’d, and ask’d their quiet graves. | |
| The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew, | |
| And the brave leader of the Lycian crew, | |
| Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met; | |
| The sailors master’d, and the ship o’erset. | 460 |
| Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press’d, | |
| Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest, | |
| Who, while he steering view’d the stars, and bore | |
| His course from Afric to the Latian shore, | |
| Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix’d his view, | 465 |
| And scarcely thro’ the gloom the sullen shadow knew. | |
| Then thus the prince: “What envious pow’r, O friend, | |
| Brought your lov’d life to this disastrous end? | |
| For Phœbus, ever true in all he said, | |
| Has in your fate alone my faith betray’d. | 470 |
| The god foretold you should not die, before | |
| You reach’d, secure from seas, th’ Italian shore. | |
| Is this th’ unerring pow’r?” The ghost replied; | |
| “Nor Phœbus flatter’d, nor his answers lied; | |
| Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep: | 475 |
| But, while the stars and course of heav’n I keep, | |
| My wearied eyes were seiz’d with fatal sleep. | |
| I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain’d | |
| Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain’d. | |
| Now by the winds and raging waves I swear, | 480 |
| Your safety, more than mine, was then my care; | |
| Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost, | |
| Your ship should run against the rocky coast. | |
| Three blust’ring nights, borne by the southern blast, | |
| I floated, and discover’d land at last: | 485 |
| High on a mounting wave my head I bore, | |
| Forcing my strength, and gath’ring to the shore. | |
| Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz’d | |
| The craggy cliffs, and my tir’d members eas’d. | |
| While, cumber’d with my dropping clothes, I lay, | 490 |
| The cruel nation, covetous of prey, | |
| Stain’d with my blood th’ unhospitable coast; | |
| And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss’d: | |
| Which O avert, by yon ethereal light, | |
| Which I have lost for this eternal night! | 495 |
| Or, if by dearer ties you may be won, | |
| By your dead sire, and by your living son, | |
| Redeem from this reproach my wand’ring ghost; | |
| Or with your navy seek the Velin coast, | |
| And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose; | 500 |
| Or, if a nearer way your mother shows, | |
| Without whose aid you durst not undertake | |
| This frightful passage o’er the Stygian lake, | |
| Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o’er | |
| To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore.” | 505 |
| Scarce had he said, the prophetess began: | |
| “What hopes delude thee, miserable man? | |
| Think’st thou, thus unintomb’d, to cross the floods, | |
| To view the Furies and infernal gods, | |
| And visit, without leave, the dark abodes? | 510 |
| Attend the term of long revolving years; | |
| Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears. | |
| This comfort of thy dire misfortune take: | |
| The wrath of Heav’n, inflicted for thy sake, | |
| With vengeance shall pursue th’ inhuman coast, | 515 |
| Till they propitiate thy offended ghost, | |
| And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray’r; | |
| And Palinurus’ name the place shall bear.” | |
| This calm’d his cares; sooth’d with his future fame, | |
| And pleas’d to hear his propagated name. | 520 |
| Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw: | |
| Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw; | |
| Observ’d their passage thro’ the shady wood, | |
| And mark’d their near approaches to the flood. | |
| Then thus he call’d aloud, inflam’d with wrath: | 525 |
| “Mortal, whate’er, who this forbidden path | |
| In arms presum’st to tread, I charge thee, stand, | |
| And tell thy name, and bus’ness in the land. | |
| Know this, the realm of night—the Stygian shore: | |
| My boat conveys no living bodies o’er; | 530 |
| Nor was I pleas’d great Theseus once to bear, | |
| Who forc’d a passage with his pointed spear, | |
| Nor strong Alcides—men of mighty fame, | |
| And from th’ immortal gods their lineage came. | |
| In fetters one the barking porter tied, | 535 |
| And took him trembling from his sov’reign’s side: | |
| Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride.” | |
| To whom the Sibyl thus: “Compose thy mind; | |
| Nor frauds are here contriv’d, nor force design’d. | |
| Still may the dog the wand’ring troops constrain | 540 |
| Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train, | |
| And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain. | |
| The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove, | |
| Much fam’d for arms, and more for filial love, | |
| Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove. | 545 |
| If neither piety, nor Heav’n’s command, | |
| Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand, | |
| This fatal present shall prevail at least.” | |
| Then shew’d the shining bough, conceal’d within her vest. | |
| No more was needful: for the gloomy god | 550 |
| Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod; | |
| Admir’d the destin’d off’ring to his queen— | |
| A venerable gift, so rarely seen. | |
| His fury thus appeas’d, he puts to land; | |
