The Aeneid

Book I-2

Now all was ended, when from the sky’s summit Jupiter looked forth upon the sail-winged sea and outspread lands, the shores and peoples far and wide, and, looking, paused on heaven’s height and cast his eyes on Libya’s realm. And lo! as on such cares he pondered in heart, Venus, saddened and her bright eyes brimming with tears, spoke to him: “You that with eternal sway rule the world of men and gods, and frighten with your bolt, what great crime could my Aeneas – could my Trojans – have wrought against you, to whom, after many disasters borne, the whole world is barred for Italy’s sake? Surely it was your promise that from them some time, as the years rolled on, the Romans were to arise; from them, even from Teucer’s restored line, should come rulers to hold the sea and all lands beneath their sway. What thought, father, ahs turned you? That promise, indeed, was my comfort for Troy’s fall and sad overthrow, when I weighed fate against the fates opposed. Now, though tried by so many disasters, the same fortune dogs them. What end of their toils, great king, do you grant? Antenor could escape the Achaean host, thread safely the Illyrian gulfs and inmost realms of the Liburnians, and pass the springs of Timavus, and whence through nine mouths, with a mountain’s mighty roar, it comes a bursting flood and buries the fields under its sounding sea. Yet here he set Padua’s town, a home for his Teucrians, gave a name to the race, and hung up the arms of Troy; now, settled in tranquil peace, he is at rest. But we, your offspring, to whom you grant the heights of heaven, have lost our ships – O shame unutterable! – and, to appease one angry foe, are betrayed and kept far from Italian shores. And thus is piety honoured? Is this the way you restore us to empire?

Smiling on her with that look wherewith he clears sky and storms, the Father of men and gods gently kissed his daughter’s lips, and then spoke thus: “Spare your fears, Lady of Cythera; your children’s fates abide unmoved. You will see Lavinium’s city and its promised walls; and great-souled Aeneas you will raise on high to the starry heaven. No though ahs turned me. This your son – for, since this care gnaws your heart, I will speak and, further unrolling the scroll of fate, will disclose its secrets – shall wage a great war in Italy, shall crush proud nations, and for his people shall set up laws and city walls, till the third summer has seen him reigning in Latium and three winters have passed in camp since the Rutulians were laid low. But the lad Ascanius, now surnamed Iulus – Ilus he was, while the Ilian state stood firm in sovereignty – shall fulfil in empire thirty great circles of rolling months, shall ships his throne from Lavinium’s seat, and, great in power, shall build the walls of Alba Longa. Here then for thrice a hundred years unbroken shall the kingdom endure under Hector’s race, until Ilia, a royal priestess, shall bear to Mars her twin offspring. Then Romulus, proud in the tawny hide of the she-wolf, his nurse, shall take up the line, and found the walls of Mars and call the people Romans after his own name. For these I set no bounds in space or time; but have given empire without end. Spiteful Juno, who now in her fear troubles sea and earth and sky, shall change to better counsels and with me cherish the Romans, lords of the world, and the nation of the toga. Thus is it decreed. Thee shall come a day, as the sacred seasons glide past, when the house of Assaracus shall bring into b*****e Phthia and famed Mycenae, and hold lordship over vanquished Argos. From this noble line shall be born the Trojan Caesar, who shall extend his empire to the ocean, his glory to the stars, a Julius [Augustus], name descended from great Iulus! Him, in days to come, shall you, anxious no more, welcome to heaven, laden with Eastern spoils; he, too, shall be invoked in vows. Then wars shall cease and savage ages soften; hoary Faith and Vesta, Quirinus with his brother Remus, shall give laws. The gates of war, grim with iron and close-fitting bars, shall be closed; within, impious Rage, sitting on savage arms, his hands fast bound behind with a hundred brazen knots, shall roar in the ghastliness of blood-stained lips.”

So speaking, he sends the son of Maia down from heaven, that the land and towers of new-built Carthage may open to greet the Teucrians, and Dido, ignorant of fate, might not bar them from her lands. Through the wide air he flies on the oarage of wings, and speedily alights on the Libyan coasts. At once he does his bidding, and, God willing it, the Phoenicians lay aside their savage thoughts; above all, the queen receives a gentle mind and gracious purpose toward the Teucrians.

But loyal Aeneas, through the night revolving many a care, as soon as kindly light was given, determines to issue forth and explore the strange country; to learn to what coasts he has come with the wind, who dwells there, man or beast – for all he sees is waste – then bring back tidings to his friends. The fleet he hides in over-arching groves beneath a hollow rock, closely encircled by trees and quivering shade; then, Achates alone attending, himself strides forth, grasping in hand two shafts, tipped with broad steel. Across his path, in the midst of the forest, came his mother, with a maiden’s face and mien, and a maiden’s arms, whether one of Sparta or such a one as Thracian Harpalyce, when she out-tires horses and outstrips the winged East Wind in flight. For from her shoulders in huntress fashion she had slung the ready bow and had given her hair to the winds to scatter; her knee bare, and her flowing robes gathered in a knot. Before he speaks, “Ho!” she cries, “tell me, youths, if perchance you have seen a sister of mine here straying, girt with quiver and a dappled lynx’s hide, or pressing with shouts on the track of a foaming boar.”

