<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=479715" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">AND thou, O matron of immortal fame, <br>Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name; <br>Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee, <br>The nurse of great Æneas’ infancy. <br>Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; 5 <br>Thy name (’t is all a ghost can have) remains. <br>Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid, <br>He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d. <br>From land a gentle breeze arose by night, <br>Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, 10 <br>And the sea trembled with her silver light. <br>Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run, <br>(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,) <br>A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days <br>In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: 15 <br>In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night, <br>And cedar brands supply her father’s light. <br>From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main, <br>The roars of lions that refuse the chain, <br>The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, 20 <br>And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears. <br>These from their caverns, at the close of night, <br>Fill the sad isle with horror and affright. <br>Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r, <br>(That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,) 25 <br>With words and wicked herbs from humankind <br>Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d. <br>Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host <br>Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast, <br>Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night 30 <br>With rising gales that sped their happy flight. <br>Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore, <br>And hear the swelling surges vainly roar. <br>Now, when the rosy morn began to rise, <br>And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies; 35 <br>When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own, <br>And from her face the breathing winds were blown, <br>A sudden silence sate upon the sea, <br>And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way. <br>The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, 40 <br>Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood: <br>Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, <br>With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, <br>That drove the sand along, he took his way, <br>And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea. 45 <br>About him, and above, and round the wood, <br>The birds that haunt the borders of his flood, <br>That bath’d within, or basked upon his side, <br>To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied. <br>The captain gives command; the joyful train 50 <br>Glide thro’ the gloomy shade, and leave the main. <br>Now, Erato, thy poet’s mind inspire, <br>And fill his soul with thy celestial fire! <br>Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings; <br>Declare the past and present state of things, 55 <br>When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought, <br>And how the rivals lov’d, and how they fought. <br>These are my theme, and how the war began, <br>And how concluded by the godlike man: <br>For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage, 60 <br>Which princes and their people did engage; <br>And haughty souls, that, mov’d with mutual hate, <br>In fighting fields pursued and found their fate; <br>That rous’d the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms, <br>And peaceful Italy involv’d in arms. 65 <br>A larger scene of action is display’d; <br>And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh’d. <br>Latinus, old and mild, had long possess’d <br>The Latin scepter, and his people blest: <br>His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame 70 <br>His mother; fair Marica was her name. <br>But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew <br>His birth from Saturn, if records be true. <br>Thus King Latinus, in the third degree, <br>Had Saturn author of his family. 75 <br>But this old peaceful prince, as Heav’n decreed, <br>Was blest with no male issue to succeed: <br>His sons in blooming youth were snatch’d by fate; <br>One only daughter heir’d the royal state. <br>Fir’d with her love, and with ambition led, 80 <br>The neighb’ring princes court her nuptial bed. <br>Among the crowd, but far above the rest, <br>Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address’d. <br>Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien, <br>Was first, and favor’d by the Latian queen; 85 <br>With him she strove to join Lavinia’s hand, <br>But dire portents the purpos’d match withstand. <br>Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood <br>A laurel’s trunk, a venerable wood; <br>Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair 90 <br>Was kept and cut with superstitious care. <br>This plant Latinus, when his town he wall’d, <br>Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call’d; <br>And last, in honor of his new abode, <br>He vow’d the laurel to the laurel’s god. 95 <br>It happen’d once (a boding prodigy!) <br>A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky, <br>(Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,) <br>Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight; <br>There with their clasping feet together clung, 100 <br>And a long cluster from the laurel hung. <br>An ancient augur prophesied from hence: <br>“Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince! <br>From the same parts of heav’n his navy stands, <br>To the same parts on earth; his army lands; 105 <br>The town he conquers, and the tow’r commands.” <br>Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire <br>Before the gods, and stood beside her sire, <br>(Strange to relate!) the flames, involv’d in smoke <br>Of incense, from the sacred altar broke, 110 <br>Caught her dishevel’d hair and rich attire; <br>Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire: <br>From thence the fuming trail began to spread <br>And lambent glories danc’d about her head. <br>This new portent the seer with wonder views, 115 <br>Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews: <br>“The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around, <br>Shall shine with honor, shall herself be crown’d; <br>But, caus’d by her irrevocable fate, <br>War shall the country waste, and change the state.’ 120 <br>Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent, <br>For counsel to his father Faunus went, <br>And sought the shades renown’d for prophecy <br>Which near Albunea’s sulph’rous fountain lie. <br>To these the Latian and the Sabine land 125 <br>Fly, when distress’d, and thence relief demand. <br>The priest on skins of off’rings takes his ease, <br>And nightly visions in his slumber sees; <br>A swarm of thin ærial shapes appears, <br>And, flutt’ring round his temples, deafs his ears: 130 <br>These he consults, the future fates to know, <br>From pow’rs above, and from the fiends below. <br>Here, for the gods’ advice, Latinus flies, <br>Off’ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice: <br>Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir’d, 135 <br>He laid beneath him, and to rest retir’d. <br>No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound, <br>When, from above, a more than mortal sound <br>Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke: <br>“Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke 140 <br>Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke. <br>A foreign son upon thy shore descends, <br>Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends. <br>His race, in arms and arts of peace renown’d, <br>Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound: 145 <br>’T is theirs whate’er the sun surveys around.’ <br>These answers, in the silent night receiv’d, <br>The king himself divulg’d, the land believ’d: <br>The fame thro’ all the neighb’ring nations flew, <br>When now the Trojan navy was in view. 150 <br>Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread <br>His table on the turf, with cakes of bread; <br>And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed. <br>They sate; and, (not without the god’s command,) <br>Their homely fare dispatch’d, the hungry band 155 <br>Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour, <br>To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour. <br>Ascanius this observ’d, and smiling said: <br>“See, we devour the plates on which we fed.” <br>The speech had omen, that the Trojan race 160 <br>Should find repose, and this the time and place. <br>Æneas took the word, and thus replies, <br>Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes: <br>“All hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods! <br>Behold the destin’d place of your abodes! 165 <br>For thus Anchises prophesied of old, <br>And this our fatal place of rest foretold: <br>‘When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat, <br>By famine forc’d, your trenchers you shall eat, <br>Then ease your weary Trojans will attend, 170 <br>And the long labors of your voyage end. <br>Remember on that happy coast to build, <br>And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.’ <br>This was that famine, this the fatal place <br>Which ends the wand’ring of our exil’d race. 175 <br>Then, on to-morrow’s dawn, your care employ, <br>To search the land, and where the cities lie, <br>And what the men; but give this day to joy. <br>Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest, <br>Call great Anchises to the genial feast: 180 <br>Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught; <br>Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought.” <br>Thus having said, the hero bound his brows <br>With leafy branches, then perform’d his vows; <br>Adoring first the genius of the place, 185 <br>Then Earth, the mother of the heav’nly race, <br>The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown, <br>And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne, <br>And ancient Cybel, and Idæan Jove, <br>And last his sire below, and mother queen above. 190 <br>Then heav’n’s high monarch thunder’d thrice aloud, <br>And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud. <br>Soon thro’ the joyful camp a rumor flew, <br>The time was come their city to renew. <br>Then ev’ry brow with cheerful green is crown’d, 195 <br>The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round. <br>When next the rosy morn disclos’d the day, <br>The scouts to sev’ral parts divide their way, <br>To learn the natives’ names, their towns explore, <br>The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore: 200 <br>Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands; <br>Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands. <br>The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways <br>To found his empire, and his town to raise, <br>A hundred youths from all his train selects, 205 <br>And to the Latian court their course directs, <br>(The spacious palace where their prince resides,) <br>And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides. <br>They go commission’d to require a peace, <br>And carry presents to procure access. 210 <br>Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs <br>His new-elected seat, and draws the lines. <br>The Trojans round the place a rampire cast, <br>And palisades about the trenches plac’d. <br>Meantime the train, proceeding on their way, 215 <br>From far the town and lofty tow’rs survey; <br>At length approach the walls. Without the gate, <br>They see the boys and Latian youth debate <br>The martial prizes on the dusty plain: <br>Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein; 220 <br>Some bend the stubborn bow for victory, <br>And some with darts their active sinews try. <br>A posting messenger, dispatch’d from hence, <br>Of this fair troop advis’d their aged prince, <br>That foreign men of mighty stature came; 225 <br>Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name. <br>The king ordains their entrance, and ascends <br>His regal seat, surrounded by his friends. <br>The palace built by Picus, vast and proud, <br>Supported by a hundred pillars stood, 230 <br>And round incompass’d with a rising wood. <br>The pile o’erlook’d the town, and drew the sight; <br>Surpris’d at once with reverence and delight. <br>There kings receiv’d the marks of sov’reign pow’r; <br>In state the monarchs march’d; the lictors bore 235 <br>Their awful axes and the rods before. <br>Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray’r, <br>And here the sacred senators repair; <br>All at large tables, in long order set, <br>A ram their off’ring, and a ram their meat. 240 <br>Above the portal, carv’d in cedar wood, <br>Plac’d in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood; <br>Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high; <br>And Italus, that led the colony; <br>And ancient Janus, with his double face, 245 <br>And bunch of keys, the porter of the place. <br>There good Sabinus, planter of the vines, <br>On a short pruning hook his head reclines, <br>And studiously surveys his gen’rous wines; <br>Then warlike kings, who for their country fought, 250 <br>And honorable wounds from battle brought. <br>Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears, <br>And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars, <br>And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars. <br>Above the rest, as chief of all the band, 255 <br>Was Picus plac’d, a buckler in his hand; <br>His other wav’d a long divining wand. <br>Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate, <br>Yet could not with his art avoid his fate: <br>For Circe long had lov’d the youth in vain, 260 <br>Till love, refus’d, converted to disdain: <br>Then, mixing pow’rful herbs, with magic art, <br>She chang’d his form, who could not change his heart; <br>Constrain’d him in a bird, and made him fly, <br>With party-color’d plumes, a chatt’ring pie. 265 <br>In this high temple, on a chair of state, <br>The seat of audience, old Latinus sate; <br>Then gave admission to the Trojan train; <br>And thus with pleasing accents he began: <br>“Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own, 270 <br>Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown— <br>Say what you seek, and whither were you bound: <br>Were you by stress of weather cast aground? <br>(Such dangers as on seas are often seen, <br>And oft befall to miserable men,) 275 <br>Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay, <br>Spent and disabled in so long a way? <br>Say what you want: the Latians you shall find <br>Not forc’d to goodness, but by will inclin’d; <br>For, since the time of Saturn’s holy reign, 280 <br>His hospitable customs we retain. <br>I call to mind (but time the tale has worn) <br>Th’ Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho’ born <br>On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore, <br>And Samothracia, Samos call’d before. 