Aeneid

but face to face I deemed I could discern

each countenance august and holy brow,

each mantled head; and from my body ran

cold sweat of awe. From my low couch I sprang,

lifting to heaven my suppliant hands and prayer,

and o'er my hearth poured forth libations free.

After th' auspicious offering, I told

Anchises the whole tale in order due.

He owned our stock two-branched, of our great sires

the twofold line, and that his thought had strayed,

in new confusion mingling ancient names;

then spoke: “O son, in Ilium's doom severe

afflicted ever! To my ears alone

this dark vicissitude Cassandra sang.

I mind me now that her wild tongue foretold

such destiny. For oft she called aloud

‘Hesperia!’ oft ‘Italia's kingdom!’ called.

But who had faith that Teucer's sons should come

to far Hesperia? What mortal ear

gave heed to sad Cassandra's voice divine?

Now Phoebus speaks. Obedient let us be,

and, warned by him, our happier Iot pursue!”

He spoke: with heart of hope we all obeyed;

again we changed abode; and, leaving there

a feeble few, again with spreading sails

we coursed in hollow ship the spacious sea.

When from the deep the shores had faded far,

and only sky and sea were round our way,

full in the zenith hung a purple cloud,

storm-laden, dark as night, and every wave

grew black and angry, while perpetual gales

came rolling o'er the main, and mountain-high

the wreckful surges rose; our ships were hurled

wide o'er the whirling waters; thunder-clouds

and misty murk of night made end of all

the light of heaven, save where the rifted storm

flashed with the oft-reiterate shaft of Jove.

Then went we drifting, beaten from our course,

upon a trackless sea. Not even the eyes

of Palinurus could tell night from noon

or ken our way. Three days of blinding dark,

three nights without a star, we roved the seas;

The fourth, land seemed to rise. Far distant hills

and rolling smoke we saw. Down came our sails,

out flew the oars, and with prompt stroke the crews

swept the dark waves and tossed the crested foam.

From such sea-peril safe, I made the shores

of Strophades,—a name the Grecians gave

to islands in the broad Ionic main, —

the Strophades, where dread Celaeno bides,

with other Harpies, who had quit the halls

of stricken Phineus, and for very fear

fled from the routed feast; no prodigy

more vile than these, nor plague more pitiless

ere rose by wrath divine from Stygian wave;

birds seem they, but with face like woman-kind;

foul-flowing bellies, hands with crooked claws,

and ghastly lips they have, with hunger pale.

Scarce had we made the haven, when, behold!

Fair herds of cattle roaming a wide plain,

and horned goats, untended, feeding free

in pastures green, surprised our happy eyes.

with eager blades we ran to take and slay,

asking of every god, and chicfly Jove,

to share the welcome prize: we ranged a feast,

with turf-built couches and a banquet-board

along the curving strand. But in a trice,

down from the high hills swooping horribly,

the Harpies loudly shrieking, flapped their wings,

snatched at our meats, and with infectious touch

polluted all; infernal was their cry,

the stench most vile. Once more in covert far

beneath a caverned rock, and close concealed

with trees and branching shade, we raised aloft

our tables, altars, and rekindled fires.

Once more from haunts unknown the clamorous flock

from every quarter flew, and seized its prey

with taloned feet and carrion lip most foul.

I called my mates to arms and opened war

on that accursed brood. My band obeyed;

and, hiding in deep grass their swords and shields,

in ambush lay. But presently the foe

swept o'er the winding shore with loud alarm :

then from a sentry-crag, Misenus blew

a signal on his hollow horn. My men

flew to the combat strange, and fain would wound

with martial steel those foul birds of the sea;

but on their sides no wounding blade could fall,

nor any plume be marred. In swiftest flight

to starry skies they soared, and left on earth

their half-gnawed, stolen feast, and footprints foul.

Celaeno only on a beetling crag

took lofty perch, and, prophetess of ill,

shrieked malediction from her vulture breast:

“Because of slaughtered kine and ravished herd,

sons of Laomedon, have ye made war?

And will ye from their rightful kingdom drive

the guiltless Harpies? Hear, O, hear my word

(Long in your bosoms may it rankle sore!)

which Jove omnipotent to Phoebus gave,