And lo! suddenly, ominous and wonderful to tell, the milk-white sow, of

one colour with her white brood, is espied through the forest couched on

the green brink; whom to thee, yes to thee, queenly Juno, good Aeneas

offers in sacrifice, and sets with her offspring before thine altar. All

that night long Tiber assuaged his swelling stream, and silently stayed

his refluent wave, smoothing the surface of his waters to the fashion of

still pool and quiet mere, to spare [90-121]labour to the oar. So they

set out and speed on their way with prosperous cries; the painted fir

slides along the waterway; the waves and unwonted woods marvel at their

far-gleaming shields, and the gay hulls afloat on the river. They

outwear a night and a day in rowing, ascend the long reaches, and pass

under the chequered shadows of the trees, and cut through the green

woodland in the calm water. The fiery sun had climbed midway in the

circle of the sky when they see afar fortress walls and scattered house

roofs, where now the might of Rome hath risen high as heaven; then

Evander held a slender state. Quickly they turn their prows to land and

draw near the town.

It chanced on that day the Arcadian king paid his accustomed sacrifice

to the great son of Amphitryon and all the gods in a grove before the

city. With him his son Pallas, with him all the chief of his people and

his poor senate were offering incense, and the blood steamed warm at

their altars. When they saw the high ships, saw them glide up between

the shady woodlands and rest on their silent oars, the sudden sight

appals them, and all at once they rise and stop the banquet. Pallas

courageously forbids them to break off the rites; snatching up a spear,

he flies forward, and from a hillock cries afar: 'O men, what cause hath

driven you to explore these unknown ways? or whither do you steer? What

is your kin, whence your habitation? Is it peace or arms you carry

hither?' Then from the lofty stern lord Aeneas thus speaks, stretching

forth in his hand an olive bough of peace-bearing:

'Thou seest men born of Troy and arms hostile to the Latins, who have

driven us to flight in insolent warfare. We seek Evander; carry this

message, and tell him that chosen men of the Dardanian captains are come

pleading for an armed alliance.'

Pallas stood amazed at the august name. 'Descend,' [122-154]he cries,

'whoso thou art, and speak with my father face to face, and enter our

home and hospitality.' And giving him the grasp of welcome, he caught

and clung to his hand. Advancing, they enter the grove and leave the

river. Then Aeneas in courteous words addresses the King:

'Best of the Grecian race, thou whom fortune hath willed that I

supplicate, holding before me boughs dressed in fillets, no fear stayed

me because thou wert a Grecian chief and an Arcadian, or allied by

descent to the twin sons of Atreus. Nay, mine own prowess and the

sanctity of divine oracles, our ancestral kinship, and the fame of thee

that is spread abroad over the earth, have allied me to thee and led me

willingly on the path of fate. Dardanus, who sailed to the Teucrian

land, the first father and founder of the Ilian city, was born, as

Greeks relate, of Electra the Atlantid; Electra's sire is ancient Atlas,

whose shoulder sustains the heavenly spheres. Your father is Mercury,

whom white Maia conceived and bore on the cold summit of Cyllene; but

Maia, if we give any credence to report, is daughter of Atlas, that same

Atlas who bears up the starry heavens; so both our families branch from

a single blood. In this confidence I sent no embassy, I framed no crafty

overtures; myself I have presented mine own person, and come a suppliant

to thy courts. The same Daunian race pursues us and thee in merciless

warfare; we once expelled, they trust nothing will withhold them from

laying all Hesperia wholly beneath their yoke, and holding the seas that

wash it above and below. Accept and return our friendship. We can give

brave hearts in war, high souls and men approved in deeds.'

Aeneas ended. The other ere now scanned in a long gaze the face and eyes

and all the form of the speaker; then thus briefly returns:

'How gladly, bravest of the Teucrians, do I hail and [155-188]own thee!

how I recall thy father's words and the very tone and glance of great

Anchises! For I remember how Priam son of Laomedon, when he sought

Salamis on his way to the realm of his sister Hesione, went on to visit

the cold borders of Arcadia. Then early youth clad my cheeks with bloom.

I admired the Teucrian captains, admired their lord, the son of

Laomedon; but Anchises moved high above them all. My heart burned with

youthful passion to accost him and clasp hand in hand; I made my way to

him, and led him eagerly to Pheneus' high town. Departing he gave me an

adorned quiver and Lycian arrows, a scarf inwoven with gold, and a pair

of golden bits that now my Pallas possesses. Therefore my hand is

already joined in the alliance you seek, and soon as to-morrow's dawn

rises again over earth, I will send you away rejoicing in mine aid, and

supply you from my store. Meanwhile, since you are come hither in

friendship, solemnise with us these yearly rites which we may not defer,

and even now learn to be familiar at your comrades' board.'