285 <br>From Tuscan Coritum he claim’d his birth; <br>But after, when exempt from mortal earth, <br>From thence ascended to his kindred skies, <br>A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice.” <br>He said. Ilioneus made this reply: 290 <br>“O king, of Faunus’ royal family! <br>Nor wintry winds to Latium forc’d our way, <br>Nor did the stars our wand’ring course betray. <br>Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound, <br>The port, so long desir’d, at length we found; 295 <br>From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell’d; <br>Great as the greatest that the sun beheld. <br>The god began our line, who rules above; <br>And, as our race, our king descends from Jove: <br>And hither are we come, by his command, 300 <br>To crave admission in your happy land. <br>How dire a tempest, from Mycenæ pour’d, <br>Our plains, our temples, and our town devour’d; <br>What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms <br>Shook Asia’s crown with European arms; 305 <br>Ev’n such have heard, if any such there be, <br>Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea; <br>And such as, born beneath the burning sky <br>And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie. <br>From that dire deluge, thro’ the wat’ry waste, 310 <br>Such length of years, such various perils past, <br>At last escap’d, to Latium we repair, <br>To beg what you without your want may spare: <br>The common water, and the common air; <br>Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes, 315 <br>Fit to receive and serve our banish’d gods. <br>Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace, <br>Nor length of time our gratitude efface. <br>Besides, what endless honor you shall gain, <br>To save and shelter Troy’s unhappy train! 320 <br>Now, by my sov’reign, and his fate, I swear, <br>Renown’d for faith in peace, for force in war; <br>Oft our alliance other lands desir’d, <br>And, what we seek of you, of us requir’d. <br>Despite not then, that in our hands we bear 325 <br>These holy boughs, and sue with words of pray’r. <br>Fate and the gods, by their supreme command, <br>Have doom’d our ships to seek the Latian land. <br>To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends; <br>Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends; 330 <br>Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force, <br>And where Numicus opes his holy source. <br>Besides, our prince presents, with his request, <br>Some small remains of what his sire possess’d. <br>This golden charger, snatch’d from burning Troy, 335 <br>Anchises did in sacrifice employ; <br>This royal robe and this tiara wore <br>Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore <br>In full assemblies, and in solemn games; <br>These purple vests were weav’d by Dardan dames.” 340 <br>Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll’d around <br>His eyes, and fix’d a while upon the ground. <br>Intent he seem’d, and anxious in his breast; <br>Not by the scepter mov’d, or kingly vest, <br>But pond’ring future things of wondrous weight; 345 <br>Succession, empire, and his daughter’s fate. <br>On these he mus’d within his thoughtful mind, <br>And then revolv’d what Faunus had divin’d. <br>This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed <br>To share his scepter, and Lavinia’s bed; 350 <br>This was the race that sure portents foreshew <br>To sway the world, and land and sea subdue. <br>At length he rais’d his cheerful head, and spoke: <br>“The pow’rs,” said he, “the pow’rs we both invoke, <br>To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be, 355 <br>And firm our purpose with their augury! <br>Have what you ask; your presents I receive; <br>Land, where and when you please, with ample leave; <br>Partake and use my kingdom as your own; <br>All shall be yours, while I command the crown: 360 <br>And, if my wish’d alliance please your king, <br>Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring. <br>Then let him not a friend’s embraces fear; <br>The peace is made when I behold him here. <br>Besides this answer, tell my royal guest, 365 <br>I add to his commands my own request: <br>One only daughter heirs my crown and state, <br>Whom not our oracles, nor Heav’n, nor fate, <br>Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join <br>With any native of th’ Ausonian line. 370 <br>A foreign son-in-law shall come from far <br>(Such is our doom), a chief renown’d in war, <br>Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name, <br>And thro’ the conquer’d world diffuse our fame. <br>Himself to be the man the fates require, 375 <br>I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire.” <br>He said, and then on each bestow’d a steed. <br>Three hundred horses, in high stables fed, <br>Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress’d: <br>Of these he chose the fairest and the best, 380 <br>To mount the Trojan troop. At his command <br>The steeds caparison’d with purple stand, <br>With golden trappings, glorious to behold, <br>And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold. <br>Then to his absent guest the king decreed 385 <br>A pair of coursers born of heav’nly breed, <br>Who from their nostrils breath’d ethereal fire; <br>Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire, <br>By substituting mares produc’d on earth, <br>Whose wombs conceiv’d a more than mortal birth. 390 <br>These draw the chariot which Latinus sends, <br>And the rich present to the prince commends. <br>Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne, <br>To their expecting lord with peace return. <br>But jealous Juno, from Pachynus’ height, 395 <br>As she from Argos took her airy flight, <br>Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight. <br>She saw the Trojan and his joyful train <br>Descend upon the shore, desert the main, <br>Design a town, and, with unhop’d success, 400 <br>Th’ embassadors return with promis’d peace. <br>Then, pierc’d with pain, she shook her haughty head, <br>Sigh’d from her inward soul, and thus she said: <br>“O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes! <br>O fates of Troy, which Juno’s fates oppose! 