The Aeneid | Page 6

fate Aeneas calls,
Then shalt thou bear him up,
sublime, to me:
No councils have revers'd my firm decree.
And, lest
new fears disturb thy happy state,
Know, I have search'd the mystic
rolls of Fate:
Thy son (nor is th' appointed season far)
In Italy shall
wage successful war,
Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,

And sov'reign laws impose, and cities build,
Till, after ev'ry foe
subdued, the sun
Thrice thro' the signs his annual race shall run:

This is his time prefix'd. Ascanius then,

Now call'd Iulus, shall begin
his reign.
He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear,
Then from
Lavinium shall the seat transfer,
And, with hard labor, Alba Longa

build.
The throne with his succession shall be fill'd
Three hundred
circuits more: then shall be seen
Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen,

Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes,
Shall at a birth two
goodly boys disclose.
The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain:

Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain,
Of martial tow'rs the
founder shall become,
The people Romans call, the city Rome.
To
them no bounds of empire I assign,
Nor term of years to their
immortal line.
Ev'n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,
Earth,
seas, and heav'n, and Jove himself turmoils;
At length aton'd, her
friendly pow'r shall join,
To cherish and advance the Trojan line.

The subject world shall Rome's dominion own,
And, prostrate, shall
adore the nation of the gown.
An age is ripening in revolving fate

When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state,
And sweet revenge her
conqu'ring sons shall call,
To crush the people that conspir'd her fall.

Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise,
Whose empire ocean,
and whose fame the skies
Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with
eastern spoils,
Our heav'n, the just reward of human toils,
Securely
shall repay with rites divine;
And incense shall ascend before his
sacred shrine.
Then dire debate and impious war shall cease,
And
the stern age be soften'd into peace:
Then banish'd Faith shall once
again return,
And Vestal fires in hallow'd temples burn;
And Remus
with Quirinus shall sustain
The righteous laws, and fraud and force
restrain.
Janus himself before his fane shall wait,
And keep the
dreadful issues of his gate,
With bolts and iron bars: within remains

Imprison'd Fury, bound in brazen chains;
High on a trophy rais'd,
of useless arms,
He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms."
He said, and sent Cyllenius with command

To free the ports, and ope
the Punic land
To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,
The queen
might force them from her town and state.
Down from the steep of
heav'n Cyllenius flies,
And cleaves with all his wings the yielding
skies.
Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,
Performs his
message, and displays his rod:
The surly murmurs of the people cease;


And, as the fates requir'd, they give the peace:
The queen herself
suspends the rigid laws,
The Trojans pities, and protects their cause.
Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies:
Care seiz'd his soul, and
sleep forsook his eyes.
But, when the sun restor'd the cheerful day,

He rose, the coast and country to survey,
Anxious and eager to
discover more.
It look'd a wild uncultivated shore;
But, whether
humankind, or beasts alone
Possess'd the new-found region, was
unknown.
Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides:
Tall trees
surround the mountain's shady sides;
The bending brow above a safe
retreat provides.
Arm'd with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends,

And true Achates on his steps attends.
Lo! in the deep recesses of
the wood,
Before his eyes his goddess mother stood:
A huntress in
her habit and her mien;
Her dress a maid, her air confess'd a queen.

Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind;
Loose was her
hair, and wanton'd in the wind;
Her hand sustain'd a bow; her quiver
hung behind.
She seem'd a virgin of the Spartan blood:
With such
array Harpalyce bestrode
Her Thracian courser and outstripp'd the
rapid flood.
"Ho, strangers! have you lately seen," she said,
"One of
my sisters, like myself array'd,
Who cross'd the lawn, or in the forest
stray'd?
A painted quiver at her back she bore;
Varied with spots, a
lynx's hide she wore;
And at full cry pursued the tusky boar."
Thus Venus: thus her son replied again:
"None of your sisters have
we heard or seen,
O virgin! or what other name you bear
Above
that style- O more than mortal fair!
Your voice and mien celestial
birth betray!
If, as you seem, the sister of the day,
Or one at least of
chaste Diana's train,
Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain;
But
tell a stranger, long in tempests toss'd,

What earth we tread, and who
commands the coast?
Then on your name shall wretched mortals call,

And offer'd victims at your altars fall."
"I dare not," she replied,
"assume the name
Of goddess, or celestial honors claim:
For Tyrian
virgins bows and quivers bear,
And purple buskins o'er their ankles

wear.
Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you areA
people rude in
peace, and rough in war.
The rising city, which from far you see,
Is
Carthage, and a Tyrian colony.
Phoenician Dido rules the growing
state,
Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother's hate.
Great were
her wrongs, her story full of fate;
Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus,