BOOK VII

 THE ARGUMENT.


      King Latinus entertains Aeneas, and promises him his only
      daughter, Lavinia, the heiress of his crown. Turnus, being in
      love with her, favoured by her mother, and by Juno and Alecto,
      breaks the treaty which was made, and engages in his quarrel
      Mezentius, Camilla, Messapus, and many other of the neighbouring
      princes; whose forces, and the names of their commanders are
      particularly related.


      And thou, O matron of immortal fame,
      Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
      Cajeta still the place is calld from thee,
      The nurse of great Aeneas infancy.
      Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperias plains;
      Thy name (tis all a ghost can have) remains.

      Now, when the prince her funral rites had paid,
      He plowd the Tyrrhene seas with sails displayd.
      From land a gentle breeze arose by night,
      Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright,
      And the sea trembled with her silver light.
      Now near the shelves of Circes shores they run,
      (Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)
      A dangrous coast: the goddess wastes her days
      In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays:
      In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,
      And cedar brands supply her fathers light.
      From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,
      The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
      The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears,
      And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors ears.
      These from their caverns, at the close of night,
      Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
      Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circes powr,
      (That watchd the moon and planetary hour,)
      With words and wicked herbs from humankind
      Had alterd, and in brutal shapes confind.
      Which monsters lest the Trojans pious host
      Should bear, or touch upon th inchanted coast,
      Propitious Neptune steerd their course by night
      With rising gales that sped their happy flight.
      Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,
      And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
      Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
      And wavd her saffron streamer thro the skies;
      When Thetis blushd in purple not her own,
      And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
      A sudden silence sate upon the sea,
      And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
      The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood,
      Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
      Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,
      With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,
      That drove the sand along, he took his way,
      And rolld his yellow billows to the sea.
      About him, and above, and round the wood,
      The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,
      That bathd within, or basked upon his side,
      To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.
      The captain gives command; the joyful train
      Glide thro the gloomy shade, and leave the main.

      Now, Erato, thy poets mind inspire,
      And fill his soul with thy celestial fire!
      Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings;
      Declare the past and present state of things,
      When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought,
      And how the rivals lovd, and how they fought.
      These are my theme, and how the war began,
      And how concluded by the godlike man:
      For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage,
      Which princes and their people did engage;
      And haughty souls, that, movd with mutual hate,
      In fighting fields pursued and found their fate;
      That rousd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms,
      And peaceful Italy involvd in arms.
      A larger scene of action is displayd;
      And, rising hence, a greater work is weighd.

      Latinus, old and mild, had long possessd
      The Latin scepter, and his people blest:
      His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame
      His mother; fair Marica was her name.
      But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew
      His birth from Saturn, if records be true.
      Thus King Latinus, in the third degree,
      Had Saturn author of his family.
      But this old peaceful prince, as Heavn decreed,
      Was blest with no male issue to succeed:
      His sons in blooming youth were snatchd by fate;
      One only daughter heird the royal state.
      Fird with her love, and with ambition led,
      The neighbring princes court her nuptial bed.
      Among the crowd, but far above the rest,
      Young Turnus to the beauteous maid addressd.
      Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien,
      Was first, and favourd by the Latian queen;
      With him she strove to join Lavinias hand,
      But dire portents the purposd match withstand.

      Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood
      A laurels trunk, a venerable wood;
      Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair
      Was kept and cut with superstitious care.
      This plant Latinus, when his town he walld,
      Then found, and from the tree Laurentum calld;
      And last, in honour of his new abode,
      He vowd the laurel to the laurels god.
      It happend once (a boding prodigy!)
      A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky,
      Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,
      Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight;
      There with their clasping feet together clung,
      And a long cluster from the laurel hung.
      An ancient augur prophesied from hence:
      Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince!
      From the same parts of heavn his navy stands,
      To the same parts on earth; his army lands;
      The town he conquers, and the towr commands.

      Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire
      Before the gods, and stood beside her sire,
      Strange to relate, the flames, involvd in smoke
      Of incense, from the sacred altar broke,
      Caught her disheveld hair and rich attire;
      Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire:
      From thence the fuming trail began to spread
      And lambent glories dancd about her head.
      This new portent the seer with wonder views,
      Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews:
      The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around,
      Shall shine with honour, shall herself be crownd;
      But, causd by her irrevocable fate,
      War shall the country waste, and change the state.

      Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent,
      For counsel to his father Faunus went,
      And sought the shades renownd for prophecy
      Which near Albuneas sulphrous fountain lie.
      To these the Latian and the Sabine land
      Fly, when distressd, and thence relief demand.
      The priest on skins of offrings takes his ease,
      And nightly visions in his slumber sees;
      A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears,
      And, fluttring round his temples, deafs his ears:
      These he consults, the future fates to know,
      From powrs above, and from the fiends below.
      Here, for the gods advice, Latinus flies,
      Offring a hundred sheep for sacrifice:
      Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requird,
      He laid beneath him, and to rest retird.
      No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound,
      When, from above, a more than mortal sound
      Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke:
      Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke
      Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke.
      A foreign son upon thy shore descends,
      Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends.
      His race, in arms and arts of peace renownd,
      Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound:
      Tis theirs whateer the sun surveys around.
      These answers, in the silent night receivd,
      The king himself divulgd, the land believd:
      The fame thro all the neighbring nations flew,
      When now the Trojan navy was in view.

      Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread
      His table on the turf, with cakes of bread;
      And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed.
      They sate; and, (not without the gods command,)
      Their homely fare dispatchd, the hungry band
      Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour,
      To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.
      Ascanius this observd, and smiling said:
      See, we devour the plates on which we fed.
      The speech had omen, that the Trojan race
      Should find repose, and this the time and place.
      Aeneas took the word, and thus replies,
      Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes:
      All hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods!
      Behold the destind place of your abodes!
      For thus Anchises prophesied of old,
      And this our fatal place of rest foretold:
      When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat,
      By famine forcd, your trenchers you shall eat,
      Then ease your weary Trojans will attend,
      And the long labours of your voyage end.
      Remember on that happy coast to build,
      And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.
      This was that famine, this the fatal place
      Which ends the wandring of our exild race.
      Then, on tomorrows dawn, your care employ,
      To search the land, and where the cities lie,
      And what the men; but give this day to joy.
      Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest,
      Call great Anchises to the genial feast:
      Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught;
      Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought.

      Thus having said, the hero bound his brows
      With leafy branches, then performd his vows;
      Adoring first the genius of the place,
      Then Earth, the mother of the heavnly race,
      The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown,
      And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne,
      And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove,
      And last his sire below, and mother queen above.
      Then heavns high monarch thunderd thrice aloud,
      And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud.
      Soon thro the joyful camp a rumour flew,
      The time was come their city to renew.
      Then evry brow with cheerful green is crownd,
      The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round.

      When next the rosy morn disclosd the day,
      The scouts to sevral parts divide their way,
      To learn the natives names, their towns explore,
      The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore:
      Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands;
      Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands.
      The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways
      To found his empire, and his town to raise,
      A hundred youths from all his train selects,
      And to the Latian court their course directs,
      (The spacious palace where their prince resides,)
      And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides.
      They go commissiond to require a peace,
      And carry presents to procure access.
      Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs
      His new-elected seat, and draws the lines.
      The Trojans round the place a rampire cast,
      And palisades about the trenches placd.

      Meantime the train, proceeding on their way,
      From far the town and lofty towrs survey;
      At length approach the walls. Without the gate,
      They see the boys and Latian youth debate
      The martial prizes on the dusty plain:
      Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein;
      Some bend the stubborn bow for victory,
      And some with darts their active sinews try.
      A posting messenger, dispatchd from hence,
      Of this fair troop advisd their aged prince,
      That foreign men of mighty stature came;
      Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name.
      The king ordains their entrance, and ascends
      His regal seat, surrounded by his friends.

      The palace built by Picus, vast and proud,
      Supported by a hundred pillars stood,
      And round incompassd with a rising wood.
      The pile oerlookd the town, and drew the sight;
      Surprisd at once with reverence and delight.
      There kings receivd the marks of sovreign powr;
      In state the monarchs marchd; the lictors bore
      Their awful axes and the rods before.
      Here the tribunal stood, the house of prayr,
      And here the sacred senators repair;
      All at large tables, in long order set,
      A ram their offring, and a ram their meat.
      Above the portal, carvd in cedar wood,
      Placd in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood;
      Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high;
      And Italus, that led the colony;
      And ancient Janus, with his double face,
      And bunch of keys, the porter of the place.
      There good Sabinus, planter of the vines,
      On a short pruning hook his head reclines,
      And studiously surveys his genrous wines;
      Then warlike kings, who for their country fought,
      And honourable wounds from battle brought.
      Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears,
      And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars,
      And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.
      Above the rest, as chief of all the band,
      Was Picus placd, a buckler in his hand;
      His other wavd a long divining wand.
      Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate,
      Yet could not with his art avoid his fate:
      For Circe long had lovd the youth in vain,
      Till love, refusd, converted to disdain:
      Then, mixing powrful herbs, with magic art,
      She changd his form, who could not change his heart;
      Constraind him in a bird, and made him fly,
      With party-colourd plumes, a chattring pie.

      In this high temple, on a chair of state,
      The seat of audience, old Latinus sate;
      Then gave admission to the Trojan train;
      And thus with pleasing accents he began:
      Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own,
      Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown;
      Say what you seek, and whither were you bound:
      Were you by stress of weather cast aground?
      Such dangers as on seas are often seen,
      And oft befall to miserable men,
      Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay,
      Spent and disabled in so long a way?
      Say what you want: the Latians you shall find
      Not forcd to goodness, but by will inclind;
      For, since the time of Saturns holy reign,
      His hospitable customs we retain.
      I call to mind (but time the tale has worn)
      Th Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho born
      On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore,
      And Samothracia, Samos calld before.
      From Tuscan Coritum he claimd his birth;
      But after, when exempt from mortal earth,
      From thence ascended to his kindred skies,
      A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice.

      He said. Ilioneus made this reply:
      O king, of Faunus royal family!
      Nor wintry winds to Latium forcd our way,
      Nor did the stars our wandring course betray.
      Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound,
      The port, so long desird, at length we found;
      From our sweet homes and ancient realms expelld;
      Great as the greatest that the sun beheld.
      The god began our line, who rules above;
      And, as our race, our king descends from Jove:
      And hither are we come, by his command,
      To crave admission in your happy land.
      How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pourd,
      Our plains, our temples, and our town devourd;
      What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms
      Shook Asias crown with European arms;
      Evn such have heard, if any such there be,
      Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea;
      And such as, born beneath the burning sky
      And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie.
      From that dire deluge, thro the watry waste,
      Such length of years, such various perils past,
      At last escapd, to Latium we repair,
      To beg what you without your want may spare:
      The common water, and the common air;
      Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes,
      Fit to receive and serve our banishd gods.
      Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace,
      Nor length of time our gratitude efface.
      Besides, what endless honour you shall gain,
      To save and shelter Troys unhappy train!
      Now, by my sovreign, and his fate, I swear,
      Renownd for faith in peace, for force in war;
      Oft our alliance other lands desird,
      And, what we seek of you, of us requird.
      Despite not then, that in our hands we bear
      These holy boughs, and sue with words of prayr.
      Fate and the gods, by their supreme command,
      Have doomd our ships to seek the Latian land.
      To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends;
      Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends;
      Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force,
      And where Numicus opes his holy source.
      Besides, our prince presents, with his request,
      Some small remains of what his sire possessd.
      This golden charger, snatchd from burning Troy,
      Anchises did in sacrifice employ;
      This royal robe and this tiara wore
      Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore
      In full assemblies, and in solemn games;
      These purple vests were weavd by Dardan dames.

      Thus while he spoke, Latinus rolld around
      His eyes, and fixd a while upon the ground.
      Intent he seemd, and anxious in his breast;
      Not by the scepter movd, or kingly vest,
      But pondring future things of wondrous weight;
      Succession, empire, and his daughters fate.
      On these he musd within his thoughtful mind,
      And then revolvd what Faunus had divind.
      This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed
      To share his scepter, and Lavinias bed;
      This was the race that sure portents foreshew
      To sway the world, and land and sea subdue.
      At length he raisd his cheerful head, and spoke:
      The powrs, said he, the powrs we both invoke,
      To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be,
      And firm our purpose with their augury!
      Have what you ask; your presents I receive;
      Land, where and when you please, with ample leave;
      Partake and use my kingdom as your own;
      All shall be yours, while I command the crown:
      And, if my wishd alliance please your king,
      Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring.
      Then let him not a friends embraces fear;
      The peace is made when I behold him here.
      Besides this answer, tell my royal guest,
      I add to his commands my own request:
      One only daughter heirs my crown and state,
      Whom not our oracles, nor Heavn, nor fate,
      Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join
      With any native of th Ausonian line.
      A foreign son-in-law shall come from far
      (Such is our doom), a chief renownd in war,
      Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name,
      And thro the conquerd world diffuse our fame.
      Himself to be the man the fates require,
      I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire.

      He said, and then on each bestowd a steed.
      Three hundred horses, in high stables fed,
      Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dressd:
      Of these he chose the fairest and the best,
      To mount the Trojan troop. At his command
      The steeds caparisond with purple stand,
      With golden trappings, glorious to behold,
      And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold.
      Then to his absent guest the king decreed
      A pair of coursers born of heavnly breed,
      Who from their nostrils breathd ethereal fire;
      Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire,
      By substituting mares producd on earth,
      Whose wombs conceivd a more than mortal birth.
      These draw the chariot which Latinus sends,
      And the rich present to the prince commends.
      Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne,
      To their expecting lord with peace return.

      But jealous Juno, from Pachynus height,
      As she from Argos took her airy flight,
      Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight.
      She saw the Trojan and his joyful train
      Descend upon the shore, desert the main,
      Design a town, and, with unhopd success,
      Th embassadors return with promisd peace.
      Then, piercd with pain, she shook her haughty head,
      Sighd from her inward soul, and thus she said:
      O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes!
      O fates of Troy, which Junos fates oppose!
      Could they not fall unpitied on the plain,
      But slain revive, and, taken, scape again?
      When execrable Troy in ashes lay,
      Thro fires and swords and seas they forcd their way.
      Then vanquishd Juno must in vain contend,
      Her rage disarmd, her empire at an end.
      Breathless and tird, is all my fury spent?
      Or does my glutted spleen at length relent?
      As if twere little from their town to chase,
      I thro the seas pursued their exild race;
      Ingagd the heavns, opposd the stormy main;
      But billows roard, and tempests ragd in vain.
      What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done,
      When these they overpass, and those they shun?
      On Tibers shores they land, secure of fate,
      Triumphant oer the storms and Junos hate.
      Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe,
      And Jove himself gave way to Cynthias wrath,
      Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon;
      What great offence had either people done?
      But I, the consort of the Thunderer,
      Have wagd a long and unsuccessful war,
      With various arts and arms in vain have toild,
      And by a mortal man at length am foild.
      If native powr prevail not, shall I doubt
      To seek for needful succour from without?
      If Jove and Heavn my just desires deny,
      Hell shall the powr of Heavn and Jove supply.
      Grant that the Fates have firmd, by their decree,
      The Trojan race to reign in Italy;
      At least I can defer the nuptial day,
      And with protracted wars the peace delay:
      With blood the dear alliance shall be bought,
      And both the people near destruction brought;
      So shall the son-in-law and father join,
      With ruin, war, and waste of either line.
      O fatal maid, thy marriage is endowd
      With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood!
      Bellona leads thee to thy lovers hand;
      Another queen brings forth another brand,
      To burn with foreign fires another land!
      A second Paris, diffring but in name,
      Shall fire his country with a second flame.

      Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground,
      With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound,
      To rouse Alecto from th infernal seat
      Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat.
      This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose;
      One who delights in wars and human woes.
      Evn Pluto hates his own misshapen race;
      Her sister Furies fly her hideous face;
      So frightful are the forms the monster takes,
      So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes.
      Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite:
      O virgin daughter of eternal Night,
      Give me this once thy labour, to sustain
      My right, and execute my just disdain.
      Let not the Trojans, with a feignd pretence
      Of profferd peace, delude the Latian prince.
      Expel from Italy that odious name,
      And let not Juno suffer in her fame.
      Tis thine to ruin realms, oerturn a state,
      Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate,
      And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate.
      Thy hand oer towns the funral torch displays,
      And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways.
      Now shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds
      Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds:
      Confound the peace establishd, and prepare
      Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war.

      Smeard as she was with black Gorgonian blood,
      The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood;
      And on her wicker wings, sublime thro night,
      She to the Latian palace took her flight:
      There sought the queens apartment, stood before
      The peaceful threshold, and besiegd the door.
      Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast
      Fird with disdain for Turnus dispossessd,
      And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest.
      From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes
      Her darling plague, the favrite of her snakes;
      With her full force she threw the poisonous dart,
      And fixd it deep within Amatas heart,
      That, thus envenomd, she might kindle rage,
      And sacrifice to strife her house and husbands age.
      Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims
      Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs;
      His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides,
      Now like a chain around her neck he rides,
      Now like a fillet to her head repairs,
      And with his circling volumes folds her hairs.
      At first the silent venom slid with ease,
      And seizd her cooler senses by degrees;
      Then, ere th infected mass was fird too far,
      In plaintive accents she began the war,
      And thus bespoke her husband: Shall, she said,
      A wandring prince enjoy Lavinias bed?
      If nature plead not in a parents heart,
      Pity my tears, and pity her desert.
      I know, my dearest lord, the time will come,
      Youd in vain, reverse your cruel doom;
      The faithless pirate soon will set to sea,
      And bear the royal virgin far away!
      A guest like him, a Trojan guest before,
      In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore,
      And ravishd Helen from her husband bore.
      Think on a kings inviolable word;
      And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord:
      To this false foreigner you give your throne,
      And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son.
      Resume your ancient care; and, if the god
      Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood,
      Know all are foreign, in a larger sense,
      Not born your subjects, or derivd from hence.
      Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace,
      He springs from Inachus of Argive race.

      But when she saw her reasons idly spent,
      And could not move him from his fixd intent,
      She flew to rage; for now the snake possessd
      Her vital parts, and poisond all her breast;
      She raves, she runs with a distracted pace,
      And fills with horrid howls the public place.
      And, as young striplings whip the top for sport,
      On the smooth pavement of an empty court;
      The wooden engine flies and whirls about,
      Admird, with clamours, of the beardless rout;
      They lash aloud; each other they provoke,
      And lend their little souls at evry stroke:
      Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows
      Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes.
      Nor yet content, she strains her malice more,
      And adds new ills to those contrivd before:
      She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng
      Of madding matrons, bears the bride along,
      Wandring thro woods and wilds, and devious ways,
      And with these arts the Trojan match delays.
      She feignd the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud,
      And to the buxom god the virgin vowd.
      Evoe! O Bacchus! thus began the song;
      And Evoe! answerd all the female throng.
      O virgin! worthy thee alone! she cried;
      O worthy thee alone! the crew replied.
      For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance,
      And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance.
      Like fury seizd the rest; the progress known,
      All seek the mountains, and forsake the town:
      All, clad in skins of beasts, the javlin bear,
      Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair,
      And shrieks and shoutings rend the suffring air.
      The queen herself, inspird with rage divine,
      Shook high above her head a flaming pine;
      Then rolld her haggard eyes around the throng,
      And sung, in Turnus name, the nuptial song:
      Io, ye Latian dames! if any here
      Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear;
      If there be here, she said, who dare maintain
      My right, nor think the name of mother vain;
      Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair,
      And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare.