This said, he commands the feast and the wine-cups to be replaced whence

they were taken, and with his own hand ranges them on the grassy seat,

and welcomes Aeneas to the place of honour, with a lion's shaggy fell

for cushion and a hospitable chair of maple. Then chosen men with the

priest of the altar in emulous haste bring roasted flesh of bulls, and

pile baskets with the gift of ground corn, and serve the wine. Aeneas

and the men of Troy with him feed on the long chines of oxen and the

entrails of the sacrifice.

After hunger is driven away and the desire of food stayed, King Evander

speaks: 'No idle superstition that knows not the gods of old hath

ordered these our solemn rites, this customary feast, this altar of

august sanctity; saved from bitter perils, O Trojan guest, do we

worship, and [189-225]most due are the rites we inaugurate. Look now

first on this overhanging cliff of stone, where shattered masses lie

strewn, and the mountain dwelling stands desolate, and rocks are rent

away in vast ruin. Here was a cavern, awful and deep-withdrawn,

impenetrable to the sunbeams, where the monstrous half-human shape of

Cacus had his hold: the ground was ever wet with fresh slaughter, and

pallid faces of men, ghastly with gore, hung nailed on the haughty

doors. This monster was the son of Vulcan, and spouted his black fires

from his mouth as he moved in giant bulk. To us also in our desire time

bore a god's aid and arrival. For princely Alcides the avenger came

glorious in the spoils of triple Geryon slain; this way the Conqueror

drove the huge bulls, and his oxen filled the river valley. But savage

Cacus, infatuate to leave nothing undared or unhandled in craft or

crime, drives four bulls of choice shape away from their pasturage, and

as many heifers of excellent beauty. And these, that there should be no

straightforward footprints, he dragged by the tail into his cavern, the

track of their compelled path reversed, and hid them behind the screen

of rock. No marks were there to lead a seeker to the cavern. Meanwhile

the son of Amphitryon, his herds filled with food, was now breaking up

his pasturage and making ready to go. The oxen low as they depart; all

the woodland is filled with their complaint as they clamorously quit the

hills. One heifer returned the cry, and, lowing from the depth of the

dreary cave, baffled the hope of Cacus from her imprisonment. At this

the grief and choler of Alcides blazed forth dark and infuriate. Seizing

in his hand his club of heavy knotted oak, he seeks with swift pace the

aery mountain steep. Then, as never before, did we see Cacus afraid and

his countenance troubled; he goes flying swifter than the wind and seeks

his cavern; fear wings his feet. As he shut himself in, and, bursting

the [226-260]chains, dropped the vast rock slung in iron by his

father's craft, and blocked the doorway with its pressure, lo! the

Tirynthian came in furious wrath, and, scanning all the entry, turned

his face this way and that and ground his teeth. Thrice, hot with rage,

he circles all Mount Aventine; thrice he assails the rocky portals in

vain; thrice he sinks down outwearied in the valley. There stood a sharp

rock of flint with sides cut sheer away, rising over the cavern's ridge

a vast height to see, fit haunt for foul birds to build on. This--for,

sloping from the ridge, it leaned on the left towards the river--he

loosened, urging it from the right till he tore it loose from its deep

foundations; then suddenly shook it free; with the shock the vast sky

thunders, the banks leap apart, and the amazed river recoils. But the

den, Cacus' huge palace, lay open and revealed, and the depths of gloomy

cavern were made manifest; even as though some force tearing earth apart

should unlock the infernal house, and disclose the pallid realms

abhorred of heaven, and deep down the monstrous gulf be descried where

the ghosts flutter in the streaming daylight. On him then, surprised in

unexpected light, shut in the rock's recesses and howling in strange

fashion, Alcides from above hurls missiles and calls all his arms to

aid, and presses hard on him with boughs and enormous millstones. And

he, for none other escape from peril is left, vomits from his throat

vast jets of smoke, wonderful to tell, and enwreathes his dwelling in

blind gloom, blotting view from the eyes, while in the cave's depth

night thickens with smoke-bursts in a darkness shot with fire. Alcides

broke forth in anger, and with a bound hurled himself sheer amid the

flames, where the smoke rolls billowing and voluminous, and the cloud

surges black through the enormous den. Here, as Cacus in the darkness

spouts forth his idle fires, he grasps and twines tight round him, till

his eyes start out and his throat [261-295]is drained of blood under

the strangling pressure. Straightway the doors are torn open and the

dark house laid plain; the stolen oxen and forsworn plunder are shewn

forth to heaven, and the misshapen carcase dragged forward by the feet.

