BOOK III

 THE ARGUMENT.


      Aeneas proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet
      with which he sailed, and the success of his first voyage to
      Thrace. From thence he directs his course to Delos and asks the
      oracle what place the gods had appointed for his habitation. By a
      mistake of the oracles answer, he settles in Crete. His
      household gods give him the true sense of the oracle in a dream.
      He follows their advice, and makes the best of his way for Italy.
      He is cast on several shores, and meets with very surprising
      adventures, till at length he lands on Sicily, where his father
      Anchises dies. This is the place which he was sailing from, when
      the tempest rose, and threw him upon the Carthaginian coast.


      When Heavn had overturnd the Trojan state
      And Priams throne, by too severe a fate;
      When ruind Troy became the Grecians prey,
      And Iliums lofty towrs in ashes lay;
      Warnd by celestial omens, we retreat,
      To seek in foreign lands a happier seat.
      Near old Antandros, and at Idas foot,
      The timber of the sacred groves we cut,
      And build our fleet; uncertain yet to find
      What place the gods for our repose assignd.
      Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring
      Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing,
      When old Anchises summond all to sea:
      The crew my father and the Fates obey.
      With sighs and tears I leave my native shore,
      And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.
      My sire, my son, our less and greater gods,
      All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods.

      Against our coast appears a spacious land,
      Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command,
      Thracia the name; the people bold in war;
      Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,
      A hospitable realm while Fate was kind,
      With Troy in friendship and religion joind.
      I land; with luckless omens, then adore
      Their gods, and draw a line along the shore;
      I lay the deep foundations of a wall,
      And Aenos, namd from me, the city call.
      To Dionaean Venus vows are paid,
      And all the powrs that rising labours aid;
      A bull on Joves imperial altar laid.
      Not far, a rising hillock stood in view;
      Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels grew.
      There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,
      And shade our altar with their leafy greens,
      I pulld a plant; with horror I relate
      A prodigy so strange and full of fate.
      The rooted fibers rose, and from the wound
      Black bloody drops distilld upon the ground.
      Mute and amazd, my hair with terror stood;
      Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeald my blood.
      Mannd once again, another plant I try:
      That other gushd with the same sanguine dye.
      Then, fearing guilt for some offence unknown,
      With prayrs and vows the Dryads I atone,
      With all the sisters of the woods, and most
      The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast,
      That they, or he, these omens would avert,
      Release our fears, and better signs impart.
      Cleard, as I thought, and fully fixd at length
      To learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength:
      I bent my knees against the ground; once more
      The violated myrtle ran with gore.
      Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb
      Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,
      A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renewd
      My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued:
      Why dost thou thus my buried body rend?
      O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend!
      Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood:
      The tears distil not from the wounded wood;
      But evry drop this living tree contains
      Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins.
      O fly from this unhospitable shore,
      Warnd by my fate; for I am Polydore!
      Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued,
      Again shoot upward, by my blood renewd.

      My faltring tongue and shivring limbs declare
      My horror, and in bristles rose my hair.
      When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent,
      Old Priam, fearful of the wars event,
      This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent:
      Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far
      From noise and tumults, and destructive war,
      Committed to the faithless tyrants care;
      Who, when he saw the powr of Troy decline,
      Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join;
      Broke evry bond of nature and of truth,
      And murderd, for his wealth, the royal youth.
      O sacred hunger of pernicious gold!
      What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?
      Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears,
      I call my father and the Trojan peers;
      Relate the prodigies of Heavn, require
      What he commands, and their advice desire.
      All vote to leave that execrable shore,
      Polluted with the blood of Polydore;
      But, ere we sail, his funral rites prepare,
      Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.
      In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,
      With baleful cypress and blue fillets crownd,
      With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.
      Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,
      And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.

      Now, when the raging storms no longer reign,
      But southern gales invite us to the main,
      We launch our vessels, with a prosprous wind,
      And leave the cities and the shores behind.

      An island in th Aegaean main appears;
      Neptune and watry Doris claim it theirs.
      It floated once, till Phoebus fixd the sides
      To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides.
      Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore,
      With needful ease our weary limbs restore,
      And the Suns temple and his town adore.

      Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crownd,
      His hoary locks with purple fillets bound,
      Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend,
      Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend;
      Invites him to his palace; and, in sign
      Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join.
      Then to the temple of the god I went,
      And thus, before the shrine, my vows present:
      Give, O Thymbraeus, give a resting place
      To the sad relics of the Trojan race;
      A seat secure, a region of their own,
      A lasting empire, and a happier town.
      Where shall we fix? where shall our labours end?
      Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?
      Let not my prayrs a doubtful answer find;
      But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.
      Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground,
      The laurels, and the lofty hills around;
      And from the tripos rushd a bellowing sound.
      Prostrate we fell; confessd the present god,
      Who gave this answer from his dark abode:
      Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth
      From which your ancestors derive their birth.
      The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race
      In her old bosom shall again embrace.
      Through the wide world th Aeneian house shall reign,
      And childrens children shall the crown sustain.
      Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose:
      A mighty tumult, mixd with joy, arose.

      All are concernd to know what place the god
      Assignd, and where determind our abode.
      My father, long revolving in his mind
      The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,
      Thus answerd their demands: Ye princes, hear
      Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear.
      The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame,
      Sacred of old to Joves imperial name,
      In the mid ocean lies, with large command,
      And on its plains a hundred cities stand.
      Another Ida rises there, and we
      From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.
      From thence, as tis divulgd by certain fame,
      To the Rhoetean shores old Teucrus came;
      There fixd, and there the seat of empire chose,
      Ere Ilium and the Trojan towrs arose.
      In humble vales they built their soft abodes,
      Till Cybele, the mother of the gods,
      With tinkling cymbals charmd th Idaean woods,
      She secret rites and ceremonies taught,
      And to the yoke the savage lions brought.
      Let us the land which Heavn appoints, explore;
      Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore.
      If Jove assists the passage of our fleet,
      The third propitious dawn discovers Crete.
      Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid
      On smoking altars, to the gods he paid:
      A bull, to Neptune an oblation due,
      Another bull to bright Apollo slew;
      A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please,
      And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas.
      Ere this, a flying rumour had been spread
      That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled,
      Expelld and exild; that the coast was free
      From foreign or domestic enemy.

      We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea.
      By Naxos, famd for vintage, make our way;
      Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight
      Of Paros isle, with marble quarries white.
      We pass the scatterd isles of Cyclades,
      That, scarce distinguishd, seem to stud the seas.
      The shouts of sailors double near the shores;
      They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars.
      All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete! they cry,
      And swiftly thro the foamy billows fly.
      Full on the promisd land at length we bore,
      With joy descending on the Cretan shore.
      With eager haste a rising town I frame,
      Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name:
      The name itself was grateful; I exhort
      To found their houses, and erect a fort.
      Our ships are hauld upon the yellow strand;
      The youth begin to till the labourd land;
      And I myself new marriages promote,
      Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot;
      When rising vapours choke the wholesome air,
      And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year;
      The trees devouring caterpillars burn;
      Parchd was the grass, and blighted was the corn:
      Nor scape the beasts; for Sirius, from on high,
      With pestilential heat infects the sky:
      My men, some fall, the rest in fevers fry.
      Again my father bids me seek the shore
      Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,
      To learn what end of woes we might expect,
      And to what clime our weary course direct.

      Twas night, when evry creature, void of cares,
      The common gift of balmy slumber shares:
      The statues of my gods (for such they seemd),
      Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeemd,
      Before me stood, majestically bright,
      Full in the beams of Phoebes entring light.
      Then thus they spoke, and easd my troubled mind:
      What from the Delian god thou gost to find,
      He tells thee here, and sends us to relate.
      Those powrs are we, companions of thy fate,
      Who from the burning town by thee were brought,
      Thy fortune followd, and thy safety wrought.
      Thro seas and lands as we thy steps attend,
      So shall our care thy glorious race befriend.
      An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain,
      A town that oer the conquerd world shall reign.
      Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build;
      Nor let thy weary mind to labours yield:
      But change thy seat; for not the Delian god,
      Nor we, have givn thee Crete for our abode.
      A land there is, Hesperia calld of old,
      The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold.
      Th Oenotrians held it once, by later fame
      Now calld Italia, from the leaders name.
      Jasius there and Dardanus were born;
      From thence we came, and thither must return.
      Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet.
      Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.