      Amatas breast the Fury thus invades,
      And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades;
      Then, when she found her venom spread so far,
      The royal house embroild in civil war,
      Raisd on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies,
      And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies.
      His town, as fame reports, was built of old
      By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold,
      Who fled her fathers rage, and, with a train
      Of following Argives, thro the stormy main,
      Drivn by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign.
      Twas Ardua once; now Ardeas name it bears;
      Once a fair city, now consumd with years.
      Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay,
      Betwixt the confines of the night and day,
      Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside
      Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried
      The foulness of th infernal form to hide.
      Proppd on a staff, she takes a trembling mien:
      Her face is furrowd, and her front obscene;
      Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws;
      Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws;
      Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound,
      Her temples with an olive wreath are crownd.
      Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane
      Of Juno, now she seemd, and thus began,
      Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man:
      Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain
      In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain?
      Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize,
      Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories?
      The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought,
      The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought.
      Go now, deluded man, and seek again
      New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain.
      Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize;
      Protect the Latians in luxurious ease.
      This dream all-powrful Juno sends; I bear
      Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear.
      Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain;
      With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train:
      Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie
      In Tibers mouth, with fire and sword destroy.
      The Latian king, unless he shall submit,
      Own his old promise, and his new forget;
      Let him, in arms, the powr of Turnus prove,
      And learn to fear whom he disdains to love.
      For such is Heavns command. The youthful prince
      With scorn replied, and made this bold defence:
      You tell me, mother, what I knew before:
      The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore.
      I neither fear nor will provoke the war;
      My fate is Junos most peculiar care.
      But time has made you dote, and vainly tell
      Of arms imagind in your lonely cell.
      Go; be the temple and the gods your care;
      Permit to men the thought of peace and war.

      These haughty words Alectos rage provoke,
      And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke.
      Her eyes grow stiffend, and with sulphur burn;
      Her hideous looks and hellish form return;
      Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place,
      And open all the furies of her face:
      Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes,
      She cast him backward as he strove to rise,
      And, lingring, sought to frame some new replies.
      High on her head she rears two twisted snakes,
      Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes;
      And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks:
      Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell
      Of arms imagind in her lonely cell!
      Behold the Fates infernal minister!
      War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear.

      Thus having said, her smouldring torch, impressd
      With her full force, she plungd into his breast.
      Aghast he wakd; and, starting from his bed,
      Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs oerspread.
      Arms! arms! he cries: my sword and shield prepare!
      He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war.
      So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries,
      The bubbling waters from the bottom rise:
      Above the brims they force their fiery way;
      Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day.

      The peace polluted thus, a chosen band
      He first commissions to the Latian land,
      In threatning embassy; then raisd the rest,
      To meet in arms th intruding Trojan guest,
      To force the foes from the Lavinian shore,
      And Italys indangerd peace restore.
      Himself alone an equal match he boasts,
      To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts.
      The gods invokd, the Rutuli prepare
      Their arms, and warn each other to the war.
      His beauty these, and those his blooming age,
      The rest his house and his own fame engage.

      While Turnus urges thus his enterprise,
      The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies;
      New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand,
      Which overlooks the vale with wide command;
      Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train,
      With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain,
      And pitch their toils around the shady plain.
      The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent,
      And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent.
      Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise
      High oer his front; his beams invade the skies.
      From this light cause th infernal maid prepares
      The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars.

      The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred,
      Snatchd from his dams, and the tame youngling fed.
      Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring,
      Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king:
      Their sister Silvia cherishd with her care
      The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare
      To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied
      His tender neck, and combd his silken hide,
      And bathed his body. Patient of command
      In time he grew, and, growing usd to hand,
      He waited at his masters board for food;
      Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood,
      Where grazing all the day, at night he came
      To his known lodgings, and his country dame.