| The ghosts forsake their seats at his command: | 555 |
| He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight; | |
| The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight. | |
| Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides; | |
| The pressing water pours within her sides. | |
| His passengers at length are wafted o’er, | 560 |
| Expos’d, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore. | |
| No sooner landed, in his den they found | |
| The triple porter of the Stygian sound, | |
| Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear | |
| His crested snakes, and arm’d his bristling hair. | 565 |
| The prudent Sibyl had before prepar’d | |
| A sop, in honey steep’d, to charm the guard; | |
| Which, mix’d with pow’rful drugs, she cast before | |
| His greedy grinning jaws, just op’d to roar. | |
| With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight, | 570 |
| With hunger press’d, devours the pleasing bait. | |
| Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave; | |
| He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave. | |
| The keeper charm’d, the chief without delay | |
| Pass’d on, and took th’ irremeable way. | 575 |
| Before the gates, the cries of babes new born, | |
| Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, | |
| Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws | |
| Condemn’d to die, when traitors judg’d their cause. | |
| Nor want they lots, nor judges to review | 580 |
| The wrongful sentence, and award a new. | |
| Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears; | |
| And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears. | |
| Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls, | |
| Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. | 585 |
| The next, in place and punishment, are they | |
| Who prodigally throw their souls away; | |
| Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, | |
| And loathing anxious life, suborn’d their fate. | |
| With late repentance now they would retrieve | 590 |
| The bodies they forsook, and wish to live; | |
| Their pains and poverty desire to bear, | |
| To view the light of heav’n, and breathe the vital air: | |
| But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, | |
| And with nine circling streams the captive souls inclose. | 595 |
| Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear | |
| So call’d from lovers that inhabit there. | |
| The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, | |
| In secret solitude and myrtle shades | |
| Make endless moans, and, pining with desire, | 600 |
| Lament too late their unextinguish’d fire. | |
| Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found, | |
| Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound | |
| Made by her son. He saw Pasiphæ there, | |
| With Phædra’s ghost, a foul incestuous pair. | 605 |
| There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves, | |
| Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves: | |
| Cæneus, a woman once, and once a man, | |
| But ending in the sex she first began. | |
| Not far from these Phœnician Dido stood, | 610 |
| Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath’d in blood; | |
| Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, | |
| obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view, | |
| (Doubtful as he who sees, thro’ dusky night, | |
| Or thinks he sees, the moon’s uncertain light,) | 615 |
| With tears he first approach’d the sullen shade; | |
| And, as his love inspir’d him, thus he said: | |
| “Unhappy queen! then is the common breath | |
| Of rumor true, in your reported death, | |
| And I, alas! the cause? By Heav’n, I vow, | 620 |
| And all the pow’rs that rule the realms below, | |
| Unwilling I forsook your friendly state, | |
| Commanded by the gods, and forc’d by fate— | |
| Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might | |
| Have sent me to these regions void of light, | 625 |
| Thro’ the vast empire of eternal night. | |
| Nor dar’d I to presume, that, press’d with grief, | |
| My flight should urge you to this dire relief. | |
| Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows: | |
| ’T is the last interview that fate allows!” | 630 |
| In vain he thus attempts her mind to move | |
| With tears, and pray’rs, and late-repenting love. | |
| Disdainfully she look’d; then turning round, | |
| But fix’d her eyes unmov’d upon the ground, | |
| And what he says and swears, regards no more | 635 |
| Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar; | |
| But whirl’d away, to shun his hateful sight, | |
| Hid in the forest and the shades of night; | |
| Then sought Sichæus thro’ the shady grove, | |
| Who answer’d all her cares, and equal’d all her love. | 640 |
| Some pious tears the pitying hero paid, | |
| And follow’d with his eyes the flitting shade, | |
| Then took the forward way, by fate ordain’d, | |
| And, with his guide, the farther fields attain’d, | |
| Where, sever’d from the rest, the warrior souls remain’d. | 645 |
| Tydeus he met, with Meleager’s race, | |
| The pride of armies, and the soldiers’ grace; | |
| And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face. | |
| Of Trojan chiefs he view’d a num’rous train, | |
| All much lamented, all in battle slain; | 650 |
| Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest, | |