      Astonishd at their voices and their sight,
      (Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night;
      I saw, I knew their faces, and descried,
      In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;)
      I started from my couch; a clammy sweat
      On all my limbs and shivring body sate.
      To heavn I lift my hands with pious haste,
      And sacred incense in the flames I cast.
      Thus to the gods their perfect honours done,
      More cheerful, to my good old sire I run,
      And tell the pleasing news. In little space
      He found his error of the double race;
      Not, as before he deemd, derivd from Crete;
      No more deluded by the doubtful seat:
      Then said: O son, turmoild in Trojan fate!
      Such things as these Cassandra did relate.
      This day revives within my mind what she
      Foretold of Troy renewd in Italy,
      And Latian lands; but who could then have thought
      That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought,
      Or who believd what mad Cassandra taught?
      Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.

      He said; and we with glad consent obey,
      Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind,
      We spread our sails before the willing wind.
      Now from the sight of land our galleys move,
      With only seas around and skies above;
      When oer our heads descends a burst of rain,
      And night with sable clouds involves the main;
      The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise;
      The scatterd fleet is forcd to sevral ways;
      The face of heavn is ravishd from our eyes,
      And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies.
      Cast from our course, we wander in the dark.
      No stars to guide, no point of land to mark.
      Evn Palinurus no distinction found
      Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reignd around.
      Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays,
      Without distinction, and three sunless days;
      The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds,
      We view a rising land, like distant clouds;
      The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight,
      And curling smoke ascending from their height.
      The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply;
      From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly.
      At length I land upon the Strophades,
      Safe from the danger of the stormy seas.
      Those isles are compassd by th Ionian main,
      The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign,
      Forcd by the winged warriors to repair
      To their old homes, and leave their costly fare.
      Monsters more fierce offended Heavn neer sent
      From hells abyss, for human punishment:
      With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene,
      Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean;
      With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean.

      We landed at the port, and soon beheld
      Fat herds of oxen graze the flowry field,
      And wanton goats without a keeper strayd.
      With weapons we the welcome prey invade,
      Then call the gods for partners of our feast,
      And Jove himself, the chief invited guest.
      We spread the tables on the greensward ground;
      We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round;
      When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry,
      And clattring wings, the hungry Harpies fly;
      They snatch the meat, defiling all they find,
      And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind.
      Close by a hollow rock, again we sit,
      New dress the dinner, and the beds refit,
      Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade,
      Where tufted trees a native arbour made.
      Again the holy fires on altars burn;
      And once again the ravnous birds return,
      Or from the dark recesses where they lie,
      Or from another quarter of the sky;
      With filthy claws their odious meal repeat,
      And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat.
      I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,
      And with the hellish nation wage the war.
      They, as commanded, for the fight provide,
      And in the grass their glittring weapons hide;
      Then, when along the crooked shore we hear
      Their clattring wings, and saw the foes appear,
      Misenus sounds a charge: we take th alarm,
      And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm.
      In this new kind of combat all employ
      Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy.
      In vain, the fated skin is proof to wounds;
      And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds.
      At length rebuffd, they leave their mangled prey,
      And their stretchd pinions to the skies display.
      Yet one remaind, the messenger of Fate:
      High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate,
      And thus her dismal errand did relate:
      What! not contented with our oxen slain,
      Dare you with Heavn an impious war maintain,
      And drive the Harpies from their native reign?
      Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind
      What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has designd,
      And I, the Furies queen, from both relate:
      You seek th Italian shores, foredoomd by fate:
      Th Italian shores are granted you to find,
      And a safe passage to the port assignd.
      But know, that ere your promisd walls you build,
      My curses shall severely be fulfilld.
      Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed,
      Reducd to grind the plates on which you feed.
      She said, and to the neighbring forest flew.
      Our courage fails us, and our fears renew.
      Hopeless to win by war, to prayrs we fall,
      And on th offended Harpies humbly call,
      And whether gods or birds obscene they were,
      Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer.
      But old Anchises, offring sacrifice,
      And lifting up to heavn his hands and eyes,
      Adord the greater gods: Avert, said he,
      These omens; render vain this prophecy,
      And from th impending curse a pious people free!

