Aeneid

had fit gifts from the King; whose bounty then

gave steeds and riders; and new gear was sent

to every sea-worn ship, while he supplied

seafarers, kit to all my loyal crews.

Anchises bade us speedily set sail,

nor lose a wind so fair; and answering him,

Apollo's priest made reverent adieu:

“Anchises, honored by the love sublime

of Venus, self and twice in safety borne

from falling Troy, chief care of kindly Heaven,

th' Ausonian shore is thine. Sail thitherward!

For thou art pre-ordained to travel far

o'er yonder seas; far in the distance lies

that region of Ausonia, Phoebus' voice

to thee made promise of. Onward, I say,

o blest in the exceeding loyal love

of thy dear son! Why keep thee longer now?

Why should my words yon gathering winds detain?”

Likewise Andromache in mournful guise

took last farewell, bringing embroidered robes

of golden woof; a princely Phrygian cloak

she gave Ascanius, vying with the King

in gifts of honor; and threw o'er the boy

the labors of her loom, with words like these:

“Accept these gifts, sweet youth, memorials

of me and my poor handicraft, to prove

th' undying friendship of Andromache,

once Hector's wife. Take these last offerings

of those who are thy kin—O thou that art

of my Astyanax in all this world

the only image! His thy lovely eyes!

Thy hands, thy lips, are even what he bore,

and like thy own his youthful bloom would be.”

Thus I made answer, turning to depart

with rising tears: “Live on, and be ye blessed,

whose greatness is accomplished! As for me,

from change to change Fate summons, and I go;

but ye have won repose. No leagues of sea

await your cleaving keel. Not yours the quest

of fading Italy's delusive shore.

Here a new Xanthus and a second Troy

your labor fashioned and your eyes may see—

more blest, I trust, less tempting to our foes!

If e'er on Tiber and its bordering vales

I safely enter, and these eyes behold

our destined walls, then in fraternal bond

let our two nations live, whose mutual boast

is one Dardanian blood, one common story.

Epirus with Hesperia shall be

one Troy in heart and soul. But this remains

for our sons' sons the happy task and care.”

Forth o'er the seas we sped and kept our course

nigh the Ceraunian headland, where begins

the short sea-passage unto Italy.

Soon sank the sun, while down the shadowed hills

stole deeper gloom; then making shore, we flung

our bodies on a dry, sea-bordering sand,

couched on earth's welcome breast; the oars were ranged

in order due; the tides of slumber dark

o'erflowed our lives. But scarce the chariot

of Night, on wings of swift, obedient Hours,

had touched the middle sky, when wakeful sprang

good Palinurus from his pillowed stone:

with hand at ear he caught each airy gust

and questioned of the winds; the gliding stars

he called by name, as onward they advanced

through the still heaven; Arcturus he beheld,

the Hyades, rain-bringers, the twin Bears,

and vast Orion girt in golden arms.

He blew a trumpet from his ship; our camp

stirred to the signal for embarking; soon

we rode the seas once more with swelling sail.

Scarce had Aurora's purple from the sky

warned off the stars, when Iying very low

along th' horizon, the dimmed hills we saw

of Italy; Achates first gave cry

“Italia!” with answering shouts of joy,

my comrades' voices cried, “Italia, hail!”

Anchises, then, wreathed a great bowl with flowers

and filled with wine, invoking Heaven to bless,

and thus he prayed from our ship's lofty stern:

“O Iords of land and sea and every storm!

Breathe favoring breezes for our onward way!”

Fresh blew the prayed-for winds. A haven fair

soon widened near us; and its heights were crowned

by a Greek fane to Pallas. Yet my men

furled sail and shoreward veered the pointing prow.

the port receding from the orient wave

is curved into a bow; on either side

the jutting headlands toss the salt sea-foam

and hide the bay itself. Like double wall

the towered crags send down protecting arms,

while distant from the shore the temple stands.

Here on a green sward, the first omen given,

I saw four horses grazing through the field,

each white as snow. Father Anchises cried:

“Is war thy gift, O new and alien land?

Horses make war; of war these creatures bode.

Yet oft before the chariot of peace

their swift hoofs go, and on their necks they bear