| Antenor’s sons, and Ceres’ sacred priest. | |
| And proud Idæus, Priam’s charioteer, | |
| Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear. | |
| The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend | 655 |
| And with unwearied eyes behold their friend; | |
| Delight to hover near, and long to know | |
| What bus’ness brought him to the realms below. | |
| But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon’s train, | |
| When his refulgent arms flash’d thro’ the shady plain, | 660 |
| Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear, | |
| As when his thund’ring sword and pointed spear | |
| Drove headlong to their ships, and glean’d the routed rear. | |
| They rais’d a feeble cry, with trembling notes; | |
| But the weak voice deceiv’d their gasping throats. | 665 |
| Here Priam’s son, Deiphobus, he found, | |
| Whose face and limbs were one continued wound: | |
| Dishonest, with lopp’d arms, the youth appears, | |
| Spoil’d of his nose, and shorten’d of his ears. | |
| He scarcely knew him, striving to disown | 670 |
| His blotted form, and blushing to be known; | |
| And therefore first began: “O Teucer’s race, | |
| Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? | |
| What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace? | |
| ’Twas fam’d, that in our last and fatal night | 675 |
| Your single prowess long sustain’d the fight, | |
| Till tir’d, not forc’d, a glorious fate you chose, | |
| And fell upon a heap of slaughter’d foes. | |
| But, in remembrance of so brave a deed, | |
| A tomb and fun’ral honors I decreed; | 680 |
| Thrice call’d your manes on the Trojan plains: | |
| The place your armor and your name retains. | |
| Your body too I sought, and, had I found, | |
| Design’d for burial in your native ground.” | |
| The ghost replied: “Your piety has paid | 685 |
| All needful rites, to rest my wand’ring shade; | |
| But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, | |
| To Grecian swords betray’d my sleeping life. | |
| These are the monuments of Helen’s love: | |
| The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above. | 690 |
| You know in what deluding joys we pass’d | |
| The night that was by Heav’n decreed our last: | |
| For, when the fatal horse, descending down, | |
| Pregnant with arms, o’erwhelm’d th’ unhappy town | |
| She feign’d nocturnal orgies; left my bed, | 695 |
| And, mix’d with Trojan dames, the dances led; | |
| Then, waving high her torch, the signal made, | |
| Which rous’d the Grecians from their ambuscade. | |
| With watching overworn, with cares oppress’d, | |
| Unhappy I had laid me down to rest, | 700 |
| And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess’d. | |
| Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid, | |
| And from beneath my head my sword convey’d; | |
| The door unlatch’d, and, with repeated calls, | |
| Invites her former lord within my walls. | 705 |
| Thus in her crime her confidence she plac’d, | |
| And with new treasons would redeem the past. | |
| What need I more? Into the room they ran, | |
| And meanly murther’d a defenseless man. | |
| Ulysses, basely born, first led the way. | 710 |
| Avenging pow’rs! with justice if I pray, | |
| That fortune be their own another day! | |
| But answer you; and in your turn relate, | |
| What brought you, living, to the Stygian state: | |
| Driv’n by the winds and errors of the sea, | 715 |
| Or did you Heav’n’s superior doom obey? | |
| Or tell what other chance conducts your way, | |
| To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats, | |
| Tumults and torments of th’ infernal seats.” | |
| While thus in talk the flying hours they pass, | 720 |
| The sun had finish’d more than half his race: | |
| And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent | |
| The little time of stay which Heav’n had lent; | |
| But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay: | |
| “Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day: | 725 |
| ’T is here, in different paths, the way divides; | |
| The right to Pluto’s golden palace guides; | |
| The left to that unhappy region tends, | |
| Which to the depth of Tartarus descends; | |
| The seat of night profound, and punish’d fiends.” | 730 |
| Then thus Deiphobus: “O sacred maid, | |
| Forbear to chide, and be your will obey’d! | |
| Lo! to the secret shadows I retire, | |
| To pay my penance till my years expire. | |
| Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown’d, | 735 |
| And born to better fates than I have found.” | |
| He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn’d | |
| To secret shadows, and in silence mourn’d. | |
| The hero, looking on the left, espied | |
| A lofty tow’r, and strong on ev’ry side | 740 |
| With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds, | |
| Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds; | |
| And, press’d betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds. | |
| Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais’d on high | |
| With adamantine columns, threats the sky. | 745 |
| Vain is the force of man, and Heav’n’s as vain, | |
| To crush the pillars which the pile sustain. | |
| Sublime on these a tow’r of steel is rear’d; | |
| And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward, | |
| Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day, | 750 |
| Observant of the souls that pass the downward way. | |