405 <br>Could they not fall unpitied on the plain, <br>But slain revive, and, taken, scape again? <br>When execrable Troy in ashes lay, <br>Thro’ fires and swords and seas they forc’d their way. <br>Then vanquish’d Juno must in vain contend, 410 <br>Her rage disarm’d, her empire at an end. <br>Breathless and tir’d, is all my fury spent? <br>Or does my glutted spleen at length relent? <br>As if ’t were little from their town to chase, <br>I thro’ the seas pursued their exil’d race; 415 <br>Ingag’d the heav’ns, oppos’d the stormy main; <br>But billows roar’d, and tempests rag’d in vain. <br>What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done, <br>When these they overpass, and those they shun? <br>On Tiber’s shores they land, secure of fate, 420 <br>Triumphant o’er the storms and Juno’s hate. <br>Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe, <br>And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia’s wrath, <br>Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon; <br>(What great offense had either people done?) 425 <br>But I, the consort of the Thunderer, <br>Have wag’d a long and unsuccessful war, <br>With various arts and arms in vain have toil’d, <br>And by a mortal man at length am foil’d. <br>If native pow’r prevail not, shall I doubt 430 <br>To seek for needful succor from without? <br>If Jove and Heav’n my just desires deny, <br>Hell shall the pow’r of Heav’n and Jove supply. <br>Grant that the Fates have firm’d, by their decree, <br>The Trojan race to reign in Italy; 435 <br>At least I can defer the nuptial day, <br>And with protracted wars the peace delay: <br>With blood the dear alliance shall be bought, <br>And both the people near destruction brought; <br>So shall the son-in-law and father join, 440 <br>With ruin, war, and waste of either line. <br>O fatal maid, thy marriage is endow’d <br>With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood! <br>Bellona leads thee to thy lover’s hand; <br>Another queen brings forth another brand, 445 <br>To burn with foreign fires another land! <br>A second Paris, diff’ring but in name, <br>Shall fire his country with a second flame.” <br>Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground, <br>With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound, 450 <br>To rouse Alecto from th’ infernal seat <br>Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat. <br>This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose; <br>One who delights in wars and human woes. <br>Ev’n Pluto hates his own misshapen race; 455 <br>Her sister Furies fly her hideous face; <br>So frightful are the forms the monster takes, <br>So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes. <br>Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite: <br>“O virgin daughter of eternal Night, 460 <br>Give me this once thy labor, to sustain <br>My right, and execute my just disdain. <br>Let not the Trojans, with a feign’d pretense <br>Of proffer’d peace, delude the Latian prince. <br>Expel from Italy that odious name, 465 <br>And let not Juno suffer in her fame. <br>’T is thine to ruin realms, o’erturn a state, <br>Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate, <br>And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate. <br>Thy hand o’er towns the fun’ral torch displays, 470 <br>And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways. <br>Now shake, from out thy fruitful breast, the seeds <br>Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds: <br>Confound the peace establish’d, and prepare <br>Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war.” 475 <br>Smear’d as she was with black Gorgonian blood, <br>The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood; <br>And on her wicker wings, sublime thro’ night, <br>She to the Latian palace took her flight: <br>There sought the queen’s apartment, stood before 480 <br>The peaceful threshold, and besieg’d the door. <br>Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast <br>Fir’d with disdain for Turnus dispossess’d, <br>And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest. <br>From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes 485 <br>Her darling plague, the fav’rite of her snakes; <br>With her full force she threw the pois’nous dart, <br>And fix’d it deep within Amata’s heart, <br>That, thus envenom’d, she might kindle rage, <br>And sacrifice to strife her house and husband’s age. 490 <br>Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims <br>Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs; <br>His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides, <br>Now like a chain around her neck he rides, <br>Now like a fillet to her head repairs, 495 <br>And with his circling volumes folds her hairs. <br>At first the silent venom slid with ease, <br>And seiz’d her cooler senses by degrees; <br>Then, ere th’ infected mass was fir’d too far, <br>In plaintive accents she began the war, 500 <br>And thus bespoke her husband: “Shall,” she said, <br>“A wand’ring prince enjoy Lavinia’s bed? <br>If nature plead not in a parent’s heart, <br>Pity my tears, and pity her desert. <br>I know, my dearest lord, the time will come, 505 <br>You would, in vain, reverse your cruel doom; <br>The faithless pirate soon will set to sea, <br>And bear the royal virgin far away! <br>A guest like him, a Trojan guest before, <br>In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore, 510 <br>And ravish’d Helen from her husband bore. <br>Think on a king’s inviolable word; <br>And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord: <br>To this false foreigner you give your throne, <br>And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son. 515 <br>Resume your ancient care; and, if the god <br>Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood, <br>Know all are foreign, in a larger sense, <br>Not born your subjects, or deriv’d from hence. <br>Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace, 520 <br>He springs from Inachus of Argive race.” <br>But when she saw her reasons idly spent, <br>And could not move him from his fix’d intent, <br>She flew to rage; for now the snake possess’d <br>Her vital parts, and poison’d all her breast; 525 <br>She raves, she runs with a distracted pace, <br>And fills with horrid howls the public place. <br>And, as young striplings whip the top for sport, <br>On the smooth pavement of an empty court; <br>The wooden engine flies and whirls about, 530 <br>Admir’d, with clamors, of the beardless rout; <br>They lash aloud; each other they provoke, <br>And lend their little souls at ev’ry stroke: <br>Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows <br>Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes. 535 <br>Nor yet content, she strains her malice more, <br>And adds new ills to those contriv’d before: <br>She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng <br>Of madding matrons, bears the bride along, <br>Wand’ring thro’ woods and wilds, and devious ways, 540 <br>And with these arts the Trojan match delays. <br>She feign’d the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud, <br>And to the buxom god the virgin vow’d. <br>“Evoe! O Bacchus!” thus began the song; <br>And “Evoe!” answer’d all the female throng. 545 <br>“O virgin! worthy thee alone!” she cried; <br>“O worthy thee alone!” the crew replied. <br>“For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance, <br>And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance.” <br>Like fury seiz’d the rest; the progress known, 550 <br>All seek the mountains, and forsake the town: <br>All, clad in skins of beasts, the jav’lin bear, <br>Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair, <br>And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff’ring air. <br>The queen herself, inspir’d with rage divine, 555 <br>Shook high above her head a flaming pine; <br>Then roll’d her haggard eyes around the throng, <br>And sung, in Turnus’ name, the nuptial song: <br>“Io, ye Latian dames! if any here <br>Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear; 560 <br>If there be here,” she said, “who dare maintain <br>My right, nor think the name of mother vain; <br>Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair, <br>And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare.” <br>Amata’s breast the Fury thus invades, 565 <br>And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades; <br>Then, when