ships upon the sea. Then she smote upon her breast and tore her hair, and
cried, "Shall this stranger mock us thus? Hasten to follow him. Bring down
the ships from the docks, make ready sword and fire. And this was the man
who bare upon his shoulders his aged father. Why did I not tear him to
pieces, and slay his companions with the sword, and serve up the young
Ascanius at his meal? And if I had perished, what then? for I die to-day.
O Sun, that regardest all the earth, and Juno, that carest for marriage
bonds, and Hecate, Queen of the dead, and ye Furies that take vengeance on
evil-doers, hear me. If it be ordered that he reach that land, yet grant
that he suffer many things from his enemies, and be driven from his city,
and beg for help from strangers, and see his people cruelly slain with the
sword; and, when he shall have made peace on ill conditions, that he enjoy
not long his kingdoms, but die before his day, and lie unburied on the
plain. And ye, men of Tyre, hate his children and his people forever. Let
there be no love or peace between you. And may some avenger arise from my
grave who shall persecute the race of Dardanus with fire and sword. So
shall there be war forever between him and me."
Then she spake to old Barce, who had been nurse to her husband Sichæus,
"Bid my sister bathe herself in water, and bring with her beasts for
sacrifice. And do thou also put a garland about thy head, for I am minded
to finish this sacrifice which I have begun, and to burn the image of the
man of Troy."
And when the old woman made haste to do her bidding, Queen Dido ran to the
court where the pile was made for the burning, and mounted on the pile,
and drew the sword of Æneas from the scabbard. Then did she throw herself
upon the bed, and cry,
"Now do I yield up my life. I have finished my course. I have built a
mighty city. I have avenged my husband on him that slew him. Happy had I
been, yea, too happy! had the ships of Troy never come to this land." Then
she kissed the bed and cried, "Shall I die unavenged? Nevertheless let me
die. The man of Troy shall see this fire from the sea whereon he journeys,
and carry with him an augury of death."
And when her maidens looked, lo! she had fallen upon the sword, and the
blood was upon her hands. And a great cry went up through the palace,
exceeding loud and bitter, even as if the enemy had taken Carthage or
ancient Tyre, and the fire were mounting over the dwellings of men and of
Gods. And Anna her sister heard it, and rushing through the midst called
her by name: "O my sister, was this thy purpose? Were the pile and the
sword and the fire for this? Why wouldst thou not suffer that I should die
with thee? For surely, my sister, thou hast slain thyself, and me, and thy
people, and thy city. But give me water, ye maidens, that I may wash her
wounds, and if there be any breath left in her, we may yet stay it."
Then she climbed on to the pile, and caught her sister in her arms, and
sought to staunch the blood with her garments. Three times did Dido strive
to raise her eyes; three times did her spirit leave her. Three times she
would have raised herself upon her elbow; three times she fell back upon
the bed, looking with wandering eyes for the light, and groaning that she
yet beheld it.
Then Juno, looking down from heaven, saw that her pain was long, and
pitied her, and sent down Iris, her messenger, that she might loose the
soul that struggled to be free. For, seeing that she died not by nature,
nor yet by the hand of man, but before her time and of her own madness,
Queen Proserpine had not shred the ringlet from her head which she shreds
from them that die. Wherefore Iris, flying down with dewy wings from
heaven, with a thousand colors about her from the light of the sun, stood
about her head and said, "I give thee to death, even as I am bidden, and
loose thee from thy body." Then she shred the lock, and Queen Dido gave up
the ghost.
THE FUNERAL GAMES OF ANCHISES
By Charles Henry Hanson
Æneas called together all his followers, and reminded minded them that a
year had now passed since the death of his father. Not of their own
purpose, but doubtless by the will of the Gods, they had now returned to
the friendly land where his bones had been laid. It was therefore his
intention to celebrate funeral games. For eight days there should be
feasting, for which Acestes had generously provided two oxen for each
ship; and on the ninth day he would give prizes to be contested in the
foot-race, in shooting with the bow, and in boxing with the cestus.