| From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains | |
| Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains. | |
| The Trojan stood astonish’d at their cries, | |
| And ask’d his guide from whence those yells arise; | 755 |
| And what the crimes, and what the tortures were, | |
| And loud laments that rent the liquid air. | |
| She thus replied; “The chaste and holy race | |
| Are all forbidden this polluted place. | |
| But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods, | 760 |
| Then led me trembling thro’ these dire abodes, | |
| And taught the tortures of th’ avenging gods. | |
| These are the realms of unrelenting fate; | |
| And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state. | |
| He hears and judges each committed crime; | 765 |
| Enquires into the manner, place, and time. | |
| The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, | |
| (Loth to confess, unable to conceal), | |
| From the first moment of his vital breath, | |
| To his last hour of unrepenting death. | 770 |
| Straight, o’er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes | |
| The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes, | |
| And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes. | |
| Then, of itself, unfolds th’ eternal door; | |
| With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar. | 775 |
| You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost | |
| Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post. | |
| More formidable Hydra stands within, | |
| Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin. | |
| The gaping gulf low to the center lies, | 780 |
| And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies. | |
| The rivals of the gods, the Titan race, | |
| Here, sing’d with lightning, roll within th’ unfathom’d space. | |
| Here lie th’ Alæan twins, (I saw them both,) | |
| Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth, | 785 |
| Who dar’d in fight the Thund’rer to defy, | |
| Affect his heav’n, and force him from the sky. | |
| Salmoneus, suff’ring cruel pains, I found, | |
| For emulating Jove; the rattling sound | |
| Of mimic thunder, and the glitt’ring blaze | 790 |
| Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays. | |
| Thro’ Elis and the Grecian towns he flew; | |
| Th’ audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew: | |
| He wav’d a torch aloft, and, madly vain, | |
| Sought godlike worship from a servile train. | 795 |
| Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass | |
| O’er hollow arches of resounding brass, | |
| To rival thunder in its rapid course, | |
| And imitate inimitable force! | |
| But he, the King of Heav’n, obscure on high, | 800 |
| Bar’d his red arm, and, launching from the sky | |
| His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke, | |
| Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook. | |
| There Tityus was to see, who took his birth | |
| From heav’n, his nursing from the foodful earth. | 805 |
| Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace, | |
| Infold nine acres of infernal space. | |
| A rav’nous vulture, in his open’d side, | |
| Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried; | |
| Still for the growing liver digg’d his breast; | 810 |
| The growing liver still supplied the feast; | |
| Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains: | |
| Th’ immortal hunger lasts, th’ immortal food remains. | |
| Ixion and Perithous I could name, | |
| And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame. | 815 |
| High o’er their heads a mold’ring rock is plac’d, | |
| That promises a fall, and shakes at ev’ry blast. | |
| They lie below, on golden beds display’d; | |
| And genial feasts with regal pomp are made. | |
| The Queen of Furies by their sides is set, | 820 |
| And snatches from their mouths th’ untasted meat, | |
| Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears, | |
| Tossing her torch, and thund’ring in their ears. | |
| Then they, who brothers’ better claim disown, | |
| Expel their parents, and usurp the throne; | 825 |
| Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold, | |
| Sit brooding on unprofitable gold; | |
| Who dare not give, and ev’n refuse to lend | |
| To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend. | |
| Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train | 830 |
| Of lustful youths, for foul adult’ry slain: | |
| Hosts of deserters, who their honor sold, | |
| And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold. | |
| All these within the dungeon’s depth remain, | |
| Despairing pardon, and expecting pain. | 835 |
| Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know | |
| Their process, or the forms of law below. | |
| Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along, | |
| And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung. | |
| Unhappy Theseus, doom’d for ever there, | 840 |
| Is fix’d by fate on his eternal chair; | |
| And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries | |
| (Could warning make the world more just or wise): | |
| ‘Learn righteousness, and dread th’ avenging deities.’ | |
| To tyrants others have their country sold, | 845 |
| Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold; | |
| Some have old laws repeal’d, new statutes made, | |
| Not as the people pleas’d, but as they paid; | |
