Aeneid

mark young Iulus' radiant brows divine,

his guileful words, the golden pall he bears,

and broidered veil with saffron lilies bound.

The Tyrian Queen ill-starred, already doomed

to her approaching woe, scanned ardently,

with kindling cheek and never-sated eyes,

the precious gifts and wonder-gifted boy.

He round Aeneas' neck his arms entwined,

fed the deep yearning of his seeming sire,

then sought the Queen's embrace; her eyes, her soul

clave to him as she strained him to her breast.

For Dido knew not in that fateful hour

how great a god betrayed her. He began,

remembering his mother (she who bore

the lovely Acidalian Graces three),

to make the dear name of Sichaeus fade,

and with new life, new love, to re-possess

her Iong-since slumbering bosom's Iost desire.

When the main feast is over, they replace

the banquet with huge bowls, and crown the wine

with ivy-leaf and rose. Loud rings the roof

with echoing voices; from the gilded vault

far-blazing cressets swing, or torches bright

drive the dark night away. The Queen herself

called for her golden chalice studded round

with jewels, and o'er-brimming it with wine

as Belus and his proud successors use,

commanded silence, and this utterance made:

“Great Jove, of whom are hospitable laws

for stranger-guest, may this auspicious day

bless both our Tyrians and the wanderers

from Trojan shore. May our posterity

keep this remembrance! Let kind Juno smile,

and Bacchus, Iord of mirth, attend us here!

And, O ye Tyrians, come one and all,

and with well-omened words our welcome share!”

So saying, she outpoured the sacred drop

due to the gods, and lightly from the rim

sipped the first taste, then unto Bitias gave

with urgent cheer; he seized it, nothing loth,

quaffed deep and long the foaming, golden bowl,

then passed to others. On a gilded Iyre

the flowing-haired Iopas woke a song

taught him by famous Atlas: of the moon

he sang, the wanderer, and what the sun's

vast labors be; then would his music tell

whence man and beast were born, and whence were bred

clouds, lightnings, and Arcturus' stormful sign,

the Hyades, rain-stars, and nigh the Pole

the great and lesser Wain; for well he knew

why colder suns make haste to quench their orb

in ocean-stream, and wintry nights be slow.

Loudly the Tyrians their minstrel praised,

and Troy gave prompt applause. Dido the while

with varying talk prolonged the fateful night,

and drank both long and deep of love and wine.

Now many a tale of Priam would she crave,

of Hector many; or what radiant arms

Aurora's son did wear; what were those steeds

of Diomed, or what the stature seemed

of great Achilles. “Come, illustrious guest,

begin the tale,” she said, “begin and tell

the perfidy of Greece, thy people's fall,

and all thy wanderings. For now,—Ah, me!

Seven times the summer's burning stars have seen

thee wandering far o'er alien lands and seas.”

A general silence fell; and all gave ear,

while, from his lofty station at the feast,

Father Aeneas with these words began :—

A grief unspeakable thy gracious word,

o sovereign lady, bids my heart live o'er:

how Asia's glory and afflicted throne

the Greek flung down; which woeful scene I saw,

and bore great part in each event I tell.

But O! in telling, what Dolopian churl,

or Myrmidon, or gory follower

of grim Ulysses could the tears restrain?

'T is evening; lo! the dews of night begin

to fall from heaven, and yonder sinking stars

invite to slumber. But if thy heart yearn

to hear in brief of all our evil days

and Troy's last throes, although the memory

makes my soul shudder and recoil in pain,

I will essay it. Wearied of the war,

and by ill-fortune crushed, year after year,

the kings of Greece, by Pallas' skill divine,

build a huge horse, a thing of mountain size,

with timbered ribs of fir. They falsely say

it has been vowed to Heaven for safe return,

and spread this lie abroad. Then they conceal

choice bands of warriors in the deep, dark side,

and fill the caverns of that monstrous womb

with arms and soldiery. In sight of Troy

lies Tenedos, an island widely famed

and opulent, ere Priam's kingdom fell,

but a poor haven now, with anchorage

not half secure; 't was thitherward they sailed,

and lurked unseen by that abandoned shore.

We deemed them launched away and sailing far,

bound homeward for Mycenae. Teucria then