and hard on the altar an ancient bay tree leaned clasping the household
gods in its shadow. Here Hecuba and her daughters crowded vainly about
the altar-stones, like doves driven headlong by a black tempest, and
crouched clasping the gods' images. And when she saw Priam her lord with
the armour of youth on him, "What spirit of madness, my poor husband,"
she cries, "hath stirred thee to gird on these weapons? or whither dost
thou run? Not such the succour nor these the defenders the time
requires: no, were mine own Hector now beside us. Retire, I beseech
thee, hither; this altar will protect us all, or thou wilt share our
death." With these words on her lips she drew the aged man to her, and
set him on the holy seat.
'And lo, escaped from slaughtering Pyrrhus through the weapons of the
enemy, Polites, one of Priam's children, flies wounded down the long
colonnades and circles the empty halls. Pyrrhus pursues him fiercely
with aimed [530-563]wound, just catching at him, and follows hard on
him with his spear. As at last he issued before his parents' eyes and
faces, he fell, and shed his life in a pool of blood. At this Priam,
although even now fast in the toils of death, yet withheld not nor
spared a wrathful cry: "Ah, for thy crime, for this thy hardihood, may
the gods, if there is goodness in heaven to care for aught such, pay
thee in full thy worthy meed, and return thee the reward that is due!
who hast made me look face to face on my child's murder, and polluted a
father's countenance with death. Ah, not such to a foe was the Achilles
whose parentage thou beliest; but he revered a suppliant's right and
trust, restored to the tomb Hector's pallid corpse, and sent me back to
my realm." Thus the old man spoke, and launched his weak and unwounding
spear, which, recoiling straight from the jarring brass, hung idly from
his shield above the boss. Thereat Pyrrhus: "Thou then shalt tell this,
and go with the message to my sire the son of Peleus: remember to tell
him of my baleful deeds, and the degeneracy of Neoptolemus. Now die." So
saying, he drew him quivering to the very altar, slipping in the pool of
his child's blood, and wound his left hand in his hair, while in his
right the sword flashed out and plunged to the hilt in his side. This
was the end of Priam's fortunes; thus did allotted fate find him, with
burning Troy and her sunken towers before his eyes, once magnificent
lord over so many peoples and lands of Asia. The great corpse lies along
the shore, a head severed from the shoulders and a body without a name.
'But then an awful terror began to encircle me; I stood in amaze; there
rose before me the likeness of my loved father, as I saw the king, old
as he, sobbing out his life under the ghastly wound; there rose Creüsa
forlorn, my plundered house, and little Iülus' peril. I look back
[564-596]and survey what force is around me. All, outwearied, have
given up and leapt headlong to the ground, or flung themselves
wretchedly into the fire:
['Yes, and now I only was left; when I espy the daughter of Tyndarus
close in the courts of Vesta, crouching silently in the fane's recesses;
the bright glow of the fires lights my wandering, as my eyes stray all
about. Fearing the Teucrians' anger for the overthrown towers of Troy,
and the Grecians' vengeance and the wrath of the husband she had
abandoned, she, the common Fury of Troy and her native country, had
hidden herself and cowered unseen by the altars. My spirit kindles to
fire, and rises in wrath to avenge my dying land and take repayment for
her crimes. Shall she verily see Sparta and her native Mycenae
unscathed, and depart a queen and triumphant? Shall she see her spousal
and her home, her parents and children, attended by a crowd of Trojan
women and Phrygians to serve her? and Priam have fallen under the sword?
Troy blazed in fire? the shore of Dardania so often soaked with blood?
Not so. For though there is no name or fame in a woman's punishment, nor
honour in the victory, yet shall I have praise in quenching a guilty
life and exacting a just recompense; and it will be good to fill my soul
with the flame of vengeance, and satisfy the ashes of my people. Thus
broke I forth, and advanced infuriate;]
'----When my mother came visibly before me, clear to sight as never till
then, and shone forth in pure radiance through the night, gracious,
evident in godhead, in shape and stature such as she is wont to appear
to the heavenly people; she caught me by the hand and stayed me, and
pursued thus with roseate lips:
'"Son, what overmastering pain thus wakes thy wrath? Why ravest thou? or
whither is thy care for us fled? Wilt thou not first look to it, where
thou hast left Anchises, [597-630]thine aged worn father; or if Creüsa
thy wife and the child Ascanius survive? round about whom all the Greek
battalions range; and without my preventing care, the flames ere this
had made them their portion, and the hostile sword drunk their blood.
Not the hated face of the Laconian woman, Tyndarus' daughter; not Paris
is to blame; the gods, the gods in anger overturn this magnificence, and
make Troy topple down. Look, for all the cloud that now veils thy gaze
and dulls mortal vision with damp encircling mist, I will rend from
before thee. Fear thou no commands of thy mother, nor refuse to obey her
counsels. Here, where thou seest sundered piles of masonry and rocks
violently torn from rocks, and smoke eddying mixed with dust, Neptune
with his great trident shakes wall and foundation out of their places,
and upturns all the city from her base. Here Juno in all her terror
holds the Scaean gates at the entry, and, girt with steel, calls her
allied army furiously from their ships. . . . Even now on the citadel's
height, look back! Tritonian Pallas is planted in glittering halo and
Gorgonian terror. Their lord himself pours courage and prosperous
strength on the Grecians, himself stirs the gods against the arms of
Dardania. Haste away, O son, and put an end to the struggle. I will
never desert thee; I will set thee safe in the courts of thy father's
house."
'She ended, and plunged in the dense blackness of the night. Awful faces
shine forth, and, set against Troy, divine majesties . . .
'Then indeed I saw all Ilium sinking in flame, and Neptunian Troy
uprooted from her base: even as an ancient ash on the mountain heights,
hacked all about with steel and fast-falling axes, when husbandmen
emulously strain to cut it down: it hangs threateningly, with shaken top
and quivering tresses asway; till gradually, overmastered with
[631-662]wounds, it utters one last groan, and rending itself away,
falls in ruin along the ridge. I descend, and under a god's guidance
clear my way between foe and flame; weapons give ground before me, and
flames retire.
'And now, when I have reached the courts of my ancestral dwelling, our
home of old, my father, whom it was my first desire to carry high into
the hills, and whom first I sought, declines, now Troy is rooted out, to
prolong his life through the pains of exile.
'"Ah, you," he cries, "whose blood is at the prime, whose strength
stands firm in native vigour, do you take your flight. . . . Had the
lords of heaven willed to prolong life for me, they should have
preserved this my home. Enough and more is the one desolation we have
seen, survivors of a captured city. Thus, oh thus salute me and depart,
as a body laid out for burial. Mine own hand shall find me death: the
foe will be merciful and seek my spoils: light is the loss of a tomb.
This long time hated of heaven, I uselessly delay the years, since the
father of gods and king of men blasted me with wind of thunder and
scathe of flame."
'Thus held he on in utterance, and remained obstinate. We press him,
dissolved in tears, my wife Creüsa, Ascanius, all our household, that
our father involve us not all in his ruin, and add his weight to the
sinking scale of doom. He refuses, and keeps seated steadfast in his
purpose. Again I rush to battle, and choose death in my misery. For what
had counsel or chance yet to give? Thoughtest thou my feet, O father,
could retire and abandon thee? and fell so unnatural words from a
parent's lips? "If heaven wills that naught be left of our mighty city,
if this be thy planted purpose, thy pleasure to cast in thyself and
thine to the doom of Troy; for this death indeed the gate is wide, and
even now Pyrrhus will be here newly bathed in Priam's [663-695]blood,
Pyrrhus who slaughters the son before the father's face, the father upon
his altars. For this was it, bountiful mother, thou dost rescue me amid
fire and sword, to see the foe in my inmost chambers, and Ascanius and
my father, Creüsa by their side, hewn down in one another's blood? My
arms, men, bring my arms! the last day calls on the conquered. Return me
to the Greeks; let me revisit and renew the fight. Never to-day shall we
all perish unavenged."
'Thereat I again gird on my sword, and fitting my left arm into the
clasps of the shield, strode forth of the palace. And lo! my wife clung
round my feet on the threshold, and held little Iülus up to his father's
sight. "If thou goest to die, let us too hurry with thee to the end. But
if thou knowest any hope to place in arms, be this household thy first
defence. To what is little Iülus and thy father, to what am I left who
once was called thy wife?"
'So she shrieked, and filled all the house with her weeping; when a sign
arises sudden and marvellous to tell. For, between the hands and before
the faces of his sorrowing parents, lo! above Iülus' head there seemed
to stream a light luminous cone, and a flame whose touch hurt not to
flicker in his soft hair and play round his brows. We in a flutter of
affright shook out the blazing hair and quenched the holy fires with
spring water. But lord Anchises joyfully upraised his eyes; and
stretching his hands to heaven: "Jupiter omnipotent," he cries, "if thou
dost relent at any prayers, look on us this once alone; and if our
goodness deserve it, give thine aid hereafter, O lord, and confirm this
thine omen."
'Scarcely had the aged man spoken thus, when with sudden crash it
thundered on the left, and a star gliding through the dusk shot from
heaven drawing a bright trail of light. We watch it slide over the
palace roof, leaving [696-730]the mark of its pathway, and bury its
brilliance in the wood of Ida; the long drawn track shines, and the
region all about fumes with sulphur. Then conquered indeed my father
rises to address the gods and worship the holy star. "Now, now delay is
done with: I follow, and where you lead, I come. Gods of my fathers,
save my house, save my grandchild. Yours is this omen, and in your deity
Troy stands. I yield, O my son, and refuse not to go in thy company."
'He ended; and now more loudly the fire roars along the city, and the
burning tides roll nearer. "Up then, beloved father, and lean on my
neck; these shoulders of mine will sustain thee, nor will so dear a
burden weigh me down. Howsoever fortune fall, one and undivided shall be
our peril, one the escape of us twain. Little Iülus shall go along with
me, and my wife follow our steps afar. You of my household, give heed to
what I say. As you leave the city there is a mound and ancient temple of
Ceres lonely on it, and hard by an aged cypress, guarded many years in
ancestral awe: to this resting-place let us gather from diverse
quarters. Thou, O father, take the sacred things and the household gods
of our ancestors in thine hand. For me, just parted from the desperate
battle, with slaughter fresh upon me, to handle them were guilt, until I
wash away in a living stream the soilure. . . ." So spoke I, and spread
over my neck and broad shoulders a tawny lion-skin for covering, and
stoop to my burden. Little Iülus, with his hand fast in mine, keeps
uneven pace after his father. Behind my wife follows. We pass on in the
shadows. And I, lately moved by no weapons launched against me, nor by
the thronging bands of my Grecian foes, am now terrified at every
breath, startled by every noise, thrilling with fear alike for my
companion and my burden.
'And now I was nearing the gates, and thought I had [731-764]outsped
all the way; when suddenly the crowded trampling of feet came to our
ears, and my father, looking forth into the darkness, cries: "My son, my
son, fly; they draw near. I espy the gleaming shields and the flicker of
brass." At this, in my flurry and confusion, some hostile god bereft me
of my senses. For while I plunge down byways, and swerve from where the
familiar streets ran, Creüsa, alas! whether, torn by fate from her
unhappy husband, she stood still, or did she mistake the way, or sink
down outwearied? I know not; and never again was she given back to our
eyes; nor did I turn to look for my lost one, or cast back a thought,
ere we were come to ancient Ceres' mound and hallowed seat; here at
last, when all gathered, one was missing, vanished from her child's and
her husband's company. What man or god did I spare in frantic
reproaches? or what crueller sight met me in our city's overthrow? I
charge my comrades with Ascanius and lord Anchises, and the gods of
Teucria, hiding them in the winding vale. Myself I regain the city,
girding on my shining armour; fixed to renew every danger, to retrace my
way throughout Troy, and fling myself again on its perils. First of all
I regain the walls and the dim gateway whence my steps had issued; I
scan and follow back my footprints with searching gaze in the night.
Everywhere my spirit shudders, dismayed at the very silence. Thence I
pass on home, if haply her feet (if haply!) had led her thither. The
Grecians had poured in, and filled the palace. The devouring fire goes
rolling before the wind high as the roof; the flames tower over it, and
the heat surges up into the air. I move on, and revisit the citadel and
Priam's dwelling; where now in the spacious porticoes of Juno's
sanctuary, Phoenix and accursed Ulysses, chosen sentries, were guarding
the spoil. Hither from all quarters is flung in masses the treasure of
Troy torn from burning shrines, [765-798]tables of the gods, bowls of
solid gold, and raiment of the captives. Boys and cowering mothers in
long file stand round. . . . Yes, and I dared to cry abroad through the
darkness; I filled the streets with calling, and again and yet again
with vain reiterance cried piteously on Creüsa. As I stormed and sought
her endlessly among the houses of the town, there rose before mine eyes
a melancholy phantom, the ghost of very Creüsa, in likeness larger than
her wont. I was motionless; my hair stood up, and the accents faltered
on my tongue. Then she thus addressed me, and with this speech allayed
my distresses: "What help is there in this mad passion of grief, sweet
my husband? not without divine influence does this come to pass: nor may
it be, nor does the high lord of Olympus allow, that thou shouldest
carry Creüsa hence in thy company. Long shall be thine exile, and weary
spaces of sea must thou furrow through; and thou shalt come to the land
Hesperia, where Lydian Tiber flows with soft current through rich and
populous fields. There prosperity awaits thee, and a kingdom, and a
king's daughter for thy wife. Dispel these tears for thy beloved Creüsa.
Never will I look on the proud homes of the Myrmidons or Dolopians, or
go to be the slave of Greek matrons, I a daughter of Dardania, a
daughter-in-law of Venus the goddess. . . . But the mighty mother of the
gods keeps me in these her borders. And now farewell, and still love thy
child and mine." This speech uttered, while I wept and would have said
many a thing, she left me and retreated into thin air. Thrice there was
I fain to lay mine arms round her neck; thrice the vision I vainly
clasped fled out of my hands, even as the light breezes, or most like to
fluttering sleep. So at last, when night is spent, I revisit my
comrades.
'And here I find a marvellous great company, newly flocked in, mothers
and men, a people gathered for exile, [799-804]a pitiable crowd. From
all quarters they are assembled, ready in heart and fortune, to
whatsoever land I will conduct them overseas. And now the morning star
rose over the high ridges of Ida, and led on the day; and the Grecians
held the gateways in leaguer, nor was any hope of help given. I
withdrew, and raising my father up, I sought the mountain.'
BOOK THIRD
THE STORY OF THE SEVEN YEARS' WANDERING
'After heaven's lords pleased to overthrow the state of Asia and Priam's
guiltless people, and proud Ilium fell, and Neptunian Troy smokes all
along the ground, we are driven by divine omens to seek distant places
of exile in waste lands. Right under Antandros and the mountains of
Phrygian Ida we build a fleet, uncertain whither the fates carry us or
where a resting-place is given, and gather the people together. Scarcely
had the first summer set in, when lord Anchises bids us spread our sails
to fortune, and weeping I leave the shores and havens of my country, and
the plains where once was Troy. I sail to sea an exile, with my comrades
and son and the gods of household and state.
'A land of vast plains lies apart, the home of Mavors, in Thracian
tillage, and sometime under warrior Lycurgus' reign; friendly of old to
Troy, and their gods in alliance while our fortune lasted. Hither I
pass, and on the winding shore I lay under thwarting fates the first
foundations of a city, and from my own name fashion its name, Aeneadae.
'I was paying sacrifice to my mother, daughter of Dione, and to all the
gods, so to favour the work begun, and slew a shining bull on the shore
to the high lord of [22-54]the heavenly people. Haply there lay a mound
hard at hand, crowned with cornel thickets and bristling dense with
shafts of myrtle. I drew near; and essaying to tear up the green wood
from the soil, that I might cover the altar with leafy boughs, I see a
portent ominous and wonderful to tell. For from the first tree whose
roots are rent away and broken from the ground, drops of black blood
trickle, and gore stains the earth. An icy shudder shakes my limbs, and
my blood curdles chill with terror. Yet from another I go on again to
tear away a tough shoot, fully to fathom its secret; yet from another
black blood follows out of the bark. With many searchings of heart I
prayed the woodland nymphs, and lord Gradivus, who rules in the Getic
fields, to make the sight propitious as was meet and lighten the omen.
But when I assail a third spearshaft with a stronger effort, pulling
with knees pressed against the sand; shall I speak or be silent? from
beneath the mound is heard a pitiable moan, and a voice is uttered to my
ears: "Woe's me, why rendest thou me, Aeneas? spare me at last in the
tomb, spare pollution to thine innocent hands. Troy bore me; not alien
to thee am I, nor this blood that oozes from the stem. Ah, fly the cruel
land, fly the greedy shore! For I am Polydorus; here the iron harvest of
weapons hath covered my pierced body, and shot up in sharp javelins."
Then indeed, borne down with dubious terror, I was motionless, my hair
stood up, and the accents faltered on my tongue.
'This Polydorus once with great weight of gold had hapless Priam sent in
secret to the nurture of the Thracian king, when now he was losing trust
in the arms of Dardania, and saw his city leaguered round about. The
king, when the Teucrian power was broken and fortune withdrew, following
Agamemnon's estate and triumphant arms, [55-87]severs every bond of
duty; murders Polydorus, and lays strong hands on the gold. O accursed
hunger of gold, to what dost thou not compel human hearts! When the
terror left my senses, I lay the divine tokens before the chosen princes
of the people, with my father at their head, and demand their judgment.
All are of one mind, to leave the guilty land, and abandoning a polluted
home, to let the gales waft our fleets. So we bury Polydorus anew, and
the earth is heaped high over his mound; altars are reared to his ghost,
sad with dusky chaplets and black cypress; and around are the Ilian
women with hair unbound in their fashion. We offer bubbling bowls of
warm milk and cups of consecrated blood, and lay the spirit to rest in
her tomb, and with loud voice utter the last call.
'Thereupon, so soon as ocean may be trusted, and the winds leave the
seas in quiet, and the soft whispering south wind calls seaward, my
comrades launch their ships and crowd the shores. We put out from
harbour, and lands and towns sink away. There lies in mid sea a holy
land, most dear to the mother of the Nereids and Neptune of Aegae, which
strayed about coast and strand till the Archer god in his affection
chained it fast from high Myconos and Gyaros, and made it lie immoveable
and slight the winds. Hither I steer; and it welcomes my weary crew to
the quiet shelter of a safe haven. We disembark and worship Apollo's
town. Anius the king, king at once of the people and priest of Phoebus,
his brows garlanded with fillets and consecrated laurel, comes to meet
us; he knows Anchises, his friend of old; we clasp hands in welcome, and
enter his palace. I worshipped the god's temple, an ancient pile of
stone. "Lord of Thymbra, give us an enduring dwelling-place; grant a
house and family to thy weary servants, and a city to abide: keep Troy's
second fortress, the remnant left of the Grecians and merciless
Achilles. Whom follow [88-121]we? or whither dost thou bid us go, where
fix our seat? Grant an omen, O lord, and inspire our minds."
'Scarcely had I spoken thus; suddenly all seemed to shake, all the
courts and laurels of the god, the whole hill to be stirred round about,
and the cauldron to moan in the opening sanctuary. We sink low on the
ground, and a voice is borne to our ears: "Stubborn race of Dardanus,
the same land that bore you by parentage of old shall receive you again
on her bountiful breast. Seek out your ancient mother; hence shall the
house of Aeneas sway all regions, his children's children and they who
shall be born of them." Thus Phoebus; and mingled outcries of great
gladness uprose; all ask, what is that city? whither calls Phoebus our
wandering, and bids us return? Then my father, unrolling the records of
men of old, "Hear, O princes," says he, "and learn your hopes. In mid
ocean lies Crete, the island of high Jove, wherein is mount Ida, the
cradle of our race. An hundred great towns are inhabited in that opulent
realm; from it our forefather Teucer of old, if I recall the tale
aright, sailed to the Rhoetean coasts and chose a place for his kingdom.
Not yet was Ilium nor the towers of Pergama reared; they dwelt in the
valley bottoms. Hence came our Lady, haunter of Cybele, the Corybantic
cymbals and the grove of Ida; hence the rites of inviolate secrecy, and
the lions yoked under the chariot of their mistress. Up then, and let us
follow where divine commandments lead; let us appease the winds, and
seek the realm of Gnosus. Nor is it a far journey away. Only be Jupiter
favourable, the third day shall bring our fleet to anchor on the Cretan
coast." So spoke he, and slew fit sacrifice on the altars, a bull to
Neptune, a bull to thee, fair Apollo, a black sheep to Tempest, a white
to the prosperous West winds.