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