And gird themselves with fire and quern
To parch and grind the rescued corn.
And sweeps the ocean with his sight;
Might he perchance a Capys mark,
An Antheus in his Phrygian bark,
Or trace the arms that wont to deck
Caicus on some labouring wreck.
No vessel seaward meets his eyes,
But on the shore three stags he spies,
Close followed by a meaner throng
That grazed the winding coasts along.
He catches from Achates’ hand
Quiver and bow, and takes his stand;
And first the lordly leaders fall
With tree-like antlers branching tall;
Then, turning on the multitude,
He drives them routed through the wood,
Nor stays till his victorious bow
Has laid seven goodly bodies low,
For his seven ships; then portward fares,
And ’mid his crews the quarry shares.
The wine which late their princely host,
What time they left Trinacria’s coast,
Bestowed in casks, and freely gave,
A brave man’s bounty to the brave,
With like equality he parts,
And comforts their desponding hearts:
‘Comrades and friends! for ours is strength
Has brooked the test of woes;
O worse-scarred hearts! these wounds at length
The Gods will heal, like those.
You that have seen grim Scylla rave,
And heard her monsters yell,
You that have looked upon the cave
Where savage Cyclops dwell,
Come, cheer your souls, your fears forget;
This suffering will yield us yet
A pleasant tale to tell.
Through chance, through peril lies our way
To Latium, where the fates display
A mansion of abiding stay:
There Troy her fallen realm shall raise:
Bear up, and live for happier days.’
Sat hope, while grief his spirit wrung.
They for their dainty food prepare,
Strip off the hide, the carcase bare,
Divide and spit the quivering meat,
Dispose the fire, the caldrons heat,
Then, stretched on turf, their frames refresh
With generous wine and wild deer’s flesh.
And now, when hunger’s rage was ceased,
And checked the impatience of the feast,
In long discourse they strive to track
And bring their missing comrades back.
Hope bandies questions with despair,
If yet they breathe the upper air,
Or down in final durance lie,
Deaf to their friends’ invoking cry.
But chief Æneas fondly yearns,
And racks his heart for each by turns,
Now weeping o’er Orontes’ grave,
Now claiming Lycus from the wave,
Brave Gyas, and Cloanthus brave.
His broad view casting from above,
The countries and their people scanned,
The sail-fledged sea, the lowly land,
Last on the summit of the sky
Paused, and on Libya fixed his eye.
’Twas then sad Venus, as he mused,
Her starry eyes with tears suffused,
Bespoke him: ‘Thou whose lightnings awe,
Whose will on heaven and earth is law,
What has Æneas done, or how
Could my poor Trojans cloud thy brow,
To suffer as they suffer now?
So many deaths the race has died:
And now behold them, lest one day
To Italy they win their way,
Barred from all lands beside!
Once didst thou promise with an oath
The Romans hence should have their growth,
Great chiefs, from Teucer’s line renewed,
The masters of a world subdued:
Fate heard the pledge: what power has wrought
To turn the channel of thy thought?
That promise oft consoled my woe
For Ilium’s piteous overthrow,
While I could balance weight with weight,
The prosperous with the adverse fate.
But now the self-same fortune hounds
The lorn survivors yet:
And hast thou, mighty King, no bounds
To their great misery set?
Antenor from the Greeks could scape,
Mid Hadria’s deep recesses shape
His dangerous journey, and surmount
The perils of Timavus’ fount,
Where with the limestone’s reboant roar
Through nine loud mouths the sea-waves pour,
And all the fields are deluged o’er
Yet here he built Patavium’s town,
His nation named, his arms laid down,
Now rests in honour and renown:
We, thine own race, on whom thy word
Olympian glories has conferred,
Our vessels lost, O shame untold!
Are traitorously bought and sold,
Still from Italis kept apart
To pacify one jealous heart.
Lo! piety with honour graced,
A monarch on his throne replaced!’
Which soothes and humours of the sky,
Jove on his daughter’s lips impressed
A gracious kiss, then thus addressed:
‘Queen of Cythera! spare thy pain:
Thy children’s fates unmoved remain:
Thine eyes shall have their pledged desire
And see Lavinium’s walls aspire:
Thine arms at length shall bear on high
To bright possession in the sky
Æneas the high-souled: nor aught
Has turned the channel of my thought.
He—for I now will speak thee sooth,
Vexed as thou art by sorrow’s tooth,
Will ope the volume and relate
The far-off oracles of Fate—
Fierce war in Italy shall wage,
Shall quell her peoples’ patriot rage,
And give his veterans, worn with strife,
A city and a peaceful life,
Till summers three have seen him reign,
Three winters crowned the dire campaign.
But he, the father’s darling child,
Ascanius, now Iulus styled
(Ilus the
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