      This household beast, that usd the woodland grounds,
      Was viewd at first by the young heros hounds,
      As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat
      In the cool waters, and to quench his heat.
      Ascanius young, and eager of his game,
      Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim;
      But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides,
      Which piercd his bowels thro his panting sides.
      The bleeding creature issues from the floods,
      Possessd with fear, and seeks his known abodes,
      His old familiar hearth and household gods.
      He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans,
      Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans.
      Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud
      For succour from the clownish neighbourhood:
      The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay
      In the close woody covert, urgd their way.
      One with a brand yet burning from the flame,
      Armd with a knotty club another came:
      Whateer they catch or find, without their care,
      Their fury makes an instrument of war.
      Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast,
      Then clenchd a hatchet in his horny fist,
      But held his hand from the descending stroke,
      And left his wedge within the cloven oak,
      To whet their courage and their rage provoke.
      And now the goddess, exercisd in ill,
      Who watchd an hour to work her impious will,
      Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn,
      Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne,
      Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around,
      And mountains, tremble at th infernal sound.
      The sacred lake of Trivia from afar,
      The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar,
      Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war.
      Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possessd,
      And strain their helpless infants to their breast.

      The clowns, a boistrous, rude, ungovernd crew,
      With furious haste to the loud summons flew.
      The powrs of Troy, then issuing on the plain,
      With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain:
      Not theirs a raw and unexperiencd train,
      But a firm body of embattled men.
      At first, while fortune favourd neither side,
      The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried;
      But now, both parties reinforcd, the fields
      Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields.
      A shining harvest either host displays,
      And shoots against the sun with equal rays.
      Thus, when a black-browd gust begins to rise,
      White foam at first on the curld ocean fries;
      Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies;
      Till, by the fury of the storm full blown,
      The muddy bottom oer the clouds is thrown.
      First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus eldest care,
      Piercd with an arrow from the distant war:
      Fixd in his throat the flying weapon stood,
      And stoppd his breath, and drank his vital blood
      Huge heaps of slain around the body rise:
      Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies;
      A good old man, while peace he preachd in vain,
      Amidst the madness of th unruly train:
      Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures filld;
      His lands a hundred yoke of oxen tilld.

      Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood
      The Fury bathd them in each others blood;
      Then, having fixd the fight, exulting flies,
      And bears fulfilld her promise to the skies.
      To Juno thus she speaks: Behold! It is done,
      The blood already drawn, the war begun;
      The discord is complete; nor can they cease
      The dire debate, nor you command the peace.
      Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood
      Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood;
      Speak, and my powr shall add this office more:
      The neighbring nations of th Ausonian shore
      Shall hear the dreadful rumour, from afar,
      Of armd invasion, and embrace the war.
      Then Juno thus: The grateful work is done,
      The seeds of discord sowd, the war begun;
      Frauds, fears, and fury have possessd the state,
      And fixd the causes of a lasting hate.
      A bloody Hymen shall th alliance join
      Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line:
      But thou with speed to night and hell repair;
      For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear
      Thy lawless wandring walks in upper air.
      Leave what remains to me. Saturnia said:
      The sullen fiend her sounding wings displayd,
      Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade.

      In midst of Italy, well known to fame,
      There lies a lake, Amsanctus is the name,
      Below the lofty mounts: on either side
      Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide.
      Full in the centre of the sacred wood
      An arm arises of the Stygian flood,
      Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound,
      Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around.
      Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell,
      And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell.
      To this infernal lake the Fury flies;
      Here hides her hated head, and frees the labring skies.

      Saturnian Juno now, with double care,
      Attends the fatal process of the war.
      The clowns, returnd, from battle bear the slain,
      Implore the gods, and to their king complain.
      The corps of Almon and the rest are shown;
      Shrieks, clamours, murmurs, fill the frighted town.
      Ambitious Turnus in the press appears,
      And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears;
      Proclaims his private injuries aloud,
      A solemn promise made, and disavowd;
      A foreign son is sought, and a mixd mungril brood.
      Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear,
      In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear,
      And lead his dances with disheveld hair,
      Increase the clamour, and the war demand,
      (Such was Amatas intrest in the land,)
      Against the public sanctions of the peace,
      Against all omens of their ill success.
      With fates averse, the rout in arms resort,
      To force their monarch, and insult the court.
      But, like a rock unmovd, a rock that braves
      The raging tempest and the rising waves,
      Proppd on himself he stands; his solid sides
      Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides:
      So stood the pious prince, unmovd, and long
      Sustaind the madness of the noisy throng.
      But, when he found that Junos powr prevaild,
      And all the methods of cool counsel faild,
      He calls the gods to witness their offence,
      Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence.
      Hurried by fate, he cries, and borne before
      A furious wind, we have the faithful shore.
      O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear
      The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war:
      Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate,
      And pray to Heavn for peace, but pray too late.
      For me, my stormy voyage at an end,
      I to the port of death securely tend.
      The funral pomp which to your kings you pay,
      Is all I want, and all you take away.
      He said no more, but, in his walls confind,
      Shut out the woes which he too well divind
      Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive,
      But left the helm, and let the vessel drive.

