The Æneid of Virgil translated into English prose

by Virgil

BOOK VIII

Soon as Turnus set high on Laurentum’s tower the

ensign of war, and the horns clanged forth their harsh

music, soon as he shook the reins in the mouth of his

fiery steeds, and clashed his armour, at once came a stirring

of men’s souls: all Latium conspires in tumultuous rising, 5

and the warrior bands are inflamed to madness. The

generals, Messapus and Ufens and Mezentius, scorner of

the gods, assume the lead, mustering succour from all

sides and unpeopling the fields of their tillers far and

wide. Venulus too is sent to the town of mighty Diomede 10

to entreat help, and set forth that the Teucrians are

planting foot in Latium: that Æneas is arrived by sea

and intruding his vanquished home-gods, and announcing

himself as the Latians’ destined king; that many tribes

are flocking to the standard of the Dardan chief, and the 15

contagion of his name is spreading over Latium’s length

and breadth. What is to be the end of such a beginning,

what, should fortune favour him, he promises to himself

as the issue of the battle, Diomede will know better than

king Turnus or king Latinus. 20

So go things in Latium. The chief of Laomedon’s line

sees it all, and is tossed on a sea of cares; now on this

point, now on that, he throws in a moment the forces of

his mind, hurrying it into all quarters and sweeping the

whole range of thought: as in water a flickering beam 25

on a brazen vat, darted back by the sun or the bright

moon’s image, flits far and wide over the whole place,

now at last mounting to the sky and striking the ceiling

of the roof. Night came, and tired life the earth over,

bird and beast alike, were lapped deep in slumber, when 30

Æneas, good king, troubled at heart by the anxious war,

stretched himself on the bank under heaven’s chilly cope,

and let repose at last steal over his frame. Before him

appeared in person the god of the place, old Tiber of the

pleasant stream, rising among the poplar foliage: a gray

mantle of transparent linen floated about him, and his 5

hair was shaded with bushy reeds: and thus he began to

address the chief and relieve his care: “O offspring of

heaven’s stock, who are bringing back to us safe from

the foe the city of Troy, and preserving Pergamus in enduring

life, yourself looked for long on the Laurentian 10

soil and in the fields of Latium, here is your abiding place

of rest, here, distrust it not, permanence for your home-gods:

let not war’s threatenings make you afraid, the

swellings of the anger of heaven have all given way.

Even now, that you may not think this the idle coinage 15

of sleep, under the oaks on the bank you shall find an

enormous swine lying with a litter of thirty head just

born, white herself throughout her lazy length, her children

round her breasts as white as she: a sign that when

thirty years have made their circuit, Ascanius shall found 20

that city known by the illustrious name of the White.

Of no doubtful issue are these words of mine. Now for

the way in which you may triumphantly unravel the

present knot, grant me your attention, and I will show

you in brief. On this my coast, Arcadians, a race sprung 25

from Pallas, who have followed king Evander and his

banner, have chosen themselves a site and built a city

on the hills, called from the name of their ancestor Pallas,

Pallanteum. These are forever engaged in war with the

Latian nation: let them join your camp as allies, and 30

make league with them. I myself will lead you between

the banks, straight along my stream, that as you journey

up your oars may surmount the adverse current. Up

then, goddess-born, and ere the stars have well set, offer

prayer in due course to Juno, and overbear with suppliant 35

vows her anger and her menace. Once triumphant,

you shall pay your worship to me. I am he whom you

see here with brimming flood grazing the banks and

threading rich cultured lands, sea-green Tiber, the river

whom gods love best. Here rises my royal palace, the

crown of lofty cities.” The river-god said, and plunged

into his deep pool, down to the bottom; night and sleep

at once fled from Æneas. He rises, and with his eyes 5

fixed on the sun’s rays just dawning on the sky, he lifts

up in due form water from the river in the hollow of

his hands, and pours forth to heaven words like these:

“Nymphs, Laurentian nymphs, whence rivers derive their

birth, and thou, father Tiber, with thy hallowed flood, 10

take Æneas to your bosom, and at last relieve him from

perils. Whatever the spring of the pool where thou

dwellest in thy pity for our troubles, whatever the soil

whence thy goodly stream arises, ever shalt thou be

honoured by me with sacrifice, ever with offerings, the 15

river with the crescent horn, the monarch of Hesperian

waters. Be but thou present, and confirm by thy deed

thy heavenly tokens.” So saying, he chooses two biremes

from the fleet and fits them with rowers, while he gives

his comrades arms to wear. 20

When lo, a sudden portent marvellous to view—stretched

in milk-white length along the sward, herself of

one hue with her white litter, conspicuous on the verdant

bank is seen a sow, whom pious Æneas to thee, even to

thee, mightiest Juno, immolates in sacrifice, and sets her 25

with all her brood before the altar. That whole night

long Tiber smoothed his brimming stream, and so stood

with hushed waves, half recoiling, as to lay down a watery

floor as of some gentle lake or peaceful pool, that the oar

might have nought to struggle with. So they begin their 30

voyage and speed with auspicious cheers. Smooth along

the surface floats the anointed pine: marvelling stand

the waters, marvelling the unwonted wood, to see the

warriors’ shields gleaming far along the stream, and the

painted vessels gliding between the banks. The rowers 35

give no rest to night or day, as they surmount the long

meanders, sweep under the fringe of diverse trees, and

cut through the woods that look green in the still expanse.

The sun had climbed in full blaze the central cope of

heaven, when from afar they see walls, and a citadel,

and the roofs of straggling habitations—the place which

the power of Rome has now made to mate the skies:

then it was but Evander’s poor domain. At once they 5

turn their prows to land and approach the town.

It happened that on that day the Arcadian monarch

was performing a yearly sacrifice to Amphitryon’s mighty

child[250] and the heavenly brotherhood in a grove before the

city. With him his son Pallas, with him all the prime of 10

his warriors and his unambitious senate were offering incense,

and the new-shed blood was steaming warm on the

altar. Soon as they saw tall ships gliding toward them

through the shadowy trees, and plying the oar in silence,

alarmed by the sudden apparition, each and all start up 15

from the sacrificial board. Pallas, bolder than the rest,

bids them not break the sacred observance, and snatching

up a weapon flies himself to meet the strangers, and

from a height at distance, “Warriors,” he cries, “what

cause has led you to venture on a path you know not? 20

whither are you bound? what is your nation, your family?

is it peace you bring us or war?” Then father Æneas

bespeaks him thus from the lofty stern, stretching forth

in his hand a branch of peaceful olive: “These are Trojans

you see. These weapons mean hostility to the 25

Latins, who have driven us from their land by a tyrannous

war. Our errand is to Evander. Take back our message,

and say that chosen chiefs of Dardany are at his gate,

praying for an armed alliance.” That mighty name

struck awe into Pallas. “Disembark,” he cries, “whoever 30

you be, and speak to my sire in person, and come

beneath our home-gods’ hospitable shelter,” and gave his

hand in welcome, and clung to the hand he clasped.

They advance under the shade of the grove, and leave

the river behind. 35

Then Æneas addresses the king with friendly courtesy:

“Best of the sons of Greece, to whom it has pleased Fortune

that I should make my prayer and stretch out boughs

wreathed with fillets, I felt no fear for that you were a

Danaan leader, an Arcadian, allied by lineage with the

two sons of Atreus: I felt that my own worth, and the

gods’ hallowed oracles, and the old connection of our

ancestry, and your world-wide fame, had linked me to 5

you, and brought me before you at once by destiny and

of my own will. Dardanus, first father and founder of the

town of Ilion, born, as Greeks tell, of Electra, daughter of

Atlas, came among Teucer’s people: Electra’s father was

mighty Atlas, he that bears up on his shoulders the 10

spheres of heaven. Your progenitor is Mercury, whom

beauteous Maia[251] conceived and brought forth on Cyllene’s

chill summit; but Maia, if tradition be credited, is the

child of Atlas, the same Atlas who lifts up the stars of

the firmament. Thus our two races part off from one 15

and the same stock. Trusting to this, I sent no embassy,

nor contrived the first approaches to you by rule

and method: in myself, in my own person, I have made

the experiment, and come to your gate as a suppliant.

The same tribe which persecutes you, the Daunians, is 20

now persecuting us with cruel war: should they drive us

away, they foresee nought to hinder their subduing all

Hesperia utterly to their yoke, and mastering either sea,

that washes it above or below. Take our friendship and

give us yours. On our side are hearts valiant in war, 25

and a gallant youth approved by adventure.”

Æneas ended. Long ere this the other’s eye was scanning

the speaker’s countenance and eyes, and surveying

his whole frame. Then he returns in brief: “With what

joy, bravest of the Teucrians, do I welcome and acknowledge 30

ye! how well I call to mind the words, the voice,

the look of your sire, the great Anchises! For I remember

how Priam, son of Laomedon, journeying to Salamis,

to see the kingdom of his sister Hesione, went on to visit

the chill frontier of Arcadia. In those days the first 35

bloom of youth was clothing my cheeks. I admired the

Teucrian leaders, I admired Laomedon’s royal son; but

Anchises’ port was nobler than all. My mind kindled

with a youth’s ardour to accost one so great, and exchange

the grasp of the hand. I made my approach, and eagerly

conducted him to the walls of Pheneus.[252] On leaving he

gave me a beauteous quiver with Lycian arrows, and a

scarf embroidered with gold, and two bridles which my 5

Pallas has now, all golden. So now I both plight you

here with the hand you ask, and soon as to-morrow’s light

shall restore to the earth its blessing, I will send you back

rejoicing in an armed succour, and reënforced with stores.

Meanwhile, since you are arrived here as my friends, join 10

in gladly solemnizing with us this our yearly celebration,

which it were sin to postpone, and accustom yourselves

thus early to the hospitalities of your new allies.”

This said, he bids set on again the viands and the cups,

erewhile removed, and himself places the warriors on a 15

seat of turf, welcoming Æneas in especial grace with the

heaped cushion of a shaggy lion’s hide, and bidding him

occupy a throne of maple wood. Then chosen youths

and the priest of the altar with emulous zeal bring in the

roasted carcases of bulls, pile up in baskets the gifts of 20

the corn-goddess prepared by art, and serve the wine-god

round. Æneas and the warriors of Troy with him

regale themselves on a bull’s long chine[o] and on sacrificial

entrails.

When hunger had been quenched and appetite allayed, 25

king Evander begins: “Think not that these solemnities

of ours, these ritual feastings, this altar so blest in divine

presence, have been riveted on us by idle superstition,

unknowing of the gods of old; no, guest of Troy, it is

deliverance from cruel dangers that makes us sacrifice 30

and pay again and again worship where worship is due.

First of all cast your eyes on this rock-hung crag: observe

how the masses of stone are flung here and there, how

desolate and exposed stands the mountain’s recess, and

how the rocks have left the trail of a giant downfall. 35

Here once was a cave, retiring in enormous depth, tenanted

by a terrible shape, Cacus, half man, half brute: the sun’s

rays could never pierce it; the ground was always steaming

with fresh carnage; fixed to its imperious portals

were hanging human countenances ghastly with hideous

gore. This monster’s father was Vulcan: Vulcan’s were

the murky fires that he disgorged from his mouth as he

towered along in enormous bulk. To us also at length 5

in our yearning need time brought the arrival of a divine

helper. For the mightiest of avengers, Alcides, triumphing

in the slaughter and the spoils of the triple Geryon,[253]

was in our land, and was driving by this road as a conqueror

those giant oxen, and the cattle were filling valley 10

and river-side. But Cacus, infatuated by fiendish frenzy,

not to leave aught of crime or craft undared or unessayed,

carries off from the stalls four bulls of goodly form, and

heifers no fewer of surpassing beauty. And these, that

they might leave no traces by their forward motion, he 15

dragged by the tail to his cave, haled them with reversed

footprints to tell the story, and so concealed them in the

dark rocky den. Thus the seeker found no traces to lead

him to the cavern. Meantime, when Amphitryon’s son

was at last removing from their stalls his feasted herds 20

and preparing to quit the country, the oxen gave a farewell

low, filling the whole woodland with their plainings,

and taking clamorous leave of the hills. One of the

heifers returned the sound, lowing from the depth of the

vast cavern, and thus baffled the hopes of her jealous 25

guardian. Now, if ever, Alcides’ wrath blazed up from

the black choler of his heart: he snatches up his weapons

and his club with all its weight of knots, and makes at

full speed for the skyey mountain’s height. Then first the

men of our country saw Cacus’ limbs tremble and his 30

eyes quail: away he flies swifter than the wind, and seeks

his den; fear has winged his feet. Scarce had he shut

himself in, and let down from its burst fastenings the

huge stone, suspended there by his father’s workmanship

in iron, and with that barrier fortified his straining doorway, 35

when lo! the hero of Tiryns[254] was there in the fury

of his soul: scanning every inlet he turns his face hither

and thither, gnashing with his teeth. Thrice in white

heat of wrath he surveys the whole mass of Aventine;

thrice he attempts in vain the stony portal; thrice,

staggering from the effort, he sits down in the hollow.

Before him stood a pointed crag with abrupt rocky sides

rising over the cave behind, high as the eye can reach, a 5

fitting home for the nests of unclean and hateful birds.

This, as sloping down it inclined towards the river on the

left, pushing it full on the right he upheaved and tore it

loose from its seat, then suddenly sent it down, with a

shock at which high heaven thunders, the banks start 10

apart, and the river runs back in terror. Then the cave

and the vast halls of Cacus were seen unroofed, and the

dark recesses lay open to their depths—even as if earth,

by some mighty force laid open to her depths, should

burst the doors of the mansions below, and expose the 15

realms of ghastly gloom which the gods hate, and from

above the vast abyss were to be seen, and the spectres

dazzled by the influx of day. So as Cacus stares surprised

by the sudden burst of light, pent by the walls of

his cave, and roars in strange and hideous sort, Alcides 20

from above showers down his darts, and calls every

weapon to his aid, and rains a tempest of boughs and

huge millstones. But he, seeing that no hope of flight

remains, vomits from his throat huge volumes of smoke,

marvellous to tell, and wraps the whole place in pitchy 25

darkness, blotting out all prospect from the eyes, and in

the depth of the cave masses a smothering night of blended

blackness and fire. The rage of Alcides brooked not this:

headlong he dashed through the flame, where the smoke

surges thickest and the vast cavern seethes with billows 30

of black vapour. Here while Cacus in the heart of the

gloom is vomiting his helpless fires he seizes him, twines

his limbs with his own, and in fierce embrace compresses

his strangled eyeballs and his throat now bloodless and

dry. At once the doors are burst and the black den laid 35

bare, and the plundered oxen, the spoil that his oath had

disclaimed, are exposed to light, and the hideous carcase

is dragged out by the heels. The gazers look unsatisfied

on those dreadful eyes, those grim features, the shaggy

breast of the half bestial monster, and the extinguished

furnace of his throat. Since then grateful acknowledgments

have been paid, and the men of younger time have

joyfully observed the day: foremost among them Potitius, 5

founder of the ceremony, and the Pinarian house, custodian

of the worship of Hercules. He himself set up in

the grove this altar, which shall ever be named by us

the greatest, and shall ever be the greatest in truth.