| With incest some their daughters’ bed profan’d: | |
| All dar’d the worst of ills, and, what they dar’d, attain’d. | 850 |
| Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, | |
| And throats of brass, inspir’d with iron lungs, | |
| I could not half those horrid crimes repeat, | |
| Nor half the punishments those crimes have met. | |
| But let us haste our voyage to pursue: | 855 |
| The walls of Pluto’s palace are in view; | |
| The gate, and iron arch above it, stands | |
| On anvils labor’d by the Cyclops’ hands. | |
| Before our farther way the Fates allow, | |
| Here must we fix on high the golden bough.” | 860 |
| She said: and thro’ the gloomy shades they pass’d, | |
| And chose the middle path. Arriv’d at last, | |
| The prince with living water sprinkled o’er | |
| His limbs and body; then approach’d the door, | |
| Possess’d the porch, and on the front above | 865 |
| He fix’d the fatal bough requir’d by Pluto’s love. | |
| These holy rites perform’d, they took their way | |
| Where long extended plains of pleasure lay: | |
| The verdant fields with those of heav’n may vie, | |
| With ether vested, and a purple sky; | 870 |
| The blissful seats of happy souls below. | |
| Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know; | |
| Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, | |
| And on the green contend the wrestler’s prize. | |
| Some in heroic verse divinely sing; | 875 |
| Others in artful measures lead the ring. | |
| The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest, | |
| There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest; | |
| His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, | |
| Strikes sev’n distinguish’d notes, and sev’n at once they fill. | 880 |
| Here found they Teucer’s old heroic race, | |
| Born better times and happier years to grace. | |
| Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy | |
| Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. | |
| The chief beheld their chariots from afar, | 885 |
| Their shining arms, and coursers train’d to war: | |
| Their lances fix’d in earth, their steeds around, | |
| Free from their harness, graze the flow’ry ground. | |
| The love of horses which they had, alive, | |
| And care of chariots, after death survive. | 890 |
| Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain; | |
| Some did the song, and some the choir maintain, | |
| Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po | |
| Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below. | |
| Here patriots live, who, for their country’s good, | 895 |
| In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood: | |
| Priests of unblemish’d lives here make abode, | |
| And poets worthy their inspiring god; | |
| And searching wits, of more mechanic parts, | |
| Who grac’d their age with new-invented arts: | 900 |
| Those who to worth their bounty did extend, | |
| And those who knew that bounty to commend. | |
| The heads of these with holy fillets bound, | |
| And all their temples were with garlands crown’d. | |
| To these the Sibyl thus her speech address’d, | 905 |
| And first to him surrounded by the rest | |
| (Tow’ring his height, and ample was his breast): | |
| “Say, happy souls, divine Musæus, say, | |
| Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way | |
| To find the hero, for whose only sake | 910 |
| We sought the dark abodes, and cross’d the bitter lake?” | |
| To this the sacred poet thus replied: | |
| “In no fix’d place the happy souls reside. | |
| In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, | |
| By crystal streams, that murmur thro’ the meads: | 915 |
| But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; | |
| The path conducts you to your journey’s end.” | |
| This said, he led them up the mountain’s brow, | |
| And shews them all the shining fields below. | |
| They wind the hill, and thro’ the blissful meadows go. | 920 |
| But old Anchises, in a flow’ry vale, | |
| Review’d his muster’d race, and took the tale: | |
| Those happy spirits, which, ordain’d by fate, | |
| For future beings and new bodies wait— | |
| With studious thought observ’d th’ illustrious throng, | 925 |
| In nature’s order as they pass’d along: | |
| Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care, | |
| In peaceful senates and successful war. | |
| He, when Æneas on the plain appears, | |
| Meets him with open arms, and falling tears. | 930 |
| “Welcome,” he said, “the gods’ undoubted race! | |
| O long expected to my dear embrace! | |
| Once more ’t is giv’n me to behold your face! | |
| The love and pious duty which you pay | |
| Have pass’d the perils of so hard a way. | 935 |
| ’T is true, computing times, I now believ’d | |
| The happy day approach’d; nor are my hopes deceiv’d. | |
| What length of lands, what oceans have you pass’d; | |
| What storms sustain’d, and on what shores been cast? | |
| How have I fear’d your fate! but fear’d it most, | 940 |
| When love assail’d you, on the Libyan coast.” | |
| To this, the filial duty thus replies: | |
| “Your sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes | |
| Appear’d, and often urg’d this painful enterprise. | |
| After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea, | 945 |
| My navy rides at anchor in the bay. | |
| But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun | |
| The dear embraces of your longing son!” | |