      A solemn custom was observd of old,
      Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold,
      Their standard when in fighting fields they rear
      Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare
      The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war;
      Or from the boasting Parthians would regain
      Their eagles, lost in Carrhaes bloody plain.
      Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear,
      And still are worshipd with religious fear)
      Before his temple stand: the dire abode,
      And the feard issues of the furious god,
      Are fencd with brazen bolts; without the gates,
      The wary guardian Janus doubly waits.
      Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars,
      The Roman consul their decree declares,
      And in his robes the sounding gates unbars.
      The youth in military shouts arise,
      And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies.
      These rites, of old by sovreign princes usd,
      Were the kings office; but the king refusd,
      Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar
      Of sacred peace, or loose th imprisond war;
      But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms,
      Abhorrd the wicked ministry of arms.
      Then heavns imperious queen shot down from high:
      At her approach the brazen hinges fly;
      The gates are forcd, and evry falling bar;
      And, like a tempest, issues out the war.

      The peaceful cities of th Ausonian shore,
      Lulld in their ease, and undisturbd before,
      Are all on fire; and some, with studious care,
      Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare;
      Some their soft limbs in painful marches try,
      And war is all their wish, and arms the genral cry.
      Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part
      New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart:
      With joy they view the waving ensigns fly,
      And hear the trumpets clangour pierce the sky.
      Five cities forge their arms: th Atinian powrs,
      Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty towrs,
      Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town:
      All these of old were places of renown.
      Some hammer helmets for the fighting field;
      Some twine young sallows to support the shield;
      The croslet some, and some the cuishes mould,
      With silver plated, and with ductile gold.
      The rustic honours of the scythe and share
      Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war.
      Old falchions are new temperd in the fires;
      The sounding trumpet evry soul inspires.
      The word is givn; with eager speed they lace
      The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace.
      The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied;
      The trusty weapon sits on evry side.

      And now the mighty labour is begun
      Ye Muses, open all your Helicon.
      Sing you the chiefs that swayd th Ausonian land,
      Their arms, and armies under their command;
      What warriors in our ancient clime were bred;
      What soldiers followd, and what heroes led.
      For well you know, and can record alone,
      What fame to future times conveys but darkly down.
      Mezentius first appeard upon the plain:
      Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain,
      Defying earth and heavn. Etruria lost,
      He brings to Turnus aid his baffled host.
      The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire,
      Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire;
      To Turnus only second in the grace
      Of manly mien, and features of the face.
      A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred,
      With fates averse a thousand men he led:
      His sire unworthy of so brave a son;
      Himself well worthy of a happier throne.

      Next Aventinus drives his chariot round
      The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crownd.
      Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field;
      His fathers hydra fills his ample shield:
      A hundred serpents hiss about the brims;
      The son of Hercules he justly seems
      By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs;
      Of heavnly part, and part of earthly blood,
      A mortal woman mixing with a god.
      For strong Alcides, after he had slain
      The triple Geryon, drove from conquerd Spain
      His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led,
      On Tuscan Tibers flowry banks they fed.
      Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove
      The priestess Rhea found, and forcd to love.
      For arms, his men long piles and javlins bore;
      And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore.
      Like Hercules himself his son appears,
      In salvage pomp; a lions hide he wears;
      About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin;
      The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin.
      Thus, like the god his father, homely dressd,
      He strides into the hall, a horrid guest.

      Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came,
      (Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,)
      Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear:
      Armd Argive horse they led, and in the front appear.
      Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountains height
      With rapid course descending to the fight;
      They rush along; the rattling woods give way;
      The branches bend before their sweepy sway.

      Nor was Praenestes founder wanting there,
      Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber:
      Found in the fire, and fosterd in the plains,
      A shepherd and a king at once he reigns,
      And leads to Turnus aid his country swains.
      His own Praeneste sends a chosen band,
      With those who plow Saturnias Gabine land;
      Besides the succour which cold Anien yields,
      The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields,
      Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene
      A numrous rout, but all of naked men:
      Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield,
      Nor drive the chariot thro the dusty field,
      But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead,
      And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head;
      The left foot naked, when they march to fight,
      But in a bulls raw hide they sheathe the right.
      Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,)
      Secure of steel, and fated from the fire,
      In pomp appears, and with his ardour warms
      A heartless train, unexercisd in arms:
      The just Faliscans he to battle brings,
      And those who live where Lake Ciminius springs;
      And where Feronias grove and temple stands,
      Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands.
      All these in order march, and marching sing
      The warlike actions of their sea-born king;
      Like a long team of snowy swans on high,
      Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky,
      When, homeward from their watry pastures borne,
      They sing, and Asias lakes their notes return.
      Not one who heard their music from afar,
      Would think these troops an army traind to war,
      But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar,
      With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore.