she found her venom spread so far, <br>The royal house embroil’d in civil war, <br>Rais’d on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies, <br>And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies. 570 <br>His town, as fame reports, was built of old <br>By Danæ, pregnant with almighty gold, <br>Who fled her father’s rage, and, with a train <br>Of following Argives, thro’ the stormy main, <br>Driv’n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign. 575 <br>’T was Ardua once; now Ardea’s name it bears; <br>Once a fair city, now consum’d with years. <br>Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay, <br>Betwixt the confines of the night and day, <br>Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside 580 <br>Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried <br>The foulness of th’ infernal form to hide. <br>Propp’d on a staff, she takes a trembling mien: <br>Her face is furrow’d, and her front obscene; <br>Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws; 585 <br>Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws; <br>Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound, <br>Her temples with an olive wreath are crown’d. <br>Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane <br>Of Juno, now she seem’d, and thus began, 590 <br>Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man: <br>“Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain <br>In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain? <br>Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize, <br>Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories? 595 <br>The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought, <br>The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought. <br>Go now, deluded man, and seek again <br>New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain. <br>Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize; 600 <br>Protect the Latians in luxurious ease. <br>This dream all-pow’rful Juno sends; I bear <br>Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear. <br>Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain; <br>With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train: 605 <br>Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie <br>In Tiber’s mouth, with fire and sword destroy. <br>The Latian king, unless he shall submit, <br>Own his old promise, and his new forget— <br>Let him, in arms, the pow’r of Turnus prove, 610 <br>And learn to fear whom he disdains to love. <br>For such is Heav’n’s command.” The youthful prince <br>With scorn replied, and made this bold defense: <br>“You tell me, mother, what I knew before: <br>The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore. 615 <br>I neither fear nor will provoke the war; <br>My fate is Juno’s most peculiar care. <br>But time has made you dote, and vainly tell <br>Of arms imagin’d in your lonely cell. <br>Go; be the temple and the gods your care; 620 <br>Permit to men the thought of peace and war.” <br>These haughty words Alecto’s rage provoke, <br>And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke. <br>Her eyes grow stiffen’d, and with sulphur burn; <br>Her hideous looks and hellish form return; 625 <br>Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place, <br>And open all the furies of her face: <br>Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes, <br>She cast him backward as he strove to rise, <br>And, ling’ring, sought to frame some new replies. 630 <br>High on her head she rears two twisted snakes, <br>Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes; <br>And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks: <br>“Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell <br>Of arms imagin’d in her lonely cell! 635 <br>Behold the Fates’ infernal minister! <br>War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear.” <br>Thus having said, her smold’ring torch, impress’d <br>With her full force, she plung’d into his breast. <br>Aghast he wak’d; and, starting from his bed, 640 <br>Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o’erspread. <br>“Arms! arms!” he cries: “my sword and shield prepare!” <br>He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war. <br>So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries, <br>The bubbling waters from the bottom rise: 645 <br>Above the brims they force their fiery way; <br>Black vapors climb aloft, and cloud the day. <br>The peace polluted thus, a chosen band <br>He first commissions to the Latian land, <br>In threat’ning embassy; then rais’d the rest, 650 <br>To meet in arms th’ intruding Trojan guest, <br>To force the foes from the Lavinian shore, <br>And Italy’s indanger’d peace restore. <br>Himself alone an equal match he boasts, <br>To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts. 655 <br>The gods invok’d, the Rutuli prepare <br>Their arms, and warn each other to the war. <br>His beauty these, and those his blooming age, <br>The rest his house and his own fame ingage. <br>While Turnus urges thus his enterprise, 660 <br>The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies; <br>New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand, <br>Which overlooks the vale with wide command; <br>Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train, <br>With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain, 665 <br>And pitch their toils around the shady plain. <br>The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent, <br>And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent. <br>’Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise <br>High o’er his front; his beams invade the skies. 670 <br>From this light cause th’ infernal maid prepares <br>The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars. <br>The stately beast the two Tyrrhidæ bred, <br>Snatch’d from his dams, and the tame youngling fed. <br>Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring, 675 <br>Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king: <br>Their sister Silvia cherish’d with her care <br>The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare <br>To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied <br>His tender neck, and comb’d his silken hide, 680 <br>And bath’d his body. Patient of command <br>In time he grew, and, growing us’d to hand, <br>He waited at his master’s board for food; <br>Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood, <br>Where grazing all the day, at night he came 685 <br>To his known lodgings, and his country dame. <br>This household beast, that us’d the woodland grounds, <br>Was view’d at first by the young hero’s hounds, <br>As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat <br>In the cool waters, and to quench his heat. 690 <br>Ascanius young, and eager of his game, <br>Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim; <br>But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides, <br>Which pierc’d his bowels thro’ his panting sides. <br>The bleeding creature issues from the floods, 695 <br>Possess’d with fear, and seeks his known abodes, <br>His old familiar hearth and household gods. <br>He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans, <br>Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans. <br>Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud 700 <br>For succor from the clownish neighborhood: <br>The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay <br>In the close woody covert, urg’d their way. <br>One with a brand yet burning from the flame, <br>Arm’d with a knotty club another came: 705 <br>Whate’er they catch or find, without their care, <br>Their fury makes an instrument of war. <br>Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast, <br>Then clench’d a hatchet in his horny fist, <br>But held his hand from the descending stroke, 710 <br>And left his wedge within the cloven oak, <br>To whet their courage and their rage provoke. <br>And now the goddess, exercis’d in ill, <br>Who watch’d an hour to work her impious will, <br>Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn, 715 <br>Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne, <br>Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around, <br>And mountains, tremble at th’ infernal sound. <br>The sacred lake of Trivia from afar, <br>The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar, 720 <br>Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war. <br>Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess’d, <br>And strain their helpless infants to their breast. <br>The clowns, a boist’rous, rude, ungovern’d crew, <br>With furious haste to the loud summons flew. 725 <br>The pow’rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain, <br>With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain: <br>Not theirs a raw and unexperienc’d train, <br>But a firm body of embattled men. <br>At first, while fortune favor’d neither side, 730 <br>The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried; <br>But now, both parties reinforc’d, the fields <br>Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields. <br>A shining harvest either host displays, <br>And shoots against the sun with equal rays. 735 <br>Thus, when a black-brow’d gust begins to rise, <br>White foam at first on the curl’d ocean fries; <br>Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies; <br>Till, by the fury of the storm full blown, <br>The muddy bottom o’er the clouds is thrown. 740 <br>First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus’ eldest care, <br>Pierc’d with an arrow from the distant war: <br>Fix’d in his throat the flying weapon stood, <br>And stopp’d his breath, and drank his vital blood <br>Huge heaps of slain around the body rise: 745 <br>Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies; <br>A good old man, while peace he preach’d in vain, <br>Amidst the madness of th’ unruly train: <br>Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill’d; <br>His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till’d. 750 <br>Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood <br>The Fury bath’d them in each other’s blood; <br>Then, having fix’d the fight, exulting flies, <br>And bears fulfill’d her promise to the skies. <br>To Juno thus she speaks: “Behold! ’t is done, 755 <br>The blood already drawn, the war begun; <br>The discord is complete; nor can they cease <br>The dire debate, nor you command the peace. <br>Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood <br>Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood; 760 <br>Speak, and my pow’r shall add this office more: <br>The neighb’ring nations of th’ Ausonian shore <br>Shall hear the dreadful rumor, from afar, <br>Of arm’d invasion, and embrace the war.” <br>Then Juno thus: “The grateful work is done, 765 <br>The seeds of discord sow’d, the war begun; <br>Frauds, fears, and fury have possess’d the state, <br>And fix’d the causes of a lasting hate. <br>A bloody Hymen shall th’ alliance join <br>Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line: 770 <br>But thou with speed to night and hell repair; <br>For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear <br>Thy lawless wand’ring walks in upper air. <br>Leave what remains to me.” Saturnia said: <br>The sullen fiend her sounding wings display’d, 775 <br>Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade. <br>In midst of Italy, well known to fame, <br>There lies a lake (Amsanctus is the name) <br>Below the lofty mounts: on either side <br>Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide. 780 <br>Full in the center of the sacred wood <br>An arm arises of the Stygian flood, <br>Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound, <br>Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around. <br>Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell, 785 <br>And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell. <br>To this infernal lake the Fury flies; <br>Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab’ring skies. <br>Saturnian Juno now, with double care, <br>Attends the fatal process of the war. 790 <br>The clowns, return’d, from battle bear the slain, <br>Implore the gods, and to their king complain. <br>The corps of Almon and the rest are shown; <br>Shrieks, clamors, murmurs, fill the frighted town. <br>Ambitious Turnus in the press appears, 795 <br>And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears; <br>Proclaims his private injuries aloud, <br>A solemn promise made, and disavow’d; <br>A foreign son is sought, and a mix’d mungril brood. <br>Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear, 800 <br>In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear, <br>And lead his dances with dishevel’d hair, <br>Increase the clamor, and the war demand, <br>(Such was Amata’s interest in the land,) <br>Against the public sanctions of the peace, 805 <br>Against all omens of their ill success. <br>With fates averse, the rout in arms resort, <br>To force their monarch, and insult the court. <br>But, like a rock unmov’d, a rock that braves <br>The raging tempest and the rising waves— 810 <br>Propp’d on himself he stands; his solid sides <br>Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides— <br>So stood the pious prince, unmov’d, and long <br>Sustain’d the madness of the noisy throng. <br>But, when he found that Juno’s pow’r prevail’d, 815 <br>And all the methods of cool counsel fail’d, <br>He calls the gods to witness their offense, <br>Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence. <br>“Hurried by fate,” he cries, “and borne before <br>A furious wind, we leave the faithful shore. 820 <br>O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear <br>The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war: <br>Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate, <br>And pray to Heav’n for peace, but pray too late. <br>For me, my stormy voyage at an end, 825 <br>I to the port of death securely tend. <br>The fun’ral pomp which to your kings you pay, <br>Is all I want, and all you take away.” <br>He said no more, but, in his walls confin’d, <br>Shut out the woes which he too well divin’d; 830 <br>Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive, <br>But left the helm, and let the vessel drive. <br>A solemn custom was observ’d of old, <br>Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold, <br>Their standard when in fighting fields they rear 835 <br>Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare <br>The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war; <br>Or from the boasting Parthians would regain <br>Their eagles, lost in Carrhæ’s bloody plain. <br>Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear, 840 <br>And still are worship’d with religious fear) <br>Before his temple stand: the dire abode, <br>And the fear’d issues of the furious god, <br>Are fenc’d with brazen bolts; without the gates, <br>The wary guardian Janus doubly waits. 