| He said; and falling tears his face bedew: | |
| Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw; | 950 |
| And thrice the flitting shadow slipp’d away, | |
| Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day. | |
| Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees | |
| A sep’rate grove, thro’ which a gentle breeze | |
| Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro’ the trees; | 955 |
| And, just before the confines of the wood, | |
| The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood. | |
| About the boughs an airy nation flew, | |
| Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew; | |
| In summer’s heat on tops of lilies feed, | 960 |
| And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed: | |
| The winged army roams the fields around; | |
| The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound. | |
| Æneas wond’ring stood, then ask’d the cause | |
| Which to the stream the crowding people draws. | 965 |
| Then thus the sire: “The souls that throng the flood | |
| Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow’d: | |
| In Lethe’s lake they long oblivion taste, | |
| Of future life secure, forgetful of the past. | |
| Long has my soul desir’d this time and place, | 970 |
| To set before your sight your glorious race, | |
| That this presaging joy may fire your mind | |
| To seek the shores by destiny design’d.”— | |
| “O father, can it be, that souls sublime | |
| Return to visit our terrestrial clime, | 975 |
| And that the gen’rous mind, releas’d by death, | |
| Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?” | |
| Anchises then, in order, thus begun | |
| To clear those wonders to his godlike son: | |
| “Know, first, that heav’n, and earth’s compacted frame, | 980 |
| And flowing waters, and the starry flame, | |
| And both the radiant lights, one common soul | |
| Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole. | |
| This active mind, infus’d thro’ all the space, | |
| Unites and mingles with the mighty mass. | 985 |
| Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain, | |
| And birds of air, and monsters of the main. | |
| Th’ ethereal vigor is in all the same, | |
| And every soul is fill’d with equal flame; | |
| As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay | 990 |
| Of mortal members, subject to decay, | |
| Blunt not the beams of heav’n and edge of day. | |
| From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts, | |
| Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts, | |
| And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind, | 995 |
| In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin’d, | |
| Assert the native skies, or own its heav’nly kind: | |
| Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains; | |
| But long-contracted filth ev’n in the soul remains. | |
| The relics of inveterate vice they wear, | 1000 |
| And spots of sin obscene in ev’ry face appear. | |
| For this are various penances enjoin’d; | |
| And some are hung to bleach upon the wind, | |
| Some plung’d in waters, others purg’d in fires, | |
| Till all the dregs are drain’d, and all the rust expires. | 1005 |
| All have their manes, and those manes bear: | |
| The few, so cleans’d, to these abodes repair, | |
| And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air. | |
| Then are they happy, when by length of time | |
| The scurf is worn away of each committed crime; | 1010 |
| No speck is left of their habitual stains, | |
| But the pure ether of the soul remains. | |
| But, when a thousand rolling years are past, | |
| (So long their punishments and penance last,) | |
| Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god, | 1015 |
| Compell’d to drink the deep Lethæan flood, | |
| In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares | |
| Of their past labors, and their irksome years, | |
| That, unrememb’ring of its former pain, | |
| The soul may suffer mortal flesh again.” | 1020 |
| Thus having said, the father spirit leads | |
| The priestess and his son thro’ swarms of shades, | |
| And takes a rising ground, from thence to see | |
| The long procession of his progeny. | |
| “Survey,” pursued the sire, “this airy throng, | 1025 |
| As, offer’d to thy view, they pass along. | |
| These are th’ Italian names, which fate will join | |
| With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line. | |
| Observe the youth who first appears in sight, | |
| And holds the nearest station to the light, | 1030 |
| Already seems to snuff the vital air, | |
| And leans just forward, on a shining spear: | |
| Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race, | |
| But first in order sent, to fill thy place; | |
| An Alban name, but mix’d with Dardan blood, | 1035 |
| Born in the covert of a shady wood: | |
| Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife, | |
| Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life. | |
| In Alba he shall fix his royal seat, | |
| And, born a king, a race of kings beget. | 1040 |
| Then Procas, honor of the Trojan name, | |
| Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame. | |
| A second Silvius after these appears; | |
| Silvius Æneas, for thy name he bears; | |
| For arms and justice equally renown’d, | 1045 |
| Who, late restor’d, in Alba shall be crown’d. | |
| How great they look! how vig’rously they wield | |
| Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield! | |
| But they, who crown’d with oaken wreaths appear, | |
| Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear; | 1050 |
| Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found; | |
| And raise Collatian tow’rs on rocky ground. | |
| All these shall then be towns of mighty fame, | |
| Tho’ now they lie obscure, and lands without a name. | |
| See Romulus the great, born to restore | 1055 |
| The crown that once his injur’d grandsire wore. | |
| This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear, | |
| And like his sire in arms he shall appear. | |
| Two rising crests his royal head adorn; | |
| Born from a god, himself to godhead born: | 1060 |
| His sire already signs him for the skies, | |
| And marks the seat amidst the deities. | |
| Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come, | |
| Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome— | |
| Rome, whose ascending tow’rs shall heav’n invade, | 1065 |
| Involving earth and ocean in her shade; | |
| High as the Mother of the Gods in place, | |
| And proud, like her, of an immortal race. | |
| Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, | |
| With golden turrets on her temples crown’d; | 1070 |
| A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; | |
| Her offspring all, and all command the sky. | |
| “Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see | |
| Your Roman race, and Julian progeny. | |
| The mighty Cæsar waits his vital hour, | 1075 |
| Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis’d pow’r. | |
| But next behold the youth of form divine, | |
| Ceasar himself, exalted in his line; | |
| Augustus, promis’d oft, and long foretold, | |
| Sent to the realm that Saturn rul’d of old; | 1080 |
| Born to restore a better age of gold. | |
| Afric and India shall his pow’r obey; | |
| He shall extend his propagated sway | |
| Beyond the solar year, without the starry way, | |
| Where Atlas turns the rolling heav’ns around, | 1085 |
| And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown’d. | |
| At his foreseen approach, already quake | |
| The Caspian kingdoms and Mæotian lake: | |
| Their seers behold the tempest from afar, | |
| And threat’ning oracles denounce the war. | 1090 |
| Nile hears him knocking at his sev’nfold gates, | |
| And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew’s fates. | |
| Nor Hercules more lands or labors knew, | |
| Not tho’ the brazen-footed hind he slew, | |
| Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar, | 1095 |
| And dipp’d his arrows in Lernæan gore; | |
| Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war, | |
| By tigers drawn triumphant in his car, | |
| From Nisus’ top descending on the plains, | |
| With curling vines around his purple reins. | 1100 |
| And doubt we yet thro’ dangers to pursue | |
| The paths of honor, and a crown in view? | |
| But what’s the man, who from afar appears? | |
| His head with olive crown’d, his hand a censer bears, | |
| His hoary beard and holy vestments bring | 1105 |
| His lost idea back: I know the Roman king. | |
| He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain, | |
| Call’d from his mean abode a scepter to sustain. | |
| Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds, | |
| An active prince, and prone to martial deeds. | 1110 |
| He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare, | |
| Disus’d to toils, and triumphs of the war. | |
| By dint of sword his crown he shall increase, | |
| And scour his armor from the rust of peace. | |
| Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air, | 1115 |
| But vain within, and proudly popular. | |
| Next view the Tarquin kings, th’ avenging sword | |
| Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor’d. | |
| He first renews the rods and ax severe, | |
| And gives the consuls royal robes to wear. | 1120 |
| His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain, | |
| And long for arbitrary lords again, | |
| With ignominy scourg’d, in open sight, | |
| He dooms to death deserv’d, asserting public right. | |
| Unhappy man, to break the pious laws | 1125 |
| Of nature, pleading in his children’s cause! | |
| Howe’er the doubtful fact is understood, | |
| ’T is love of honor, and his country’s good: | |
| The consul, not the father, sheds the blood. | |
| Behold Torquatus the same track pursue; | 1130 |
| And, next, the two devoted Decii view: | |
| The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home | |
| With standards well redeem’d, and foreign foes o’ercome. | |
| The pair you see in equal armor shine, | |
| Now, friends below, in close embraces join; | 1135 |
| But, when they leave the shady realms of night, | |
| And, cloth’d in bodies, breathe your upper light, | |
| With mortal hate each other shall pursue: | |
| What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue! | |
| From Alpine heights the father first descends; | 1140 |
| His daughter’s husband in the plain attends: | |
| His daughter’s husband arms his eastern friends. | |
| Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more; | |
| Nor stain your country with her children’s gore! | |
| And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim, | 1145 |
| Thou, of my blood, who bear’st the Julian name! | |
| Another comes, who shall in triumph ride, | |
| And to the Capitol his chariot guide, | |