Having thus spoken, the hero, according to the custom of that time, placed
a wreath of myrtle upon his head and proceeded to the tomb of his father,
where he poured out, as a libation to the Gods, two bowls of wine, two of
new milk, and two of sacred blood. Then he scattered flowers over the
tomb, and offered up a prayer to his father's shade. Immediately there
came forth from the tomb a huge snake with glittering scales of blue and
gold, which, after tasting of what had been poured out, retired again to
the recesses of the vault. Believing this creature to be an attendant on
his father's spirit, Æneas offered rich sacrifices--ewes, sows, and
bullocks--and his companions followed his example. The eight days of
feasting passed pleasantly enough, and the morning appointed for the
funeral games dawned bright and serene. A joyous crowd assembled on the
shore, some to take part in the contests, and others to watch them. The
first of the games was a race between galleys, and four ships had been
entered to take part in it. The first was the Pristis, or Shark, of which
Mnestheus was the captain. The Chimera, a vessel of immense size, was
commanded by Gyas. The other vessels were the Centaur and the Scylla,--the
first commanded by Sergestus, and the second by Cloanthus. Some way out in
the sea, opposite to the starting-point, a rock rose amid the restless
waters. The galleys were to round this rock, on which Æneas had planted an
oak-tree as a mark, and then return to the shore. The vessels were
assigned their places by lot, and the captain of each took his place on
the poop; while the rowers, stripped to the waist, their shoulders
glistening with oil, sat with their arms stretched to the oars, eager for
the signal. At the blast of a trumpet all the oars struck the sea at once,
and beat it into foam, and the vessels shot forward amid the loud shouts
of the multitude. The Chimera, under Gyas's skillful guidance, took the
lead; next followed the Scylla, whose rowers were more efficient, but were
unable to make such progress, because the vessel was naturally slower.
Behind the Shark and the Centaur followed close together, and first the
one and then the other gained a slight advantage. The two leading vessels
were rapidly nearing the rock when Gyas perceived that his helmsman,
Menoetes, was keeping a course too far to the right, in fear of some
hidden crags, and was thus losing the advantage that had been gained. He
urged him to steer more to the left, nor to care even if the oars grazed
the rock; but Menoetes was afraid to obey the command. And now Cloanthus
in the Scylla, taking the very course Gyas had wished to follow, ran
boldly between the Chimera and the rock, and so got round the goal in
front of his antagonist. When Gyas beheld this he was full of wrath.
Rushing to the helm, he seized the over-cautious Menoetes and hurled him
into the sea; then he himself took the helm, and at once guided his ship
and issued commands and cries of encouragement to his oarsmen. The
luckless Menoetes with difficulty contrived to scramble out of the sea
onto the rock, and sat there in his dripping garments, while the
spectators roared with laughter at his misadventure. But now Mnestheus in
the Shark and Sergestus in the Centaur pushed forward with redoubled zeal
in the hope of obtaining the lead. Sergestus got a little in front of his
competitor, but Mnestheus, walking among his rowers, urged them to put
forth their utmost strength, and at least not to suffer the disgrace of
being last. In response to his appeal they bent to the oar with new vigor;
the ship trembled under their strokes and the water seemed to fly from
beneath her keel. Suddenly, while the Centaur, in full career, was
pressing close to the rock to prevent the Shark from passing on the inner
side, she ran upon a jutting point where she remained fast, while the oars
were shattered against the hard rocks. In a moment the Shark shot past,
and having rounded the goal, dashed on the homeward way. Ere long
Mnestheus had overtaken the Chimera, which had lost ground because she was
deprived of her steersman. Cloanthus in the Scylla was now alone in front
of the Shark; and though the race was nearly over, the frantic efforts of
Mnestheus' crew might have gained him the victory, but that Cloanthus
poured forth passionate prayers to the marine deities, and promised them
ample offerings if the first prize became his. They heard his vows, and
gathering underneath his vessel, pushed it forward, so that it entered the
harbor just in front of the Shark. Then Æneas proclaimed Cloanthus the
victor, and gave him a mantle embroidered with gold and ornamented with a
thick fringe of the costly Meliboean purple. On Mnestheus, who had so
gallantly gained the second place, he bestowed a ponderous coat of mail
worked in gold and brass, which he had himself taken from a famous Greek
warrior, Demoleus, whom he had slain before Troy. Gyas received two
caldrons of brass, and some silver bowls ornamented with rich carvings.
Lastly, when Sergestus had slowly brought back to port his crippled
galley, his chief bestowed on him, in reward for having rescued the vessel
from her perilous position, a Cretan female slave with her two children.