845 <br>Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars, <br>The Roman consul their decree declares, <br>And in his robes the sounding gates unbars. <br>The youth in military shouts arise, <br>And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies. 850 <br>These rites, of old by sov’reign princes us’d, <br>Were the king’s office; but the king refus’d, <br>Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar <br>Of sacred peace, or loose th’ imprison’d war; <br>But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms, 855 <br>Abhorr’d the wicked ministry of arms. <br>Then heav’n’s imperious queen shot down from high: <br>At her approach the brazen hinges fly; <br>The gates are forc’d, and ev’ry falling bar; <br>And, like a tempest, issues out the war. 860 <br>The peaceful cities of th’ Ausonian shore, <br>Lull’d in their ease, and undisturb’d before, <br>Are all on fire; and some, with studious care, <br>Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare; <br>Some their soft limbs in painful marches try, 865 <br>And war is all their wish, and arms the gen’ral cry. <br>Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part <br>New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart: <br>With joy they view the waving ensigns fly, <br>And hear the trumpet’s clangor pierce the sky. 870 <br>Five cities forge their arms: th’ Atinian pow’rs, <br>Antemnæ, Tibur with her lofty tow’rs, <br>Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town: <br>All these of old were places of renown. <br>Some hammer helmets for the fighting field; 875 <br>Some twine young sallows to support the shield; <br>The croslet some, and some the cuishes mold, <br>With silver plated, and with ductile gold. <br>The rustic honors of the scythe and share <br>Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war. 880 <br>Old fauchions are new temper’d in the fires; <br>The sounding trumpet ev’ry soul inspires. <br>The word is giv’n; with eager speed they lace <br>The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace. <br>The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied; 885 <br>The trusty weapon sits on ev’ry side. <br>And now the mighty labor is begun— <br>Ye Muses, open all your Helicon. <br>Sing you the chiefs that sway’d th’ Ausonian land, <br>Their arms, and armies under their command; 890 <br>What warriors in our ancient clime were bred; <br>What soldiers follow’d, and what heroes led. <br>For well you know, and can record alone, <br>What fame to future times conveys but darkly down. <br>Mezentius first appear’d upon the plain: 895 <br>Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain, <br>Defying earth and heav’n. Etruria lost, <br>He brings to Turnus’ aid his baffled host. <br>The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire, <br>Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire; 900 <br>To Turnus only second in the grace <br>Of manly mien, and features of the face. <br>A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred, <br>With fates averse a thousand men he led: <br>His sire unworthy of so brave a son; 905 <br>Himself well worthy of a happier throne. <br>Next Aventinus drives his chariot round <br>The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown’d. <br>Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field; <br>His father’s hydra fills his ample shield: 910 <br>A hundred serpents hiss about the brims; <br>The son of Hercules he justly seems <br>By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs; <br>Of heav’nly part, and part of earthly blood, <br>A mortal woman mixing with a god. 915 <br>For strong Alcides, after he had slain <br>The triple Geryon, drove from conquer’d Spain <br>His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led, <br>On Tuscan Tiber’s flow’ry banks they fed. <br>Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove 920 <br>The priestess Rhea found, and forc’d to love. <br>For arms, his men long piles and jav’lins bore; <br>And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore. <br>Like Hercules himself his son appears, <br>In salvage pomp; a lion’s hide he wears; 925 <br>About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin; <br>The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin. <br>Thus, like the god his father, homely dress’d, <br>He strides into the hall, a horrid guest. <br>Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came, 930 <br>(Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,) <br>Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear: <br>Arm’d Argive horse they led, and in the front appear. <br>Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain’s height <br>With rapid course descending to the fight; 935 <br>They rush along; the rattling woods give way; <br>The branches bend before their sweepy sway. <br>Nor was Præneste’s founder wanting there, <br>Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber: <br>Found in the fire, and foster’d in the plains, 940 <br>A shepherd and a king at once he reigns, <br>And leads to Turnus’ aid his country swains. <br>His own Præneste sends a chosen band, <br>With those who plow Saturnia’s Gabine land; <br>Besides the succor which cold Anien yields, 945 <br>The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields, <br>Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene— <br>A num’rous rout, but all of naked men: <br>Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield, <br>Nor drive the chariot thro’ the dusty field, 950 <br>But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead, <br>And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head; <br>The left foot naked, when they march to fight, <br>But in a bull’s raw hide they sheathe the right. <br>Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,) 955 <br>Secure of steel, and fated from the fire, <br>In pomp appears, and with his ardor warms <br>A heartless train, unexercis’d in arms: <br>The just Faliscans he to battle brings, <br>And those who live where Lake Ciminia springs; 960 <br>And where Feronia’s grove and temple stands, <br>Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands. <br>All these in order march, and marching sing <br>The warlike actions of their sea-born king; <br>Like a long team of snowy swans on high, 965 <br>Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky, <br>When, homeward from their wat’ry pastures borne, <br>They sing, and Asia’s lakes their notes return. <br>Not one who heard their music from afar, <br>Would think these troops an army train’d to war, 970 <br>But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar, <br>With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore. <br>Then Clausus came, who led a num’rous band <br>Of troops embodied from the Sabine land, <br>And, in himself alone, an army brought. 