| From conquer’d Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils. | |
| And yet another, fam’d for warlike toils, | 1150 |
| On Argos shall impose the Roman laws, | |
| And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause; | |
| Shall drag in chains their Achillean race; | |
| Shall vindicate his ancestors’ disgrace, | |
| And Pallas, for her violated place. | 1155 |
| Great Cato there, for gravity renown’d, | |
| And conqu’ring Cossus goes with laurels crown’d. | |
| Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare | |
| The Scipios’ worth, those thunderbolts of war, | |
| The double bane of Carthage? Who can see | 1160 |
| Without esteem for virtuous poverty, | |
| Severe Fabricius, or can cease t’ admire | |
| The plowman consul in his coarse attire? | |
| Tir’d as I am, my praise the Fabii claim; | |
| And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name, | 1165 |
| Ordain’d in war to save the sinking state, | |
| And, by delays, to put a stop to fate! | |
| Let others better mold the running mass | |
| Of metals, and inform the breathing brass, | |
| And soften into flesh a marble face; | 1170 |
| Plead better at the bar; describe the skies, | |
| And when the stars descend, and when they rise. | |
| But, Rome, ’t is thine alone, with awful sway, | |
| To rule mankind, and make the world obey, | |
| Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way; | 1175 |
| To tame the proud, the fetter’d slave to free: | |
| These are imperial arts, and worthy thee.” | |
| He paus’d; and, while with wond’ring eyes they view’d | |
| The passing spirits, thus his speech renew’d: | |
| “See great Marcellus! how, untir’d in toils, | 1180 |
| He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils! | |
| He, when his country, threaten’d with alarms, | |
| Requires his courage and his conqu’ring arms, | |
| Shall more than once the Punic bands affright; | |
| Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight; | 1185 |
| Then to the Capitol in triumph move, | |
| And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove.” | |
| Æneas here beheld, of form divine, | |
| A godlike youth in glitt’ring armor shine, | |
| With great Marcellus keeping equal pace; | 1190 |
| But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face. | |
| He saw, and, wond’ring, ask’d his airy guide, | |
| What and of whence was he, who press’d the hero’s side: | |
| “His son, or one of his illustrious name? | |
| How like the former, and almost the same! | 1195 |
| Observe the crowds that compass him around; | |
| All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound: | |
| But hov’ring mists around his brows are spread, | |
| And night, with sable shades, involves his head.” | |
| “Seek not to know,” the ghost replied with tears, | 1200 |
| “The sorrows of thy sons in future years. | |
| This youth (the blissful vision of a day) | |
| Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch’d away. | |
| The gods too high had rais’d the Roman state, | |
| Were but their gifts as permanent as great. | 1205 |
| What groans of men shall fill the Martian field! | |
| How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield! | |
| What fun’ral pomp shall floating Tiber see, | |
| When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity! | |
| No youth shall equal hopes of glory give, | 1210 |
| No youth afford so great a cause to grieve; | |
| The Trojan honor, and the Roman boast, | |
| Admir’d when living, and ador’d when lost! | |
| Mirror of ancient faith in early youth! | |
| Undaunted worth, inviolable truth! | 1215 |
| No foe, unpunish’d, in the fighting field | |
| Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield; | |
| Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force, | |
| When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse. | |
| Ah! couldst thou break thro’ fate’s severe decree, | 1220 |
| A new Marcellus shall arise in thee! | |
| Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, | |
| Mix’d with the purple roses of the spring; | |
| Let me with fun’ral flow’rs his body strow; | |
| This gift which parents to their children owe, | 1225 |
| This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!” | |
| Thus having said, he led the hero round | |
| The confines of the blest Elysian ground; | |
| Which when Anchises to his son had shown, | |
| And fir’d his mind to mount the promis’d throne, | 1230 |
| He tells the future wars, ordain’d by fate; | |
| The strength and customs of the Latian state; | |
| The prince, and people; and forearms his care | |
| With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear. | |
| Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn; | 1235 |
| Of polish’d iv’ry this, that of transparent horn: | |
| True visions thro’ transparent horn arise; | |
| Thro’ polish’d iv’ry pass deluding lies. | |
| Of various things discoursing as he pass’d, | |
| Anchises hither bends his steps at last. | 1240 |
| Then, thro’ the gate of iv’ry, he dismiss’d | |
| His valiant offspring and divining guest. | |
| Straight to the ships Æneas took his way, | |
| Embark’d his men, and skimm’d along the sea, | |
| Still coasting, till he gain’d Cajeta’s bay. | 1245 |
| At length on oozy ground his galleys moor; | |
| Their heads are turn’d to sea, their sterns to shore. | |
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