Men cannot satisfy their soul with gazing on the terrible eyes, the

monstrous face and shaggy bristling chest, and the throat with its

quenched fires. Thenceforth this sacrifice is solemnised, and a younger

race have gladly kept the day; Potitius the inaugurator, and the

Pinarian family, guardians of the rites of Hercules, have set in the

grove this altar, which shall ever be called of us Most Mighty, and

shall be our mightiest evermore. Wherefore arise, O men, and enwreathe

your hair with leafy sprays, and stretch forth the cups in your hands;

call on our common god and pour the glad wine.' He ended; when the

twy-coloured poplar of Hercules hid his shaded hair with pendulous

plaited leaf, and the sacred goblet filled his hand. Speedily all pour

glad libation on the board, and supplicate the gods.

Meanwhile the evening star draws nigher down the slope of heaven, and

now the priests went forth, Potitius at their head, girt with skins

after their fashion, and bore torches aflame. They renew the banquet,

and bring the grateful gift of a second repast, and heap the altars with

loaded platters. Then the Salii stand round the lit altar-fires to sing,

their brows bound with poplar boughs, one chorus of young men, one of

elders, and extol in song the praises and deeds of Hercules; how first

he strangled in his gripe the twin terrors, the snakes of his

stepmother; how he likewise shattered in war famous cities, Troy and

Oechalia; how under Eurystheus the King he bore the toil of a thousand

labours by Juno's malign decrees. Thine hand, unconquered, slays the

cloud-born double-bodied race, Hylaeus and Pholus, the Cretan monster,

and the huge lion in the hollow Nemean rock. Before thee the Stygian

pools [296-329]shook for fear, before thee the warder of hell, couched

on half-gnawn bones in his blood-stained cavern; to thee not any form

was terrible, not Typhoeus' self towering in arms; thou wast not bereft

of counsel when the snake of Lerna encompassed thee with thronging

heads. Hail, true seed of Jove, deified glory! graciously visit us and

these thy rites with favourable feet. Such are their songs of praise;

they crown all with the cavern of Cacus and its fire-breathing lord. All

the woodland echoes with their clamour, and the hills resound.

Thence all at once, the sacred rites accomplished, retrace their way to

the city. The age-worn King walked holding Aeneas and his son by his

side for companions on his way, and lightened the road with changing

talk. Aeneas admires and turns his eyes lightly round about, pleased

with the country; and gladly on spot after spot inquires and hears of

the memorials of earlier men. Then King Evander, founder of the fortress

of Rome:

'In these woodlands dwelt Fauns and Nymphs sprung of the soil, and a

tribe of men born of stocks and hard oak; who had neither law nor grace

of life, nor did they know to yoke bulls or lay up stores or save their

gains, but were nurtured by the forest boughs and the hard living of the

huntsman. Long ago Saturn came from heaven on high in flight before

Jove's arms, an exile from his lost realm. He gathered together the

unruly race scattered on the mountain heights, and gave them statutes,

and chose Latium to be their name, since in these borders he had found a

safe hiding-place. Beneath his reign were the ages named of gold; thus,

in peace and quietness, did he rule the nations; till gradually there

crept in a sunken and stained time, the rage of war, and the lust of

possession. Then came the Ausonian clan and the tribes of Sicania, and

many a time the land of Saturn put away her name. Then were kings,

[330-364]and fierce Thybris with his giant bulk, from whose name we of

Italy afterwards called the Tiber river, when it lost the true name of

old, Albula. Me, cast out from my country and following the utmost

limits of the sea, Fortune the omnipotent and irreversible doom settled

in this region; and my mother the Nymph Carmentis' awful warnings and

Apollo's divine counsel drove me hither.'

Scarce was this said; next advancing he points out the altar and the

Carmental Gate, which the Romans call anciently by that name in honour

of the Nymph Carmentis, seer and soothsayer, who sang of old the coming

greatness of the Aeneadae and the glory of Pallanteum. Next he points

out the wide grove where valiant Romulus set his sanctuary, and the

Lupercal in the cool hollow of the rock, dedicate to Lycean Pan after

the manner of Parrhasia. Therewithal he shows the holy wood of

Argiletum, and calls the spot to witness as he tells the slaying of his

guest Argus. Hence he leads him to the Tarpeian house, and the Capitol

golden now, of old rough with forest thickets. Even then men trembled

before the wood and rock. 'This grove,' he cries, 'this hill with its

leafy crown, is a god's dwelling, though whose we know not; the

Arcadians believe Jove himself hath been visible, when often he shook

the darkening aegis in his hand and gathered the storm-clouds. Thou

seest these two towns likewise with walls overthrown, relics and

memorials of men of old. This fortress lord Janus built, this Saturn;

the name of this was once Janiculum, of that Saturnia.'

With such mutual words they drew nigh the house of poor Evander, and saw

scattered herds lowing on the Roman Forum and down the gay Carinae. When

they reached his dwelling, 'This threshold,' he cries, 'Alcides the

Conqueror stooped to cross; in this palace he rested. Dare thou, my

guest, to despise riches; mould thyself to [365-396]like dignity of

godhead, and come not exacting to our poverty.' He spoke, and led tall

Aeneas under the low roof of his narrow dwelling, and laid him on a

couch of stuffed leaves and the skin of a Libyan she-bear. Night falls

and clasps the earth in her dusky wings.

But Venus, stirred in spirit by no vain mother's alarms, and moved by

the threats and stern uprisal of the Laurentines, addresses herself to

Vulcan, and in her golden bridal chamber begins thus, breathing divine

passion in her speech:

'While Argolic kings wasted in war the doomed towers of Troy, the

fortress fated to fall in hostile fires, no succour did I require for

her wretched people, no weapons of thine art and aid: nor would I task,

dear my lord, thee or thy toils for naught, though I owed many and many

a debt to the children of Priam, and had often wept the sore labour of

Aeneas. Now by Jove's commands he hath set foot in the Rutulian borders;

I now therefore come with entreaty, and ask armour of the god I worship.

For the son she bore, the tears of Nereus' daughter, of Tithonus'

consort, could melt thine heart. Look what nations are gathering, what

cities bar their gates and sharpen the sword against me for the

desolation of my children.'

The goddess ended, and, as he hesitates, clasps him round in the soft

embrace of her snowy arms. He suddenly caught the wonted flame, and the

heat known of old pierced him to the heart and overran his melting

frame: even as when, bursting from the thunder peal, a sparkling cleft

of fire shoots through the storm-clouds with dazzling light. His consort

knew, rejoiced in her wiles, and felt her beauty. Then her lord speaks,

enchained by Love the immortal:

'Why these far-fetched pleas? Whither, O goddess, is thy trust in me

gone? Had like distress been thine, [397-431]even then we might

unblamed have armed thy Trojans, nor did doom nor the Lord omnipotent

forbid Troy to stand, and Priam to survive yet ten other years. And now,

if thou purposest war, and this is thy counsel, whatever charge I can

undertake in my craft, in aught that may be made of iron or molten

electrum, whatever fire and air can do, cease thou to entreat as

doubtful of thy strength.' These words spoken, he clasped his wife in

the desired embrace, and, sinking in her lap, wooed quiet slumber to

overspread his limbs.