Thus ended the galley race; and the assembled multitude now proceeded to a
grassy plain a little way inland, where thrones were placed for Acestes,
Æneas, and the other leaders. Here the remaining games were to be
celebrated, and first of all a foot race. Among the competitors in this
were Euryalus, a Trojan youth distinguished for his personal beauty;
Nisus, a brave warrior, who was his constant friend and companion; Diores,
Salius, and Patron, three other Trojans; and two Sicilian youths famous
for their speed, named Elymus and Panopes. Æneas announced that he would
give two Cretan javelins of bright steel and a carved battle-axe of silver
to each who took part in the race, and to the three who came in first
other rich prizes: to the first a war-horse with costly trappings; to the
second a quiver full of Thracian arrows, with a gold belt and jeweled
buckle; and to the third a Grecian helmet. The runners having been placed
in proper order, the signal was given, and they darted forward like a
tempest. Nisus led the way, Salius coming second, and Euryalus third, with
the rest following close behind. Already Nisus was near the goal, when
unluckily his foot slipped at a spot where some victims had been
sacrificed for the altar, and the blood soaking into the grass had made it
slippery. Down he fell into the puddle, and in a moment his chance of
victory had disappeared. But even then, in spite of his disappointment, he
was mindful of his affection for Euryalus, and resolved that since he
could not win the race, his friend should do so. He rose to his feet just
as Salius was coming up, and contrived to stand in his way so as to
overturn him. Euryalus, who had still kept the third place, now sprang
forward, and was easily victorious amid the applause of the crowd. Elymus
came in next, and close behind him Diores. But Salius loudly demanded that
the first prize of right belonged to him, because he had been deprived of
the victory by unfair means. The spectators, however, favored the claim of
Euryalus because of his youth and beauty; and Diores vehemently took the
same side, since, if Salius were adjudged the victory, he would not
receive a prize at all. Æneas speedily silenced all contention by
declaring that the promised rewards should go to the three who had arrived
first at the winning-post; but he added that he would show his sympathy
for the disaster which had befallen Salius, and therefore bestowed on him
the shaggy hide of a Getulian lion, still retaining the claws, which had
been gilt. Upon this, Nisus also merrily asked for some consolation, since
but for an accident the first prize would have been his, and he showed his
face and limbs all besmeared with mud. His chief entered into the jest,
and gave him a buckler, finely carved, which had once hung on the walls of
Neptune's temple at Troy.
[Illustration: HE ROSE TO HIS FEET JUST AT THE MOMENT THAT SALIUS WAS
COMING UP, AND CONTRIVED TO STAND IN HIS WAY SO AS TO OVERTURN HIM.
EURYALUS, WHO HAD STILL KEPT THE THIRD PLACE, NOW SPRANG FORWARD, AND WAS
EASILY VICTORIOUS AMID THE APPLAUSE OF THE CROWD. ELYMUS CAME IN NEXT, AND
CLOSE BEHIND HIM DIORES. BUT SALIUS LOUDLY DEMANDED THAT THE FIRST PRIZE
OF RIGHT BELONGED TO HIM.]
The next contest was that with the cestus, the boxing-glove of the
ancients, a formidable implement, intended not to soften the blows dealt
by the boxers, but to make them more painful, for it was composed of
strips of hardened oxhide. To the competitors in this sport--if such it
could be called--Æneas offered two prizes,--the first a bullock, decked
with gold and fillets, and the second a sword and a shining helmet. A
noted Trojan warrior named Dares, a man of immense strength and bulk, who
was also celebrated for his skill with the cestus, presented himself to
contest this prize. He brandished his huge fists in the air, and paced
vaingloriously backward and forward in the arena, challenging any one in
the assembly to meet him. But there was no response; his friends were too
well acquainted with his skill, and the Sicilians were awed by his
formidable appearance. At last, therefore, imagining that nobody would
venture to encounter him, he advanced to Æneas and asked that the prize
might be given up to him. It seemed, indeed, that this would have to be
done, when King Acestes turned to one of his elders, a venerable Sicilian
chief named Entellus, and asked how it was that he thus allowed such
splendid prizes to be taken before his eyes without striking a blow for
them. Entellus had, in his younger days, been a great champion with the
cestus, having been taught the use of the weapon by none other than Eryx,
at that time king of Sicily, and one of the most expert boxers in the
world. So confident had Eryx been in his powers, that when the mighty
Hercules passed through Sicily on his way from Spain, where he had slain
King Geryon and carried off his splendid cattle, the Sicilian monarch
ventured to challenge the hero to a combat with the cestus, staking his
kingdom against the cattle which Hercules was bearing away to Greece.
Hercules had accepted the challenge, and had slain Eryx in the encounter;
but the tradition of his skill had been preserved by his pupil Entellus.
The chief was now old, and disinclined for exertion; but when thus urged
by King Acestes, he slowly rose and threw into the arena the gauntlets
which King Eryx had been accustomed to use. Terrible weapons indeed
they-were, with heavy pieces of iron and lead sewn into them underneath
the oxhide. At the mere sight of them Dares shrank back appalled, and
refused to fight with such implements. "These," said Entellus, "were the
gauntlets with which my master Eryx encountered Hercules; and these, after
his death, I myself was accustomed to use. But if Dares likes not such
gloves, let Æneas provide others for both of us." With these words he
threw off his upper garments and bared his massive shoulders and sinewy
arms. The Trojan chief brought out two pairs of gauntlets of less
formidable make, with which the two champions armed themselves; and then
they stood face to face, and both raised their arms for the encounter. For
some time they stood parrying each other's blows and watching for an
opportunity. Presently, as they grew warmer, many heavy strokes were given
on each side, now on the head, now on the breast. Entellus stood stiff and
unmoved in the same firm posture, only bending to evade Dares's blows, and
always closely watching his antagonist, who, more active, wheeled round
him, trying first one method of attack, then another. At last Entellus
uplifted his right arm, thinking he saw an opportunity for delivering a
decisive stroke; but Dares with great agility slipped out of the way, and
as the arm of Entellus encountered no resistance save from the empty air,
he fell forward on the ground through the violence of his own effort.
Acclamations burst from all the onlookers, and Acestes himself stepped
forward to assist his old companion to his feet. But the mishap had only
aroused Entellus's anger; he no longer acted on the defensive, but rushed
upon his opponent with irresistible ardor, and smote blow after blow,
driving Dares headlong over the field, pouring down strokes as incessantly
as a shower of hail rattles upon the house-tops. Æneas now deemed it high
time to put a stop to the combat, and called upon Dares, who indeed was
quite overpowered, to yield. His comrades led the beaten champion to the
ships, with the blood flowing from his battered head and face, and on his
behalf they took away the helmet and sword, leaving the bull to the
conqueror. Entellus, proud of his victory, laid hold of the animal, and
exclaimed, "Behold, O chief, and you Trojans, from this what my strength
once was, and also from what death you have saved Dares." With these words
he smote the bull on the forehead with the cestus so mightily that the
skull was battered in and the brute sank dead at his feet.
After this exciting competition came a more peaceful sport,--a trial of
skill with the bow. A mast was planted on a sward, and to the top of it a
living dove was secured by a cord. This was the mark, and four archers
came forward to contend for the prizes,--Hippocoön, the brother of Nisus
and one of Æneas's dearest friends; Mnestheus, the winner of the second
prize in the galley race; Eurytion, a brother of that Pandarus who was one
of the most skillful archers that fought in the Trojan war, and who, after
wounding Menelaus, was slain by Diomedes; and lastly, King Acestes
himself. Hippocoön shot first, and his arrow, whizzing past the fluttering
dove, pierced the pole to which she was fastened. This, though it did not
hit the mark, was an excellent shot, and it won loud applause from the
spectators. Mnestheus next discharged his dart, taking a long and steady
aim; but his arrow, instead of striking the bird, cut in two the cord by
which she was fastened, and, spreading her wings, the dove at once flew
away. Instantly, however, Eurytion raised his bow, and shot with so true
an aim that he struck the bird even in mid-flight, and brought her
lifeless to the earth. There was thus no longer a mark at which Acestes
could aim; but notwithstanding he drew his bow and discharged a shaft high
into the air. And now a strange prodigy happened; for the arrow, soaring
upward, took fire as it flew, and marked out a path of flame, till, being
quite consumed, it vanished into the air. This spectacle naturally excited
the wonder and reverence of the assembled multitude; and Æneas, embracing
Acestes, declared that the incident was an omen from the Gods awarding to
him the first prize. He therefore bestowed on him a splendid bowl,
embossed with figures, which had once belonged to Anchises, nor did the
other competitors dispute the justice of the decision.
But the games were not yet ended. The Trojan chief had prepared a closing
spectacle as a surprise for the spectators. He sent a messenger to summon
Ascanius, and in the mean time ordered a large space of ground to be
cleared. Then suddenly his son entered on horseback at the head of a
numerous company,--all the youths of the expedition. They were attired
alike, with garlands on their heads and circles of gold about their necks;
and each carried two spears of cornel-wood, tipped with steel. The young
equestrians were divided into three companies; one was commanded by
Ascanius himself, mounted on a beautiful Sidonian steed which had been
given him by Queen Dido; a second by the youthful Priam, a son of that
Polites whom Pyrrhus slew at the fall of Troy; and the third by Atys, a
boy who was Ascanius' especial friend and companion. They went through a
series of evolutions, now advancing in line, again forming in different
bands and pretending to charge one another, and afterwards going through
many other intricate manoeuvres. The scene was a most picturesque one, and
gave great pleasure to those who witnessed it.
ÆNEAS'S VISIT TO THE LOWER WORLD
By Charles Henry Hanson
Continuing his voyage, Æneas reached the shore of the country afterwards
named Campania, the modern province of Naples. Here the ships were
carefully moored, and the crews disembarked. Some busied themselves in
kindling fires and preparing a meal; others explored the country in search
of game. Æneas, however, hastened at once to seek the temple of Apollo and
the adjoining cave of the Cumæan Sibyl,--the most famous of all the
oracles of antiquity. The temple and cave were situated in a thick wood,
closely adjoining the gloomy lake of Avernus, a black pool of unknown
depth, hedged in by precipitous cliffs, and emitting gases so poisonous
that no bird was able to fly over it in safety. In the rocks at one side
of the lake there yawned a sombre cavern, which was believed in those days
to be the entrance to the kingdom of Pluto--the abode of the dead.
Æneas was surveying the temple,--an edifice of great splendor, adorned
with pictures wrought in metal by the cunning hand of Dædalus,--when
Achates, whom he had sent before him to the Sibyl's cave, approached,
conducting the priestess. "O prince," she said, "this is not the time for
admiring the works of men. It will be more fitting for you to propitiate
the god with sacrifices, so that he may inspire me." With this mandate the
hero at once complied, and then the Sibyl summoned him and his followers
to the entrance of her cave,--a vast apartment carved out of the living
rock, whence issued a hundred corridors. Scarcely had the Trojans
approached the threshold when the virgin exclaimed, "Now is the time to
consult your fate! The god! lo, the god!" As she cried out thus her looks
suddenly changed, her color came and went, her hair fell in disorder over
her shoulders, her bosom heaved, and she was shaken by an uncontrollable
passion. Her very form seemed to dilate, and the tone of her voice was no
longer that of a mere mortal, since she was inspired by the influence of
the god. "Trojan Æneas!" she exclaimed, "delay no longer to offer thy
prayers for the knowledge which thou seekest; for not till then can I
reveal to thee the secrets of the future."
Earnestly did Æneas implore pity and aid from Apollo; and of the Sibyl he
entreated that she should proclaim her revelations by word of mouth, and
not, as was her custom, write them on leaves of trees, lest they should
become the sport of the winds. At first the prophetess did not answer; she
was not yet fully possessed by the spirit of the god, and raved in wild
ecstasy in the cave, struggling, as it were, to resist the will of
Phoebus, who, on his part, wearied her foaming lips, subdued her fierce
heart, and moulded her to his will. Then all at once the hundred doors of
the cavern flew open of their own accord, and the Sibyl proclaimed the
divine response,--
"O thou who hast at length overpassed the perils of the ocean, yet more
terrible trials await thee on shore. Thou and thy Trojans shall indeed
reach the promised land--that is assured; but ye shall wish that ye had
never come thither. Wars, horrid wars, I foresee, and Tiber foaming with a
deluge of blood. Another Achilles awaits thee in Latium--he also the son
of a goddess. Nor shall the persecutions of Juno cease to follow the
Trojans wherever they may be; and in your distress you will humbly
supplicate all the surrounding Italian states for aid. Once more shall a
marriage with a foreign wife be a source of affliction to you. But yield
not under your sufferings; encounter them resolutely in the teeth of
adverse fortune, and when you least expect it, the means of deliverance
shall come to you from a Greek city."