Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  “Shall I put faith in ocean’s treacherous face,

  And trust Æneas to the flattering skies, 1027

  I, whom their smiles oft fooled, but folly hath made wise?”

  CXVI . So saying, he grasped the tiller, nor his hold

  Relaxed, nor ever from the stars withdrew

  His steadfast eyes, still watchful when behold!

  A slumberous bough the god revealed to view,

  Thrice dipt in Styx, and drenched with Lethe’s dew.

  Then, lightly sprinkling, o’er the pilot’s brows

  The drowsy dewdrops from the leaves he threw.

  Dim grow his eyes; the languor of repose 1036

  Steals o’er his faltering sense, the lingering eyelids close.

  CXVII . Scarce now his limbs were loosened by the spell,

  Down weighed the god, and in the rolling main

  Dashed him headforemost, clutching, as he fell,

  Stern timbers torn, and rudder rent in twain,

  And calling oft his comrades, but in vain.

  This done, his wings he balanced, and away

  Soared skyward. Natheless o’er the broad sea-plain

  The ships sail on; safe lies the watery way, 1045

  For Neptune’s plighted words the seamen’s cares allay.

  CXVIII . Now near the Sirens’ perilous cliffs they draw,

  White with men’s bones, and hear the surf-beat side

  Roar with hoarse thunder. Here the Sire, who saw

  The ship was labouring, and had lost her guide,

  Straight seized the helm, and steered her through the tide,

  While, grieved in heart, with many a groan and sigh,

  He mourned for Palinurus. “Ah,” he cried,

  “For faith reposed on flattering sea and sky, 1054

  Left on an unknown shore, thy naked corpse must lie!”

  BOOK SIX

  ARGUMENT

  Arrived at Cumæ Æneas visits the Sibyl’s shrine, and, after prayer and sacrifice to Apollo, asks access to the nether-world to visit his father (1-162). He must first pluck for Proserpine the golden bough and bury a dead comrade (163-198). After the death and burial of Misenus, Æneas finds and gathers the golden bough (199-261). Preparation and Invocation (262-328). The start (329-333). The “dreadful faces” that guard the outskirts of Hell. Charon’s ferry and the unburied dead (334-405). Palinurus approaches and entreats burial. Passing by Charon and Cerberus, they see the phantoms of suicides, of children, of lovers, and experience Dido’s disdain (406-559). From Greek and Trojan shades Deiphobus is singled out to tell his story (560-644). The Sibyl hurries Æneas on past the approach to Tartarus, describing by the way its rulers and its horrors. Finally, they reach Elysium and gain entrance (645-757). The search among the shades of the Blessed for Anchises, and the meeting between father and son (758-828). Anchises explains the mystery of the Transmigration of Souls, and the book closes with the revelation to Æneas of the future greatness of Rome, whose heroes, from the days of the kings to the times of Augustus, pass in procession before him (829-1071). He is then dismissed through the Ivory Gate, and sails on his way to Caieta (1072-1080).

  I . Weeping he speaks, and gives his fleet the rein,

  And glides at length to the Euboean strand

  Of Cumæ. There, with prows towards the main,

  Safe-fastened by the biting anchors, stand

  The vessels, and the round sterns line the land.

  Forth on the shore, in eager haste to claim

  Hesperia’s welcome, leaps a youthful band.

  These search the flint-stones for the seeds of flame, 1

  Those point to new-found streams, or scour the woods for game.

  II . But good Æneas seeks the castled height

  And temple, to the great Apollo dear,

  And the vast cave where, hidden far from sight

  Within her sanctuary dark and drear,

  Dwells the dread Sibyl, whom the Delian seer

  Inspires with soul and wisdom to unfold

  The things to come. — So now, approaching near

  Through Trivia’s grove, the temple they behold, 10

  And entering, see the roof all glittering with gold.

  III . Fame is, that Dædalus, adventuring forth

  On rapid wings, from Minos’ realms in flight,

  Trusted the sky, and to the frosty North

  Swam his strange way, till on the tower-girt height

  Of Chalcis gently he essayed to light.

  Here, touching first the wished-for land again,

  To thee, great Phoebus, and thy guardian might,

  He vowed, and bade as offerings to remain, 19

  The oarage of his wings, and built a stately fane.

  IV . Androgeos’ death is graven on the gate;

  There stand the sons of Cecrops, doomed each year

  With seven victims to atone his fate.

  The lots are drawn; the fatal urn is near.

  Here, o’er the deep the Gnossian fields appear,

  The bull — the cruel passion — the embrace

  Stol’n from Pasiphae — all the tale is here;

  The Minotaur, half human, beast in face, 28

  Record of nameless lust, and token of disgrace.

  V . There, toil-wrought house and labyrinthine grove,

  With tangled maze, too intricate to tread,

  But that, in pity for the queen’s great love,

  Its secret Dædalus revealed, and led

  Her lover’s blinded footsteps with a thread.

  There, too, had sorrow not the wish denied,

  Thy name and fame, poor Icarus, were read.

  Twice in the gold to carve thy fate he tried, 37

  And twice the father’s hands dropped faltering to his side.

  VI . So they in gazing had the time beguiled,

  But now, returning from his quest, comes near

  Achates, with Deiphobe, the child

  Of Glaucus, Phoebus’ and Diana’s seer.

  “Not this,” she cries, “the time for tarrying here

  For shows like these. Go, hither bring with speed

  Seven ewes, the choicest, and with each a steer

  Unyoked, in honour of the God to bleed.” 46

  So to the Chief she spake, and straight his followers heed.

  VII . Into the lofty temple now with speed, —

  A huge cave hollowed in the mountain’s side, —

  The priestess calls the Teucrians. Thither lead

  A hundred doors, a hundred entries wide,

  A hundred voices from the rock inside

  Peal forth, the Sibyl answering. So they

  Had reached the threshold, when the maiden cried,

  “Now ’tis the time to seek the fates and pray; 55

  Behold, behold the God!” and standing there, straightway,

  VIII . Her colour and her features change; loose streams

  Her hair disordered, and her heart distrest

  Swells with wild frenzy. Larger now she seems,

  Her voice not mortal, as her heaving breast

  Pants, with the approaching Deity possest.

  “Pray, Trojan,” peals her warning utterance, “pray!

  Cease not, Æneas, nor withhold thy quest,

  Nor stint thy vows. While dumbly ye delay, 64

  Ne’er shall its yawning doors the spell-bound house display.”

  IX . She ceased: at once an icy chill ran through

  The sturdy Trojans. From his inmost heart

  Thus prayed the King: “O Phoebus, wont to view

  With pity Troy’s sore travail; thou, whose art

  True to Achilles aimed the Dardan dart,

  How oft, thou guiding, have I tracked the main

  Round mighty lands, to earth’s remotest part

  Massylian tribes and Libya’s sandy plain: 73

  Scarce now the flying shores of Italy we gain.

  X . “Enough, thus far Troy’s destin
ies to bear,

  Ye, too, at length, your anger may abate

  And deign the race of Pergamus to spare,

  O Gods and Goddesses, who viewed with hate

  Troy and the glories of the Dardan state.

  And thou, dread mistress of prophetic lore,

  Grant us — I ask but what is due by Fate,

  Our promised realms — that on the Latian shore 82

  Troy’s sons and wandering gods may find a home once more.

  XI . “To Phoebus then and Trivia’s sacred name,

  Thy patron powers, a temple will I rear

  Of solid marble, and due rites proclaim

  And festal days, for votaries each year

  The name of guardian Phoebus to revere.

  Thee, too, hereafter in our realms await

  Shrines of the stateliest, for thy name is dear.

  There safe shall rest the mystic words of Fate, 91

  And chosen priests shall guard the oracles of state.

  XII . “Only to leaves commit not, priestess kind,

  Thy verse, lest fragments of the mystic scroll

  Fly, tost abroad, the playthings of the wind.

  Thyself in song the oracle unroll.”

  He ceased; the seer, impatient of control,

  Strives, like a frenzied Bacchant, in her cell,

  To shake the mighty deity from her soul.

  So much the more, her raging heart to quell, 100

  He tires the foaming mouth, and shapes her to his spell.

  XIII . Then yawned the hundred gates, and every door,

  Self-opening suddenly, revealed the fane,

  And through the air the Sibyl’s answer bore:

  “O freed from Ocean’s perils, but in vain,

  Worse evils yet upon the land remain.

  Doubt not; Troy’s sons shall reach Lavinium’s shore,

  And rule in Latium; so the Fates ordain.

  Yet shall they rue their coming. Woes in store, 109

  Wars, savage wars, I see, and Tiber foam with gore.

  XIV . “A Xanthus there and Simois shall be seen,

  And Doric tents; Achilles, goddess-born,

  Shall rise anew, nor Jove’s relentless Queen

  Shall cease to vex the Teucrians night and morn.

  Then oft shalt thou, sore straitened and forlorn,

  All towns and tribes of Italy implore

  To grant thee shelter from the foemen’s scorn.

  An alien bride, a foreign bed once more 118

  Shall bring the old, old woes, the ancient feud restore.

  XV . “Yield not to evils, but the bolder thou

  Persist, defiant of misfortune’s frown,

  And take the path thy Destinies allow.

  Hope, where unlooked for, comes thy toils to crown,

  Thy road to safety from a Grecian town.”

  So sang the Sibyl from her echoing fane,

  And, wrapping truth in mystery, made known

  The dark enigmas of her frenzied strain. 127

  So Phoebus plied the goad, and shook the maddening rein.

  XVI . Soon ceased the fit, the foaming lips were still.

  “O maiden,” said Æneas, “me no more

  Can danger startle, nor strange shape of ill.

  All have I seen and throughly conned before.

  One boon I beg, — since yonder are the door

  Of Pluto, and the gloomy lakes, they tell,

  Fed by o’erflowing Acheron, — once more

  To see the father whom I loved so well. 136

  Teach me the way, and ope the sacred gates of hell.

  XVII . “Him on these shoulders, in the days ago,

  A thousand darts behind us, did I bear

  Safe through the thickest of the flames and foe.

  He, partner of my travels, loved to share

  The threats of ocean and the storms of air,

  Though weak, yet strong beyond the lot of age.

  ’Twas he who bade me, with prevailing prayer,

  Approach thee humbly, and thy care engage, 145

  Pity the sire and son, and Trojan hearts assuage.

  XVIII . “For thou can’st all, nor Hecate for naught

  Hath set thee o’er Avernus’ groves to reign.

  If Orpheus from the shades his bride up-brought,

  Trusting his Thracian harp and sounding strain,

  If Pollux could from Pluto’s drear domain

  His brother by alternate death reclaim,

  And tread the road to Hades o’er again

  Oft and so oft — why great Alcides name? 154

  Why Theseus? I, as they, Jove’s ancestry can claim.”

  XIX . So prayed Æneas, clinging to the shrine,

  When thus the prophetess: “O Trojan Knight,

  Born of Anchises, and of seed divine,

  Down to Avernus the descent is light,

  The gate of Dis stands open day and night.

  But upward thence thy journey to retrace,

  There lies the labour; ’tis a task of might,

  By few achieved, and those of heavenly race, 163

  Whom shining worth extolled or Jove hath deigned to grace.

  XX . “Thick woods and shades the middle space invest,

  And black Cocytus girds the drear abode.

  Yet, if such passion hath thy soul possessed,

  If so thou longest to indulge thy mood,

  And madly twice to cross the Stygian flood,

  And visit twice black Tartarus, mark the way

  Sacred to nether Juno, in a wood,

  With golden stem and foliage, lurks a spray, 172

  And trees and darksome dales surrounding shroud the day.

  XXI . “Yet none the shades can visit, till he tear

  That golden growth, the gift of Pluto’s queen,

  And show the passport she decreed to bear.

  One plucked, another in its place is seen,

  As bright and burgeoning with golden green.

  Search then aloft, and when thou see’st the spray,

  Reach forth and pluck it; willingly, I ween,

  If Fate shall call thee, ‘twill thy touch obey; 181

  Else steel nor strength of arm shall rend the prize away.

  XXII . “Mark yet — alas! thou know’st not — yonder lies

  Thy friend’s dead body, and pollutes the shore.

  While thou the Fates art asking to advise,

  And lingering here, a suppliant, at our door.

  Nay, first thy comrade to his home restore,

  And build a tomb, and bring black cattle; they

  The stain shall expiate; so the Stygian shore

  Shalt thou behold, and tread the sunless way, 190

  Which living feet ne’er trod, and mounted to the day.”

  XXIII . She ended. From the cave Æneas went,

  With down-dropt eyes and melancholy mien,

  Inly revolving many a dark event.

  Trusty Achates at his side is seen,

  Moody alike, each measured step between

  In musing converse framing phantasies,

  What lifeless comrade could the priestess mean?

  Whom to be buried? When before their eyes, 199

  Stretched on the barren beach the dead Misenus lies,

  XXIV . Dead with dishonour, in unseemly plight,

  Misenus, son of Æolus, whom beside

  None better knew with brazen blast to light

  The flames of war, and wake the warrior’s pride.

  Once Hector’s co-mate, proud at Hector’s side

  To wind the clarion and the sword to wield.

  When, stricken by Achilles, Hector died,

  Æneas then he followed to the field, 208

  Loth to a meaner lord his fealty to yield.

  XXV . Now while a challenge to the gods he blew,

  And made the waves his hollow shell resound,

  Him Triton, jealous — if the tale be true —

 
Caught unaware, and in the surges drowned

  Among the rocks. — There now the corpse they found.

  Loud groaned Æneas, and a mournful cry

  Rose from the Trojans, as they gazed around.

  Then, filled with tears, the Sibyl’s task they ply, 217

  And rear a wood-built pile and altar to the sky.

  XXVI . Into a grove of aged trees they go,

  The wild-beasts’ lair. The holm-oak rings amain,

  Smit with the axe, the pitchy pine falls low,

  Sharp wedges cleave the beechen core in twain,

  The mountain ash comes rolling to the plain.

  Foremost himself, accoutred as the rest,

  Æneas cheered them, toiling with his train;

  Then, musing sadly, and with pensive breast, 226

  Gazed on the boundless grove, and thus his prayer addressed:

  XXVII . “O in this grove could I behold the tree

  With golden bough; since true, alas, too true,

  Misenus, hath the priestess sung of thee!”

  He spake, when, lighting on the sward, down flew

  Two doves. With joy his mother’s birds he knew,

  “Lead on, blest guides, along the air,” he prayed,

  “If way there be, the precious bough to view,

  Whose golden leaves the teeming soil o’ershade; 235

  O mother, solve my doubts, nor stint the needed aid.”

  XXVIII . So saying, he stays his footsteps, fain to heed

  What signs they give, and whitherward their flight.

  Awhile they fly, awhile they stop to feed,

  Then, fluttering, keep within the range of sight,

  Till, coming where Avernus, dark as night,

  Gapes, with rank vapours from its depths uprolled,

  Aloft they soar, and through the liquid height

  Dart to the tree, where, wondrous to behold, 244

  The varying green sets forth the glitter of the gold.

  XXIX . As in the woods, in winter’s cold, is seen,

  Sown on an alien tree, the mistletoe

  To bloom afresh with foliage newly green,

  And round the tapering boles its arms to throw,

  Laden with yellow fruitage, even so

  The oak’s dark boughs the golden leaves display,