Thereon, so soon as sleep, now in mid-career of waning night, had given

rest and gone; soon as a woman, whose task is to sustain life with her

distaff and the slender labours of the loom, kindles the ashes of her

slumbering fire, her toil encroaching on the night, and sets a long task

of fire-lit spinning to her maidens, that so she may keep her husband's

bed unsullied and nourish her little children,--even so the Lord of

Fire, nor slacker in his hours than she, rises from his soft couch to

the work of his smithy. An island rises by the side of Sicily and

Aeolian Lipare, steep with smoking cliffs, whereunder the vaulted and

thunderous Aetnean caverns are hollowed out for Cyclopean forges, the

strong strokes on the anvils echo in groans, ore of steel hisses in the

vaults, and the fire pants in the furnaces: the house of Vulcan, and

Vulcania the land's name. Hither now the Lord of Fire descends from

heaven's height. In the vast cavern the Cyclopes were forging iron,

Brontes and Steropes and Pyracmon with bared limbs. Shaped in their

hands was a thunderbolt, in part already polished, such as the Father of

Heaven hurls down on earth in multitudes, part yet unfinished. Three

coils of frozen rain, three of watery mist they had enwrought in it,

three of ruddy fire and winged south wind; now they were mingling in

their work the awful splendours, the sound and terror, and the

[432-469]angry pursuing flames. Elsewhere they hurried on a chariot for

Mars with flying wheels, wherewith he stirs up men and cities; and

burnished the golden serpent-scales of the awful aegis, the armour of

wrathful Pallas, and the entwined snakes on the breast of the goddess,

the Gorgon head with severed neck and rolling eyes. 'Away with all!' he

cries: 'stop your tasks unfinished, Cyclopes of Aetna, and attend to

this; a warrior's armour must be made. Now must strength, now quickness

of hand be tried, now all our art lend her guidance. Fling off delay.'

He spoke no more; but they all bent rapidly to the work, allotting their

labours equally. Brass and ore of gold flow in streams, and wounding

steel is molten in the vast furnace. They shape a mighty shield, to

receive singly all the weapons of the Latins, and weld it sevenfold,

circle on circle. Some fill and empty the windy bellows of their blast,

some dip the hissing brass in the trough. They raise their arms mightily

in responsive time, and turn the mass of metal about in the grasp of

their tongs.

While the lord of Lemnos is busied thus in the borders of Aeolia,

Evander is roused from his low dwelling by the gracious daylight and the

matin songs of birds from the eaves. The old man arises, and draws on

his body raiment, and ties the Tyrrhene shoe latchets about his feet;

then buckles to his side and shoulder his Tegeaean sword, and swathes

himself in a panther skin that droops upon his left. Therewithal two

watch-dogs go before him from the high threshold, and accompany their

master's steps. The hero sought his guest Aeneas in the privacy of his

dwelling, mindful of their talk and his promised bounty. Nor did Aeneas

fail to be astir with the dawn. With the one went his son Pallas,

with the other Achates. They meet and clasp hands, and, sitting down

within the house, at length enjoy unchecked converse. The King begins

thus: . . .

[470-505]'Princely chief of the Teucrians, in whose lifetime I will

never allow the state or realm of Troy vanquished, our strength is scant

to succour in war for so great a name. On this side the Tuscan river

shuts us in; on that the Rutulian drives us hard, and thunders in arms

about our walls. But I purpose to unite to thee mighty peoples and the

camp of a wealthy realm; an unforeseen chance offers this for thy

salvation. Fate summons thy approach. Not far from here stands fast

Agylla city, an ancient pile of stone, where of old the Lydian race,

eminent in war, settled on the Etruscan ridges. For many years it

flourished, till King Mezentius ruled it with insolent sway and armed

terror. Why should I relate the horrible murders, the savage deeds of

the monarch? May the gods keep them in store for himself and his line!

Nay, he would even link dead bodies to living, fitting hand to hand and

face to face (the torture!), and in the oozy foulness and corruption of

the dreadful embrace so slay them by a lingering death. But at last his

citizens, outwearied by his mad excesses, surround him and his house in

arms, cut down his comrades, and hurl fire on his roof. Amid the

massacre he escaped to the refuge of Rutulian land and the armed defence

of Turnus' friendship. So all Etruria hath risen in righteous fury, and

in immediate battle claim their king for punishment. Over these

thousands will I make thee chief, O Aeneas; for their noisy ships crowd

all the shore, and they bid the standards advance, while the aged

diviner stays them with prophecies: "O chosen men of Maeonia, flower and

strength of them, of old time, whom righteous anger urges on the enemy,

and Mezentius inflames with deserved wrath, to no Italian is it

permitted to hold this great nation in control: choose foreigners to

lead you." At that, terrified by the divine warning, the Etruscan lines

have encamped on the plain; Tarchon himself hath sent ambassadors to me

with the crown [506-539]and sceptre of the kingdom, and offers the

royal attire will I but enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene realm.

But old age, frozen to dulness, and exhausted with length of life,

denies me the load of empire, and my prowess is past its day. I would

urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother

make this half his native land. Thou, to whose years and race alike the

fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a

leader supreme in bravery over Teucrians and Italians. Mine own Pallas

likewise, our hope and comfort, I will send with thee; let him grow used

to endure warfare and the stern work of battle under thy teaching, to

regard thine actions, and from his earliest years look up to thee. To

him will I give two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the choice of our warlike

strength, and Pallas as many more to thee in his own name.'

The Aeneid of Virgil(#22456) · 第 13 / 22 段