975 <br>’T was he, the noble Claudian race begot, <br>The Claudian race, ordain’d, in times to come, <br>To share the greatness of imperial Rome. <br>He led the Cures forth, of old renown, <br>Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town, 980 <br>And all th’ Eretian pow’rs; besides a band <br>That follow’d from Velinum’s dewy land, <br>And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame, <br>And mountaineers, that from Severus came, <br>And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica, 985 <br>And those where yellow Tiber takes his way, <br>And where Himella’s wanton waters play. <br>Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie <br>By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli: <br>The warlike aids of Horta next appear, 990 <br>And the cold Nursians come to close the rear, <br>Mix’d with the natives born of Latine blood, <br>Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood. <br>Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main, <br>When pale Orion sets in wintry rain; 995 <br>Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise, <br>Or Lycian fields, when Phœbus burns the skies, <br>Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around; <br>Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground. <br>High in his chariot then Halesus came, 1000 <br>A foe by birth to Troy’s unhappy name: <br>From Agamemnon born—to Turnus’ aid <br>A thousand men the youthful hero led, <br>Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown’d, <br>And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground, 1005 <br>And those who live by Sidicinian shores, <br>And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars, <br>Cales’ and Osca’s old inhabitants, <br>And rough Saticulans, inur’d to wants: <br>Light demi-lances from afar they throw, 1010 <br>Fasten’d with leathern thongs, to gall the foe. <br>Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear; <br>And on their warding arm light bucklers bear. <br>Nor OEbalus, shalt thou be left unsung, <br>From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung, 1015 <br>Who then in Teleboan Capri reign’d; <br>But that short isle th’ ambitious youth disdain’d, <br>And o’er Campania stretch’d his ample sway, <br>Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea; <br>O’er Batulum, and where Abella sees, 1020 <br>From her high tow’rs, the harvest of her trees. <br>And these (as was the Teuton use of old) <br>Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold; <br>Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight; <br>Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light. 1025 <br>Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went, <br>And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent. <br>The rude Equicolæ his rule obey’d; <br>Hunting their sport, and plund’ring was their trade. <br>In arms they plow’d, to battle still prepar’d: 1030 <br>Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard. <br>Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led, <br>By King Archippus sent to Turnus’ aid, <br>And peaceful olives crown’d his hoary head. <br>His wand and holy words, the viper’s rage, 1035 <br>And venom’d wounds of serpents could assuage. <br>He, when he pleas’d with powerful juice to steep <br>Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep. <br>But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art, <br>To cure the wound giv’n by the Dardan dart: 1040 <br>Yet his untimely fate th’ Angitian woods <br>In sighs remurmur’d to the Fucine floods. <br>The son of fam’d Hippolytus was there, <br>Fam’d as his sire, and, as his mother, fair; <br>Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore, 1045 <br>And nurs’d his youth along the marshy shore, <br>Where great Diana’s peaceful altars flame, <br>In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name. <br>Hippolytus, as old records have said, <br>Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed; 1050 <br>But, when no female arts his mind could move, <br>She turn’d to furious hate her impious love. <br>Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore, <br>Another’s crimes th’ unhappy hunter bore, <br>Glutting his father’s eyes with guiltless gore. 1055 <br>But chaste Diana, who his death deplor’d, <br>With Æsculapian herbs his life restor’d. <br>Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain, <br>The dead inspir’d with vital breath again, <br>Struck to the center, with his flaming dart, 1060 <br>Th’ unhappy founder of the godlike art. <br>But Trivia kept in secret shades alone <br>Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown; <br>And call’d him Virbius in th’ Egerian grove, <br>Where then he liv’d obscure, but safe from Jove. 1065 <br>For this, from Trivia’s temple and her wood <br>Are coursers driv’n, who shed their master’s blood, <br>Affrighted by the monsters of the flood. <br>His son, the second Virbius, yet retain’d <br>His father’s art, and warrior steeds he rein’d. 1070 <br>Amid the troops, and like the leading god, <br>High o’er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode: <br>A triple pile of plumes his crest adorn’d, <br>On which with belching flames Chimæra burn’d: <br>The more the kindled combat rises high’r, 1075 <br>The more with fury burns the blazing fire. <br>Fair Io grac’d his shield; but Io now <br>With horns exalted stands, and seems to low— <br>A noble charge! Her keeper by her side, <br>To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied; 1080 <br>And on the brims her sire, the wat’ry god, <br>Roll’d from a silver urn his crystal flood. <br>A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields <br>With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt’ring shields; <br>Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands, 1085 <br>And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands; <br>Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields, <br>And the proud Labicans, with painted shields, <br>And those who near Numician streams reside. <br>And those whom Tiber’s holy forests hide, 1090 <br>Or Circe’s hills from the main land divide; <br>Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands, <br>Or the black water of Pomptina stands. <br>Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came, <br>And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame; 1095 <br>Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill’d, <br>She chose the nobler Pallas of the field. <br>Mix’d with the first, the fierce virago fought, <br>Sustain’d the toils of arms, the danger sought, <br>Outstripp’d the winds in speed upon the plain, 1100 <br>Flew o’er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain: <br>She swept the seas, and, as she skimm’d along, <br>Her flying feet unbath’d on billows hung. <br>Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise, <br>Where’er she passes, fix their wond’ring eyes: 1105 <br>Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight, <br>Devour her o’er and o’er with vast delight; <br>Her purple habit sits with such a grace <br>On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face; <br>Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown’d, 1110 <br>And in a golden caul the curls are bound. <br>She shakes her myrtle jav’lin; and, behind, <br>Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Publius+Vergilius+Maro">Publius Vergilius Maro</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=479715" data-title="The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7 de Publius Vergilius Maro" data-description="AND thou, O matron of immortal fame, Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name; Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee, The nurse of great Æneas’ infancy. Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; 5 Thy name (’t is all a g..."></div> </div> </div>

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