All dared the worst of ills, and, what they dared, attained.Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,And throats of brass, inspired with iron lungs,I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.But let us haste our voyage to pursue:The walls of Pluto's palace are in view;The gate, and iron arch above it, stands,On anvils laboured by the Cyclops' hands.Before our farther way the Fates allow,Here must we fix on high the golden bow."She said: and through the gloomy shades they past,And chose the middle path.—Arrived at last,The prince, with living water, sprinkled o'erHis limbs and body; then approached the door,Possessed the porch, and on the front aboveHe fixed the fatal bough, required by Pluto's love.These holy rites performed, they took their way,Where long extended plains of pleasure lay;The verdant fields with those of heaven may vie,With æther vested, and a purple sky—The blissful seats of happy souls below:Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know:Their airy limbs in sports they exercise,And, on the green, contend the wrestler's prize.Some, in heroic verse, divinely sing;Others in artful measures lead the ring.The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest,There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest.His flying fingers, and harmonious quill,Strike seven distinguished notes, and seven at once they fill.Here found they Teucer's old heroic race,Born better times and happier years to grace.Assaracus and Ilus here enjoyPerpetual fame, with him who founded Troy.The chief beheld their chariots from afar,Their shining arms, and coursers trained to war.Their lances fixed in earth, their steeds around,Free from their harness, graze the flowery ground.The love of horses which they had, alive,And care of chariots, after death survive.Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain;Some did the song, and some the choir, maintain,Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty PoMounts up to woods above, and hides his head below.Here patriots live, who, for their country's good,In fighting-fields, were prodigal of blood:Priests of unblemished lives here make abode,And poets worthy their inspiring god;And searching wits, of more mechanic parts,Who graced their age with new-invented arts;Those, who to worth their bounty did extend,And those who knew that bounty to commend.The heads of these with holy fillets bound,And all their temples were with garlands crowned.To these the Sibyl thus her speech addressed,}And first to him surrounded by the rest—}Towering his height, and ample was his breast:—}"Say, happy souls! divine Musæus! say,Where lives Anchises, and where lies our wayTo find the hero, for whose only sakeWe sought the dark abodes, and crossed the bitter lake?"To this the sacred poet thus replied:—"In no fixed place the happy souls reside.In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds,By crystal streams, that murmur through the meads:But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend;The path conducts you to your journey's end."This said, he led them up the mountain's brow,}And shews them all the shining fields below.}They wind the hill, and through the blissful meadows go.}But old Anchises, in a flowery vale,Reviewed his mustered race, and took the tale—Those happy spirits, which, ordained by Fate,For future being and new bodies wait—With studious thought observed the illustrious throng,In Nature's order as they passed along—Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care,In peaceful senates, and successful war.He, when Æneas on the plain appears,Meets him with open arms, and falling tears.—"Welcome," he said, "the gods' undoubted race!}O long expected to my dear embrace!}Once more 'tis given me to behold your face!}The love and pious duty which you pay,Have passed the perils of so hard a way.'Tis true, computing times, I now believedThe happy day approached; nor are my hopes deceived.What length of lands, what oceans have you passed,What storms sustained, and on what shores been cast!How have I feared your fate! but feared it most,When love assailed you on the Libyan coast."To this, the filial duty thus replies:—}"Your sacred ghost, before my sleeping eyes,}Appeared, and often urged this painful enterprize.}After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea,My navy rides at anchor in the bay.But reach your hand, oh parent shade! nor shunThe dear embraces of your longing son!"He said; and falling tears his face bedew:Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw;And thrice the fleeting shadow slipped away,Like winds, or empty dreams, that fly the day.Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees}A separate grove, through which a gentle breeze}Plays with a passing breath, and whispers through the trees:}And, just before the confines of the wood,The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood.About the boughs an airy nation flew,Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dewIn summer's heat; on tops of lilies feed,And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed:The winged army roams the field around;The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound.Æneas wondering stood, then asked the cause,Which to the stream the crowding people draws.Then thus the sire:—"The souls that throng the floodAre those, to whom, by Fate, are other bodies owed:In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste,Of future life secure, forgetful of the past.Long has my soul desired this time and place,To set before your sight your glorious race,That this presaging joy may fire your mind,To seek the shores by destiny designed."—"O father! can it be, that souls sublimeReturn to visit our terrestrial clime,And that the generous mind, released by death,Can covet lazy limbs, and mortal breath?"Anchises then, in order, thus begunTo clear those wonders to his godlike son:—"Know, first, that heaven, and earth's compacted frame,And flowing waters, and the starry flame,And both the radiant lights,[110]one common soulInspires and feeds, and animates the whole.This active mind, infused through all the space,Unites and mingles with the mighty mass.Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,And birds of air, and monsters of the main.The etherial vigour is in all the same,And every soul is filled with equal flame—As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay}Of mortal members subject to decay,}Blunt not the beams of heaven and edge of day.}From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts,Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts,And grief, and joy; nor can the grovelling mind,}In the dark dungeon of the limbs confined,}Assert the native skies, or own its heavenly kind:}Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains;But long-contracted filth even in the soul remains.The reliques of inveterate vice they wear,And spots of sin obscene in every face appear.For this are various penances enjoined;And some are hung to bleach upon the wind,Some plunged in waters, others purged in fires,Till all the dregs are drained, and all the rust expires.All have their manes, and those manes bear:}The few, so cleansed, to these abodes repair,}And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air.}Then are they happy, when by length of timeThe scurf is worn away, of each committed crime;No speck is left of their habitual stains,But the pure æther of the soul remains.But, when a thousand rolling years are past,(So long their punishments and penance last,)Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,Compelled to drink the deep Lethæan flood,In large forgetful draughts to steep the caresOf their past labours, and their irksome years,That, unremembering of its former pain,The soul may suffer mortal flesh again."Thus having said, the father spirit leadsThe priestess and his son through swarms of shades,And takes a rising ground, from thence to seeThe long procession of his progeny.—"Survey (pursued the sire) this airy throng,As, offered to thy view, they pass along.These are the Italian names, which Fate will joinWith ours, and graff upon the Trojan line.Observe the youth who first appears in sight,And holds the nearest station to the light,Already seems to snuff the vital air,And leans just forward on a shining spear:Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race,But first in order sent, to fill thy place—An Alban name, but mixed with Dardan blood;Born in the covert of a shady wood,Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife,Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life.In Alba he shall fix his royal seat,And, born a king, a race of kings beget;—Then Procas, honour of the Trojan name,Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame.A second Silvius after these appears;Silvius Æneas, for thy name he bears;For arms and justice equally renowned,Who, late restored, in Alba shall be crowned.How great they look! how vigorously they wieldTheir weighty lances, and sustain the shield!But they, who crowned with oaken wreaths appear,Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear;Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found;And raise Collatian towers on rocky ground.All these shall then be towns of mighty fame,Though now they lie obscure, and lands without a name.See Romulus the great, born to restoreThe crown that once his injured grandsire wore.This prince a priestess of our blood shall bear,And like his sire in arms he shall appear.Two rising crests his royal head adorn;Born from a god, himself to godhead born,His sire already signs him for the skies,And marks his seat amidst the deities.Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come,Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome—Rome, whose ascending towers shall heaven invade,Involving earth and ocean in her shade;High as the mother of the gods in place,And proud, like her, of an immortal race.Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round,With golden turrets on her temples crowned;A hundred gods her sweeping train supply,Her offspring all, and all command the sky.Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to seeYour Roman race, and Julian progeny.The mighty Cæsar waits his vital hour,Impatient for the world, and grasps his promised power.But next behold the youth of form divine—Cæsar himself, exalted in his line—Augustus, promised oft, and long foretold,}Sent to the realm that Saturn ruled of old;}Born to restore a better age of gold.}Afric and India shall his power obey;}He shall extend his propagated sway}Beyond the solar year, without the starry way,}Where Atlas turns the rolling heavens around,And his broad shoulders with their lights are crowned.At his foreseen approach, already quakeThe Caspian kingdoms and Mæotian lake.Their seers behold the tempest from afar;And threatening oracles denounce the war.Nile hears him knocking at his sevenfold gates,And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates.Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew,Not though the brazen-footed hind he slew,Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar,And dipped his arrows in Lernæan gore;Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war,By tygers drawn triumphant in his car,From Nysa's top descending on the plains,With curling vines around his purple reins.And doubt we yet through dangers to pursueThe paths of honour, and a crown in view?But what's the man, who from afar appears,His head with olive crowned, his hand a censer bears?His hoary beard and holy vestments bringHis lost idea back: I know the Roman king.He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain,Called from his mean abode, a sceptre to sustain.Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds,An active prince, and prone to martial deeds.He shall his troops for fighting-fields prepare,Disused to toils, and triumphs of the war.By dint of sword his crown he shall increase,And scour his armour from the rust of peace.Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air,But vain within, and proudly popular.Next view the Tarquin kings, the avenging swordOf Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restored.He first renews the rods and axe severe,And gives the consuls royal robes to wear.His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain,And long for arbitrary lords again,With ignominy scourged in open sight,He dooms to death deserved, asserting public right.Unhappy man! to break the pious lawsOf nature, pleading in his children's cause!Howe'er the doubtful fact is understood,}'Tis love of honour, and his country's good:}The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.}Behold Torquatus the same track pursue;And, next, the two devoted Decii view—The Drusian line, Camillus loaded homeWith standards well redeemed, and foreign foes o'ercome.The pair you see in equal armour shine,Now, friends below, in close embraces join;But, when they leave the shady realms of night,And, clothed in bodies, breathe your upper light,With mortal hate each other shall pursue;What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue!From Alpine heights the father first descends;}His daughter's husband in the plain attends:}His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends.}Embrace again, my sons! be foes no more;Nor stain your country with her children's gore!And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim,Thou, of my blood, who bear'st the Julian name![111]Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,And to the Capitol his chariot guide,From conquered Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.And yet another, famed for warlike toils,On Argos shall impose the Roman laws,And, on the Greeks, revenge the Trojan cause;Shall drag in chains their Achillean race;}Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace,}And Pallas, for her violated place.}Great Cato there, for gravity renowned,[112]And conquering Cossus goes with laurels crowned.Who can omit the Gracchi? who declareThe Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war,The double bane of Carthage? Who can see,Without esteem for virtuous poverty,Severe Fabricius, or can cease to admireThe ploughman consul in his coarse attire?Tired as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,Ordained in war to save the sinking state,And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!Let others better mould the running mass}Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,}And soften into flesh a marble face;}Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,And when the stars descend, and when they rise.But, Rome! 'tis thine alone, with awful sway,}To rule mankind, and make the world obey,}Disposing peace and war thy own majestic way;}To tame the proud, the fettered slave to free:—These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."He paused—and, while with wondering eyes they viewedThe passing spirits, thus his speech renewed:—"See great Marcellus! how, untired in toils,He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!He, when his country (threatened with alarms)Requires his courage and his conquering arms,Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;Then to the Capitol in triumph move,And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove."Æneas here beheld, of form divine,A godlike youth in glittering armour shine,With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.He saw, and, wondering, asked his airy guide,What and of whence was he, who pressed the hero's side?"His son, or one of his illustrious name?How like the former, and almost the same!Observe the crowds that compass him around;All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:But hovering mists around his brows are spread,And night, with sable shades, involves his head.""Seek not to know (the ghost replied with tears)The sorrows of thy sons in future years.This youth (the blissful vision of a day)Shall just be shown on earth, and snatched away.The gods too high had raised the Roman state,Were but their gifts as permanent as great.What groans of men shall fill the Martian Field!How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!What funeral pomp shall floating Tyber see,When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!No youth shall equal hopes of glory give,No youth afford so great a cause to grieve.The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast,Admired when living, and adored when lost!Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!No foe, unpunished, in the fighting-fieldShall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield,Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force,When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.Ah! couldst thou break through Fate's severe decree,A new Marcellus shall arise in thee![113]Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,Mixed with the purple roses of the spring;Let me with funeral flowers his body strow;}This gift which parents to their children owe,}This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!"}Thus having said, he led the hero roundThe confines of the blest Elysian ground;Which when Anchises to his son had shown,And fired his mind to mount the promised throne,He tells the future wars, ordained by Fate;The strength and customs of the Latian state;The prince, and people; and fore-arms his careWith rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;Of polished ivory this, that of transparent horn;[114]True visions through transparent horn arise;Through polished ivory pass deluding lies.Of various things discoursing as he passed,Anchises hither bends his steps at last.Then, through the gate of ivory, he dismissedHis valiant offspring, and divining guest.Straight to the ships Æneas took his way,}Embarked his men, and skimmed along the sea,}Still coasting, till he gained Caieta's bay.}At length on oozy ground his galleys moor;Their heads are turned to sea, their sterns to shore.
All dared the worst of ills, and, what they dared, attained.Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,And throats of brass, inspired with iron lungs,I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.But let us haste our voyage to pursue:The walls of Pluto's palace are in view;The gate, and iron arch above it, stands,On anvils laboured by the Cyclops' hands.Before our farther way the Fates allow,Here must we fix on high the golden bow."She said: and through the gloomy shades they past,And chose the middle path.—Arrived at last,The prince, with living water, sprinkled o'erHis limbs and body; then approached the door,Possessed the porch, and on the front aboveHe fixed the fatal bough, required by Pluto's love.These holy rites performed, they took their way,Where long extended plains of pleasure lay;The verdant fields with those of heaven may vie,With æther vested, and a purple sky—The blissful seats of happy souls below:Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know:Their airy limbs in sports they exercise,And, on the green, contend the wrestler's prize.Some, in heroic verse, divinely sing;Others in artful measures lead the ring.The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest,There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest.His flying fingers, and harmonious quill,Strike seven distinguished notes, and seven at once they fill.Here found they Teucer's old heroic race,Born better times and happier years to grace.Assaracus and Ilus here enjoyPerpetual fame, with him who founded Troy.The chief beheld their chariots from afar,Their shining arms, and coursers trained to war.Their lances fixed in earth, their steeds around,Free from their harness, graze the flowery ground.The love of horses which they had, alive,And care of chariots, after death survive.Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain;Some did the song, and some the choir, maintain,Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty PoMounts up to woods above, and hides his head below.Here patriots live, who, for their country's good,In fighting-fields, were prodigal of blood:Priests of unblemished lives here make abode,And poets worthy their inspiring god;And searching wits, of more mechanic parts,Who graced their age with new-invented arts;Those, who to worth their bounty did extend,And those who knew that bounty to commend.The heads of these with holy fillets bound,And all their temples were with garlands crowned.To these the Sibyl thus her speech addressed,}And first to him surrounded by the rest—}Towering his height, and ample was his breast:—}"Say, happy souls! divine Musæus! say,Where lives Anchises, and where lies our wayTo find the hero, for whose only sakeWe sought the dark abodes, and crossed the bitter lake?"To this the sacred poet thus replied:—"In no fixed place the happy souls reside.In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds,By crystal streams, that murmur through the meads:But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend;The path conducts you to your journey's end."This said, he led them up the mountain's brow,}And shews them all the shining fields below.}They wind the hill, and through the blissful meadows go.}But old Anchises, in a flowery vale,Reviewed his mustered race, and took the tale—Those happy spirits, which, ordained by Fate,For future being and new bodies wait—With studious thought observed the illustrious throng,In Nature's order as they passed along—Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care,In peaceful senates, and successful war.He, when Æneas on the plain appears,Meets him with open arms, and falling tears.—"Welcome," he said, "the gods' undoubted race!}O long expected to my dear embrace!}Once more 'tis given me to behold your face!}The love and pious duty which you pay,Have passed the perils of so hard a way.'Tis true, computing times, I now believedThe happy day approached; nor are my hopes deceived.What length of lands, what oceans have you passed,What storms sustained, and on what shores been cast!How have I feared your fate! but feared it most,When love assailed you on the Libyan coast."To this, the filial duty thus replies:—}"Your sacred ghost, before my sleeping eyes,}Appeared, and often urged this painful enterprize.}After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea,My navy rides at anchor in the bay.But reach your hand, oh parent shade! nor shunThe dear embraces of your longing son!"He said; and falling tears his face bedew:Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw;And thrice the fleeting shadow slipped away,Like winds, or empty dreams, that fly the day.Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees}A separate grove, through which a gentle breeze}Plays with a passing breath, and whispers through the trees:}And, just before the confines of the wood,The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood.About the boughs an airy nation flew,Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dewIn summer's heat; on tops of lilies feed,And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed:The winged army roams the field around;The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound.Æneas wondering stood, then asked the cause,Which to the stream the crowding people draws.Then thus the sire:—"The souls that throng the floodAre those, to whom, by Fate, are other bodies owed:In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste,Of future life secure, forgetful of the past.Long has my soul desired this time and place,To set before your sight your glorious race,That this presaging joy may fire your mind,To seek the shores by destiny designed."—"O father! can it be, that souls sublimeReturn to visit our terrestrial clime,And that the generous mind, released by death,Can covet lazy limbs, and mortal breath?"Anchises then, in order, thus begunTo clear those wonders to his godlike son:—"Know, first, that heaven, and earth's compacted frame,And flowing waters, and the starry flame,And both the radiant lights,[110]one common soulInspires and feeds, and animates the whole.This active mind, infused through all the space,Unites and mingles with the mighty mass.Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,And birds of air, and monsters of the main.The etherial vigour is in all the same,And every soul is filled with equal flame—As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay}Of mortal members subject to decay,}Blunt not the beams of heaven and edge of day.}From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts,Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts,And grief, and joy; nor can the grovelling mind,}In the dark dungeon of the limbs confined,}Assert the native skies, or own its heavenly kind:}Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains;But long-contracted filth even in the soul remains.The reliques of inveterate vice they wear,And spots of sin obscene in every face appear.For this are various penances enjoined;And some are hung to bleach upon the wind,Some plunged in waters, others purged in fires,Till all the dregs are drained, and all the rust expires.All have their manes, and those manes bear:}The few, so cleansed, to these abodes repair,}And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air.}Then are they happy, when by length of timeThe scurf is worn away, of each committed crime;No speck is left of their habitual stains,But the pure æther of the soul remains.But, when a thousand rolling years are past,(So long their punishments and penance last,)Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,Compelled to drink the deep Lethæan flood,In large forgetful draughts to steep the caresOf their past labours, and their irksome years,That, unremembering of its former pain,The soul may suffer mortal flesh again."Thus having said, the father spirit leadsThe priestess and his son through swarms of shades,And takes a rising ground, from thence to seeThe long procession of his progeny.—"Survey (pursued the sire) this airy throng,As, offered to thy view, they pass along.These are the Italian names, which Fate will joinWith ours, and graff upon the Trojan line.Observe the youth who first appears in sight,And holds the nearest station to the light,Already seems to snuff the vital air,And leans just forward on a shining spear:Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race,But first in order sent, to fill thy place—An Alban name, but mixed with Dardan blood;Born in the covert of a shady wood,Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife,Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life.In Alba he shall fix his royal seat,And, born a king, a race of kings beget;—Then Procas, honour of the Trojan name,Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame.A second Silvius after these appears;Silvius Æneas, for thy name he bears;For arms and justice equally renowned,Who, late restored, in Alba shall be crowned.How great they look! how vigorously they wieldTheir weighty lances, and sustain the shield!But they, who crowned with oaken wreaths appear,Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear;Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found;And raise Collatian towers on rocky ground.All these shall then be towns of mighty fame,Though now they lie obscure, and lands without a name.See Romulus the great, born to restoreThe crown that once his injured grandsire wore.This prince a priestess of our blood shall bear,And like his sire in arms he shall appear.Two rising crests his royal head adorn;Born from a god, himself to godhead born,His sire already signs him for the skies,And marks his seat amidst the deities.Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come,Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome—Rome, whose ascending towers shall heaven invade,Involving earth and ocean in her shade;High as the mother of the gods in place,And proud, like her, of an immortal race.Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round,With golden turrets on her temples crowned;A hundred gods her sweeping train supply,Her offspring all, and all command the sky.Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to seeYour Roman race, and Julian progeny.The mighty Cæsar waits his vital hour,Impatient for the world, and grasps his promised power.But next behold the youth of form divine—Cæsar himself, exalted in his line—Augustus, promised oft, and long foretold,}Sent to the realm that Saturn ruled of old;}Born to restore a better age of gold.}Afric and India shall his power obey;}He shall extend his propagated sway}Beyond the solar year, without the starry way,}Where Atlas turns the rolling heavens around,And his broad shoulders with their lights are crowned.At his foreseen approach, already quakeThe Caspian kingdoms and Mæotian lake.Their seers behold the tempest from afar;And threatening oracles denounce the war.Nile hears him knocking at his sevenfold gates,And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates.Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew,Not though the brazen-footed hind he slew,Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar,And dipped his arrows in Lernæan gore;Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war,By tygers drawn triumphant in his car,From Nysa's top descending on the plains,With curling vines around his purple reins.And doubt we yet through dangers to pursueThe paths of honour, and a crown in view?But what's the man, who from afar appears,His head with olive crowned, his hand a censer bears?His hoary beard and holy vestments bringHis lost idea back: I know the Roman king.He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain,Called from his mean abode, a sceptre to sustain.Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds,An active prince, and prone to martial deeds.He shall his troops for fighting-fields prepare,Disused to toils, and triumphs of the war.By dint of sword his crown he shall increase,And scour his armour from the rust of peace.Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air,But vain within, and proudly popular.Next view the Tarquin kings, the avenging swordOf Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restored.He first renews the rods and axe severe,And gives the consuls royal robes to wear.His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain,And long for arbitrary lords again,With ignominy scourged in open sight,He dooms to death deserved, asserting public right.Unhappy man! to break the pious lawsOf nature, pleading in his children's cause!Howe'er the doubtful fact is understood,}'Tis love of honour, and his country's good:}The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.}Behold Torquatus the same track pursue;And, next, the two devoted Decii view—The Drusian line, Camillus loaded homeWith standards well redeemed, and foreign foes o'ercome.The pair you see in equal armour shine,Now, friends below, in close embraces join;But, when they leave the shady realms of night,And, clothed in bodies, breathe your upper light,With mortal hate each other shall pursue;What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue!From Alpine heights the father first descends;}His daughter's husband in the plain attends:}His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends.}Embrace again, my sons! be foes no more;Nor stain your country with her children's gore!And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim,Thou, of my blood, who bear'st the Julian name![111]Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,And to the Capitol his chariot guide,From conquered Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.And yet another, famed for warlike toils,On Argos shall impose the Roman laws,And, on the Greeks, revenge the Trojan cause;Shall drag in chains their Achillean race;}Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace,}And Pallas, for her violated place.}Great Cato there, for gravity renowned,[112]And conquering Cossus goes with laurels crowned.Who can omit the Gracchi? who declareThe Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war,The double bane of Carthage? Who can see,Without esteem for virtuous poverty,Severe Fabricius, or can cease to admireThe ploughman consul in his coarse attire?Tired as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,Ordained in war to save the sinking state,And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!Let others better mould the running mass}Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,}And soften into flesh a marble face;}Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,And when the stars descend, and when they rise.But, Rome! 'tis thine alone, with awful sway,}To rule mankind, and make the world obey,}Disposing peace and war thy own majestic way;}To tame the proud, the fettered slave to free:—These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."He paused—and, while with wondering eyes they viewedThe passing spirits, thus his speech renewed:—"See great Marcellus! how, untired in toils,He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!He, when his country (threatened with alarms)Requires his courage and his conquering arms,Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;Then to the Capitol in triumph move,And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove."Æneas here beheld, of form divine,A godlike youth in glittering armour shine,With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.He saw, and, wondering, asked his airy guide,What and of whence was he, who pressed the hero's side?"His son, or one of his illustrious name?How like the former, and almost the same!Observe the crowds that compass him around;All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:But hovering mists around his brows are spread,And night, with sable shades, involves his head.""Seek not to know (the ghost replied with tears)The sorrows of thy sons in future years.This youth (the blissful vision of a day)Shall just be shown on earth, and snatched away.The gods too high had raised the Roman state,Were but their gifts as permanent as great.What groans of men shall fill the Martian Field!How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!What funeral pomp shall floating Tyber see,When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!No youth shall equal hopes of glory give,No youth afford so great a cause to grieve.The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast,Admired when living, and adored when lost!Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!No foe, unpunished, in the fighting-fieldShall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield,Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force,When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.Ah! couldst thou break through Fate's severe decree,A new Marcellus shall arise in thee![113]Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,Mixed with the purple roses of the spring;Let me with funeral flowers his body strow;}This gift which parents to their children owe,}This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!"}Thus having said, he led the hero roundThe confines of the blest Elysian ground;Which when Anchises to his son had shown,And fired his mind to mount the promised throne,He tells the future wars, ordained by Fate;The strength and customs of the Latian state;The prince, and people; and fore-arms his careWith rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;Of polished ivory this, that of transparent horn;[114]True visions through transparent horn arise;Through polished ivory pass deluding lies.Of various things discoursing as he passed,Anchises hither bends his steps at last.Then, through the gate of ivory, he dismissedHis valiant offspring, and divining guest.Straight to the ships Æneas took his way,}Embarked his men, and skimmed along the sea,}Still coasting, till he gained Caieta's bay.}At length on oozy ground his galleys moor;Their heads are turned to sea, their sterns to shore.
All dared the worst of ills, and, what they dared, attained.Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,And throats of brass, inspired with iron lungs,I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.But let us haste our voyage to pursue:The walls of Pluto's palace are in view;The gate, and iron arch above it, stands,On anvils laboured by the Cyclops' hands.Before our farther way the Fates allow,Here must we fix on high the golden bow."She said: and through the gloomy shades they past,And chose the middle path.—Arrived at last,The prince, with living water, sprinkled o'erHis limbs and body; then approached the door,Possessed the porch, and on the front aboveHe fixed the fatal bough, required by Pluto's love.These holy rites performed, they took their way,Where long extended plains of pleasure lay;The verdant fields with those of heaven may vie,With æther vested, and a purple sky—The blissful seats of happy souls below:Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know:Their airy limbs in sports they exercise,And, on the green, contend the wrestler's prize.Some, in heroic verse, divinely sing;Others in artful measures lead the ring.The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest,There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest.His flying fingers, and harmonious quill,Strike seven distinguished notes, and seven at once they fill.Here found they Teucer's old heroic race,Born better times and happier years to grace.Assaracus and Ilus here enjoyPerpetual fame, with him who founded Troy.The chief beheld their chariots from afar,Their shining arms, and coursers trained to war.Their lances fixed in earth, their steeds around,Free from their harness, graze the flowery ground.The love of horses which they had, alive,And care of chariots, after death survive.Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain;Some did the song, and some the choir, maintain,Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty PoMounts up to woods above, and hides his head below.Here patriots live, who, for their country's good,In fighting-fields, were prodigal of blood:Priests of unblemished lives here make abode,And poets worthy their inspiring god;And searching wits, of more mechanic parts,Who graced their age with new-invented arts;Those, who to worth their bounty did extend,And those who knew that bounty to commend.The heads of these with holy fillets bound,And all their temples were with garlands crowned.To these the Sibyl thus her speech addressed,}And first to him surrounded by the rest—}Towering his height, and ample was his breast:—}"Say, happy souls! divine Musæus! say,Where lives Anchises, and where lies our wayTo find the hero, for whose only sakeWe sought the dark abodes, and crossed the bitter lake?"To this the sacred poet thus replied:—"In no fixed place the happy souls reside.In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds,By crystal streams, that murmur through the meads:But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend;The path conducts you to your journey's end."This said, he led them up the mountain's brow,}And shews them all the shining fields below.}They wind the hill, and through the blissful meadows go.}But old Anchises, in a flowery vale,Reviewed his mustered race, and took the tale—Those happy spirits, which, ordained by Fate,For future being and new bodies wait—With studious thought observed the illustrious throng,In Nature's order as they passed along—Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care,In peaceful senates, and successful war.He, when Æneas on the plain appears,Meets him with open arms, and falling tears.—"Welcome," he said, "the gods' undoubted race!}O long expected to my dear embrace!}Once more 'tis given me to behold your face!}The love and pious duty which you pay,Have passed the perils of so hard a way.'Tis true, computing times, I now believedThe happy day approached; nor are my hopes deceived.What length of lands, what oceans have you passed,What storms sustained, and on what shores been cast!How have I feared your fate! but feared it most,When love assailed you on the Libyan coast."To this, the filial duty thus replies:—}"Your sacred ghost, before my sleeping eyes,}Appeared, and often urged this painful enterprize.}After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea,My navy rides at anchor in the bay.But reach your hand, oh parent shade! nor shunThe dear embraces of your longing son!"He said; and falling tears his face bedew:Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw;And thrice the fleeting shadow slipped away,Like winds, or empty dreams, that fly the day.Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees}A separate grove, through which a gentle breeze}Plays with a passing breath, and whispers through the trees:}And, just before the confines of the wood,The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood.About the boughs an airy nation flew,Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dewIn summer's heat; on tops of lilies feed,And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed:The winged army roams the field around;The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound.Æneas wondering stood, then asked the cause,Which to the stream the crowding people draws.Then thus the sire:—"The souls that throng the floodAre those, to whom, by Fate, are other bodies owed:In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste,Of future life secure, forgetful of the past.Long has my soul desired this time and place,To set before your sight your glorious race,That this presaging joy may fire your mind,To seek the shores by destiny designed."—"O father! can it be, that souls sublimeReturn to visit our terrestrial clime,And that the generous mind, released by death,Can covet lazy limbs, and mortal breath?"Anchises then, in order, thus begunTo clear those wonders to his godlike son:—"Know, first, that heaven, and earth's compacted frame,And flowing waters, and the starry flame,And both the radiant lights,[110]one common soulInspires and feeds, and animates the whole.This active mind, infused through all the space,Unites and mingles with the mighty mass.Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,And birds of air, and monsters of the main.The etherial vigour is in all the same,And every soul is filled with equal flame—As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay}Of mortal members subject to decay,}Blunt not the beams of heaven and edge of day.}From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts,Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts,And grief, and joy; nor can the grovelling mind,}In the dark dungeon of the limbs confined,}Assert the native skies, or own its heavenly kind:}Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains;But long-contracted filth even in the soul remains.The reliques of inveterate vice they wear,And spots of sin obscene in every face appear.For this are various penances enjoined;And some are hung to bleach upon the wind,Some plunged in waters, others purged in fires,Till all the dregs are drained, and all the rust expires.All have their manes, and those manes bear:}The few, so cleansed, to these abodes repair,}And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air.}Then are they happy, when by length of timeThe scurf is worn away, of each committed crime;No speck is left of their habitual stains,But the pure æther of the soul remains.But, when a thousand rolling years are past,(So long their punishments and penance last,)Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,Compelled to drink the deep Lethæan flood,In large forgetful draughts to steep the caresOf their past labours, and their irksome years,That, unremembering of its former pain,The soul may suffer mortal flesh again."Thus having said, the father spirit leadsThe priestess and his son through swarms of shades,And takes a rising ground, from thence to seeThe long procession of his progeny.—"Survey (pursued the sire) this airy throng,As, offered to thy view, they pass along.These are the Italian names, which Fate will joinWith ours, and graff upon the Trojan line.Observe the youth who first appears in sight,And holds the nearest station to the light,Already seems to snuff the vital air,And leans just forward on a shining spear:Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race,But first in order sent, to fill thy place—An Alban name, but mixed with Dardan blood;Born in the covert of a shady wood,Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife,Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life.In Alba he shall fix his royal seat,And, born a king, a race of kings beget;—Then Procas, honour of the Trojan name,Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame.A second Silvius after these appears;Silvius Æneas, for thy name he bears;For arms and justice equally renowned,Who, late restored, in Alba shall be crowned.How great they look! how vigorously they wieldTheir weighty lances, and sustain the shield!But they, who crowned with oaken wreaths appear,Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear;Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found;And raise Collatian towers on rocky ground.All these shall then be towns of mighty fame,Though now they lie obscure, and lands without a name.See Romulus the great, born to restoreThe crown that once his injured grandsire wore.This prince a priestess of our blood shall bear,And like his sire in arms he shall appear.Two rising crests his royal head adorn;Born from a god, himself to godhead born,His sire already signs him for the skies,And marks his seat amidst the deities.Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come,Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome—Rome, whose ascending towers shall heaven invade,Involving earth and ocean in her shade;High as the mother of the gods in place,And proud, like her, of an immortal race.Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round,With golden turrets on her temples crowned;A hundred gods her sweeping train supply,Her offspring all, and all command the sky.Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to seeYour Roman race, and Julian progeny.The mighty Cæsar waits his vital hour,Impatient for the world, and grasps his promised power.But next behold the youth of form divine—Cæsar himself, exalted in his line—Augustus, promised oft, and long foretold,}Sent to the realm that Saturn ruled of old;}Born to restore a better age of gold.}Afric and India shall his power obey;}He shall extend his propagated sway}Beyond the solar year, without the starry way,}Where Atlas turns the rolling heavens around,And his broad shoulders with their lights are crowned.At his foreseen approach, already quakeThe Caspian kingdoms and Mæotian lake.Their seers behold the tempest from afar;And threatening oracles denounce the war.Nile hears him knocking at his sevenfold gates,And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates.Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew,Not though the brazen-footed hind he slew,Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar,And dipped his arrows in Lernæan gore;Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war,By tygers drawn triumphant in his car,From Nysa's top descending on the plains,With curling vines around his purple reins.And doubt we yet through dangers to pursueThe paths of honour, and a crown in view?But what's the man, who from afar appears,His head with olive crowned, his hand a censer bears?His hoary beard and holy vestments bringHis lost idea back: I know the Roman king.He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain,Called from his mean abode, a sceptre to sustain.Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds,An active prince, and prone to martial deeds.He shall his troops for fighting-fields prepare,Disused to toils, and triumphs of the war.By dint of sword his crown he shall increase,And scour his armour from the rust of peace.Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air,But vain within, and proudly popular.Next view the Tarquin kings, the avenging swordOf Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restored.He first renews the rods and axe severe,And gives the consuls royal robes to wear.His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain,And long for arbitrary lords again,With ignominy scourged in open sight,He dooms to death deserved, asserting public right.Unhappy man! to break the pious lawsOf nature, pleading in his children's cause!Howe'er the doubtful fact is understood,}'Tis love of honour, and his country's good:}The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.}Behold Torquatus the same track pursue;And, next, the two devoted Decii view—The Drusian line, Camillus loaded homeWith standards well redeemed, and foreign foes o'ercome.The pair you see in equal armour shine,Now, friends below, in close embraces join;But, when they leave the shady realms of night,And, clothed in bodies, breathe your upper light,With mortal hate each other shall pursue;What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue!From Alpine heights the father first descends;}His daughter's husband in the plain attends:}His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends.}Embrace again, my sons! be foes no more;Nor stain your country with her children's gore!And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim,Thou, of my blood, who bear'st the Julian name![111]Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,And to the Capitol his chariot guide,From conquered Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.And yet another, famed for warlike toils,On Argos shall impose the Roman laws,And, on the Greeks, revenge the Trojan cause;Shall drag in chains their Achillean race;}Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace,}And Pallas, for her violated place.}Great Cato there, for gravity renowned,[112]And conquering Cossus goes with laurels crowned.Who can omit the Gracchi? who declareThe Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war,The double bane of Carthage? Who can see,Without esteem for virtuous poverty,Severe Fabricius, or can cease to admireThe ploughman consul in his coarse attire?Tired as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,Ordained in war to save the sinking state,And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!Let others better mould the running mass}Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,}And soften into flesh a marble face;}Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,And when the stars descend, and when they rise.But, Rome! 'tis thine alone, with awful sway,}To rule mankind, and make the world obey,}Disposing peace and war thy own majestic way;}To tame the proud, the fettered slave to free:—These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."He paused—and, while with wondering eyes they viewedThe passing spirits, thus his speech renewed:—"See great Marcellus! how, untired in toils,He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!He, when his country (threatened with alarms)Requires his courage and his conquering arms,Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;Then to the Capitol in triumph move,And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove."Æneas here beheld, of form divine,A godlike youth in glittering armour shine,With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.He saw, and, wondering, asked his airy guide,What and of whence was he, who pressed the hero's side?"His son, or one of his illustrious name?How like the former, and almost the same!Observe the crowds that compass him around;All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:But hovering mists around his brows are spread,And night, with sable shades, involves his head.""Seek not to know (the ghost replied with tears)The sorrows of thy sons in future years.This youth (the blissful vision of a day)Shall just be shown on earth, and snatched away.The gods too high had raised the Roman state,Were but their gifts as permanent as great.What groans of men shall fill the Martian Field!How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!What funeral pomp shall floating Tyber see,When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!No youth shall equal hopes of glory give,No youth afford so great a cause to grieve.The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast,Admired when living, and adored when lost!Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!No foe, unpunished, in the fighting-fieldShall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield,Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force,When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.Ah! couldst thou break through Fate's severe decree,A new Marcellus shall arise in thee![113]Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,Mixed with the purple roses of the spring;Let me with funeral flowers his body strow;}This gift which parents to their children owe,}This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!"}Thus having said, he led the hero roundThe confines of the blest Elysian ground;Which when Anchises to his son had shown,And fired his mind to mount the promised throne,He tells the future wars, ordained by Fate;The strength and customs of the Latian state;The prince, and people; and fore-arms his careWith rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;Of polished ivory this, that of transparent horn;[114]True visions through transparent horn arise;Through polished ivory pass deluding lies.Of various things discoursing as he passed,Anchises hither bends his steps at last.Then, through the gate of ivory, he dismissedHis valiant offspring, and divining guest.Straight to the ships Æneas took his way,}Embarked his men, and skimmed along the sea,}Still coasting, till he gained Caieta's bay.}At length on oozy ground his galleys moor;Their heads are turned to sea, their sterns to shore.