Thus Venus; and thus in answer Venus’ son began: “None of your sisters have I heard or seen – but by what name should I call you, maiden? for your face is not mortal nor has your voice a human ring; O goddess surely! sister of Phoebus, or one of the race of Nymphs? Show grace to us, whoever you may be, and lighten this our burden. Inform us, pray, beneath what sky, on what coasts of the world, we are cast; knowing nothing of countries or peoples we wander driven hither by wind and huge billows. Many a victim shall fall for you at our hand before your altars.”

Then said Venus: “Nay, I claim not such worship. Tyrian maids are wont to wear the quiver, and bind their ankles high with the purple buskin. It is the Punic realm you see, a Tyrian people, and the city of Agenor; but the bordering country is Lybian, a race unconquerable in war. Dido wields the sceptre – Dido, who, fleeing from her brother, came from the city of Tyre. Long would be the tale of wrong, long its winding course – but the main heads of the story I will trace. Her husband was Sychaeus, richest in gold of the Phoenicians, and fondly loved by unhappy Dido; to him her father had given the maiden, yoking her to him in the first bridal auspices. But the kingdom of Tyre was in the hands of her brother Pygmalion, monstrous in crime beyond all others. Between these two came frenzy. The king, impiously before the altars and blinded by l**t for gold, strikes down Sychaeus unawares by stealthy blow, without a thought for his sister’s love; and for long he hid the deed, and by many a pretence cunningly cheated the lovesick bride with empty hope. But in her sleep came the very ghost of her unburied husband; raising his pale face in wondrous wise, he lad bare the cruel altars and his breast pierced with steel, unveiling all the secret horror of the house. Then he bids her take speedy flight and leave her country, and to aid her journey brought to light treasures long hidden underground, a mass of gold and silver known to none. Moved by this, Dido made ready her flight and her company. Then all assemble who felt towards the tyrant relentless hatred or keen fear; ships, which by chance were ready, they seize and load with gold; the wealth of grasping Pygmalion is borne overseas, the leader of the enterprise a woman. They came to the place where today you will see the huge walls and rising citadel of new Carthage, and bought ground – Byrsa they called it therefrom – as much as they could encompass by a bull’s hide, and they are choosing laws and magistrates, and an august senate. But who, pray, are you, or from what coasts come, or whither hold you your coarse?” As she questioned thus he replied, sighing and drawing every word deep from his breast.

“O goddess, should I, tracing back from the first beginning, go on to tell, and you have leisure to hear the story of our woes, sooner would heaven close and evening lay the day to rest. From ancient Troy, if perchance the name of Troy has come to your hears, sailing over distant seas, the storm at its own caprice drove us to the Libyan coast. I am the loyal Aeneas, who carry with me in my fleet my household gods, snatched from the foe; my fame is known to the heavens above. It is Italy I seek, my father’s land, and a race sprung from Jupiter most high. With twice ten ships I embarked on the Phrygian sea, following the fates declared, my goddess-mother pointing me the way; scarcely do seven remain, shattered by waves and wind. Myself unknown and destitute, I wander over the Libyan wastes, driven from Europe and Asia.” His further complaint Venus suffered not, but in the midst of his lament broke in thus:

“Whoever you are, not hateful, I think, to the powers of heaven do you draw the breath of life, since you have reached the Tyrian city. Only go forward and make your way to the queen’s palace. For I bring you tidings of your comrades restored and of your fleet recovered, driven to safe haven by shifting winds – unless my parents were false, and vain the augury they taught me. Look at those twelve swans in exultant line, which Jove’s bird, swooping from the expanse of heaven, was harrying in the open air; now in long array they seem either to be settling in their places or already to be gazing down on the places where others have settled. As they, returning, sport with rustling wings, and in company have circled the sky and uttered their songs, with like joy your ships and the men of your company have reached harbour already or under full sail enter the river’s mouth. Only go forward and where the path leads you, direct your steps!”

She spoke, and as she turned away, her roseate neck flashed bright. From her head her ambrosial tresses breathed celestial fragrance; down to her feet fell her raiment, and in her step she was revealed a very goddess. He knew her for his mother, and as she fled pursued her with these words: “Why, cruel like others, do you so often mock your son with vain phantoms? Why am I not allowed to clasp hand in hand and hear and utter words unfeigned?” Thus he reproaches her and bends his steps towards the city. But Venus shrouded them, as they went, with dusky air, and enveloped them, goddess as she was, in a thick mantle of cloud, that none might see or touch them, none delay or seek the cause of their coming. She herself through the sky goes her way to Paphos, and joyfully revisits her abode, where the temple and its hundred altars steam with Sabaean incense and are fragrant with garlands ever fresh.