      Thus having said, he bids us put to sea;
      We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey,
      And soon with swelling sails pursue the watry way.
      Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear;
      And next by rocky Neritos we steer:
      We fly from Ithacas detested shore,
      And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore.
      At length Leucates cloudy top appears,
      And the Suns temple, which the sailor fears.
      Resolvd to breathe a while from labour past,
      Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast,
      And joyful to the little city haste.
      Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay
      To Jove, the guide and patron of our way.
      The customs of our country we pursue,
      And Trojan games on Actian shores renew.
      Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil,
      And exercise the wrastlers noble toil;
      Pleasd to have saild so long before the wind,
      And left so many Grecian towns behind.
      The sun had now fulfilld his annual course,
      And Boreas on the seas displayd his force:
      I fixd upon the temples lofty door
      The brazen shield which vanquishd Abas bore;
      The verse beneath my name and action speaks:
      These arms Aeneas took from conquring Greeks.
      Then I command to weigh; the seamen ply
      Their sweeping oars; the smoking billows fly.
      The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost,
      And skimmd along Epirus rocky coast.

      Then to Chaonias port our course we bend,
      And, landed, to Buthrotus heights ascend.
      Here wondrous things were loudly blazd fame:
      How Helenus revivd the Trojan name,
      And reignd in Greece; that Priams captive son
      Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne;
      And fair Andromache, restord by fate,
      Once more was happy in a Trojan mate.
      I leave my galleys riding in the port,
      And long to see the new Dardanian court.
      By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate,
      Then solemnizd her former husbands fate.
      Green altars, raisd of turf, with gifts she crownd,
      And sacred priests in order stand around,
      And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound.
      The grove itself resembles Idas wood;
      And Simois seemd the well-dissembled flood.
      But when at nearer distance she beheld
      My shining armour and my Trojan shield,
      Astonishd at the sight, the vital heat
      Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat:
      She faints, she falls, and scarce recovring strength,
      Thus, with a faltring tongue, she speaks at length:

      Are you alive, O goddess-born? she said,
      Or if a ghost, then where is Hectors shade?
      At this, she cast a loud and frightful cry.
      With broken words I made this brief reply:
      All of me that remains appears in sight;
      I live, if living be to loathe the light.
      No phantom; but I drag a wretched life,
      My fate resembling that of Hectors wife.
      What have you sufferd since you lost your lord?
      By what strange blessing are you now restord?
      Still are you Hectors? or is Hector fled,
      And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus bed?
      With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone,
      After a modest pause she thus begun:

      O only happy maid of Priams race,
      Whom death deliverd from the foes embrace!
      Commanded on Achilles tomb to die,
      Not forcd, like us, to hard captivity,
      Or in a haughty masters arms to lie.
      In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne,
      Endurd the victors lust, sustaind the scorn:
      Thus I submitted to the lawless pride
      Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride.
      Cloyd with possession, he forsook my bed,
      And Helens lovely daughter sought to wed;
      Then me to Trojan Helenus resignd,
      And his two slaves in equal marriage joind;
      Till young Orestes, piercd with deep despair,
      And longing to redeem the promisd fair,
      Before Apollos altar slew the ravisher.
      By Pyrrhus death the kingdom we regaind:
      At least one half with Helenus remaind.
      Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls,
      And names from Pergamus his rising walls.
      But you, what fates have landed on our coast?
      What gods have sent you, or what storms have tossd?
      Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy,
      Savd from the ruins of unhappy Troy?
      O tell me how his mothers loss he bears,
      What hopes are promisd from his blooming years,
      How much of Hector in his face appears?
      She spoke; and mixd her speech with mournful cries,
      And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes.

      At length her lord descends upon the plain,
      In pomp, attended with a numrous train;
      Receives his friends, and to the city leads,
      And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.
      Proceeding on, another Troy I see,
      Or, in less compass, Troys epitome.
      A rivlet by the name of Xanthus ran,
      And I embrace the Scaean gate again.
      My friends in porticoes were entertaind,
      And feasts and pleasures thro the city reignd.
      The tables filld the spacious hall around,
      And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crownd.
      Two days we passd in mirth, till friendly gales,
      Blown from the south supplied our swelling sails.
      Then to the royal seer I thus began:
      O thou, who knowst, beyond the reach of man,
      The laws of heavn, and what the stars decree;
      Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy,
      From his own tripod, and his holy tree;
      Skilld in the wingd inhabitants of air,
      What auspices their notes and flights declare:
      O say; for all religious rites portend
      A happy voyage, and a prosprous end;
      And evry power and omen of the sky
      Direct my course for destind Italy;
      But only dire Celaeno, from the gods,
      A dismal famine fatally forebodes:
      O say what dangers I am first to shun,
      What toils vanquish, and what course to run.

      The prophet first with sacrifice adores
      The greater gods; their pardon then implores;
      Unbinds the fillet from his holy head;
      To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led,
      Full of religious doubts and awful dread.
      Then, with his god possessd, before the shrine,
      These words proceeded from his mouth divine:
      O goddess-born, (for Heavns appointed will,
      With greater auspices of good than ill,
      Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs;
      Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,)
      Of many things some few I shall explain,
      Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main,
      And how at length the promisd shore to gain.
      The rest the fates from Helenus conceal,
      And Junos angry powr forbids to tell.
      First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh,
      Will far from your deluded wishes fly;
      Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy:
      For you must cruise along Sicilian shores,
      And stem the currents with your struggling oars;
      Then round th Italian coast your navy steer;
      And, after this, to Circes island veer;
      And, last, before your new foundations rise,
      Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies.
      Now mark the signs of future ease and rest,
      And bear them safely treasurd in thy breast.
      When, in the shady shelter of a wood,
      And near the margin of a gentle flood,
      Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground,
      With thirty sucking young encompassd round;
      The dam and offspring white as falling snow:
      These on thy city shall their name bestow,
      And there shall end thy labours and thy woe.
      Nor let the threatend famine fright thy mind,
      For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find.
      Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent,
      Which fronts from far th Epirian continent:
      Those parts are all by Grecian foes possessd;
      The salvage Locrians here the shores infest;
      There fierce Idomeneus his city builds,
      And guards with arms the Salentinian fields;
      And on the mountains brow Petilia stands,
      Which Philoctetes with his troops commands.
      Evn when thy fleet is landed on the shore,
      And priests with holy vows the gods adore,
      Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,
      Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice.
      These rites and customs to the rest commend,
      That to your pious race they may descend.

      When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits
      For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits
      Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way,
      Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea:
      Veer starboard sea and land. Th Italian shore
      And fair Sicilias coast were one, before
      An earthquake causd the flaw: the roaring tides
      The passage broke that land from land divides;
      And where the lands retird, the rushing ocean rides.
      Distinguishd by the straits, on either hand,
      Now rising cities in long order stand,
      And fruitful fields: so much can time invade
      The mouldring work that beauteous Nature made.
      Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides:
      Charybdis roaring on the left presides,
      And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides;
      Then spouts them from below: with fury drivn,
      The waves mount up and wash the face of heavn.
      But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,
      The sinking vessel in her eddy draws,
      Then dashes on the rocks. A human face,
      And virgin bosom, hides her tails disgrace:
      Her parts obscene below the waves descend,
      With dogs inclosd, and in a dolphin end.
      Tis safer, then, to bear aloof to sea,
      And coast Pachynus, tho with more delay,
      Than once to view misshapen Scylla near,
      And the loud yell of watry wolves to hear.

      Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,
      And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true,
      Do not this precept of your friend forget,
      Which therefore more than once I must repeat:
      Above the rest, great Junos name adore;
      Pay vows to Juno; Junos aid implore.
      Let gifts be to the mighty queen designd,
      And mollify with prayrs her haughty mind.
      Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free,
      And you shall safe descend on Italy.
      Arrivd at Cumae, when you view the flood
      Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood,
      The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find,
      Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclind.
      She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits,
      The notes and names, inscribd, to leafs commits.
      What she commits to leafs, in order laid,
      Before the caverns entrance are displayd:
      Unmovd they lie; but, if a blast of wind
      Without, or vapours issue from behind,
      The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air,
      And she resumes no more her museful care,
      Nor gathers from the rocks her scatterd verse,
      Nor sets in order what the winds disperse.
      Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid
      The madness of the visionary maid,
      And with loud curses leave the mystic shade.

      Think it not loss of time a while to stay,
      Tho thy companions chide thy long delay;
      Tho summond to the seas, tho pleasing gales
      Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails:
      But beg the sacred priestess to relate
      With willing words, and not to write thy fate.
      The fierce Italian people she will show,
      And all thy wars, and all thy future woe,
      And what thou mayst avoid, and what must undergo.
      She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind,
      And teach thee how the happy shores to find.
      This is what Heavn allows me to relate:
      Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate,
      And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.

      This when the priest with friendly voice declard,
      He gave me license, and rich gifts prepard:
      Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want
      With heavy gold, and polishd elephant;
      Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board,
      And evry ship with sums of silver stord.
      A trusty coat of mail to me he sent,
      Thrice chaind with gold, for use and ornament;
      The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest,
      That flourishd with a plume and waving crest.
      Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends;
      And large recruits he to my navy sends:
      Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores;
      Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars.
      Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails,
      Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales.

      The prophet blessd the parting crew, and last,
      With words like these, his ancient friend embracd:
      Old happy man, the care of gods above,
      Whom heavnly Venus honourd with her love,
      And twice preservd thy life, when Troy was lost,
      Behold from far the wishd Ausonian coast:
      There land; but take a larger compass round,
      For that before is all forbidden ground.
      The shore that Phoebus has designd for you,
      At farther distance lies, conceald from view.
      Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes,
      Blest in a son, and favourd by the gods:
      For I with useless words prolong your stay,
      When southern gales have summond you away.

      Nor less the queen our parting thence deplord,
      Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord.
      A noble present to my son she brought,
      A robe with flowrs on golden tissue wrought,
      A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside
      Of precious texture, and of Asian pride.
      Accept, she said, these monuments of love,
      Which in my youth with happier hands I wove:
      Regard these trifles for the givers sake;
      Tis the last present Hectors wife can make.
      Thou callst my lost Astyanax to mind;
      In thee his features and his form I find:
      His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame;
      Such were his motions; such was all his frame;
      And ah! had Heavn so pleasd, his years had been the same.

      With tears I took my last adieu, and said:
      Your fortune, happy pair, already made,
      Leaves you no farther wish. My diffrent state,
      Avoiding one, incurs another fate.
      To you a quiet seat the gods allow:
      You have no shores to search, no seas to plow,
      Nor fields of flying Italy to chase:
      (Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!)
      You see another Simois, and enjoy
      The labour of your hands, another Troy,
      With better auspice than her ancient towrs,
      And less obnoxious to the Grecian powrs.
      If eer the gods, whom I with vows adore,
      Conduct my steps to Tibers happy shore;
      If ever I ascend the Latian throne,
      And build a city I may call my own;
      As both of us our birth from Troy derive,
      So let our kindred lines in concord live,
      And both in acts of equal friendship strive.
      Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same:
      The double Troy shall differ but in name;
      That what we now begin may never end,
      But long to late posterity descend.

      Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore;
      The shortest passage to th Italian shore.
      Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light,
      And hills were hid in dusky shades of night:
      We land, and, on the bosom of the ground,
      A safe retreat and a bare lodging found.
      Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep
      Their watches, and the rest securely sleep.
      The night, proceeding on with silent pace,
      Stood in her noon, and viewd with equal face
      Her steepy rise and her declining race.
      Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy
      The face of heavn, and the nocturnal sky;
      And listend evry breath of air to try;
      Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course,
      The Pleiads, Hyads, and their watry force;
      And both the Bears is careful to behold,
      And bright Orion, armd with burnishd gold.
      Then, when he saw no threatning tempest nigh,
      But a sure promise of a settled sky,
      He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep,
      Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep.

      And now the rising morn with rosy light
      Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight;
      When we from far, like bluish mists, descry
      The hills, and then the plains, of Italy.
      Achates first pronouncd the joyful sound;
      Then, Italy! the cheerful crew rebound.
      My sire Anchises crownd a cup with wine,
      And, offring, thus implord the powrs divine:
      Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas,
      And you who raging winds and waves appease,
      Breathe on our swelling sails a prosprous wind,
      And smooth our passage to the port assignd!
      The gentle gales their flagging force renew,
      And now the happy harbour is in view.
      Minervas temple then salutes our sight,
      Placd, as a landmark, on the mountains height.
      We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore;
      The curling waters round the galleys roar.
      The land lies open to the raging east,
      Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compressd,
      Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain,
      And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.
      The port lies hid within; on either side
      Two towring rocks the narrow mouth divide.
      The temple, which aloft we viewd before,
      To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore.
      Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld
      Were four white steeds that croppd the flowry field.
      War, war is threatend from this foreign ground,
      My father cried, where warlike steeds are found.
      Yet, since reclaimd to chariots they submit,
      And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit,
      Peace may succeed to war. Our way we bend
      To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend;
      There prostrate to the fierce Virago pray,
      Whose temple was the landmark of our way.
      Each with a Phrygian mantle veild his head,
      And all commands of Helenus obeyd,
      And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid.
      These dues performd, we stretch our sails, and stand
      To sea, forsaking that suspected land.

      From hence Tarentums bay appears in view,
      For Hercules renownd, if fame be true.
      Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands;
      Caulonian towrs, and Scylacaean strands,
      For shipwrecks feard. Mount Aetna thence we spy,
      Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky.
      Far off we hear the waves with surly sound
      Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound.
      The billows break upon the sounding strand,
      And roll the rising tide, impure with sand.
      Then thus Anchises, in experience old:
      Tis that Charybdis which the seer foretold,
      And those the promisd rocks! Bear off to sea!
      With haste the frighted mariners obey.
      First Palinurus to the larboard veerd;
      Then all the fleet by his example steerd.
      To heavn aloft on ridgy waves we ride,
      Then down to hell descend, when they divide;
      And thrice our galleys knockd the stony ground,
      And thrice the hollow rocks returnd the sound,
      And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around.
      The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun;
      And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run.
      The port capacious, and secure from wind,
      Is to the foot of thundring Aetna joind.
      By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high;
      By turns hot embers from her entrails fly,
      And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky.
      Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown,
      And, shiverd by the force, come piecemeal down.
      Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow,
      Fed from the fiery springs that boil below.
      Enceladus, they say, transfixd by Jove,
      With blasted limbs came tumbling from above;
      And, where he fell, th avenging father drew
      This flaming hill, and on his body threw.
      As often as he turns his weary sides,
      He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides.
      In shady woods we pass the tedious night,
      Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright,
      Of which no cause is offerd to the sight;
      For not one star was kindled in the sky,
      Nor could the moon her borrowd light supply;
      For misty clouds involvd the firmament,
      The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent.

      Scarce had the rising sun the day reveald,
      Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispelld,
      When from the woods there bolts, before our sight,
      Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite,
      So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan,
      So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man.
      This thing, all tatterd, seemd from far timplore
      Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.
      We look behind, then view his shaggy beard;
      His clothes were taggd with thorns, and filth his limbs
      besmeard;
      The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face,
      Appeard a Greek, and such indeed he was.
      He cast on us, from far, a frightful view,
      Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew;
      Stood still, and pausd; then all at once began
      To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran.
      Soon as approachd, upon his knees he falls,
      And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls:
      Now, by the powrs above, and what we share
      From Natures common gift, this vital air,
      O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more;
      But bear me far from this unhappy shore.
      Tis true, I am a Greek, and farther own,
      Among your foes besiegd th imperial town.
      For such demerits if my death be due,
      No more for this abandond life I sue;
      This only favour let my tears obtain,
      To throw me headlong in the rapid main:
      Since nothing more than death my crime demands,
      I die content, to die by human hands.
      He said, and on his knees my knees embracd:
      I bade him boldly tell his fortune past,
      His present state, his lineage, and his name,
      Th occasion of his fears, and whence he came.
      The good Anchises raisd him with his hand;
      Who, thus encouragd, answerd our demand:
      From Ithaca, my native soil, I came
      To Troy; and Achaemenides my name.
      Me my poor father with Ulysses sent;
      (O had I stayd, with poverty content!)
      But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen
      Left me forsaken in the Cyclops den.
      The cave, tho large, was dark; the dismal floor
      Was pavd with mangled limbs and putrid gore.
      Our monstrous host, of more than human size,
      Erects his head, and stares within the skies;
      Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue.
      Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view!
      The joints of slaughterd wretches are his food;
      And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood.
      These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand
      He seizd two captives of our Grecian band;
      Stretchd on his back, he dashd against the stones
      Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones:
      With spouting blood the purple pavement swims,
      While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs.