Come then, warriors, and in honour of worth so glorious 10

wreathe your locks with leaves, and present in your hands

brimming cups, and invoke our common deity, and pour

libations with gladness of heart.” As he ended, the white-green

poplar cast its Herculean shade over his locks and

hung down with a festoon of leaves, and the sacred goblet 15

charged his hand. At once all with glad hearts pour

libations on the board and make prayers to heaven.

Meantime evening is approaching nearer the slope of

heaven, and already the priests and their chief Potitius

were in procession, clad in skins in ritual sort, and bearing 20

fire in their hands. They renew the solemn feast,

and bring delicious offerings for a fresh repast, and pile

the altars with loaded chargers. Then come the Salii to

sing round about the blazing altars, their temples wreathed

with boughs of poplar, a company of youths and another 25

of old men; and these extol in song the glories and deeds

of Hercules: how in his cradle, by the pressure of his

young hand he strangled his stepmother’s monstrous

messengers, the two serpents; how in war that same

hand dashed to pieces mighty cities, Troy and Œchalia; 30

how he endured those thousand heavy labours, a slave to

king Eurystheus, by ungentle Juno’s fateful will. “Yes,

thou, unconquered hero, thou slayest the two-formed

children of the cloud, Hylæus and Pholus, thou slayest

the portent of Crete, and the enormous lion that dwelt 35

’neath Nemea’s rock. Thou never quailedst at aught in

bodily shape, no, nor at Typhœus himself, towering high,

weapons in hand; thy reason failed thee not when Lerna’s

serpent stood round thee with all her throng of heads.

Hail to thee, authentic offspring of Jove, fresh ornament

of the sky! come to us, come to these thine own rites

with favouring smile and auspicious gait.” Such things

their songs commemorate; and they crown all with Cacus’ 5

cave and the fiend himself, the fire panting from his lungs.

The entire grove echoes with their voices, and the hills

rebound.

The sacrifice over, the whole concourse returns to the

city. There walked the king, mossed over with years, 10

keeping at his side Æneas and his son as he moved along,

and lightening the way with various speech. Æneas admires,

and turns his quick glance from sight to sight:

each scene enthralls him; and with eager zest he inquires

and learns one by one the records of men of old. Then 15

spoke king Evander, the builder of Rome’s tower-crowned

hill: “These woodlands were first inhabited by native

Fauns and Nymphs, and by a race of men that sprung

from trunks of trees and hard oaken core; no rule of life,

no culture had they: they never learnt to yoke the ox, 20

nor to hive their stores, nor to husband what they got;

the boughs and the chase supplied their savage sustenance.

The first change came from Saturn, who arrived from

skyey Olympus, flying from the arms of Jove, a realmless

exile. He brought together the race, untamed as they 25

were and scattered over mountain heights, and gave them

laws, and chose for the country the name of Latium,

because he had found it a safe hiding-place. The golden

age of story was when he was king, so calm and peaceful

his rule over his people; till gradually there crept in a 30

race of worse grain and duller hue, and the frenzy of war,

and the greed of having. Then came the host of Ausonia

and the Sicanian tribes, and again and again Saturn’s

land changed its name; then came king after king, savage

Thybris with his giant bulk, from whom in after days we 35

Italians called the river Tiber: the authentic name of

ancient Albula was lost. Myself, an exile from my country,

while voyaging to the ends of the sea, all-powerful

Fortune and inevitable Destiny planted here; at my back

were the awful hests[255] of my mother, the nymph Carmentis,

and the divine sanction of Apollo.” Scarce had he

finished, when moving on he points out the altar and

the Carmental gate, as the Romans call it, their ancient 5

tribute to the nymph Carmentis, the soothsaying seer, who

first told of the future greatness of Æneas’ sons and of

the glories of Pallanteum. Next he points out a mighty

grove, which fiery Romulus made the Asylum of a later

day, and embowered by the chill dank rock, the Lupercal, 10

bearing after Arcadian wont the name of Lycæan Pan.

He shows, moreover, the forest of hallowed Argiletum,

and appeals to the spot, and recounts the death of Argus,

once his guest. Thence he leads the way to the Tarpeian

temple, even the Capitol, now gay with gold, then rough 15

with untrimmed brushwood. Even in that day the sacred

terrors of the spot awed the trembling rustics; even then

they shuddered at the forest and the rock. “This wood,”

he says, “this hill with the shaggy brow, is the home of

a god of whom we know not; my Arcadians believe that 20

they have seen there great Jove himself, oft and oft,

shaking with his right hand the shadowy Ægis[256] and calling

up the storm. Here, too, in these two towns, with

their ramparts overthrown, you see the relics and the

chronicles of bygone ages. This tower was built by father 25

Janus, that by Saturn; the one’s name Janiculum, the

other’s Saturnia.” So talking together they came nigh

the palace where Evander dwells in poverty, and saw

cattle all about lowing in the Roman forum and Carinæ’s

luxurious precinct. When they reached the gate, “This 30

door,” said the host, “Alcides in his triumph stooped to

enter; this mansion contained his presence. Nerve yourself,

my guest, to look down on riches, and make your

own soul, like his, such as a god would not disdain, and

take in no churlish sort the welcome of poverty.” He 35

said, and beneath the slope of his narrow roof ushered in

the great Æneas, and laid him to rest on a couch of leaves

and the skin of a Libyan bear.

Down comes the night, and flaps her sable wings over

the earth. But Venus, distracted, and not idly, with a

mother’s cares, disturbed by the menaces of the Laurentines

and the violence of the gathering storm, addresses

Vulcan, and in the nuptial privacy of their golden chamber 5

begins her speech, breathing in every tone the love

that gods feel: “In old days of war, while the Argive

kings were desolating Pergamus, their destined prey, and

ravaging the towers which were doomed to hostile fire,

no help for the sufferers, no arms of thy resourceful workmanship 10

did I ask; no, my dearest lord, I chose not to

task thee and thy efforts to no end, large as was my debt

to the sons of Priam, and many the tears that I shed for

Æneas’ cruel agony. Now, by Jove’s commands, he has

set his foot on Rutulian soil; so, with the past in my 15

mind, I appear as a suppliant, to ask of his power whom

I honour most, as a mother may, armour for my son.

Thee the daughter of Nereus, thee the spouse of Tithonus,

found accessible to tears. See but what nations are

mustering, what cities are closing the gate and pointing 20

the steel against me and the lives I love.” The speech

was ended, and the goddess is fondling her undecided

lord on all sides in the soft embrace of her snowy arms.

Suddenly he caught the wonted fire, the well-known heat

shot to his vitals and threaded his melting frame, even as 25

on a day when the fiery rent burst by the thunderclaps

runs with gleaming flash along the veil of cloud. His

spouse saw the triumph of her art and felt what beauty

can do. Then spoke the stern old god, subdued by everlasting

love: “Why fetch your excuses from so far? 30

whither, my queen, has fled your old affiance in me? had

you then been as anxious, even in those old days it had

been allowed to give arms to the Trojans; nor was the

almighty sire nor the destinies unwilling that Troy should

stand and Priam remain in life for ten years more. And 35

now, if war is your object and so your purpose holds, all

the care that it lies within my art to promise, what can

be wrought out of iron and molten electrum, as far as

fire can burn and wind blow—cease to show by entreaty

that you mistrust your power.” This said, he gave the

embrace she longed for, and falling on the bosom of his

spouse wooed the calm of slumber in every limb.

Then, soon as rest, first indulged, had driven sleep 5

away, when flying night had run half her course; just

when a woman, compelled to support life by spinning,

even by Pallas’ slender craft, wakes to light the fire that

slumbered in the embers, adding night to her day’s work,

and keeps her handmaids labouring long by the blaze, all 10

that she may preserve her husband’s bed unsullied, and

bring up his infant sons; even so the lord of fire, at an

hour not less slothful, rises from his couch of down to

the toils of the artisan. There rises an island hard by

the Sicanian coast and Æolian Lipari, towering with fiery 15

mountains; beneath it thunders a cavern, the den of

Ætna, blasted out by Cyclop forges; the sound of mighty

blows echoes on anvils: the smeltings of the Chalybes

hiss through its depths, and the fire pants from the jaws

of the furnace; it is the abode of Vulcan, and the land 20

bears Vulcan’s name. Hither, then, the lord of fire

descends from heaven’s height. There, in the enormous

den, the Cyclops were forging the iron, Brontes, and

Steropes, and Pyracmon, the naked giant. In their hands

was the rough cast of the thunder-bolt, one of those many 25

which the great Father showers down on earth from all

quarters of heaven—part was polished for use, part still

incomplete. Three spokes of frozen rain, three of watery

cloud had they put together, three of ruddy flame and

winged southern wind; and now they were blending with 30

what they had done the fearful flash, and the noise, and

the terror, and the fury of untiring fire. In another part

they were hurrying on for Mars the car and the flying

wheels, with which he rouses warriors to madness, aye,

and whole cities; and with emulous zeal were making 35

bright with golden serpent scales the terrible Ægis, the

armour of angry Pallas, snakes wreathed together, and

full on the breast of the goddess the Gorgon herself, her

neck severed and her eyes rolling. “Away with all this,”

cries the god; “take your unfinished tasks elsewhere, you

Cyclops of Ætna, and give your attention here. Arms

are wanted for a fiery warrior. Now is the call for power,

now for swiftness of hand, now for all that art can teach. 5

Turn delay into despatch.” No more he said; but they

with speed put their shoulder to the work, sharing it in

equal parts. Copper flows in streams and golden ore, and

steel, that knows how to wound, is molten in the huge

furnace. They set up in outline a mighty shield, itself 10

singly matched against all the Latian weapons, and tangle

together seven plates, circle and circle. Some with their

gasping bellows are taking in and giving out the wind;

others are dipping the hissing copper in the lake. The

cave groans under the anvil’s weight. They, one with 15

another, with all a giant’s strength, are lifting their arms

in measured cadence, and turning with their griping

tongs the ore on this side and on that.

While the father of Lemnos[257] makes this despatch on

the Æolian shores, Evander is roused from his lowly 20

dwelling by the genial light and the morning songs of

birds under the eaves. Up rises the old man, and draws

a tunic over his frame, and puts Tyrrhenian sandals

round his feet; next he fastens from below to side and

shoulder a sword from Tegea, flinging back over him a 25

panther’s hide that drooped from the left. Moreover, two

guardian dogs go before him from his palace door, and

attend their master’s steps. So he made his way to the

lodging of his guest, and sought Æneas’ privacy, their

discourse of yesterday and the gift then promised fresh 30

in his heroic soul. Æneas likewise was astir not less early.

