Aeneid

or mingle with her word some tidings true.

She now with changeful story filled men's ears,

exultant, whether false or true she sung:

how, Trojan-born Aeneas having come,

Dido, the lovely widow, Iooked his way,

deigning to wed; how all the winter long

they passed in revel and voluptuous ease,

to dalliance given o'er; naught heeding now

of crown or kingdom—shameless! lust-enslaved!

Such tidings broadcast on the lips of men

the filthy goddess spread; and soon she hied

to King Iarbas, where her hateful song

to newly-swollen wrath his heart inflamed.

Him the god Ammon got by forced embrace

upon a Libyan nymph; his kingdoms wide

possessed a hundred ample shrines to Jove,

a hundred altars whence ascended ever

the fires of sacrifice, perpetual seats

for a great god's abode, where flowing blood

enriched the ground, and on the portals hung

garlands of every flower. The angered King,

half-maddened by malignant Rumor's voice,

unto his favored altars came, and there,

surrounded by the effluence divine,

upraised in prayer to Jove his suppliant hands.

“Almighty Jupiter, to whom each day,

at banquet on the painted couch reclined,

Numidia pours libation! Do thine eyes

behold us? Or when out of yonder heaven,

o sire, thou launchest the swift thunderbolt,

is it for naught we fear thee? Do the clouds

shoot forth blind fire to terrify the soul

with wild, unmeaning roar? O, Iook upon

that woman, who was homeless in our realm,

and bargained where to build her paltry town,

receiving fertile coastland for her farms,

by hospitable grant! She dares disdain

our proffered nuptial vow. She has proclaimed

Aeneas partner of her bed and throne.

And now that Paris, with his eunuch crew,

beneath his chin and fragrant, oozy hair

ties the soft Lydian bonnet, boasting well

his stolen prize. But we to all these fanes,

though they be thine, a fruitless offering bring,

and feed on empty tales our trust in thee.”

As thus he prayed and to the altars clung,

th' Omnipotent gave ear, and turned his gaze

upon the royal dwelling, where for love

the amorous pair forgot their place and name.

Then thus to Mercury he gave command:

“Haste thee, my son, upon the Zephyrs call,

and take thy winged way! My mandate bear

unto that prince of Troy who tarries now

in Tyrian Carthage, heedless utterly

of empire Heaven-bestowed. On winged winds

hasten with my decrees. Not such the man

his beauteous mother promised; not for this

twice did she shield him from the Greeks in arms:

but that he might rule Italy, a land

pregnant with thrones and echoing with war;

that he of Teucer's seed a race should sire,

and bring beneath its law the whole wide world.

If such a glory and event supreme

enkindle not his bosom; if such task

to his own honor speak not; can the sire

begrudge Ascanius the heritage

of the proud name of Rome? What plans he now?

What mad hope bids him linger in the lap

of enemies, considering no more

the land Lavinian and Ausonia's sons.

Let him to sea! Be this our final word:

this message let our herald faithful bear.”

He spoke. The god a prompt obedience gave

to his great sire's command. He fastened first

those sandals of bright gold, which carry him

aloft o'er land or sea, with airy wings

that race the fleeting wind; then lifted he

his wand, wherewith he summons from the grave

pale-featured ghosts, or, if he will, consigns

to doleful Tartarus; or by its power

gives slumber or dispels; or quite unseals

the eyelids of the dead: on this relying,

he routs the winds or cleaves th' obscurity

of stormful clouds. Soon from his flight he spied

the summit and the sides precipitous

of stubborn Atlas, whose star-pointing peak

props heaven; of Atlas, whose pine-wreathed brow

is girdled evermore with misty gloom

and lashed of wind and rain; a cloak of snow

melts on his shoulder; from his aged chin

drop rivers, and ensheathed in stiffening ice

glitters his great grim beard. Here first was stayed

the speed of Mercury's well-poising wing;

here making pause, from hence he headlong flung

his body to the sea; in motion like

some sea-bird's, which along the levelled shore

or round tall crags where rove the swarming fish,

flies Iow along the waves: o'er-hovering so

between the earth and skies, Cyllene's god

flew downward from his mother's mountain-sire,