The Trojan dames receive her, and recountThe woes of Priam's house, the streams of bloodThat single stock has spent. Thee too, O, maid!They weep; and thee, a royal spouse so late,And royal parent stil'd; pride of the realmOf glorious Asia; now a mournful lotAmid the spoil; whom Ithacus would scornTo own, great Hector hadst thou not brought forth:The name of Hector scarce a master finds,To claim his mother. She, the lifeless trunkEmbracing, which had held a soul so brave,Tears pour'd; tears often had she pour'd before,For country, husband, children—now for herThose tears gush'd in the wound; lips press'd to lips;And beat that breast which oft with grievous blowsWas punish'd. Sweeping 'mid the clotted bloodHer silver'd tresses; all these plaints, and moreShe utter'd, as she still her bosom rent.
“My child, thy mother's last afflicting grief“(For who is spar'd me?) low, my child, thou ly'st;“And in thy wound, I all my wounds behold.“Yes, lest a single remnant of my race“Unslaughter'd should expire, thou too must bleed.“A female, thee, safe from the sword I thought:“A female, thee the sword has stretch'd in death.“The same Achilles, ruiner of Troy,“Bereaver of my offspring, all destroy'd,—“Yes, all thy brethren, he, now murders thee!“Yet when by Paris' and Apollo's darts“He fell,—now, surely,—said I,—now no more“Pelides need be dreaded! Yet ev'n now,“Dreadful to me he proves. Inurned, rage“His ashes 'gainst our hapless race; we feel“Ev'n in his grave the anger of this foe.“I fruitful only for Pelides prov'd.“Low lies proud Iliüm, and the public woe,“The heavy ruin ends: if ended yet:“For Troy to me still stands; my sufferings still“Roll endless on. I, late in power so high,“Great in my children, in my husband great,“Am now dragg'd forth in poverty; exil'd“From all my children's tombs; a gift to please“Penelopé; who, while my daily task“She gives to Ithaca's proud dames, will taunt,“And cry;—of Hector, the fam'd mother see!“Lo! Priam's spouse!—And thou who sole wast spar'd“To soothe maternal pangs, so many lost,“Now bleed'st, atonement to an hostile shade:“And funeral victims has my womb produc'd“T' appease a foe. Why holds this stubborn heart?“Why still delay I? What to me avails“This loath'd, this long-protracted life? Why spin,“O, cruel deities! the lengthen'd thread“Of an old wretch, save that she yet may see“More deaths? Who e'er could Priam happy deem,“Iliüm o'erthrown? Yet happy was his death,“Thy sacrifice, my daughter! not to see;“At once of life and realm bereft. Yet sure“O, royal maid! funereal rites await“Thy last remains; thy corse will be inhum'd“In ancestorial sepulchres. Ah, no!“Such fortune smiles not on our house; the tears“A mother can bestow, are all thy gifts;“Sprinkled with foreign dust. All have I lost.“Of the whole stock I could as parent boast,“To tempt me now still longer to sustain“This life, my Polydore alone is left;“Once least of all my manly sons, erst given“To Thracia's monarch's care, upon these shores.“But why delay to cleanse that ghastly wound“With water, and that face, with spouting blood“Besmear'd.”—She ceas'd, and bent her tottering steps,With torn and scatter'd locks down to the shore.And as the hapless wretch—“O, Trojans!”—cry'd,“An urn supply to draw the liquid waves;”—The corse of Polydore, flung on the beachShe saw, pierc'd deep with wounds of Thracian steel.Loud shriek'd the Trojan matrons; she by griefDumb-stricken stood. Affliction keen suppress'dHer rising moans, and ready-springing tears:Stupid, and like a rigid stone she stood.Now on the earth her eyes are fixt; and nowTo heaven her furious countenance she lifts:Now dwells she on his face, now on the woundsHer son receiv'd, and on the wounds the most:And now her bosom with collected rageFuriously burning, all on vengeance fierceHer soul is bent, as still in power a queen.As storms a lioness robb'd of her cub,The track pursuing of her flying foe,Whom yet she sees not: rage and grief were mixtJust so in Hecuba; of her old yearsRegardless, mindful of her ire alone.She Polymnestor seeks, of the dire deedThe perpetrator, and his ear demands—That more of gold, intended for her boy,Her wish was to disclose. The Thracian kingHeard credulous; lur'd by his wonted loveOf gain, with her withdrew, and wily thus;With coaxing words;—“quick, Hecuba!”—exclaim'd,“Give for thy son the treasure. By the gods!“I swear, all shall be his; what more thou giv'st,“And what thou gav'st before.”—Him, speaking so,And falsely swearing, savagely she view'd,And her fierce bosom swell'd with double rage.Then instant on him, by the captive damesFast held, she flies; in his perfidious faceDigs deep; her fingers (rage all strength supply'd)Tear from their orbs his eyes; bury'd her hands,Streaming with blood, where once the eyes had been;Widening the wounds, for eyes no more remain'd.
Fir'd at their monarch's fate the Thracian crowdWith stones and darts t'attack the queen began.The queen with harsher voice, as they pursue,Bites at th' assailing stones, and, trying words,Barkings her jaws produce. The place remainsNam'd from the change. She, of her ancient woesLong mindful, grieving still, Sithonia's fieldsWith howlings fill'd. Her fate with pity mov'dHer fellow Trojans; and the hostile Greeks;Nay, all the gods above; and all deny,(Ev'n she, the sister-wife of mighty Jove)That Hecuba so harsh a lot deserv'd.
Nor leisure now Aurora had to mourn(Though strong their cause she favor'd) the sad fall,And mournful fate of Hecuba, and Troy.A nearer case, a more domestic woe,The loss of Memnon, wrung the goddess' breast:Whom on the Phrygian plains the mother sawBeneath the weapon of Achilles sink.She saw—that color which the blushing mornDisplays, grew pale, and heaven with clouds was hid.Still could the parent not support the sight,Plac'd on the funeral pyre his limbs, but straightWith locks dishevell'd, not disdain'd to sueProstrate before the knees of mighty Jove.These words her tears assisting.—“Meanest I,“Of those the golden heaven supports; to me“The fewest temples through earth's space are rais'd:“Yet still a goddess sues. Not to demand“Temples, nor festal days, nor altars warm'd“With blazing fires; yet if you but behold“What I, a female, for you all atchieve,“Bounding night's confines with new-springing light,“Such boons you might consider but my due.“But these are not my care. Aurora's mind“Not now e'en honors merited demands.“I come, my Memnon lost, who bravely fought,“But vainly, in his uncle Priam's cause:“And in his prime of youth (so will'd your fates)“Fell by the stout Achilles. Lord supreme!“Of all the deities, grant, I beseech“To him some honor, solace of his death;“Allay the smarting of a mother's wounds.”
Jove nodded, round the lofty funeral pileOf Memnon, rose th' aspiring flames; black cloudsOf smoke the day obscur'd. So streams exhaleThe rising mists which Phœbus' rays conceal.Mount the black ashes, and conglob'd in oneThey thicken in a body, and a shapeThat body takes, and heat and light receivesFrom the bright flames. Its lightness gave it wings:Much like a bird at first, and soon indeedA bird, its pinions sounded. And a crowdOf sister birds, their pinions sounded too;Their origin the same. Thrice they surroundThe pile, and thrice with noisy clang the airResounds; the fourth time all the troop divide:Then two and two, they furious wage the warOn either side; fierce with their crooked clawsAnd beaks, they pounce their adversary's breast,And tire his wings. Each kindred body fallsAn offering to the ashes of the dead,And prove their offspring from a valiant man.These birds of sudden origin receiveTheir name, Memnonides, from him whose limbsProduc'd them. Oft as Sol through all his signsHas run, the battle they renew again,To perish at their parent-warrior's tomb.Thus, while all others Dymas' daughter weepIn howling shape, Aurora still on griefsHer own sad brooding, her maternal tearsSprinkles in dew o'er all th' extent of earth.