      Then Clausus came, who led a numrous band
      Of troops embodied from the Sabine land,
      And, in himself alone, an army brought.
      Twas he, the noble Claudian race begot,
      The Claudian race, ordaind, in times to come,
      To share the greatness of imperial Rome.
      He led the Cures forth, of old renown,
      Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town,
      And all th Eretian powrs; besides a band
      That followd from Velinums dewy land,
      And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame,
      And mountaineers, that from Severus came,
      And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica,
      And those where yellow Tiber takes his way,
      And where Himellas wanton waters play.
      Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie
      By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli:
      The warlike aids of Horta next appear,
      And the cold Nursians come to close the rear,
      Mixd with the natives born of Latine blood,
      Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood.
      Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main,
      When pale Orion sets in wintry rain;
      Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise,
      Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies,
      Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around;
      Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground.

      High in his chariot then Halesus came,
      A foe by birth to Troys unhappy name:
      From Agamemnon bornto Turnus aid
      A thousand men the youthful hero led,
      Who till the Massic soil, for wine renownd,
      And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground,
      And those who live by Sidicinian shores,
      And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars,
      Cales and Oscas old inhabitants,
      And rough Saticulans, inurd to wants:
      Light demi-lances from afar they throw,
      Fastend with leathern thongs, to gall the foe.
      Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear;
      And on their warding arm light bucklers bear.

      Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung,
      From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung,
      Who then in Teleboan Capri reignd;
      But that short isle th ambitious youth disdaind,
      And oer Campania stretchd his ample sway,
      Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea;
      Oer Batulum, and where Abella sees,
      From her high towrs, the harvest of her trees.
      And these (as was the Teuton use of old)
      Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold;
      Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight;
      Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light.

      Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went,
      And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent.
      The rude Equicolae his rule obeyd;
      Hunting their sport, and plundring was their trade.
      In arms they plowd, to battle still prepard:
      Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard.

      Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led,
      By King Archippus sent to Turnus aid,
      And peaceful olives crownd his hoary head.
      His wand and holy words, the vipers rage,
      And venomd wounds of serpents could assuage.
      He, when he pleasd with powerful juice to steep
      Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep.
      But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art,
      To cure the wound givn by the Dardan dart:
      Yet his untimely fate th Angitian woods
      In sighs remurmurd to the Fucine floods.

      The son of famd Hippolytus was there,
      Famd as his sire, and, as his mother, fair;
      Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore,
      And nursd his youth along the marshy shore,
      Where great Dianas peaceful altars flame,
      In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name.
      Hippolytus, as old records have said,
      Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed;
      But, when no female arts his mind could move,
      She turnd to furious hate her impious love.
      Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore,
      Anothers crimes th unhappy hunter bore,
      Glutting his fathers eyes with guiltless gore.
      But chaste Diana, who his death deplord,
      With Aesculapian herbs his life restord.
      Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain,
      The dead inspird with vital breath again,
      Struck to the centre, with his flaming dart,
      Th unhappy founder of the godlike art.
      But Trivia kept in secret shades alone
      Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown;
      And calld him Virbius in th Egerian grove,
      Where then he livd obscure, but safe from Jove.
      For this, from Trivias temple and her wood
      Are coursers drivn, who shed their masters blood,
      Affrighted by the monsters of the flood.
      His son, the second Virbius, yet retaind
      His fathers art, and warrior steeds he reind.

      Amid the troops, and like the leading god,
      High oer the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode:
      A triple of plumes his crest adornd,
      On which with belching flames Chimaera burnd:
      The more the kindled combat rises highr,
      The more with fury burns the blazing fire.
      Fair Io gracd his shield; but Io now
      With horns exalted stands, and seems to low
      A noble charge! Her keeper by her side,
      To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied;
      And on the brims her sire, the watry god,
      Rolld from a silver urn his crystal flood.
      A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields
      With swords, and pointed spears, and clattring shields;
      Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands,
      And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands;
      Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields,
      And the proud Labicans, with painted shields,
      And those who near Numician streams reside,
      And those whom Tibers holy forests hide,
      Or Circes hills from the main land divide;
      Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands,
      Or the black water of Pomptina stands.

      Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came,
      And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame;
      Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskilld,
      She chose the nobler Pallas of the field.
      Mixd with the first, the fierce Virago fought,
      Sustaind the toils of arms, the danger sought,
      Outstrippd the winds in speed upon the plain,
      Flew oer the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain:
      She swept the seas, and, as she skimmd along,
      Her flying feet unbathd on billows hung.
      Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise,
      Whereer she passes, fix their wondring eyes:
      Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight,
      Devour her oer and oer with vast delight;
      Her purple habit sits with such a grace
      On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face;
      Her head with ringlets of her hair is crownd,
      And in a golden caul the curls are bound.
      She shakes her myrtle javlin; and, behind,
      Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind.