Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  All set to work, and strip the watchfires bare:

  Each warrior arms him with a murky brand:

  The smoking torch shoots up a pitchy glare, 82

  And clouds of mingled soot the Fire-god flings in air.

  XI . Say, Muse, what god from Teucrians turned the flame,

  Such fiery havoc. O, the tale declare;

  Old is its faith, but deathless is its fame.

  When first Æneas did his fleet prepare

  ‘Neath Phrygian Ida, through the seas to fare,

  To Jove the Berecynthian queen divine

  Spake thus, ’tis said, urging a suppliant’s prayer:

  “O Lord Olympian, hearken and incline. 91

  Grant what thy mother asks, who made Olympus thine.

  XII . “A wood, beloved for many a year, was mine,

  A grove of sacrifice, on Ida’s height,

  Darksome with maple and the swart pitch-pine.

  This wood, these trees, my ever-dear delight,

  Gladly I gave to speed the Dardan’s flight.

  But doubts and fears my troubled mind assail.

  O calm them; may a parent’s prayer have might,

  And this their birth upon our hills avail 100

  To guide their voyage safe, and shield them from the gale.”

  XIII . Then spake her son, who wields the starry sphere,

  “Mother, what would’st thou of the Fates demand?

  What art thou seeking for these Teucrians here?

  Shall vessels, fashioned by a mortal hand,

  The gift of immortality command?

  And shall Æneas sail the uncertain main,

  Himself of safety certain, and his band?

  Did ever God such privilege attain? 109

  Nay, rather, when at length, Ausonian ports they gain,

  XIV . “Their duty done, and Ocean’s dangers o’er,

  What ships soe’er shall have escaped, to bear

  The Dardan chief to the Laurentian shore,

  Shall lose their perishable form, and wear

  The sea-nymphs’ shape, like Galatea fair

  And Doto, when they breast the deep.” He spake,

  And by his brother’s Stygian river sware,

  Whose pitchy torrent swells the infernal lake, 118

  And with his awful nod made all Olympus shake.

  XV . The day was come, the fated time complete,

  When Turnus’ insults bade the Mother rise

  And ward the firebrands from her sacred fleet.

  A sudden light now flashed upon their eyes,

  A cloud from eastward ran athwart the skies,

  With choirs of Ida, and a voice through air

  Pealed forth, and filled both armies with surprise,

  “Trojans, be calm; your needless pains forbear, 127

  Nor arm to save these ships; their safety is my care.

  XVI . “Sooner shall Turnus make the ocean blaze,

  Than these my pines. Go, sea-nymphs, and be free,

  Your mother bids you.” Each at once obeys,

  Their cables snapt, like dolphins in their glee,

  They dip their beaks, and dive beneath the sea.

  Hence, where before along the shore had stood

  The brazen poops — O marvellous to see! —

  So many now, with maiden forms endued, 136

  Rise up, and reappear, and float upon the flood.

  XVII . All stand aghast; amid the startled steeds

  Messapus quails, and Tiber checks his tide,

  And, hoarsely murmuring, from the deep recedes.

  Yet fails not Turnus, prompt to cheer or chide.

  “To Teucrians point these prodigies,” he cried,

  “They bide not, they, Rutulian sword and brand.

  E’en Jove their wonted succour hath denied.

  Barred is the sea, and half the world is banned; 145

  Earth, too, is ours, such hosts Italia’s chiefs command.

  XVIII . “I fear not Fate, nor what the Gods can do.

  Suffice for Venus and the Fates the day

  When Trojans touched Ausonia. I have, too,

  My Fates, these robbers of my bride to slay.

  Not Atreus’ sons alone, and only they,

  Have known a sorrow and a smart so keen,

  And armed for vengeance. But enough, ye say,

  Once to have fallen? One trespass then had been 154

  Enough, and made them loathe all womankind, I ween.

  XIX . “Lo, these who think a paltry wall can save,

  A narrow ditch can thwart us, — these, so bold,

  With but a span betwixt them and the grave!

  Saw they not Troy, which Neptune reared of old,

  Sink down in ruin, as the flames uprolled?

  But ye, my chosen, who with me will scale

  Yon wall, and storm their trembling camp? Behold,

  No aid divine nor ships of thousand sail, 163

  Nor Vulcan’s arms I need, o’er Trojans to prevail.

  XX . “Nay; let Etrurians join them, one and all,

  No raid, nor robbed Palladium they shall fear,

  Nor sentries stabbed beneath the night’s dark pall.

  No horse shall hide us; by the daylight clear

  Our flames shall ring their ramparts. Dream they here

  To find such Danaan striplings, weak as they

  Whom Hector baffled till the tenth long year?

  But now, since near its ending draws the day, 172

  Take rest, and bide prepared the dawning of the fray.”

  XXI . His outposts plants Messapus, set to guard

  The gates with watchfires, and the walls invest.

  Twice seven captains round the camp keep ward,

  Each with a hundred warriors of the best,

  With golden armour and a blood-red crest.

  These to and fro pace sentinels, and share

  The watch in turn; those, on the sward at rest,

  Tilt the brass wine-bowl. Bright the watch-fires flare, 181

  And games and festive mirth the wakeful night outwear.

  XXII . Forth look the Trojans from their walls, and line

  The heights in arms, and test with hurrying fear

  The gates, and bridges to the bulwarks join,

  And bring up darts and javelins. Mnestheus here,

  There bold Serestus is at hand to cheer,

  They, whom Æneas left to rule the host,

  Should ill betide them, or the foe draw near.

  Thus all in turn, where peril pressed the most, 190

  Keep watch along the wall, dividing danger’s post.

  XXIII . Nisus, the bold, stood warder of the gate,

  The son of Hyrtacus, whom Ida fair,

  The huntress, on Æneas sent to wait,

  Quick with light arrows and the flying spear.

  Beside him stood Euryalus, his fere;

  Scarce on his cheeks the down of manhood grew,

  The comeliest youth that donned the Trojan gear.

  Love made them one; as one, to fight they flew, 199

  As one they guard the gates, companions tried and true.

  XXIV . Then Nisus: “Is it that the Gods inspire,

  Euryalus, this fever of the breast?

  Or make we gods of but a wild desire?

  Battle I seek, or some adventurous quest,

  And scorn to dally with inglorious rest,

  See yonder the Rutulians, stretched supine,

  What careless confidence is theirs, oppressed

  With wine and slumber; how the watch-fires shine, 208

  Faint, few, and far between; what silence holds the line.

  XXV . “Learn now the plan and purpose of my mind,

  ‘Æneas should be summoned,’ one and all, —

  Camp, council, — cry, and messengers would find

  To take sure tidings and our chief recall.

  If thee the meed I ask for shall befall, —

 
Bare fame be mine — methink the pathway lies

  By yonder mound to Pallanteum’s wall.”

  Then, fired with zeal and smitten with surprise, 217

  Thus to his ardent friend Euryalus replies:

  XXVI . “Me, me would Nisus from such deeds debar?

  Am I to send thee singly to thy fate?

  Not thus my sire Opheltes, bred to war,

  Brought up and taught me, when in evil strait

  Was Troy, and Argives battered at her gate.

  Not thus to great Æneas was I known,

  His trusty follower through the paths of Fate.

  Here dwells a soul that dares the light disown, 226

  And counteth life well sold, to purchase such renown.”

  XXVII . “For thee I feared not,” Nisus made reply,

  “‘Twere shame, indeed, to doubt a friend so tried.

  So may great Jove, or whosoe’er on high

  With equal eyes this exploit shall decide,

  Restore me soon in triumph to thy side.

  But if — for divers hazards underlie

  So bold a venture — evil chance betide,

  Or angry deity my hopes bely, 235

  Thee Heaven preserve, whose youth far less deserves to die.

  XXVIII . “Mine be a friend to lay me, if I fall,

  Rescued or ransomed, in my native ground;

  Or, if hard fortune grudge a boon so small,

  To make fit honour to my shade redound,

  And o’er the lost one rear an empty mound.

  Ne’er let a childless mother owe to me

  A pang so keen, and such a cureless wound.

  She, who, alone of mothers, dared for thee 244

  Acestes’ walls to leave, and braved the stormy sea.”

  XXIX . “My purpose holds and shifts not,” he replies,

  “These empty pretexts cannot shake me — no.

  Hence, let us haste.” And to the guard he cries,

  Who straight march up, and forth the two friends go

  To find the chief. All creatures else below

  Lay wrapt in sleep, forgetting toil and care;

  But sleepless still, in presence of the foe,

  Troy’s chosen chiefs urge council, what to dare, 253

  Whom to Æneas send, the desperate news to bear.

  XXX . There, in the middle of the camp and plain,

  Each shield in hand, and leaning on his spear,

  They stand; when lo! in eager haste the twain,

  Craving an audience instantly, appear.

  High matter theirs, and worth a pause to hear.

  Then first Iulus greets the breathless pair,

  And calls to Nisus. “Dardans, lend an ear,”

  Outspake the son of Hyrtacus, “Be fair, 262

  Nor rate by youthful years the proffered aid we bear.

  XXXI . “See, hushed with wine and slumber, lies the foe.

  Where by the sea-gate, parts the road in twain,

  A stealthy passage from the camp we know.

  Black roll the smoke-clouds, and the watch-fires wane.

  Leave us to try our fortune, soon again

  Yourselves shall see, from Pallanteum’s town,

  Æneas, rich with trophies of the slain.

  Plain lies the path, for oft the chase hath shown 271

  From darksome vales the town, and all the stream is known.”

  XXXII . “O Gods!” exclaimed Aletes, wise and old,

  “Not yet ye mean to raze the Trojan race,

  Who give to Troy such gallant hearts and bold.”

  So saying, he clasped them in a fond embrace,

  And bathed in tears his features and his face.

  “What gifts can match such valour? Deeds so bright

  Heaven and your hearts with fairest meed shall grace.

  The rest our good Æneas shall requite, 280

  Nor young Ascanius e’er such services shall slight.”

  XXXIII . “Yea, gallant Nisus,” adds Ascanius there,

  “I, too, who count my father’s safety mine,

  Adjure thee, by the household gods I swear

  Of old Assaracus and Teucer’s line,

  And hoary Vesta’s venerable shrine,

  Whate’er of fortune or of hopes remain,

  To thee and thy safe-keeping I resign.

  Bring back my sire in safety; care nor pain 289

  Shall ever vex me more, if he return again.

  XXXIV . “Two goblets will I give thee, richly wrought

  Of sculptured silver, beauteous to behold,

  The spoils my sire from sacked Arisbe brought,

  With two great talents of the purest gold,

  Two tripods, and a bowl of antique mould,

  The gift at Carthage of the Tyrian queen.

  Nay, more, if e’er Italia’s realm I hold,

  And share the spoils of conquest, — thou hast seen 298

  The steed that Turnus rode, his arms of golden sheen, —

  XXXV . “That steed, that shield, that crest of crimson hue,

  I keep for thee, — thine, Nisus, from to-day.

  Twelve lovely matrons and male captives too,

  Each with his armour, shall my sire convey,

  With all the lands that own Latinus’ sway.

  But thee, whose years the most with mine agree,

  Brave youth! my heart doth welcome. Come what may,

  In peace or war my comrade shalt thou be. 307

  Thine are my thoughts, my deeds; fame tempts me but for thee.”

  XXXVI . “No time, I ween,” Euryalus replies,

  “Shall shame the promise of this bold design,

  Come weal, come woe. One boon alone I prize

  Beyond all gifts. A mother dear is mine,

  A mother, sprung from Priam’s ancient line.

  Troy nor the walls of King Acestes e’er

  Stayed her from following, when I crossed the brine.

  Her of this risk — whate’er the risk I dare — 316

  Weetless, I left behind, nor breathed a parting prayer.

  XXXVII . “Night bear me witness; by thy hand I swear,

  I cannot bear a parent’s tears. But O!

  Be thou her solace, comfort her despair;

  This hope permit, and bolder will I go,

  To face all hazards and confront the foe.”

  Grief smote the Dardans, and the tears ran down,

  And young Iulus, pierced with kindred woe,

  Outweeps them all; in filial love thus shown, 325

  Touched to the heart, he traced the likeness of his own.

  XXXVIII . “All, all,” he cries, “that such a deed can claim,

  I promise for thy guerdon. Mine shall be

  Thy mother, — mine, Creusa save in name;

  Nor small her praise to bear a son like thee.

  Howe’er shall Fortune the event decree,

  I swear — so swore my father — by my head,

  What gifts I pledge, if thou return, to thee,

  These, if thou fall, thy mother in thy stead, 334

  These shall thy kinsmen keep, the heirlooms of the dead.”

  XXXIX . Weeping, the gilded falchion he untied,

  Lycaon’s work, with sheath of ivory fair.

  To Nisus Mnestheus gave a lion’s hide,

  His helmet changed Aletes. Forth they fare,

  And round them to the gates, with vows and prayer,

  The band of chiefs their parting steps attend;

  And, manlier than his years, Iulus fair

  Full many a message to his sire would send. 343

  Vain wish! his fruitless words the scattering breezes rend.

  XL . So past the trench, upon the shadowy plain

  Forth issuing, to the foemen’s tents they creep,

  Fatal to many, ere the camp they gain.

  Warriors they see, who drank the wine-bowl deep,

  Beside their tilted chariots stretched in sleep,

  An
d reins, and wheels and wine-jars tost away,

  And arms and men in many a mingled heap.

  Then Nisus: “Up, Euryalus, and slay! 352

  Haste, for the hour is ripe, and yonder lies the way.

  XLI . “Watch thou, lest hand be lifted in the rear.

  There, flanked with swaths of corpses, will I reap

  Thy pathway; broad shall be the lane and clear.”

  So saying, he checks his voice, and, aiming steep,

  Drives at proud Rhamnes. On a piled-up heap

  Of carpets lay the warrior, and his breast

  Heaved with hard breathing and the sounds of sleep:

  Augur and king, whom Turnus loved the best. 361

  Not all his augur’s craft could now his doom arrest.

  XLII . Three slaves beside him, lying heedless here

  Amidst their arms, he numbers with the slain,

  Then Remus’ page, and Remus’ charioteer,

  Caught by their steeds. The weapon, urged amain,

  Swoops down, and cleaves their drooping necks in twain.

  Their master’s head he severs with a blow,

  And leaves the trunk, still heaving, on the plain,

  And o’er the cushions and the ground below, 370

  Wet with the warm, black gore, the spouting streams outflow.

  XLIII . Lamus and Lamyras he slew outright,

  And fair Serranus, as asleep he lay,

  Tamed by the God; for long and late that night

  The youth had gamed. Ah! happier, had his play

  Outlived the night, and lasted till the day.

  Like some starved lion, that on the teeming fold

  Springs, mad with hunger, and the feeble prey,

  All mute with terror, in his clutch doth hold, 379

  And rends with bloody mouth, and riots uncontrolled,

  XLIV . Such havoc wrought Euryalus, so flamed

  His fury. Fadus and Herbesus died,

  And Abaris, and many a wight unnamed,

  Caught unaware. But Rhoetus woke, and tried

  In fear behind a massive bowl to hide.

  Full in the breast, or e’er the wretch upstood,

  The shining sword-blade to the hilt he plied,

  Then drew it back death-laden. Wine and blood 388

  Gush out, the dying lips disgorge the crimson flood.