This had his son Pallas, that had Achates walking by his

side. They meet, and join hand in hand, and sit them

down in the midst of the mansion, and at last enjoy the

privilege of mutual talk. The king begins as follows:— 35

“Mightiest leader of the Teucrians, whom while heaven

preserves I shall never own that Troy’s powers are vanquished

or her realm overturned, we ourselves have but

small means of martial aid to back our great name; on

this side we are bounded by the Tuscan river: on that

our Rutulian foe beleaguers us, and thunders in arms

around our walls. But I have a mighty nation, a host

with an imperial heritage, which I am ready to unite with 5

you—a gleam of safety revealed by unexpected chance.

It is at the summons of destiny that you bend your steps

thither. Not far hence, built of ancient stone, is the inhabited

city of Agylla, where of old the Lydian nation,

renowned in war, took its seat on Etruscan mountains. 10

This city, after long and prosperous years, was held by

king Mezentius, by stress of tyrant rule and the terror of

the sword. Why should I recount the despot’s dreadful

murders and all his savage crimes? may the gods preserve 15

them in mind, and bring them on his own head and

his family’s! Nay, he would even link together the dead

and the living, coupling hand with hand and face with

face—so inventive is the lust of torture—and in the

slime and poison of that sickening embrace would destroy

them thus by a lingering dissolution. At last, wearied 20

by oppression, his subjects in arms besiege the frantic

monster himself and his palace, slay his retainers, shower

firebrands on his roof. He, mid the carnage, escapes to

Rutulian territory, and shelters himself under Turnus’

friendly power. So all Etruria has risen in righteous 25

wrath; at once, at the sword’s point, they demand that

the king be surrendered to their vengeance. Of these

thousands, Æneas, I will make you general. For along

the seaboard’s length their ships are swarming and panting

for the fray, and calling on the trumpet to sound, 30

while an aged soothsayer is holding them back by his

fateful utterance: ‘Chosen warriors of Mæonian land, the

power and soul of an ancient nation, whom just resentment

launches against the foe and Mezentius inflames with

righteous fury, no Italian may take the reins of a race so 35

proud: choose foreigners to lead you.’ At this the Etruscan

army settled down on yonder plain, awed by the

heavenly warning. Tarchon[o] himself has sent me ambassadors

with the royal crown and sceptre, and given to

my hands the ensigns of power, bidding me join the camp,

and assume the Tyrrhene throne. But age, with its enfeebling

chill and the exhaustion of its long term of years,

grudges me the honour of command; my day of martial 5

prowess is past. Fain would I encourage my son to the

task, but that the blood of a Sabine mother blending with

mine makes his race half Italian. You, in years and in

race alike the object of Fate’s indulgence—you, the

chosen one of Heaven—assume the place that waits 10

you, gallant general of Teucrians and Italians both. Nay,

I will give you, too, Pallas here, the hope and solace of

my age; under your tutelage let him learn to endure

military service and the war-god’s strenuous labours; let

your actions be his pattern, and his young admiration be 15

centred on you. To him I will give two hundred Arcadian

horsemen, the flower of my chivalry, and Pallas in his

own name shall give you as many more.”

Scarce had his words been uttered—and the twain

were holding their eyes in downcast thought, Æneas 20

Anchises’ son and true Achates, brooding each with his

own sad heart on many a peril, had not Cythera’s goddess

sent a sign from the clear sky. For unforeseen, flashed

from the heaven, comes a glare and a peal, and all around

seemed crashing down at once, and the clang of the 25

Tyrrhene trumpet appeared to blare through ether. They

look up: a second and a third time cracks the enormous

sound. Armour enveloped in a cloud in a clear quarter

of the firmament is seen to flash redly in the sunlight and

to ring as clashed together. The rest were all amazement; 30

but the Trojan hero recognized the sound, and in

it the promise of his goddess mother. Then he cries:

“Nay, my host, nay, ask not in sooth what chance these

wonders portend; it is I that have a call from on high.

This was the sign that the goddess who gave me birth 35

foreshowed me that she would send, should the attack of

war come, while she would bring through the air armour

from Vulcan for my help. Alas! how vast the carnage

ready to burst on Laurentum’s wretched sons! what

vengeance, Turnus, shall be mine from thee! how many

a warrior’s shield and helm and stalwart frame shalt thou

toss beneath thy waters, father Tiber! Aye, clamour for

battle, and break your plighted word!” 5

Thus having said, he rises from his lofty seat, and first

of all quickens the altars where the Herculean fires were

smouldering, and with glad heart approaches the hearth-god

of yesterday, and the small household powers; duly

they sacrifice chosen sheep, Evander for his part and the 10

Trojan youth for theirs. Next he moves on to the ships

and revisits his crew: from whose number he chooses men

to follow him to the war, eminent in valour: the rest are

wafted down the stream and float lazily along with the

current at their back, to bring Ascanius news of his father 15

and his fortunes. Horses are given to the Teucrians who

are seeking the Tyrrhene territory, and one is led along,

reserved for Æneas; a tawny lion’s hide covers it wholly,

gleaming forth with talons of gold.