      Not unrevengd Ulysses bore their fate,
      Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state;
      For, gorgd with flesh, and drunk with human wine
      While fast asleep the giant lay supine,
      Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw
      His indigested foam, and morsels raw;
      We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround
      The monstrous body, stretchd along the ground:
      Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand
      To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.
      Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye;
      For only one did the vast frame supply;
      But that a globe so large, his front it filld,
      Like the suns disk or like a Grecian shield.
      The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends:
      This vengeance followd for our slaughterd friends.
      But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly!
      Your cables cut, and on your oars rely!
      Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears,
      A hundred more this hated island bears:
      Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep;
      Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep;
      Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep
      And now three moons their sharpend horns renew,
      Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view,
      I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,
      And in deserted caverns lodge by night;
      Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see
      Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree:
      From far I hear his thundring voice resound,
      And trampling feet that shake the solid ground.
      Cornels and salvage berries of the wood,
      And roots and herbs, have been my meager food.
      While all around my longing eyes I cast,
      I saw your happy ships appear at last.
      On those I fixd my hopes, to these I run;
      Tis all I ask, this cruel race to shun;
      What other death you please, yourselves bestow.

      Scarce had he said, when on the mountains brow
      We saw the giant shepherd stalk before
      His following flock, and leading to the shore:
      A monstrous bulk, deformd, deprivd of sight;
      His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright.
      His pondrous whistle from his neck descends;
      His woolly care their pensive lord attends:
      This only solace his hard fortune sends.
      Soon as he reachd the shore and touchd the waves,
      From his bord eye the guttring blood he laves:
      He gnashd his teeth, and groand; thro seas he strides,
      And scarce the topmost billows touchd his sides.

      Seizd with a sudden fear, we run to sea,
      The cables cut, and silent haste away;
      The well-deserving stranger entertain;
      Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main.
      The giant harkend to the dashing sound:
      But, when our vessels out of reach he found,
      He strided onward, and in vain essayd
      Th Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.
      With that he roard aloud: the dreadful cry
      Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly
      Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy.
      The neighbring Aetna trembling all around,
      The winding caverns echo to the sound.
      His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar,
      And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore.
      We saw their stern distorted looks, from far,
      And one-eyed glance, that vainly threatend war:
      A dreadful council, with their heads on high;
      (The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;)
      Not yielding to the towring tree of Jove,
      Or tallest cypress of Dianas grove.
      New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail;
      We tug at evry oar, and hoist up evry sail,
      And take th advantage of the friendly gale.
      Forewarnd by Helenus, we strive to shun
      Charybdis gulf, nor dare to Scylla run.
      An equal fate on either side appears:
      We, tacking to the left, are free from fears;
      For, from Pelorus point, the North arose,
      And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows.
      His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way
      By Thapsus and Megaras winding bay.
      This passage Achaemenides had shown,
      Tracing the course which he before had run.

      Right oer against Plemmyriums watry strand,
      There lies an isle once calld th Ortygian land.
      Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found
      From Greece a secret passage under ground,
      By love to beauteous Arethusa led;
      And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed.
      As Helenus enjoind, we next adore
      Dianas name, protectress of the shore.
      With prosprous gales we pass the quiet sounds
      Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds.
      Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey
      The rocky shore extended to the sea.
      The town of Camarine from far we see,
      And fenny lake, undraind by fates decree.
      In sight of the Geloan fields we pass,
      And the large walls, where mighty Gela was;
      Then Agragas, with lofty summits crownd,
      Long for the race of warlike steeds renownd.
      We passd Selinus, and the palmy land,
      And widely shun the Lilybaean strand,
      Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand.
      At length on shore the weary fleet arrivd,
      Which Drepanums unhappy port receivd.
      Here, after endless labours, often tossd
      By raging storms, and drivn on evry coast,
      My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost:
      Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain,
      Savd thro a thousand toils, but savd in vain
      The prophet, who my future woes reveald,
      Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceald;
      And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill
      Denouncd all else, was silent of the ill.
      This my last labour was. Some friendly god
      From thence conveyd us to your blest abode.

      Thus, to the listning queen, the royal guest
      His wandring course and all his toils expressd;
      And here concluding, he retird to rest.