by Virgil
protect us, and confirm thy words divine!”
He spoke; then chose twin biremes from the fleet,
gave them good gear and armed their loyal crews.
But, lo! a sudden wonder met his eyes:
white gleaming through the grove, with all her brood
white like herself, on the green bank the Sow
stretched prone. The good Aeneas slew her there,
Great Juno, for a sacrifice to thee,
himself the priest, and with the sucklings all
beside shine altar stood. So that whole night
the god of Tiber calmed his swollen wave,
ebbing or lingering in silent flow,
till like some gentle lake or sleeping pool
his even waters lay, and strove no more
against the oarsmen’s toil. Upon their way
they speed with joyful sound; the well-oiled wood
slips through the watery floor; the wondering waves,
and all the virgin forests wondering,
behold the warriors in far-shining arms
their painted galleys up the current drive.
O’er the long reaches of the winding flood
their sturdy oars outweary the slow course
of night and day. Fair groves of changeful green
arch o’er their passage, and they seem to cleave
green forests in the tranquil wave below.
Now had the flaming sun attained his way
to the mid-sphere of heaven, when they discerned
walls and a citadel in distant view,
with houses few and far between; ‘t was there,
where sovran Rome to-day has rivalled Heaven,
Evander’s realm its slender strength displayed:
swiftly they turned their prows and neared the town.
It chanced th’ Arcadian King had come that day
to honor Hercules, Amphitryon’s son,
and to the powers divine pay worship due
in groves outside the wall. Beside him stood
Pallas his son, his noblest men-at-arms,
and frugal senators, who at the shrines
burnt incense, while warm blood of victims flowed.
But when they saw the tall ships in the shade
of that dark forest plying noiseless oars,
the sudden sight alarmed, and all the throng
sprang to its feet and left the feast divine.
But dauntless Pallas bade them give not o’er
the sacred festival, and spear in hand
flew forward to a bit of rising ground,
and cried from far: “Hail, warriors! what cause
drives you to lands unknown, and whither bound?
Your kin, your country? Bring ye peace or war?”
Father Aeneas then held forth a bough
of peaceful olive from the lofty ship,
thus answering : “Men Trojan-born are we,
foes of the Latins, who have driven us forth
with insolent assault. We fain would see
Evander. Pray, deliver this, and say
that chosen princes of Dardania
sue for his help in arms.” So wonder fell
on Pallas, awestruck at such mighty name.
O, come, whoe’er thou art,” he said, “and speak
in presence of my father. Enter here,
guest of our hearth and altar.” He put forth
his right hand in true welcome, and they stood
with lingering clasp; then hand in hand advanced
up the steep woodland, leaving Tiber’s wave.
Aeneas to Evander speaking fair,
these words essayed: “O best of Grecian-born!
whom Fortune’s power now bids me seek and sue,
lifting this olive-branch with fillets bound,
I have not feared thee, though I know thou art
a Greek, and an Arcadian king, allied
to the two sons of Atreus. For behold,
my conscious worth, great oracles from Heaven,
the kinship of our sires, thy own renown
spread through the world — all knit my cause with thine,
all make me glad my fates have so decreed.
The sire and builder of the Trojan town
was Dardanus; but he, Electra’s child,
came over sea to Teucria; the sire
of fair Electra was great Atlas, he
whose shoulder carries the vast orb of heaven.
But thy progenitor was Mercury,
and him conceiving, Maia, that white maid,
on hoar Cyllene’s frosty summit bore.
But Maia’s sire, if aught of truth be told,
was Atlas also, Atlas who sustains
the weight of starry skies. Thus both our tribes
are one divided stem. Secure in this,
no envoys have I sent, nor tried thy mind
with artful first approaches, but myself,
risking my person and my life, have come
a suppliant here. For both on me and thee
the house of Daunus hurls insulting war.
If us they quell, they doubt not to obtain
lordship of all Hesperia, and subdue
alike the northern and the southern sea.
Accept good faith, and give! Behold, our hearts
quail not in battle; souls of fire are we,
and warriors proved in many an action brave.”
Aeneas ceased. The other long had scanned
the hero’s face, his eyes, and wondering viewed
his form and mien divine; in answer now
he briefly spoke: “With hospitable heart,
O bravest warrior of all Trojan-born,
I know and welcome thee. I well recall
thy sire Anchises, how he looked and spake.
For I remember Priam, when he came
to greet his sister, Queen Hesione,
in Salamis, and thence pursued his way
to our cool uplands of Arcadia.
The bloom of tender boyhood then was mine,
and with a wide-eyed wonder I did view
those Teucrian lords, Laomedon’s great heir,
and, towering highest in their goodly throng,
Anchises, whom my warm young heart desired
to speak with and to clasp his hand in mine.
So I approached, and joyful led him home
to Pheneus’ olden wall. He gave me gifts
the day he bade adieu; a quiver rare
filled with good Lycian arrows, a rich cloak
inwove with thread of gold, and bridle reins
all golden, now to youthful Pallas given.
Therefore thy plea is granted, and my hand
here clasps in loyal amity with thine.
To-morrow at the sunrise thou shalt have
my tribute for the war, and go thy way
my glad ally. But now this festival,
whose solemn rite ‘t were impious to delay,
I pray thee celebrate, and bring with thee
well-omened looks and words. Allies we are!
Use this our sacred feast as if your own.”
So saying, he bade his followers renew
th’ abandoned feast and wine; and placed each guest
on turf-built couch of green, most honoring
Aeneas by a throne of maple fair
decked with a lion’s pelt and flowing mane.
Then high-born pages, with the altar’s priest,
bring on the roasted beeves and load the board
with baskets of fine bread; and wine they bring —
of Ceres and of Bacchus gift and toil.
While good Aeneas and his Trojans share
the long whole ox and meats of sacrifice.
When hunger and its eager edge were gone,
Evander spoke: “This votive holiday,
yon tables spread and altar so divine,
are not some su
perstition dark and vain,
that knows not the old gods, O Trojan King!
But as men saved from danger and great fear
this thankful sacrifice we pay. Behold,
yon huge rock, beetling from the mountain wall,
hung from the cliff above. How lone and bare
the hollowed mountain looks! How crag on crag
tumbled and tossed in huge confusion lie!
A cavern once it was, which ran deep down
into the darkness. There th’ half-human shape
of Cacus made its hideous den, concealed
from sunlight and the day. The ground was wet
at all times with fresh gore; the portal grim
was hung about with heads of slaughtered men,
bloody and pale — a fearsome sight to see.
Vulcan begat this monster, which spewed forth
dark-fuming flames from his infernal throat,
and vast his stature seemed. But time and tide
brought to our prayers the advent of a god
to help us at our need. For Hercules,
divine avenger, came from laying low
three-bodied Geryon, whose spoils he wore
exultant, and with hands victorious drove
the herd of monster bulls, which pastured free
along our river-valley. Cacus gazed
in a brute frenzy, and left not untried
aught of bold crime or stratagem, but stole
four fine bulls as they fed, and heifers four,
all matchless; but, lest hoof-tracks point his way,
he dragged them cave-wards by the tails, confusing
the natural trail, and hid the stolen herd
in his dark den; and not a mark or sign
could guide the herdsmen to that cavern-door.
But after, when Amphitryon’s famous son,
preparing to depart, would from the meads
goad forth the full-fed herd, his lingering bulls
roared loud, and by their lamentable cry
filled grove and hills with clamor of farewell:
one heifer from the mountain-cave lowed back
in answer, so from her close-guarded stall
foiling the monster’s will. Then hadst thou seen
the wrath of Hercules in frenzy blaze
from his exasperate heart. His arms he seized,
his club of knotted oak, and climbed full-speed
the wind-swept hill. Now first our people saw
Cacus in fear, with panic in his eyes.
Swift to the black cave like a gale he flew,
his feet by terror winged. Scarce had he passed
the cavern door, and broken the big chains,
and dropped the huge rock which was pendent there
by Vulcan’s well-wrought steel; scarce blocked and barred
the guarded gate: when there Tirynthius stood,
with heart aflame, surveying each approach,
rolling this way and that his wrathful eyes,
gnashing his teeth. Three times his ire surveyed
the slope of Aventine; three times he stormed
the rock-built gate in vain; and thrice withdrew
to rest him in the vale. But high above
a pointed peak arose, sheer face of rock
on every side, which towered into view
from the long ridge above the vaulted cave,
fit haunt for birds of evil-boding wing.
This peak, which leftward toward the river leaned,
he smote upon its right — his utmost blow —
breaking its bases Ioose; then suddenly
thrust at it: as he thrust, the thunder-sound
filled all the arching sky, the river’s banks
asunder leaped, and Tiber in alarm
reversed his flowing wave. So Cacus’ lair
lay shelterless, and naked to the day
the gloomy caverns of his vast abode
stood open, deeply yawning, just as if
the riven earth should crack, and open wide
th’ infernal world and fearful kingdoms pale,
which gods abhor; and to the realms on high
the measureless abyss should be laid bare,
and pale ghosts shrink before the entering sun.
Now upon Cacus, startled by the glare,
caged in the rocks and howling horribly,
Alcides hurled his weapons, raining down
all sorts of deadly missiles — trunks of trees,
and monstrous boulders from the mountain torn.
But when the giant from his mortal strait
no refuge knew, he blew from his foul jaws
a storm of smoke — incredible to tell —
and with thick darkness blinding every eye,
concealed his cave, uprolling from below
one pitch-black night of mingled gloom and fire.
This would Alcides not endure, but leaped
headlong across the flames, where densest hung
the rolling smoke, and through the cavern surged
a drifting and impenetrable cloud.
With Cacus, who breathed unavailing flame,
he grappled in the dark, locked limb with limb,
and strangled him, till o’er the bloodless throat
the starting eyeballs stared.Then Hercules
burst wide the doorway of the sooty den,
and unto Heaven and all the people showed
the stolen cattle and the robber’s crimes,
and dragged forth by the feet the shapeless corpse
of the foul monster slain. The people gazed
insatiate on the grewsome eyes, the breast
of bristling shag, the face both beast and man,
and that fire-blasted throat whence breathed no more
the extinguished flame. ‘T is since that famous day
we celebrate this feast, and glad of heart
each generation keeps the holy time.
Potitius began the worship due,
and our Pinarian house is vowed to guard
the rites of Hercules. An altar fair
within this wood they raised; ‘t is called ‘the Great,’
and Ara Maxima its name shall be.
Come now, my warriors, and bind your brows
with garlands worthy of the gift of Heaven.
Lift high the cup in every thankful hand,
and praise our people’s god with plenteous wine.”
He spoke; and of the poplar’s changeful sheen,
sacred to Hercules, wove him a wreath
to shade his silvered brow. The sacred cup
he raised in his right hand, while all the rest
called on the gods and pure libation poured.
Soon from the travelling heavens the western star
glowed nearer, and Potitius led forth
the priest-procession, girt in ancient guise
with skins of beasts and carrying burning brands.
new feasts are spread, and altars heaped anew
with gifts and laden chargers. Then with song
the Salian choir surrounds the blazing shrine,
their foreheads wreathed with poplar. Here the youth,
the elders yonder, in proud anthem sing
the glory and the deeds of Hercules:
how first he strangled with strong infant hand
two serpents, Juno’s plague; what cities proud,
Troy and Oechalia, his famous war
in pieces broke; what labors numberless
as King Eurystheus’ bondman he endured,
by cruel Juno’s will. “Thou, unsubdued,
didst strike the twy-formed, cloud-bred centaurs down,
Pholus and tall Hylaeus. Thou hast slain
the Cretan horror, and the lion huge
beneath the Nemean crag. At sight of thee
the Stygian region quailed, and Cerberus,
crouching o’er half
-picked bones in gory cave.
Nothing could bid thee fear. Typhoeus towered
in his colossal Titan-panoply
o’er thee in vain; nor did thy cunning fail
when Lema’s wonder-serpent round thee drew
its multudinous head. Hail, Jove’s true son!
New glory to the gods above, come down,
and these thine altars and thy people bless!”
Such hymns they chanted, telling oft the tale
of Cacus’ cave and blasting breath of fire:
while hills and sacred grove the note prolong.
Such worship o’er, all take the homeward way
back to the town. The hospitable King,
though bowed with weight of years, kept at his side
Aeneas and his son, and as they fared,
with various discourse beguiled the way.
Aeneas scanned with quick-admiring eyes
the region wide, and lingered with delight
now here, now there, inquiring eagerly
of each proud monument of heroes gone.
Then King Evander, he who builded first
On Palatine, spoke thus: “These groves erewhile
their native nymphs and fauns enjoyed, with men
from trees engendered and stout heart of oak.
Nor laws nor arts they knew; nor how to tame
burls to the yoke, nor fill great barns with store
and hoard the gathered grain; but rudely fared
on wild fruits and such food as hunters find.
Then Saturn from Olympian realms came down,
in flight from Jove’s dread arms, his sceptre lost,
and he an exiled King. That savage race
he gathered from the mountain slopes; and gave
wise laws and statutes; so that latent land
was Latium, ‘hid land’, where he hid so long.
The golden centuries by legends told
were under that good King, whose equal sway
untroubled peace to all his peoples gave.
But after slow decline arrived an age
degenerate and of a darker hue,
prone to insensate war and greed of gain.
Then came Sicanian and Ausonian tribes,
and oft the land of Saturn lost its name.
New chieftains rose, and Thybris, giant King
and violent, from whom th’ Italians named
the flooding Tiber, which was called no more
the Albula, its true and ancient style.
Myself, in exile from my fatherland
sailing uncharted seas, was guided here
by all-disposing Chance and iron laws
of Destiny. With prophecy severe
Carmentis, my nymph-mother, thrust me on,
warned by Apollo’s word.” He scarce had said,
when near their path he showed an altar fair
and the Carmental gate, where Romans see
memorial of Carmentis, nymph divine,