Yet fate doom'd not with Iliüm's towers the fallOf Iliüm's hopes. The Cythereän princeBore off his gods; and on his shoulders boreA no less sacred, venerable load,His sire. Of all his riches these preferr'd.The pious hero, with his youthful sonAscanius, from Antandros, o'er the mainBorne in the flying fleet, leaves far the shoreOf savage Thrace, still moisten'd with the bloodOf Polydore, and enters Phœbus' port;Aided by currents, and by gentle gales,With all his social crew. Anius receivesThe exile, in his temple,—in his dome;Where o'er the land he monarch rul'd; and where,As Phœbus' priest, he tended due his rites:The city, and the votive temples shew'd,And shew'd two trees, once by Latona grasp'dIn bearing throes. The incense in the flamesDistributed, wine o'er the incense thrown,The entrails of the offer'd bulls consum'dAs wont; the regal roof approach they all;And high on tapestry reclin'd, partakeOf Ceres' gift, and Bacchus' flowing boon.Then good Anchises, thus—“O chosen priest“Of Phœbus! was I then deceiv'd? methought,“As far as memory aids me to recal,“When first mine eyes these lofty walls beheld,“That twice two daughters, and a son were thine.”Old Anius shook his head, begirt aroundWith snowy fillets, as in grief, he said:—“No, mighty hero! not deceiv'd art thou,“Me hast thou seen of five the parent; now“Thou well-nigh childless see'st me: (such to man“The varying change of sublunary things)“For, ah! what can an absent son bestow“To aid me, who, in Andros' isle now dwells,“Where for his sire the realm and state he holds?“Delius on him prophetic art bestow'd;“And Bacchus, to my female offspring, gave“A boon beyond all credit, and their hopes.“For all whate'er, which felt my daughters' touch“To corn, and wine, and olives, was transformed:“A mighty treasure in themselves they held.“But Agamemnon, Troy's destroyer learn'd“This gift (think not but that your overthrow“In some respect we shar'd,) by ruthless force,“Tore them unwilling from their parent's arms;“And stern commanded that the heavenly gift“Should feed the Grecian fleet. Each as she can“Escapes. Eubœä two attain, and two“Fraternal Andros seek. The troops pursue“And threaten warfare, if withheld the maids.“Fraternal love was vanquish'd in his breast“By fear, (that thou this terror mayst excuse,“Reflect, Æneäs was not there, nor there“Was Hector, Andros to defend, whose arms“To the tenth year made Iliüm stand.) And now“Chains were prepar'd their captive arms to bind.“While yet unchain'd, those arms to heaven they rais'd,“O father Bacchus!—crying—grant thy aid.—“And aid the author of the gift bestow'd:“If them to lose by an unheard-of mode“Be aid bestowing. Then could I not know,“Nor now relate the order of the change“Which lost their shapes; the summit of my grief“I know; with plumage were they cloth'd; transform'd“To snowy doves, thy spouse's favor'd bird.”
With these, and tales like these, the feast was clos'd:The board remov'd, all sought repose. With dayArising, all Apollo's shrine attend;Who bids that they their ancient mother seek,And kindred shores. The king attends them, givesHis presents as they go. Anchises holdsA sceptre, while a quiver and a robeAscanius boasts; Æneäs holds a cup,Erst from Bœötia's shores to Anius sent,By Theban Therses. Therses sent the gift;Sicilian Alcon form'd it, and engrav'dA copious tale around. A town was there,And seven wide gates appear'd: for name were these,What town it was displaying. All withoutIts walls were funeral trains, and tombs beheld;And fires; and piles; and matrons, whose bare breasts,And locks dishevell'd, shew'd their mournful woe.Weeping the nymphs appear'd, and seem'd to wailTheir arid streams; the leafless trees were hard;The goats were browsing on the naked rocks:And, lo! amid the Theban town was seenOrion's daughters: this her naked throatOffering, with more than female courage; thatOn the sharp weapon's point forth leaning, dy'd,To save the people: round the town are borneTheir pompous funerals, they in splendor burn.Then, lest the race should perish, spring two youthsFrom out their virgin ashes; which by fameAre call'd Coronæ, and the pomp attend,When their maternal ashes are interr'd.
Thus far the images on ancient brassWere grav'n; the bordering summit of the cupIn gold acanthus rough appear'd. Nor gaveThe Trojans gifts less worthy than they took.To hold his incense, they a vase presentThe royal priest; a goblet, and a crown,Shining with gold, and bright with sparkling gems.
Thence, mindful that the Trojan race first sprungFrom Teucer's blood, tow'rd Crete their course they bend:But long Jove's native clime they could not bear.The hundred-city'd isle now left behind,Ausonia's port they hope to gain. Rough swellThe wintry storms, and toss them on the main;And in the port of faithless StrophadesReceiv'd, the wing'd Aëllo scares them far.Now had they sail'd beyond Dulichium's bay;Samos; and Ithaca, Neritus' soil;The realms Ulysses, so perfidious, sway'd:And saw Ambracia, for the strife of godsRenown'd, and stone to which the judge was chang'd;Now as Apollo's Actium far more fam'd:And saw Dodona's land with vocal groves;And deep Chaonia's bay, where vain-urg'd flamesMolossus' sons, on new-sprung pinions 'scap'd.Phæäcia's neighbouring country, planted thickWith grateful apples, now they reach; from thenceEpirus and Buthrotus, by the seerOf Iliüm govern'd, image true of Troy.Thence of the future certain, full of faith,In all that Helenus of fate them told,Sicilia's isle they enter, which extendsMidst of the waves its promontories three.Pachymos, tow'rd the showery south is plac'd;And Zephyr soft on Lilybæum blows:But 'gainst the Arctic bear that shuns the sea,And Boreas' rugged storms, Pelorus looks.By this the Trojans steer; urg'd by their oars,And favoring tide, by night on Zanclé's beachThe fleet is moor'd. Here Scylla on the right;Charybdis, restless, on the left alarms.This sucks the destin'd ships beneath the waves,And whirls them up again: fierce dogs surroundThe other's sable belly, while she bearsA virgin's face; and, if what poets tellBe feign'd not all, she had a virgin been.
Her many wooers sought; these all repuls'd,She join'd the ocean nymphs; by ocean's nymphsMuch favor'd was the maid; and told the lovesOf all the baffled youths. Her, while she gaveHer locks to comb, thus Galatea fair,Bespoke, but first suppress'd a rising sigh.“'Tis true, O maid! a gentle race thee seeks,“Whom safely, as thou dost, thou may'st deny:“But I, whose sire is Nereus; who was born“Of blue-hair'd Doris; who am potent too“In crowds of sisters, refuge only found“From the fierce Cyclops' love, in my own waves.”Tears chok'd her utterance here; which when the maidHad wip'd with marble fingers, and had sooth'dThe goddess.—“Dearest Galatea! speak;“Nor from thy friend this cause of grief conceal:“Faithful am I to thee.” The goddess yields,And to Cratæis' daughter, thus replies.
“From Faunus and the nymph Symethis sprung“Acis, his sire's delight, his mother's pride;“But far to me more dear. For me the youth,“And me alone, lov'd warmly; twice eight years“Had o'er him pass'd; when on his tender cheek“A doubtful down appear'd. Him I desir'd,“As ceaseless as the Cyclops sought for me.“Nor should you ask, if in my bosom dwelt“For him most hate, or most for Acis love,“Could I inform you: equal both in force.“O, gentle Venus! with what mighty power“Thou sway'st; lo! he, the merciless, the dread“Of his own woods; whom hapless guest ne'er saw“With safety; spurner of the power of Jove,“And all the host of heaven, what love is, feels!“Seiz'd with desire of me he flames, forgets“His flocks, and caverns. All thy anxious care“Thy beauty, Polyphemus! to improve,“And all thy anxious care is now to please.“And now with rakes thou comb'st thy rugged hair;“Now with a scythe thou mow'st thy bushy beard:“Thy features to behold in the clear brook,“And calm their fire employs thee. All his love“Of slaughter; all his fierceness; all his thirst“Cruel of blood, him leaves; and on the coast,“Ships safely moor, and safe again depart.“Meantime at Etna Telemus arriv'd,“Of Eurymus the son, whom never bird“Deceiv'd; he to dread Polyphemus came,“And spoke:—Thee, of the single light thou bear'st“Mid front, Ulysses will deprive.—Loud laugh'd“The monster, saying;—Stupidest of seers,“How much thou err'st!—already is it gone.—“So spurns the truth the prophet told in vain.“Then moving on along the shore, he sinks“The sand with heavy steps, or tir'd returns“To his dark caves. Far stretching in the main“A wedge-like promontory rears its ridge“Aloft; on either side the surging waves“Foam on it. To its loftiest height ascends“The Cyclops fierce; his station in the midst“Assumes; his woolly flocks his steps pursue“Unshepherded. He when the pine immense,“Which serv'd him for a staff, though fit to serve“For sailyard, low beneath his feet had thrown;“And grasp'd the pipe, an hundred 'pacted reeds“Compos'd; the pastoral whistling all around“The hills confess'd, and all the waters nigh.“I, hid beneath a rock, my head reclin'd“On my dear Acis' bosom, heard these words—,“And still the words are noted in my breast.—
“O, Galatea! brighter than the leaves“Of snow-white lilies; fresher than the meads;“More lofty far than towering alder trees;“Than chrystal clearer; than the wanton kid“More gay; than shells, by ocean's constant waves“Smooth polish'd, smoother; dearer than the shade“In summer's heat; than winter's sun more dear;“More than the apple bright; and fairer far“Than lofty planetrees; clearer than the frost;“More beauteous than the ripen'd grape; more soft“Than the swan's plumage; or the new-prest milk:“And, but thou fly'st, more than the garden fine“With water'd streamlets. Yet the same art thou,“Wild Galatea, than the untam'd steer“More fierce; more stubborn than the ancient oak;“Than water more deceitful; slippery more“Than bending willows, or the greenest vines;“More stubborn than these rocks; than seas more rough;“Than the prais'd peacock prouder; sharper far“Than fire; and piercing more than thistles keen.“More savage than a nursing bear; more deaf“Than raging billows; than the trodden snake“More pitiless; and, what I more than all“Would wish thou wast not, fleeter than the deer,“Chas'd by shrill hunters; fleeter than wing'd air,“Or winds. If well thou knew'st me, much thou'dst grieve“That e'er thou fled'st; thou'dst blame thy dull delay,“And sue and labor to retain my love.“Caverns I have, scoop'd in the living rock“Beneath the mountain's side, where never sun“In mid-day heat, nor winter's cold can come.“My apples bend the branches; grapes are mine“On the long vine-trees clustering; some like gold;“Some of a purple teint; and these and those“Will I preserve for thee. Thy own fair hands“Shall gather strawberries soft, beneath the shade;“Autumnal cornels; and the purple plumb,“Dark with its juice, and that still nobler kind“Like new-made wax in hue. Nor shalt thou lack“The chesnut; nor the red arbutus' fruit:“Be but my spouse. All trees shall thee supply.“Mine are these flocks, and thousands more besides“Which roam the vallies; thousands like the woods;“And thousands shelter in the shady caves:“Nor could I, should'st thou ask, their numbers tell.“Poor he who counts his store. Believe not me“When these I praise; before thine eyes behold“How scarce their legs the swelling udder bear.“Mine are the tender lambs, in the warm fold“Secure; and mine are kids of equal age“In folds apart. The whitest milk have I;“But still for drink shall serve, and thicken'd, part“Shall harden into cheese. Nor wilt thou find“But cheap delights, and common vulgar gifts:“For deer, and hares, and goats, thou shalt possess;“Pigeons in pairs, and nests from mountains gain'd.“Upon the hills, a shaggy bear's twin cubs“I found; so like, no difference could be seen,“With thee to play I found them: these, I said,“These will I force my mistress to obey.“O Galatea! raise thy lovely head“Above the azure deep; come! only come;“Nor scorn my gifts. Right well myself I know:“I view'd me lately in the liquid stream;“And much my image satisfy'd my view.“Behold, how vast my bulk! Jove, in his heaven,“(For of some Jove ye oft are wont to tell“Who rules there) towers not in a mightier size.“Thick bushy locks o'er my stern forehead hang,“And like a forest down my shoulders spread.“Nor deem my body, with hard bristles rough,“Unseemly; most unsightly is the tree,“Without a leaf; unsightly is the steed,“Save on his neck the flowing mane is spread:“Plumes clothe the feather'd race; and their own wool“Becomes the sheep; so beards become mankind,“And bushy bristles, o'er their limbs bespread.“True in my forehead but one light is plac'd;“But huge that light, and like a mighty shield“In size. Yet does not Sol from heaven's high round“All view? and Sol possesses lights no more.“Remember too, my father o'er your realm“Rules sovereign; I in him a sire-in-law“Would give thee. Only pity me, I pray,“And hear my suppliant vows. To thee alone“I bend: and while I scorn your mighty Jove,“His heaven, and piercing thunder, thee, O nymph!“I fear: than fiercest lightnings dreading more“Thy anger. Far more patient should I rest“With this contempt, all didst thou thus contemn.“But how, the Cyclops first repuls'd, dar'st thou“This Acis love? this Acis dare prefer“To my embraces? Yet may he himself“Delight; nay let him Galatea please,“If so it must be, though what most I'd spurn:“Let but the scope be given, soon should he prove“My strength is equal to my mighty bulk.“Living his entrails would I tear, and spread“His mangled members o'er the fields, and o'er“Thy waters: let him mingle with thee so.“For oh! I burn; more fierce my injur'd love“Now rages: in ray breast I seem to bear“All Etna and its fires. But all my pains“Can nought, O Galatea! thee affect.—
“Thus with vain 'plainings (for the whole I saw)“He rises, raging like a furious bull“Robb'd of his heifer; paces restless round,“And bounds along the forests and the coasts.“When me and Acis, heedless of such fate,“And unsuspecting, he beheld, and roar'd:—“I see ye! but the period of your love“Will I accomplish.—Loud his threats were heard,“As all the Cyclops' power of voice could raise.“All Etna trembled at the sound. In fright“I plung'd for safety in the neighbouring waves;“While fair Symethis' son for flight prepar'd;“And—help me, Galatea!—he exclaim'd—“Help me, O help! and ye, my parents, aid;“And, perishing, receive me in your realm.—“Close at his heels the Cyclops comes, and hurls“A mighty fragment from a mountain rent;“A corner only of the mighty rock“Him reach'd: that corner Acis all o'erwhelm'd.“But I, what fate alone would grant, perform'd,“That Acis still his ancestorial race“Should join: his purple gore flow'd from the rock;“And soon the redness pal'd; it seem'd a stream“Disturb'd by drenching showers; and soon this stream“Was clear'd to limpid purity. The rock“Gap'd wide, and living reeds sprung up erect,“On either brink. Loud roars the pressing flood“In the rock's hollow womb, and (wond'rous sight!)“A youth, his new-form'd horns with reeds begirt,“Sudden appear'd, 'mid waist above the waves;“Who but in stature larger, and his skin“Of azure teint, might Acis well be deem'd.“Acis indeed it was, Acis transform'd“To a clear stream which still his name retains.”
Here Galatea ceas'd, the listening choirDividing, all depart. The Nereïd trainSwim o'er the placid waves. Scylla returns;Fearful to venture 'mid the boundless main,And vestless roams along the soaking sand;Or weary'd; finding some sequester'd pool,Cools in the shelter'd waters her fair limbs.Lo! Glaucus, lately of the mighty deepAn 'habitant receiv'd, his shape transform'dUpon Bœötia's shores, cleaves through the waves;And feels desire as he the nymph beholds.All he can urge to stay her flight he tries;Yet still she flies him, swifter from her fear.She gains a mountain's summit, which the shoreO'erhung. High to the main the lofty ridgeAn undivided sbrubless top presents,Down shelving to the sea. In safety hereShe stood; and, dubious monster he, or god,Admir'd his color, and the locks which spreadAdown his shoulders, and his back below:And that a wreathing fish's form should endHis figure from his groin. He saw her gaze;And on a neighbouring rock his elbow lean'd,As thus he spoke.—“No monstrous thing am I,“Fair virgin! nor a savage of the sea;“A watery god I am; nor on the main“Has Proteus; Triton; or Palæmon, son“Of Athamas, more power. Yet time has been“When I was mortal, yet even then attach'd“To the deep water, on the ocean I,“Still joy'd to labor. Now the following shoal“Of fishes in my net I dragg'd; and now,“Plac'd on a rock, I with my flexile rod“Guided the line. Bordering a verdant mead“A bank there lies, the waves its circuit bound“In part; in part the virid grass surrounds;“A mead which ne'er the horned herd had cropp'd:“Where ne'er the placid flock, nor hairy goats“Had brows'd; nor bees industrious cull'd the flowers“For sweets: no genial chaplets there were pluck'd“To grace the head; nor had the mower's arm“E'er spoil'd the crop. The first of mortals, I“On the turf rested. As my nets I dry'd;“And as my captur'd scaly prey to count,“Upon the grass I spread,—whatever the net“Escape prevented, and the hook had snar'd“Through their own folly. (Like a fiction sounds“The fact, but what avails to me to feign?)“Soon as the grass they touch, my captiv'd prey“Begin to move, and on their sides to turn;“And ply their fins on earth as in the main.“Then, while with wonder struck I pause, all fly“The shore in heaps, and their new master quit,“Their native waves regaining. I, surpriz'd,“Long doubtful stand to guess the wond'rous cause.“Whether some god, or but the grasses' juice“Accomplish'd this. What herb—at last, I said—“Can power like this possess?—and with my hand“Pluck'd up, and with my teeth the herbage chew'd.“Scarce had my throat th' untasted juice first try'd,“When all my entrails sudden tremblings shook,“And with a love of something yet unknown“My breast was mov'd; nor could I longer keep“My place.—O earth! where I shall ne'er return—“Farewel! I cry'd,—and plung'd below the waves.“Worthy the ocean deities me deem'd“To join their social troop, and anxious pray'd“To Tethys, and old Ocean, Tethys' spouse,“To purge whate'er of mortal I retain'd.“By them lustrated, and the potent song“Nine times repeated, earthly taints to cleanse,“They bade me 'neath an hundred gushing streams“To place my bosom. No delay I seek;“The floods from numerous fountains pour'd, the main“O'erwhelm'd my head. Thus far what deeds were done“My memory helps me to relate; thus far“Alone can I remember; all the rest“Dark to my memory seems. My sense restor'd,“I found my body chang'd in every part;“Nor was my mind the same. Then first I saw“This beard of dingy green, and these long locks“Which through the seas I sweep; these shoulders huge;“Those azure arms and thighs in fish-like form“Furnish'd with fins. But what avails this shape?“What that by all the deities marine“I dear am held? a deity myself?“If all these honors cannot touch thy breast.”These words he spoke, and more to speak prepar'd,When Scylla left the god. Repuls'd, he griev'dAnd sought Titanian Circé's monstrous court.
Scylla transformed to a monster by Circé through jealousy; and ultimately to a rock. Continuation of Æneas' voyage. Dido. Cercopians changed to apes. Descent of Æneas to hell. The Cumæan Sybil. Adventures of Achæmenides with Polyphemus: and of Macareus amongst the Lestrigonians. Enchantments of Circé. Story of the transformation of Picus to a woodpecker; and of the nymph Canens to air. The Latian wars. Misfortunes of Diomede. Agmon and others changed to herons. Appulus to a wild olive. The Trojan ships changed to sea-nymphs. The city Ardea to a bird. Deification of Æneas. Latin kings. Vertumnus and Pomona. Story of Iphis and Anaxareté. Wars with the Sabines. Apotheösis of Romulus; and of his wife Hersilia.
Scylla transformed to a monster by Circé through jealousy; and ultimately to a rock. Continuation of Æneas' voyage. Dido. Cercopians changed to apes. Descent of Æneas to hell. The Cumæan Sybil. Adventures of Achæmenides with Polyphemus: and of Macareus amongst the Lestrigonians. Enchantments of Circé. Story of the transformation of Picus to a woodpecker; and of the nymph Canens to air. The Latian wars. Misfortunes of Diomede. Agmon and others changed to herons. Appulus to a wild olive. The Trojan ships changed to sea-nymphs. The city Ardea to a bird. Deification of Æneas. Latin kings. Vertumnus and Pomona. Story of Iphis and Anaxareté. Wars with the Sabines. Apotheösis of Romulus; and of his wife Hersilia.
Now had Eubœan Glaucus, who could cleaveThe surging sea, left Etna, o'er the breastsOf giants thrown, and left the Cyclops' fields,Unconscious of the plough's or harrow's use;And unindebted to the oxen yok'd.Zanclé he left, and its opposing shoreWhere Rhegium's turrets tower; and the strait seaFor shipwreck fam'd, which by incroaching shoresPress'd narrow, forms the separating boundBetwixt Ausonia's and Sicilia's land.Thence glides he swift along the Tyrrhene coast,By powerful arms impell'd, and gains the dome,And herbag'd hills of Circé Phœbus sprung:(The dome with forms of wildest beasts full cramm'd)Whom, soon as greeting salutations pass'd,He thus address'd:—“O powerful goddess! grant“Thy pity to a god; and thou alone,“If worth that aid thou deem'st me, canst afford“Aid to my love. For, O Titanian maid!“To none the power of plants is better known“Than me, who by the power of plants was chang'd.“But lest the object of my lore, to thee“Unknown, be hid; I Scylla late beheld“Upon th' Italian shore: Messenia's walls“Opposing. Shame me hinders to relate“What promises, what prayers, what coaxing words“I us'd: my words all heard with proud contempt.“Do thou with magic lips thy charms repeat,“If power in charms abides: or if in herbs“More force is found, then use the well-try'd strength“Of herbs of power. I wish thee not to soothe“My heart; I wish thee not these wounds to cure;“Still may they last, let her such flames but feel.”
Then Circé spoke, (and she a mind possess'dMost apt to flame with love, or in her frameThe stimulus was plac'd; or Venus, irk'dAt what her sire discover'd, caus'd the heat.)“O, better far the willing nymph pursue“Who would in wishes meet thee; wh'o is seiz'd“With equal love: well worthy of the maid“Thou wast; nay shouldst have been the first besought;“And if but hope thou wilt afford, believe“My words, thou shalt spontaneously be lov'd.“Fear not, but on thy beauteous form depend;“Lo! I, a goddess! of the splendid sun“A daughter, who with powerful spells so much“And herbs can do, to be thy consort sue.“Spurn her who spurns thee; her who thee desires“Desiring meet; and both at once avenge.”But to her tempting speeches Glaucus thusReply'd—“The trees shall sooner in the waves“Spring up, and sea-weed on the mountain's top,“Than I, while Scylla lives, my love transfer.”The goddess swol'n with anger, since his formTo harm 'twas given her not, and love deny'd,Turn'd on her happier rival all her rage.Irk'd at her slighted passion, straight she grindsHerbs infamous, to gain their horrid juice;And mixes all with Hecatéan spells.Then clothes her in a sable robe, and forthThrough crouds of fawning savage beasts she goes,From her gay palace. Rhegium's coast she seeksO'erlooking Zanclé's rocks; and on the wavesWith fury boiling, steps; o'er them she walksAs on a solid shore, and skims alongThe ridgy billows with unwetted feet.
A little pool, bent in a gentle curve,With peaceful surface oft did Scylla tempt;And often thither she herself betookTo 'scape from ocean's, and from Phœbus' heat,When high in noon-tide fierceness short the shadeWas from the head describ'd. Before she cameThe goddess poison'd all the pool; she pour'dHer potent juice, of monster-breeding power,Prest from pernicious roots, within the waves;And mutter'd thrice nine times with magic lips,In sounds scarce audible, her well-known spells.Here Scylla came, and waded to the waist;And straight, with barking monsters she espiesHer womb deform'd: at first, of her own limbsNot dreaming they are part, she from them flies;And chides them thence, and fears their savage mouths.But what she flies she with her drags; she looksTo find her thighs, and find her legs, and feet;But for those limbs Cerberean jaws are found.Furious the dogs still howl; on their fierce backsHer shorten'd groin, and swelling belly rest.
The amorous Glaucus griev'd, and spurn'd the loveOf Circé, who so rancorously had us'dThe power of plants. Her station Scylla kept;And soon as scope for vengeance she perceiv'd,In hate to Circé, of his comrade crewDepriv'd Ulysses. Next the Trojan fleetHad she o'erwhelm'd; but ere they pass'd, transform'dTo stone, she tower'd aloft a flinty rock,And still do mariners that rock avoid.
The Phrygian ships that danger 'scap'd, and 'scap'dCharybdis fell, by oars propell'd; but nowAusonia's shore well nigh attain'd, were driv'nBy adverse tempests to the Libyan coast.Æneäs then the queen Sidonian tookMost welcome to her bosom, and her dome;Nor bore her Phrygian spouse's sudden flight,With calm indifference: on a lofty pileRear'd for pretended sacred rites, she stood,And on the sword's point fell; herself deceiv'd,She all around outwitted. Flying farThe new-rais'd city of the sandy plainsTo Eryx' country was he borne; where liv'dAcestes faithful: here he sacrific'd,And gave due honors to his father's tomb.Then loos'd his ships for sea, well nigh in flamesBy Juno's Iris: all th' Æoliän realm;The islands blazing with sulphuric fire;And rocks of Acheloüs' siren nymphs,He left. The vessel now, of him who rul'dThe helm, bereft, along Ænaria's shore;And Prochytas; and Pithecusa, plac'dUpon a sterile hill, its name deriv'dFrom those who dwelt there, coasted. Erst the sireOf gods, detesting perjuries and fraud,Which that deceitful race so much employ'd,Chang'd to an animal deform'd their shapes;Where still a likeness and unlikeness seemsTo man. Their every limb contracted small;Their turn'd-up noses flatten'd from the brow;And ancient furrows plough'd adown their cheeks.Then sent them, all their bodies cover'd o'erWith yellow hairs, this district to possess.Yet sent them not till of the power of speechDepriv'd; and tongue for direst falsehoods us'd:But left their chattering jaws the power to 'plain.These past, and left Parthenopé's high towersTo right; and musical Misenus' tomb,And Cuma's shores to left; spots cover'd thickWith marshy reeds, he enters in the caveWhere dwelt the ancient Sybil; and in treatsThat through Avernus' darkness he may pass,His father's shade to seek. Then she, her eyes,Long firmly fixt on earth, uprais'd; and next,Fill'd with the god, in furious raving spoke.
“Much dost thou ask, O man of mighty deeds!“Whose valor by the sword is amply prov'd,“And piety through flames. Yet, Trojan chief,“Fear not; thou shalt what thou desir'st attain:“By me conducted, thou th' Elysian field,“The lowest portion of the tri-form realm,“And thy beloved parent's shade shalt see:“No path to genuine virtue e'er is clos'd.”She spoke, and pointed to th' Avernian grove,Sacred to Proserpine; and shew'd a boughWith gold refulgent; this she bade him tearFrom off its trunk. Æneäs her obeys,And sees the treasures of hell's awful king;His ancestors', and great Anchises' shades:Is taught the laws and customs of the dead;And what deep perils he in future warsMust face. As then the backward path he trodeWith weary'd step; the labor he beguil'dBy grateful speech with his Cumæan guide.And, while through darkling twilight he pursu'dHis fearful way, he thus:—“Or, goddess, thou,“Or of the gods high-favor'd, unto me“Still shalt thou as a deity appear.“My life I own thy gift, who hast me given“To view the realms of death: who hast me brought,“The realms of death beheld, to life again.“For these high favors, when to air restor'd“Statues to thee I'll raise, and incense burn.”Backward the prophetess, to him her eyesDirects, and heaves a sigh; as thus she speaks:“No goddess I; deem not my mortal frame“The sacred incense' honors can deserve:“Err not through ignorance. Eternal youth“Had I possess'd, if on Apollo's love“My virgin purity had been bestow'd.“This while he hop'd, and while he strove to tempt“With gifts,—O, chuse—he said,—Cumæan maid!“Whate'er thou would'st—whate'er thou would'st is thine.“I, pointing to an heap of gather'd dust,“With thoughtless mind, besought so many years“I might exist, as grains of sand were there:“Mindless to ask for years of constant youth.“The years he granted, and had granted too“Eternal youth, had I his passion quench'd.“A virgin I remain; Apollo's gift“Despis'd: but now the age of joy is fled;“Decrepitude with trembling steps has come,“Which long I must endure. Seven ages now“I have existed; ere the number'd grains“Are equall'd, thrice an hundred harvests I,“And thrice an hundred vintages must see.“The time will come, my body, shrunk with age,“And wither'd limbs, shall to small substance waste;“Nor shall it seem that e'er an amorous god“With me was smitten. Phœbus then himself“Or me will know not, or deny that e'er“He sought my love. Till quite complete my change,“To all invisible, by words alone“I shall be known. Fate still my voice will leave.”
On the steep journey thus the Sybil spoke:And from the Stygian shades Æneäs rose,At Cuma's town; there sacrific'd as wont,And to the shores proceeded, which as yetHis nurse's name not bore. Here rested too,After long toil, Macareus, the constant friendOf wise Ulysses: Achæmenides,Erst left amid Etnæan rocks, he knows:Astonish'd there, his former friend to find,In life unhop'd, he cry'd; “What chance? What god“O Achæmenides! has thee preserv'd?“How does a Greek a foreign vessel bear?“And to what shores is now this vessel bound?”
Then Achæmenides, not ragged now,In robes with thorns united, but all free,Thus answer'd his enquiries. “May I view“Once more that Polyphemus, and those jaws“With human gore o'erflowing; if I deem“This ship to me than Ithaca less dear;“And less Æneäs than my sire esteem.“For how too grateful can I be to him,“Though all to him I give? Can I e'er be“Unthankful or forgetful? That I speak,“And breathe, and view the heavens and glorious sun“He gave: that in the Cyclops' jaws my life“Was clos'd not; that when now the vital spark“Me quits, I may be properly intomb'd,“Not in the monster's entrails. Heavens! what thoughts“Possess'd my mind, (unless by pallid dread“Of sense and thought bereft) when, left behind,“I saw you push to sea. Loud had I call'd,“But fear'd my cries would guide to me the foe.“Ulysses' clamor near your ship destroy'd.“I saw the monster, when a mighty rock,“Torn from a mountain's summit, in the waves“He flung: I saw him when with giant arm“Huge stones he hurl'd, with such impetuous force,“As though an engine sent them. Fear'd I long,“Lest or the stones or waves the bark would sink;“Forgetful then that not on board was I.“But when you 'scap'd from cruel death, by flight,“Then did he madly rave indeed; and roam'd“All Etna o'er; and grop'd amid the woods;“Depriv'd of sight he stumbles on the rocks;“And stretching to the sea his horrid arms,“Blacken'd with gore, he execrates the Greeks;“And thus exclaims;—O! would some lucky chance“Restore Ulysses to me, or restore“One of his comrades, who might glut my rage;“Whose entrails I might gorge; whose living limbs“My hand might rend; whose blood might sluice my throat;“And mangled members tremble in my teeth.“O! then how light, and next to none the curse“Of sight bereft.—Raging, he this and more“Fierce utter'd. I, with pallid dread o'ercome,“Beheld his face still flowing down with blood;“The orb of light depriv'd; his ruthless hands;“His giant members; and his shaggy beard,“Clotted with human gore. Death to my eyes“Was obvious, yet was death my smallest dread.“Now seiz'd I thought me; thought him now prepar'd“T'inclose my mangled bowels in his own:“And to my mind recurr'd the time I saw“Two of my comrades' bodies furious dash'd“Repeated on the earth: he, o'er them stretcht“Prone, like a shaggy lion, in his maw“Their flesh, their entrails, their yet-quivering limbs,“Their marrow, and cranch'd bones, greedy ingulf'd.“Horror me seiz'd. Bloodless and sad I stood,“To see him champ, and from his mouth disgorge“The bloody banquet; morsels mixt with wine“Forth vomiting: and such a fate appear'd“For wretched me prepar'd. Some tedious days“Skulk'd I, and shudder'd at the smallest sound:“Fearful of death, yet praying much to die;“Repelling hunger by green herbs, and leaves,“With acorns mixt; a solitary wretch,“Poor, and to sufferings and to death decreed.“Long was the time, ere I, not distant far,“A ship beheld; I by my gestures shew'd“My wish for flight, and hasten'd to the shore.“Their hearts were mov'd, and thus a Trojan bark“Receiv'd a Greek.—And now, my friend most dear,“Tell thy adventures, and the chief's, and crew's,“Who with thee launch'd upon th' extended main.”
He tells how Æölus his kingdom holdsOn the deep Tuscan main, who curbs the windsIn cavern'd prisons; which, a noble boon!Close pent within an ox's stubborn hide,Dulichium's chief, from Æölus receiv'd.How for nine days with prosperous breeze they sail'd;And saw the long-sought land. How on the tenth,Aurora rising bright, his comrades, urg'dBy envy, and by thirst of glittering spoil,Gold deeming there inclos'd, the winds unloos'd.How, driven by them, the ship was backward spedThrough the same waves she had so lately plough'd;And reach'd the port of Æölus again.“Thence,”—he continued—“to the ancient town“Of Lestrygonian Lamus we arrive,“Where rules Antiphates; to him dispatch'd“I go, by two attended. I with one“Scarce find in flight our safety: with his gore“The hapless third, the Lestrigonians' jaws“Besmears: our flying footsteps they pursue,“While fierce Antiphates speeds on the crowd.“Around they press, and unremitting hurl“Huge rocks, and trunks of trees; our men o'erwhelm,“And sink our fleet; one ship alone escapes,“Which great Ulysses and myself contains.“Most of our band thus lost, and angry much,“Lamenting more, we floated to these isles,“Which hence, though distant far, you may descry.“Those isles, by me too near beheld, do thou“At distance only view! O, goddess-born!“Most righteous of all Troy, (for now no more,“Æneäs, must thou enemy be stil'd“To us, war ended) fly, I warn thee, fly“The shore of Circé. We, our vessel moor'd“Fast to that beach, not mindless of the deeds“Antiphates perform'd, nor Cyclops, wretch“Inhuman, now to tempt this unknown land“Refuse. The choice by lot is fix'd. The lot“Me sends, and with me sends Polites true;“Eurylochus; and poor Elphenor, fond“Too much of wine; with twice nine comrades mote,“To seek the dome Circéan. Thither come;“We at the entrance stand: a thousand wolves,“And bears, and lionesses, with wolves mixt,“Meet us, and terror in our bosoms strike.“But ground for terror none: of all the crew“None try our limbs to wound, but friendly wave“Their arching tails, and fawningly attend“Our steps; till by the menial train receiv'd,“Through marbled halls to where their mistress sate,“Our troop is led. She, in a bright recess,“Upon a lofty throne of state, was plac'd,“Cloth'd in a splendid robe; a golden veil“Around her head, and o'er her shoulders thrown.“Nereïds, and nymphs around (whose fingers quick“The wool ne'er drew, nor form'd the following thread)“Were plants arranging, and selecting flowers,“And various teinted herbs, confus'dly mixt“In baskets. She compleats the work they do;“And well she knows the latent power each leaf“Possesses; well their force combin'd she knows:“And all the nice-weigh'd herbs inspects with care.“When us she spy'd, and salutations pass'd“Mutual; her forehead brighten'd, and she gave“Our every wish. Nor waited more, but bade“The beverage of the roasted grain be mix'd;“And added honey, all the strength of wine,“And curdy milk, and juices, which beneath“Such powerful sweetness undetected lay.“The cup from her accursed hand, I take,“And, soon as thirsty I, with parch'd mouth drink,“And the dire goddess with her wand had strok'd“My head (I blush while I the rest relate)“Roughen'd with bristles, I begin to grow;“Nor now can speak; hoarse grunting comes for words;“And all my face bends downwards to the ground;“Callous I feel my mouth become, in form“A crooked snout; and feel my brawny neck“Swell o'er my chest; and what but now the cup“Had grasp'd, that part does marks of feet imprint;“With all my fellows treated thus, so great“The medicine's potency, close was I shut“Within a sty: there I, Eurylochus“Alone unalter'd to a hog, beheld!“He only had the offer'd cup refus'd.“Which had he not avoided, he as one“The bristly herd had join'd; nor had our chief,“The great Ulysses, by his tale inform'd“To Circé come, avenger of our woe.“To him Cyllenius, messenger of peace“A milk-white flower presented; by the gods“Call'd Moly: from a sable root it-springs.“Safe in the gift, and in th' advice of heaven,“He enters Circé's dome; and her repels,“Coaxing to taste th' invidious cup; his head“To stroke attempting with her potent wand;“And awes her trembling with his unsheath'd steel.“Then, faith exchang'd, hands join'd, he to her bed“Receiv'd, he makes the dowry of himself“That all his comrades' bodies be restor'd.
“Now are we sprinkled with innocuous juice“Of better herbs; with the inverted wand“Our heads are touch'd; the charms, already spoke,“Strong charms of import opposite destroy.“The more she sings her incantations, we“Rise more from earth erect; the bristles fall;“And the wide fissure leaves our cloven feet;“Our shoulders form again; and arms beneath“Are shap'd. Him, weeping too, weeping we clasp,“And round our leader's neck embracing hang.“No words at first to utter have we power,“But such as testify our grateful joy.
“A year's delay there kept us. There, mine eyes“In that long period much beheld; mine ears“Much heard. This with the rest, in private told“To me, by one of four most-favor'd nymphs“Who aided in her spells: while Circé toy'd“In private with our leader, she me shew'd“A youthful statue carv'd in whitest stone,“Bearing a feather'd pecker upon his head;“Plac'd in a sacred shrine, with numerous wreaths“Encircled. Unto my enquiring words,“And wish to know who this could be, and why“There worshipp'd in the shrine, and why that bird“He bore,—then, Macareus,—she said—receive“Thy wish; and also learn what mighty power“My mistress boasts; attentive hear my words.
“Saturnian Picus in Ausonia's climes“Was king; delighted still was he to train“Steeds for the fight. The beauty you behold“As man was his. So strong the 'semblance strikes,“His real form in the feign'd stone appears.“His mind his beauty equall'd. Nor as yet,“The games quinquennial Grecian Elis gives,“Four times could he have seen. He, by his face“The Dryad nymphs who on the Latian hills“Were born, attracted. Naiäds, river-nymphs,“Him sought, whom Albula, and Anio bear;“Almo's short course; the rapid stream of Nar;“And Numicus; and Farfar's lovely shades;“With all that Scythian Dian's woody realm“Traverse; and all who haunt the sedgy lakes.“But he, all these despis'd, lov'd one fair nymph,“Whom erst Venilia, fame reports, brought forth“To Janus on Palatiura's mount. When reach'd“The nuptial age, preferr'd before the rest,“Laurentian Picus gain'd the lovely maid.“Wond'rous was she for beauty, wond'rous more“Her art in song, and hence was Canens nam'd.“Wont was her voice forests and rocks to move;“Soothe savage beasts; arrest the course of streams;“And stay the flying birds. While warbling thus“With voice mature her song, Picus went forth“To pierce amid Laurentium's fields the boars,“Their native dwelling; on a fiery steed“He rode; two quivering spears his left hand bore;“His purple vestment golden clasps confin'd.“In the same woods Apollo's daughter came,“And from the fertile hills as herbs she cull'd,“She left the fields, from her Circæan nam'd.“When, veil'd by twigs herself, the youth she saw,“Amaz'd she stood. Down from her bosom dropp'd“The gather'd plants, and quickly through her frame“The fire was felt to shoot. Soon as her mind“Collected strength to curb the furious flame,“She would have told him instant what she wish'd,“But his impetuous steed, and circling crowd“Of followers, kept her far.—Yet shalt thou not,“If I but know my power, me fly; not should“The winds thee bear away; else is the force“Of plants all vanished, and my spells deceive.“She said; and form'd an incorporeal shape“Like to a boar; and bade it glance across“The monarch's sight; and seem itself to hide“In the dense thicket, where the trees grew thick:“A spot impervious to the courser's foot.“'Tis done; unwitting Picus eager seeks“His shadowy prey; leaps from his smoking steed;“And, vain-hop'd spoil pursuing, wanders deep“In the thick woods. She baneful words repeats,“And cursing charms collects. With new-fram'd verse“Invokes strange deities: verse which erst while“Has dull'd the splendid circle of the moon;“And hid with rain-charg'd clouds her father's face.“This verse repeated, instant heaven grew dark,“And mists from earth arose: his comrades roam“Through the dark paths; the king without a guard“Is left. This spot, and time so suiting gain'd,“Thus Circé cry'd—O fairest thou of forms!“By those bright eyes which me enslav'd, by all“Thy beauteous charms which make a goddess sue,“Indulge my flame; accept th' all-seeing sun,“My sire, for thine; nor, rigidly austere,“Titanian Circé spurn.—She ceas'd; he stern“Repuls'd the goddess, and her praying suit;“Exclaiming,—be thou whom thou may'st, yet thine“I am not; captive me another holds;“And fervently, I pray, to lengthen'd years“She still may hold me. Never will I wrong“The nuptial bond with stranger's lawless love,“While Janus' daughter, my lov'd Canens lives.—“Sol's daughter then (re-iterated prayers“In vain oft try'd) exclaim'd:—Nor shalt thou boast“Impunity; nor e'er returning see“Thy Canens; but learn well what may be done“By slighted, loving woman: Circé loves,“Is woman, and is slighted.—To the west“She turn'd her twice, and turn'd her twice to east;“Thrice with her wand she struck the youth, and thrice“Her charm-fraught song repeated. Swift he fled,“And wondering that more swift he ran than wont,“Plumes on his limbs beheld. Constrain'd to add“A new-form'd 'habitant to Latium's groves,“Angry he wounds the spreading boughs, and digs“The stubborn oak-tree with his rigid beak.“A purple tinge his feathers take, the hue“His garment shew'd; the gold, a buckle once,“Which clasp'd his robe, to feathers too is chang'd;“The shining gold circles his neck around:“Nor aught remains of Picus save the name.
“Meantime his comrades vainly Picus call,“Through all the groves; but Picus no where find.“Circé they meet, for now the air was clear'd,“The clouds dispers'd, or by the winds or sun;“Charge her with crimes committed, and demand“Their king; force threaten, and prepare to lift“Their savage spears. The goddess sprinkles round“Her noxious poisons and envenom'd juice;“Invokes old night, and the nocturnal gods,“Chaos, and Erebus; and Hecat's help,“With magic howlings, prays. Woods (wond'rous sight!)“Leap from their seats; earth groans; the neighbouring trees“Grow pale; the grass with sprinkled blood is wet;“Stones hoarsely seem to roar, and dogs to howl;“Earth with black serpents swarms; unmatter'd forms“Of bodies long defunct, flit through the air.“Tremble the crowd, struck with th' appalling scene:“Appall'd, and trembling, on their heads she strikes“Th' envenom'd rod. From the rod's potent touch,“For men a various crowd of furious beasts“Appear'd: his form no single youth retain'd.
“Descending Phœbus had Hesperia's shores“Now touch'd; and Canens with her heart and looks“Sought for her spouse in vain: her servants all,“And all the people roam through every wood,“Bearing bright torches. Not content the nymph“To weep, to tear her tresses, and to beat“Her bosom, though not one of these was spar'd,“She sally'd forth herself; and frantic stray'd“Through Latium's plains. Six times the night beheld,“And six returning suns, her, wandering o'er“The mountain tops, or through the vallies deep,“As chance directed: foodless, sleepless, still.“Tiber at length beheld her; with her toil,“And woe, worn out, upon his chilling banks“Her limbs extending. There her very griefs,“Pour'd with her tears, still musically sound.“Mourning, her words in a soft dying tone“Are heard, as when of old th' expiring swan“Sung his own elegy. Wasted at length“Her finest marrow, fast she pin'd away;“And vanish'd quite to unsubstantial air.“Yet still tradition marks the spot, the muse“Of ancient days, still Canens call'd the place,“In honor of the nymph, and justly too.
“Many the tales like these I heard; and much“Like this I saw in that long tedious year.“Sluggish and indolent for lack of toil,“Thence are we bid to plough the deep again;“Again to hoist the sail. But Circé told“So much of doubtful ways, of voyage vast,“And all the perils of the raging deep“We must encounter; that my soul I own“Trembled. I gain'd this shore, and here remain'd.”
Here Macareus finish'd; to Æneäs' nurseInurn'd in marble, this short verse was given:“Cajeta here, sav'd from the flames of Greece,“Her foster-son, for piety renown'd,“With fires more fitting burn'd.” Loos'd are the ropesThat bound them to the grassy beach, and farThey leave the dwelling of the guileful power;And seek the groves, beneath whose cloudy shadeThe yellow-sanded Tiber in the mainFierce rushes. Here Æneäs gains the realm,And daughter of Latinus, Faunus' son:But not without a war. Battles ensueWith the fierce people. For his promis'd brideTurnus loud rages. All the Tuscans joinWith Latium, and with doubtful warfare longIs sought the conquest. Either side augmentWith foreign aid their strength. Rutilians crowdsDefend, and crowds the Trojan trenches guard.
Not bootless, suppliant to Evander's roofÆneäs went; though Venulus in vain,To exil'd Diomed's great town was sent.A mighty city Diomed' had rear'dBeneath Apulian Daunus, and possess'dHis lands by marriage dower. But when made knownBy Venulus, the message Turnus sent,Beseeching aid, th' Etolian hero aidDeny'd. For neither was his wish to sendHis father's troops to fight, nor of his ownHad he, which might the strenuous warfare wage.—“Lest this but feign'd you think,” he said, “though grief“The sad relation will once more renew,“Yet will I now th'afflicting tale repeat.
“When lofty Ilium was consum'd,—the towers“Of Pergamus a prey to Grecian flames,“The Locrian Ajax, for the ravish'd maid,“Drew vengeance on us all; which he alone“Deserv'd from angry Pallas. Scatter'd wide,“And swept by tempests through the foaming deep,“The Grecians, thunders, rains, and darkness bore,“All heaven's and ocean's rage; and all to crown,“On the Capharean rocks the fleet was dash'd.“But not to tire you with each mournful scene“In order; Greece might then the tears have drawn“Ev'n from old Priam. Yet Minerva's care“Snatch'd me in safety from the surge. Again“From Argos, my paternal land, I'm driven;“Bright Venus bearing still in mind the wound“Of former days. Upon th'expanded deep“Such toils I bore excessive; on the land“So in stern combat strove, that oft those seem'd“To me most blest, who in the common wreck,“Caphareus sunk beneath the boisterous waves;“A fate I anxious wish'd I'd with them shar'd.“Now all my comrades, of the toilsome main,“And constant warfare weary; respite crav'd“From their long wanderings. Not was Agmon so,“Fierce still his bosom burn'd; and now he rag'd“From his misfortunes fiercer, as he cry'd—“What, fellows! can remain which now to bear“Your patience should refuse? What, though she would,“Possesses Cythereä to inflict?“When worse is to be dreaded, is the time“For prayers: but when our state the worst has seen“Fear should be spurn'd at; in our depth of woe“Secure. Let she herself hear all my words;“And let her hate, as hate she does, each man“Who follows Diomed'! Yet will we all“Her hatred mock, and stand against her power“So mighty, with a no less mighty breast.—“With words like these Etolian Agmon goads“Th' already raging goddess, and revives“Her ancient hate. Few with his boldness pleas'd;“Far most my friends his daring speech condemn.“Aiming at words respondent, straight his voice“And throat are narrow'd; into plumes his hair“Is alter'd; plumes o'er his new neck are spread;“And o'er his chest, and back; his arms receive“Long pinions, bending into light-form'd wings;“Most of his feet is cleft in claws; his mouth“Hardens to horn, and in a sharp beak ends.“Lycus, Rhetenor, Nycteus, Abas, stareWith wonder, and while wondering there they stand“The same appearance take; and far the most“Of all my troop on wings up fly: and round“The ship the air resounds with clapping wings.“If what new shape those birds so sudden form'd“Distinguish'd, you would know: swans not to be,“Nought could the snowy swan resemble more.“Son now to Daunus, my diminish'd host“Scarce guards this kingdom, and those barren fields.”
Thus far Diomedes; and VenulusTh' Apulian kingdom left, Calabria's gulfPass'd, and Messapia's plains, where he beheldCaverns with woods deep shaded, with light rillsCool water'd: here the goatish Pan now dwelt;Once tenanted by wood-nymphs. From the spotThem, Appulus, a shepherd drove to flight;Alarm'd at first by sudden dread, but soon,Resum'd their courage, his pursuit despis'd,They to the measur'd notes their agile feetMov'd in the dance. The clown insults them more,Mimics their motions in his boorish steps,To coarse abusing adding speech obscene:Nor ceas'd his tongue 'till bury'd in a tree.Well may his manner from the fruit be known;For the wild olive marks his tongue's reproach,In berries most austere: to them transferr'dThe rough ungrateful sharpness of his words.
Return'd the legates, and the message told,Th' Etolians' aid deny'd; without their helpWage the Rutilians now the ready war:And streams of blood from either army flow.Lo! Turnus comes, and greedy torches bringsTo fire the cover'd ships; the flames they fearWhom tempests spar'd. And now the fire consum'dThe pitch, the wax, with all that flame could feed;Then, mounting up the lofty mast, assail'dThe canvas; and the rowers' benches smok'd.This saw the sacred mother of the gods,And mindful that from Ida's lofty topThe pines were hew'd, with clash of tinkling brass,And sounds of hollow box, fill'd all the air.Then borne through ether by her lions tam'd,She said; “Those flames with sacrilegious hand“Thou hurl'st in vain: I will them snatch away.“Ne'er will I calmly view the greedy fire“Aught of the forests, which are mine consume.”Loud thunders rattled as the goddess spoke;And showery floods with hard rebounding hail,The thunder follow'd. In the troubled airThe blustering brethren rag'd, and swell'd the main:The billows furious clash'd. The mother us'dOne blast's exerted force; the cables burst,Which bound the Phrygian vessels to the shore;Them swiftly swept along, and in the deepLow plung'd them. Straight the rigid wood grows softThe timber turns to flesh; the crooked prowsTo heads are chang'd: the oars to floating legs,And toes; while what were ribs, as ribs remain;The keels, deep in the vessels sunk, becomeThe spinal bones; in soft long tresses flowsThe cordage; into arms the sailyards change:The hue of all cerulean as before.And now the Naiäds of the ocean sportWith girlish play, amid those very wavesEre while so dreaded: sprung from rugged hillsThey love the gentle main; nor aught their birthTheir bosoms irks. Yet mindful still what risksThemselves encounter'd on the raging main,Oft with assisting hand the high-tost barkThey aid; save Greeks the hapless bark contains.Mindful of Iliüm's fall, they still detestThe Argives; and with joyful looks beholdThe shatter'd fragments of Ulysses' ship:With joy behold the bark Alcinous gaveHarden to rock, stone growing from the wood.
'Twas hop'd, the fleet transform'd to nymphs marine,The fierce Rutilians, struck with awe, might ceaseThe war; but stubborn either side persists.Each have their gods, and each have godlike souls.Nor seek they now, so much the kingdom dower,Latinus' sceptre, or Lavinia! thee,As conquest: waging war through shame to cease.Venus at last beholds, brave Turnus slain,Her son's victorious arms; and Ardea falls,A mighty town when Turnus yet was safe:It cruel flames destroy'd; and every roofThe smoking embers hid; up from the heapOf ruins, sprung a bird unknown before,And beat the ashes with its sounding wings:Its voice, its leanness, pallid hue, and all,Suit well a captur'd city; and the nameRetaining still, with beating wings it wails.
Now had Æneäs' virtues, all the gods,Ev'n Juno, forc'd to cease their ancient hate.The young Iülus' growing empire fixtOn firm foundations, ripe was then for heavenThe Cytheréan prince. Venus besoughtThat favor of the gods; round her sire's neckHer arms she clasp'd—“O, father!”—she exclaim'd—“Indulgent still, be more than ever kind:“Grant that a deity, though e'er so low,“Æneäs may become! who through my blood“Claims thee as grandsire; something let him gain.“Let it suffice, that he has once beheld“The dreary realm; and once already past“The Stygian stream.”—The deities consent:Nor does the heavenly queen, her forehead sternRetain, consenting with a cheerful mien.Then spoke the sire. “Both, daughter, merit well“The boon celestial: what thou ask'st receive,“Since thou desir'st it, and since he deserves.”He ceas'd. O'erjoy'd, she grateful thanks returns;And by yok'd turtles borne through yielding air,She seeks Laurentum's shore, where gently creepNumicius' waters 'midst a reedy shadeInto the neighbouring main. She bids him cleanseAll of Æneäs that to death was given;And bear him silent floating to the sea.The horned god, what Venus bade perform'd:All that Æneäs had of mortal mouldHe purg'd away, and wash'd him with his waves.His better part remain'd. Odours divine,O'er his lustrated limbs, the mother pour'd;And with ambrosia and sweet nectar touch'dHis lips, and perfect is the new-made god:Whom Indiges, the Roman people call,Worship with altars, and in temples place.
Alba, and Latium then beneath the ruleOf young Iülus, call'd Ascanius, came.Him Sylvius follow'd. Then Latinus heldThe ancient sceptre, with his grandsire's name.Alba to fam'd Latinus was the next.Then Epitus; Capetus; Capys reign'd:Capys before Capetus. After theseThe realm was sway'd by Tiberinus; sunkBeneath the billows of the Tuscan stream,The waters took his name. His sons were two,Fierce Remulus, and Acrota; the firstPre-eminent in years, the thunder mock'd;And by the thunder dy'd. Of meeker mindHis brother, to brave Aventinus leftThe throne; who bury'd 'neath the self-same hillWhere once he reign'd, gave to the hill a name;And Procas now the Latian people rul'd.
Beneath this monarch fair Pomona liv'd,Than whom amongst the Hamadryad trainNone tended closer to her garden's care;None o'er the trees' young fruit more anxious watch'd;And thence her name. In rivers, she, and woods,Delighted not, for fields were all her joy;And branches bending with delicious loads.Nor grasps her hand a javelin, but a hook,With which she now luxurious boughs restrains,And prunes the stragglers, when too wide they spread:Now she divides the rind, and in the cleftInserts a scion, and supporting juiceAffords th' adopted stranger. Ne'er she bearsThat drought they feel, but oft with flowing streamsWaters the crooked fibres of their roots:This all her love, this all her care, for manShe heeded not. Yet of the lawless forceOf rustics fearful, she her orchard roundWell fenc'd, and every part from access barr'd,And fled from all mankind. What was there leftUntry'd, by satyrs, by the wanton fawns,Or pine-crown'd Pan; Sylvanus, ever youth;Or him whose sickle frights nocturnal thievesTo gain her? These Vertumnus all excell'dIn passion; but not happier he than they.How oft a basket of ripe grain he bore,Clad like a hardy reaper, and in formA real reaper seem'd! Oft with new hayHis temples bound, who turns the fresh cut grassHe might be thought. Oft in his horny handHe bears a goad; then might you swear, that nowThe weary oxen he had just unyok'd.Arm'd with a pruning hook, he one appearsWho lops the vines. When he the ladder lifts,Apples about to pluck he seems. His swordShews him a soldier; and his trembling reedAn angler. Thus a thousand shapes he tries,T' enjoy the pleasure of her beauteous sight.Now leaning on a staff, his temples cladIn painted bonnet, he an ancient dame,With silver locks thin scatter'd o'er her head,Would seem; and in the well-trimm'd orchard walks;Admires the fruit—“But, O! how far beyond“Are these;”—he said, and kiss'd the lips he prais'd:No ancient dame such kisses e'er bestow'd.Then rested on the swelling turf, and view'dThe branches bending with th' autumnal load.