At once flies rumour, blazed through the little city, 20

that the horsemen are marching with speed to the gates

of the Tyrrhene king. In alarm the matrons redouble

their vows; fear treads on the heels of danger, and the

features of the war-god loom larger on the view. Then

Evander, clasping the hand of his departing son, hangs 25

about him with tears that never have their fill, and speaks

like this: “Ah! would but Jupiter bring back my bygone

years, and make me what I was when under Præneste’s

very walls I struck down the first rank and set a

conqueror’s torch to piles of shields, and with this my 30

hand sent down to Tartarus king Erulus, whom at his

birth his mother Feronia endowed with three lives—fearful

to tell—and a frame that could thrice bear arms:

thrice had he to be struck down in death: yet from him

on that day this hand took all those three lives, and 35

thrice stripped that armour—never should I, as now, be

torn, my son, from your loved embrace. Never would

Mezentius have laid dishonour on a neighbour’s crest,

dealt with his sword that repeated havoc, and bereaved

my city of so many of her sons. But you, great powers

above, and thou, Jupiter, mightiest ruler of the gods,

have pity, I implore you, on an Arcadian monarch, and

give ear to a father’s prayer; if your august will, if destiny 5

has in store for me the safe return of my Pallas, if life

will make me see him and meet him once more, then I

pray that I may live; there is no trial I cannot bear to

outlast. But if thou, dark Fortune, threatenest any unnamed

calamity, now, oh, now, be it granted me to snap 10

life’s ruthless thread, while care wears a double face,

while hope cannot spell the future, while you, darling boy,

my love and late delight, are still in my arms: nor let

my ears be pierced by tidings more terrible.” So was the

father heard to speak at their last parting; his servants 15

were seen carrying within doors their fallen lord.

And now the cavalry had passed the city’s open gates,

Æneas among the first and true Achates, and after them

the other Trojan nobles; Pallas himself the centre of the

column, conspicuous with gay scarf and figured armour; 20

even as the morning-star just bathed in the waves of the

ocean, Venus’ favourite above all the stellar fires, sets in

a moment on the sky his heavenly countenance, and

melts the darkness. There are the trembling matrons

standing on the walls, following with their eyes the cloud 25

of dust and the gleam of the brass-clad companies. They

in their armour are moving through the underwood, their

eye on the nearest path: hark! a shout mounts up, a

column is formed, and the four-foot beat of the hoof shakes

the crumbling plain. Near the cool stream of Cære stands 30

a vast grove, clothed by hereditary reverence with wide-spread

sanctity; on all sides it is shut in by the hollows

of hills, which encompass its dark pine-wood shades.

Rumour says that the old Pelasgians dedicated it to Silvanus,

god of the country and the cattle, a grove with a 35

holiday—the people who once in early times dwelt on

the Latian frontier. Not far from this Tarchon and the

Tyrrhenians were encamped in a sheltered place, and from

the height of the hill their whole army spread already to

the view, as they pitched at large over the plain. Hither

come father Æneas and the chosen company of warriors,

and refresh the weariness of themselves and their steeds.

But Venus had come in her divine beauty through the 5

dark clouds of heaven with the gifts in her hand, and soon

as she saw her son far retired in the vale in the privacy of

the cool stream, she thus accosted him, appearing suddenly

before him: “See, here is the present completed by my

lord’s promised skill: now you will not need to hesitate 10

to-morrow about daring to the combat the haughty

Laurentians or fiery Turnus’ self.” So said the lady of

Cythera, and sought her son’s embrace: the arms she set

up to glitter under an oak that faced his view. He,

exulting in the goddess’ gifts, and charmed with their 15

dazzling beauty, cannot feast his eyes enough as he rolls

them from point to point, admiring and turning over in

his hands and arms the helmet with its dread crest, vomiting

flame, the fateful sword, the stiff brazen corslet, blood-red

and huge, in hue as when a dark cloud kindles with 20

sunlight and gleams afar; the polished cuishes,[258] too, of

electrum and gold smelted oft and oft, and the spear,

and the shield’s ineffable frame-work. On this was the

story of Italy and the triumphs of the Romans wrought

by the Lord of the fire; no stranger he to prophecy nor 25

ignorant of the time to come: on it was the whole royal

line of the future from Ascanius onward, and their foughten

fields in long succession. There, too, he had portrayed

the mother-wolf stretched in Mars’ green cavern; around

her teats were the twin boys in play climbing and clinging, 30

and licking their dam without dread; while she, her lithe

neck bent back, was caressing them by turns and with her

tongue shaping their young limbs. Near this he had inserted

Rome and the lawless rape of the Sabine maidens

amid the crowded circus, while the great games were in 35

course, and the sudden rise of a new war between the sons

of Romulus and ancient Tatius with his austere Cures.

Afterwards were seen the two kings, the conflict set at rest,

standing in arms before the altar of Jove with goblets in

their hands and cementing a treaty with swine’s blood.

Not far off Mettus had already been torn asunder by the

chariots driven apart—ah! false Alban, were you but a

keeper of your word!—and Tullus was dragging the 5

traitor’s flesh through the woodland, while the bushes were

sprinkled with the bloody rain. There, too, was Porsenna

insisting that exiled Tarquin should be taken back and

leaguering the city with a mighty siege: Æneas’ sons were

flinging themselves on the sword in freedom’s cause. In 10

his face might be seen the likeness of wrath, and the likeness

of menace, that Cocles[259] should have the courage

to tear down the bridge, that Cloelia should break her

prison and swim the river. There was Manlius standing

sentinel on the summit of the Tarpeian fortress in the 15

temple’s front, holding the height of the Capitol, while

the Romulean thatch looked fresh and sharp on the palace-roof.

And there was the silver goose fluttering its wings

in the gilded cloister, and shrieking that the Gauls were

at the door. The Gauls were at hand marching among 20

the brushwood, and had gained the summit sheltered

by the darkness and the kindly grace of dusky night.

Golden is their hair and golden their raiment; striped

cloaks gleam on their shoulders; their milk-white necks

are twined with gold; each brandishes two Alpine javelins, 25

his body guarded by the long oval of his shield. There

he had shown in relief the Salii in their dances and the

naked Luperci, and the woolly peaks of their caps, and

the sacred shields which fell from heaven: chaste matrons

were making solemn progress through the city in their 30

soft-cushioned cars. At distance from these he introduces

too the mansions of Tartarus, Pluto’s yawning portals,

and the torments of crime, and thee, Catiline, poised on

the beetling rock and quailing at grim Fury-faces: and

the good in their privacy, with Cato as their lawgiver. 35

Stretching in its breadth among these swept the semblance

of the swelling sea, all of gold, but the blue was made to

foam with whitening billows; and all about it dolphins

of bright silver in joyous circles were lashing the surface

with their tails and cutting the tide. In the midst might

be seen fleets of brazen ships, the naval war of Actium;

you might remark the whole of Leucate aglow with the

war-god’s array, and the waves one blaze of gold. On this 5

side is Augustus Cæsar leading the Italians to conflict,

with the senate and the people, the home-gods and their

mighty brethren, standing aloft on the stern: his auspicious

brows emit twin-born flames, and his ancestral

star dawns over his head. Elsewhere is Agrippa with the 10

winds and the gods at his back, towering high as he leads

his column; his brows gleam with the beaked circle of a

naval crown, the glorious ornament of war. On that side

is Antonius with his barbaric powers and the arms of divers

lands, triumphant from the nations of the dawn-goddess 15

and the red ocean’s coast, carrying with him Egypt

and the strength of the East and the utmost parts of Bactria,

and at his side—shame on the profanation!—his

Egyptian spouse.[260] All are seen at once in fierce onward

motion: the whole sea-floor foams up, torn by the backward 20

pull of the oars and by the three-fanged beaks.

On to the deep! you would deem that uprooted Cyclades

were swimming the sea, or that tall hills were meeting hills

in battle; such the giant effort, with which the warriors

urge on their tower-crowned ships. From the hand is 25

scattered a shower of flaming tow and flying steel: the

plains of Neptune redden with unwonted carnage. In the

midst of them the queen is cheering on her forces with

the timbrel of her native land; casting as yet no glance on

the twin-born snakes that threaten her rear. There are 30

the portentous gods of all the nations, and Anubis[261] the

barking monster, brandishing their weapons in the face

of Neptune and Venus and in the face of Pallas. Midmost

in the fray storms Mavors,[262] relieved in iron, and fell

Fury-fiends swooping from the sky; and Discord sweeps 35

along in the glory of her rent mantle, and at her back

Bellona with blood-dropping scourge. There was Actium’s

Apollo, with his eye on the fray, bending his bow from

above; at whose terror all Egypt and Ind, all Arabia, all

the sons of Saba[263] were turning the back in flight. The

queen herself was shown spreading her sails to friendly

breezes, and just loosing the sheets. On her face the Lord

of the Fire had written the paleness of foreshadowed 5

death, as she drove on among corpses before the tide and

the zephyr; over against her was Nile, his vast body writhing

in woe, throwing open his bosom, and with his whole

flowing raiment inviting the vanquished to his green lap

and his sheltering flood. But Cæsar, entering the walls 10

of Rome in threefold triumph, was consecrating to the

gods of Italy a votive tribute of deathless gratitude, three

hundred mighty fanes the whole city through. The ways

were ringing with gladness and with games and with plausive

peal; in every temple thronged a matron company, 15

in every temple an altar blazed; in front of the altars

slaughtered bullocks strewed the floor. The hero himself,

throned on dazzling Phœbus’ snow-white threshold, is

telling over the offerings of all the nations and hanging

them up on the proud temple gates; there in long procession 20

move the conquered peoples, diverse in tongue, diverse

no less in garb and in armour. Here had Mulciber portrayed

the Nomad race and the zoneless sons of Afric:

here, too, Leleges and Carians and quivered Gelonians:

Euphrates was flowing with waves subdued already; and 25

the Morini, furthest of mankind, and Rhine with his crescent

horn, and tameless Dahæ, and Araxes chafing to be

bridged. Such sights Æneas scans with wonder on Vulcan’s

shield, his mother’s gift, and joys in the portraiture

of things he knows not, as he heaves on his shoulder the 30

fame and the fate of grandsons yet to be.