didst guide the Dardanian shaft from Paris' hand full on the son of
Aeacus, in thy leading have I pierced all these seas that skirt mighty
lands, the Massylian nations far withdrawn, and the fields the Syrtes
fringe; thus far let the fortune of Troy follow us. You too may now
unforbidden spare the nation of Pergama, gods and goddesses to
whomsoever Ilium and the great glory of Dardania did wrong. And thou, O
prophetess most holy, foreknower of the future, grant (for no unearned
realm does my destiny claim) a resting-place in Latium to the Teucrians,
to their wandering gods and the storm-tossed deities of Troy. Then will
I ordain to Phoebus and Trivia a temple of solid marble, and festal days
in Phoebus' name. Thee likewise a mighty sanctuary awaits in our realm.
For here will I place thine oracles and the secrets of destiny uttered
to my people, and consecrate chosen men, O gracious one. Only commit not
thou thy verses to leaves, lest they fly disordered, the sport of
rushing winds; thyself utter them, I beseech thee.' His lips made an end
of utterance.
But the prophetess, not yet tame to Phoebus' hand, rages fiercely in the
cavern, so she may shake the mighty godhead from her breast; so much the
more does he tire her maddened mouth and subdue her wild breast and
shape her to his pressure. And now the hundred mighty portals of the
house open of their own accord, and bring through the air the answer of
the soothsayer:
'O past at length with the great perils of the sea! though heavier yet
by land await thee, the Dardanians shall come to the realm of Lavinium;
relieve thy heart of this care; but not so shall they have joy of their
coming. Wars, grim wars I discern, and Tiber afoam with streams of
blood. A Simoïs shall not fail thee, a Xanthus, a Dorian camp; another
Achilles is already found for Latium, he too [90-123]goddess-born; nor
shall Juno's presence ever leave the Teucrians; while thou in thy need,
to what nations or what towns of Italy shalt thou not sue! Again is an
alien bride the source of all that Teucrian woe, again a foreign
marriage-chamber. . . . Yield not thou to distresses, but all the bolder
go forth to meet them, as thy fortune shall allow thee way. The path of
rescue, little as thou deemest it, shall first open from a Grecian
town.'
In such words the Sibyl of Cumae chants from the shrine her perplexing
terrors, echoing through the cavern truth wrapped in obscurity: so does
Apollo clash the reins and ply the goad in her maddened breast. So soon
as the spasm ceased and the raving lips sank to silence, Aeneas the hero
begins: 'No shape of toil, O maiden, rises strange or sudden on my
sight; all this ere now have I guessed and inly rehearsed in spirit. One
thing I pray; since here is the gate named of the infernal king, and the
darkling marsh of Acheron's overflow, be it given me to go to my beloved
father, to see him face to face; teach thou the way, and open the
consecrated portals. Him on these shoulders I rescued from encircling
flames and a thousand pursuing weapons, and brought him safe from amid
the enemy; he accompanied my way over all the seas, and bore with me all
the threats of ocean and sky, in weakness, beyond his age's strength and
due. Nay, he it was who besought and enjoined me to seek thy grace and
draw nigh thy courts. Have pity, I beseech thee, on son and father, O
gracious one! for thou art all-powerful, nor in vain hath Hecate given
thee rule in the groves of Avernus. If Orpheus could call up his wife's
ghost in the strength of his Thracian lyre and the music of the
strings,--if Pollux redeemed his brother by exchange of death, and
passes and repasses so often,--why make mention of great Theseus, why of
Alcides? I too am of Jove's sovereign race.'
[124-157]In such words he pleaded and clasped the altars; when the
soothsayer thus began to speak:
'O sprung of gods' blood, child of Anchises of Troy, easy is the descent
into hell; all night and day the gate of dark Dis stands open; but to
recall thy steps and issue to upper air, this is the task and burden.
Some few of gods' lineage have availed, such as Jupiter's gracious
favour or virtue's ardour hath upborne to heaven. Midway all is muffled
in forest, and the black coils of Cocytus circle it round. Yet if thy
soul is so passionate and so desirous twice to float across the Stygian
lake, twice to see dark Tartarus, and thy pleasure is to plunge into the
mad task, learn what must first be accomplished. Hidden in a shady tree
is a bough with leafage and pliant shoot all of gold, consecrate to
nether Juno, wrapped in the depth of woodland and shut in by dim dusky
vales. But to him only who first hath plucked the golden-tressed
fruitage from the tree is it given to enter the hidden places of the
earth. This hath beautiful Proserpine ordained to be borne to her for
her proper gift. The first torn away, a second fills the place in gold,
and the spray burgeons with even such ore again. So let thine eyes trace
it home, and thine hand pluck it duly when found; for lightly and
unreluctant will it follow if thine is fate's summons; else will no
strength of thine avail to conquer it nor hard steel to cut it away. Yet
again, a friend of thine lies a lifeless corpse, alas! thou knowest it
not, and defiles all the fleet with death, while thou seekest our
counsel and lingerest in our courts. First lay him in his resting-place
and hide him in the tomb; lead thither black cattle; be this first thine
expiation; so at last shalt thou behold the Stygian groves and the realm
untrodden of the living.' She spoke, and her lips shut to silence.
Aeneas goes forth, and leaves the cavern with fixed eyes and sad
countenance, his soul revolving inly the unseen [158-194]issues. By his
side goes faithful Achates, and plants his footsteps in equal
perplexity. Long they ran on in mutual change of talk; of what lifeless
comrade spoke the soothsayer, of what body for burial? And even as they
came, they see on the dry beach Misenus cut off by untimely death,
Misenus the Aeolid, excelled of none other in stirring men with brazen
breath and kindling battle with his trumpet-note. He had been attendant
on mighty Hector; in Hector's train he waged battle, renowned alike for
bugle and spear: after victorious Achilles robbed him of life the
valiant hero had joined Dardanian Aeneas' company, and followed no
meaner leader. But now, while he makes his hollow shell echo over the
seas, ah fool! and calls the gods to rival his blast, jealous Triton, if
belief is due, had caught him among the rocks and sunk him in the
foaming waves. So all surrounded him with loud murmur and cries, good
Aeneas the foremost. Then weeping they quickly hasten on the Sibyl's
orders, and work hard to pile trees for the altar of burial, and heap it
up into the sky. They move into the ancient forest, the deep coverts of
game; pitch-pines fall flat, ilex rings to the stroke of axes, and ashen
beams and oak are split in clefts with wedges; they roll in huge
mountain-ashes from the hills. Aeneas likewise is first in the work, and
cheers on his crew and arms himself with their weapons. And alone with
his sad heart he ponders it all, gazing on the endless forest, and
utters this prayer: 'If but now that bough of gold would shew itself to
us on the tree in this depth of woodland! since all the soothsayer's
tale of thee, Misenus, was, alas! too truly spoken.' Scarcely had he
said thus, when twin doves haply came flying down the sky, and lit on
the green sod right under his eyes. Then the kingly hero knows them for
his mother's birds, and joyfully prays: 'Ah, be my guides, if way there
be, and direct your aëry passage into the groves [195-230]where the
rich bough overshadows the fertile ground! and thou, O goddess mother,
fail not our wavering fortune.' So spoke he and stayed his steps,
marking what they signify, whither they urge their way. Feeding and
flying they advance at such distance as following eyes could keep them
in view; then, when they came to Avernus' pestilent gorge, they tower
swiftly, and sliding down through the liquid air, choose their seat and
light side by side on a tree, through whose boughs shone out the
contrasting flicker of gold. As in chill mid-winter the woodland is wont
to blossom with the strange leafage of the mistletoe, sown on an alien
tree and wreathing the smooth stems with burgeoning saffron; so on the
shadowy ilex seemed that leafy gold, so the foil tinkled in the light
breeze. Immediately Aeneas seizes it and eagerly breaks off its
resistance, and carries it beneath the Sibyl's roof.
And therewithal the Teucrians on the beach wept Misenus, and bore the
last rites to the thankless ashes. First they build up a vast pyre of
resinous billets and sawn oak, whose sides they entwine with dark leaves
and plant funereal cypresses in front, and adorn it above with his
shining armour. Some prepare warm water in cauldrons bubbling over the
flames, and wash and anoint the chill body, and make their moan; then,
their weeping done, lay his limbs on the pillow, and spread over it
crimson raiment, the accustomed pall. Some uplift the heavy bier, a
melancholy service, and with averted faces in their ancestral fashion
hold and thrust in the torch. Gifts of frankincense, food, and bowls of
olive oil, are poured and piled upon the fire. After the embers sank in
and the flame died away, they soaked with wine the remnant of thirsty
ashes, and Corynaeus gathered the bones and shut them in an urn of
brass; and he too thrice encircled his comrades with fresh water, and
cleansed them with light spray sprinkled from a [231-267]bough of
fruitful olive, and spoke the last words of all. But good Aeneas heaps a
mighty mounded tomb over him, with his own armour and his oar and
trumpet, beneath a skyey mountain that now is called Misenus after him,
and keeps his name immortal from age to age.
This done, he hastens to fulfil the Sibyl's ordinance. A deep cave
yawned dreary and vast, shingle-strewn, sheltered by the black lake and
the gloom of the forests; over it no flying things could wing their way
unharmed, such a vapour streamed from the dark gorge and rose into the
overarching sky. Here the priestess first arrays four black-bodied
bullocks and pours wine upon their forehead; and plucking the topmost
hairs from between the horns, lays them on the sacred fire for
first-offering, calling aloud on Hecate, mistress of heaven and hell.
Others lay knives beneath, and catch the warm blood in cups. Aeneas
himself smites with the sword a black-fleeced she-lamb to the mother of
the Eumenides and her mighty sister, and a barren heifer, Proserpine, to
thee. Then he uprears darkling altars to the Stygian king, and lays
whole carcases of bulls upon the flames, pouring fat oil over the
blazing entrails. And lo! about the first rays of sunrise the ground
moaned underfoot, and the woodland ridges began to stir, and dogs seemed
to howl through the dusk as the goddess came. 'Apart, ah keep apart, O
ye unsanctified!' cries the soothsayer; 'retire from all the grove; and
thou, stride on and unsheath thy steel; now is need of courage, O
Aeneas, now of strong resolve.' So much she spoke, and plunged madly
into the cavern's opening; he with unflinching steps keeps pace with his
advancing guide.
Gods who are sovereign over souls! silent ghosts, and Chaos and
Phlegethon, the wide dumb realm of night! as I have heard, so let me
tell, and according to your will unfold things sunken deep under earth
in gloom.
[268-303]They went darkling through the dusk beneath the solitary
night, through the empty dwellings and bodiless realm of Dis; even as
one walks in the forest beneath the jealous light of a doubtful moon,
when Jupiter shrouds the sky in shadow and black night blots out the
world. Right in front of the doorway and in the entry of the jaws of
hell Grief and avenging Cares have made their bed; there dwell wan
Sicknesses and gloomy Eld, and Fear, and ill-counselling Hunger, and
loathly Want, shapes terrible to see; and Death and Travail, and thereby
Sleep, Death's kinsman, and the Soul's guilty Joys, and death-dealing
War full in the gateway, and the Furies in their iron cells, and mad
Discord with bloodstained fillets enwreathing her serpent locks.
Midway an elm, shadowy and high, spreads her boughs and secular arms,
where, one saith, idle Dreams dwell clustering, and cling under every
leaf. And monstrous creatures besides, many and diverse, keep covert at
the gates, Centaurs and twy-shaped Scyllas, and the hundredfold
Briareus, and the beast of Lerna hissing horribly, and the Chimaera
armed with flame, Gorgons and Harpies, and the body of the triform
shade. Here Aeneas snatches at his sword in a sudden flutter of terror,
and turns the naked edge on them as they come; and did not his wise
fellow-passenger remind him that these lives flit thin and unessential
in the hollow mask of body, he would rush on and vainly lash through
phantoms with his steel.
Hence a road leads to Tartarus and Acheron's wave. Here the dreary pool
swirls thick in muddy eddies and disgorges into Cocytus with its load of
sand. Charon, the dread ferryman, guards these flowing streams, ragged
and awful, his chin covered with untrimmed masses of hoary hair, and his
glassy eyes aflame; his soiled raiment hangs knotted from his shoulders.
Himself he plies the pole and trims the sails of his vessel, the
steel-blue galley with freight [304-336]of dead; stricken now in years,
but a god's old age is lusty and green. Hither all crowded, and rushed
streaming to the bank, matrons and men and high-hearted heroes dead and
done with life, boys and unwedded girls, and children laid young on the
bier before their parents' eyes, multitudinous as leaves fall dropping
in the forests at autumn's earliest frost, or birds swarm landward from
the deep gulf, when the chill of the year routs them overseas and drives
them to sunny lands. They stood pleading for the first passage across,
and stretched forth passionate hands to the farther shore. But the grim
sailor admits now one and now another, while some he pushes back far
apart on the strand. Moved with marvel at the confused throng: 'Say, O
maiden,' cries Aeneas, 'what means this flocking to the river? of what
are the souls so fain? or what difference makes these retire from the
banks, those go with sweeping oars over the leaden waterways?'
To him the long-lived priestess thus briefly returned: 'Seed of
Anchises, most sure progeny of gods, thou seest the deep pools of
Cocytus and the Stygian marsh, by whose divinity the gods fear to swear
falsely. All this crowd thou discernest is helpless and unsepultured;
Charon is the ferryman; they who ride on the wave found a tomb. Nor is
it given to cross the awful banks and hoarse streams ere the dust hath
found a resting-place. An hundred years they wander here flitting about
the shore; then at last they gain entrance, and revisit the pools so
sorely desired.'
Anchises' son stood still, and ponderingly stayed his footsteps, pitying
at heart their cruel lot. There he discerns, mournful and unhonoured
dead, Leucaspis and Orontes, captains of the Lycian squadron, whom, as
they sailed together from Troy over gusty seas, the south wind
overwhelmed and wrapped the waters round ship and men.
[337-369]Lo, there went by Palinurus the steersman, who of late, while
he watched the stars on their Libyan passage, had slipped from the stern
and fallen amid the waves. To him, when he first knew the melancholy
form in that depth of shade, he thus opens speech: 'What god, O
Palinurus, reft thee from us and sank thee amid the seas? forth and
tell. For in this single answer Apollo deceived me, never found false
before, when he prophesied thee safety on ocean and arrival on the
Ausonian coasts. See, is this his promise-keeping?'
And he: 'Neither did Phoebus on his oracular seat delude thee, O prince,
Anchises' son, nor did any god drown me in the sea. For while I clung to
my appointed charge and governed our course, I pulled the tiller with me
in my fall, and the shock as I slipped wrenched it away. By the rough
seas I swear, fear for myself never wrung me so sore as for thy ship,
lest, the rudder lost and the pilot struck away, those gathering waves
might master it. Three wintry nights in the water the blustering south
drove me over the endless sea; scarcely on the fourth dawn I descried
Italy as I rose on the climbing wave. Little by little I swam shoreward;
already I clung safe; but while, encumbered with my dripping raiment, I
caught with crooked fingers at the jagged needles of mountain rock, the
barbarous people attacked me in arms and ignorantly deemed me a prize.
Now the wave holds me, and the winds toss me on the shore. By heaven's
pleasant light and breezes I beseech thee, by thy father, by Iülus thy
rising hope, rescue me from these distresses, O unconquered one! Either
do thou, for thou canst, cast earth over me and again seek the haven of
Velia; or do thou, if in any wise that may be, if in any wise the
goddess who bore thee shews a way,--for not without divine will do I
deem thou wilt float across these vast rivers and the Stygian
pool,--lend me a pitying [370-403]hand, and bear me over the waves in
thy company, that at least in death I may find a quiet resting-place.'
Thus he ended, and the soothsayer thus began: 'Whence, O Palinurus, this
fierce longing of thine? Shalt thou without burial behold the Stygian
waters and the awful river of the Furies? Cease to hope prayers may bend
the decrees of heaven. But take my words to thy memory, for comfort in
thy woeful case: far and wide shall the bordering cities be driven by
celestial portents to appease thy dust; they shall rear a tomb, and pay
the tomb a yearly offering, and for evermore shall the place keep
Palinurus' name.' The words soothed away his distress, and for a while
drove grief away from his sorrowing heart; he is glad in the land of his
name.
So they complete their journey's beginning, and draw nigh the river.
Just then the waterman descried them from the Stygian wave advancing
through the silent woodland and turning their feet towards the bank, and
opens on them in these words of challenge: 'Whoso thou art who marchest
in arms towards our river, forth and say, there as thou art, why thou
comest, and stay thine advance. This is the land of Shadows, of Sleep,
and slumberous Night; no living body may the Stygian hull convey. Nor
truly had I joy of taking Alcides on the lake for passenger, nor Theseus
and Pirithoüs, born of gods though they were and unconquered in might.
He laid fettering hand on the warder of Tartarus, and dragged him
cowering from the throne of my lord the King; they essayed to ravish our
mistress from the bridal chamber of Dis.' Thereto the Amphrysian
soothsayer made brief reply: 'No such plot is here; be not moved; nor do
our weapons offer violence; the huge gatekeeper may bark on for ever in
his cavern and affright the bloodless ghosts; Proserpine may keep her
honour within her uncle's gates. Aeneas of Troy, renowned [404-437]in
goodness as in arms, goes down to meet his father in the deep shades of
Erebus. If the sight of such affection stirs thee in nowise, yet this
bough' (she discovers the bough hidden in her raiment) 'thou must know.'
Then his heaving breast allays its anger, and he says no more; but
marvelling at the awful gift, the fated rod so long unseen, he steers in
his dusky vessel and draws to shore. Next he routs out the souls that
sate on the long benches, and clears the thwarts, while he takes mighty
Aeneas on board. The galley groaned under the weight in all her seams,
and the marsh-water leaked fast in. At length prophetess and prince are
landed unscathed on the ugly ooze and livid sedge.
This realm rings with the triple-throated baying of vast Cerberus,
couched huge in the cavern opposite; to whom the prophetess, seeing the
serpents already bristling up on his neck, throws a cake made slumberous
with honey and drugged grain. He, with threefold jaws gaping in ravenous
hunger, catches it when thrown, and sinks to earth with monstrous body
outstretched, and sprawling huge over all his den. The warder
overwhelmed, Aeneas makes entrance, and quickly issues from the bank of
the irremeable wave.
Immediately wailing voices are loud in their ears, the souls of babies
crying on the doorway sill, whom, torn from the breast and portionless
in life's sweetness, a dark day cut off and drowned in bitter death.
Hard by them are those condemned to death on false accusation. Neither
indeed are these dwellings assigned without lot and judgment; Minos
presides and shakes the urn; he summons a council of the silent people,
and inquires of their lives and charges. Next in order have these
mourners their place whose own innocent hands dealt them death, who
flung away their souls in hatred of the day. How fain were they now in
upper air to endure their poverty and [438-472]sore travail! It may not
be; the unlovely pool locks them in her gloomy wave, and Styx pours her
ninefold barrier between. And not far from here are shewn stretching on
every side the Wailing Fields; so they call them by name. Here they whom
pitiless love hath wasted in cruel decay hide among untrodden ways,
shrouded in embosoming myrtle thickets; not death itself ends their
distresses. In this region he discerns Phaedra and Procris and woeful
Eriphyle, shewing on her the wounds of her merciless son, and Evadne and
Pasiphaë; Laodamia goes in their company, and she who was once Caeneus
and a man, now woman, and again returned by fate into her shape of old.
Among whom Dido the Phoenician, fresh from her death-wound, wandered in
the vast forest; by her the Trojan hero stood, and knew the dim form
through the darkness, even as the moon at the month's beginning to him
who sees or thinks he sees her rising through the vapours; he let tears
fall, and spoke to her lovingly and sweet:
'Alas, Dido! so the news was true that reached me; thou didst perish,
and the sword sealed thy doom! Ah me, was I cause of thy death? By the
stars I swear, by the heavenly powers and all that is sacred beneath the
earth, unwillingly, O queen, I left thy shore. But the gods, at whose
orders now I pass through this shadowy place, this land of mouldering
overgrowth and deep night, the gods' commands drove me forth; nor could
I deem my departure would bring thee pain so great as this. Stay thy
footstep, and withdraw not from our gaze. From whom fliest thou? the
last speech of thee fate ordains me is this.'
In such words and with starting tears Aeneas soothed the burning and
fierce-eyed soul. She turned away with looks fixed fast on the ground,
stirred no more in countenance by the speech he essays than if she stood
in iron flint or Marpesian stone. At length she started, and fled
wrathfully [473-508]into the shadowy woodland, where Sychaeus, her
ancient husband, responds to her distresses and equals her affection.
Yet Aeneas, dismayed by her cruel doom, follows her far on her way with
pitying tears.
Thence he pursues his appointed path. And now they trod those utmost
fields where the renowned in war have their haunt apart. Here Tydeus
meets him; here Parthenopaeus, glorious in arms, and the pallid phantom
of Adrastus; here the Dardanians long wept on earth and fallen in the
war; sighing he discerns all their long array, Glaucus and Medon and
Thersilochus, the three children of Antenor, and Polyphoetes, Ceres'
priest, and Idaeus yet charioted, yet grasping his arms. The souls
throng round him to right and left; nor is one look enough; lingering
delighted, they pace by his side and enquire wherefore he is come. But
the princes of the Grecians and Agamemnon's armies, when they see him
glittering in arms through the gloom, hurry terror-stricken away; some
turn backward, as when of old they fled to the ships; some raise their
voice faintly, and gasp out a broken ineffectual cry.
And here he saw Deïphobus son of Priam, with face cruelly torn, face and
both hands, and ears lopped from his mangled temples, and nostrils
maimed by a shameful wound. Barely he knew the cowering form that hid
its dreadful punishment; then he springs to accost it in familiar
speech: