Aeneid

Then fortune veered and different aspect wore.

For 'ere the sacred funeral games are done,

Saturnian Juno from high heaven sent down

the light-winged Iris to the ships of Troy,

giving her flight good wind—still full of schemes

and hungering to avenge her ancient wrong.

Unseen of mortal eye, the virgin took

her pathway on the thousand-colored bow,

and o'er its gliding passage earthward flew.

She scanned the vast assemblage; then her gaze

turned shoreward, where along the idle bay

the Trojan galleys quite unpeopled rode.

But far removed, upon a lonely shore,

a throng of Trojan dames bewailed aloud

their lost Anchises, and with tears surveyed

the mighty deep. “O weary waste of seas!

What vast, untravelled floods beyond us roll!”

So cried they with one voice, and prayed the gods

for an abiding city; every heart

loathed utterly the long, laborious sea.

Then in their midst alighted, not unskilled

in working woe, the goddess; though she wore

nor garb nor form divine, but made herself

one Beroe, Doryclus' aged wife,

who in her happier days had lineage fair

and sons of noble name; in such disguise

she called the Trojan dames:“O ye ill-starred,

that were not seized and slain by Grecian foes

under your native walls! O tribe accursed,

what death is Fate preparing? Since Troy fell

the seventh summer flies, while still we rove

o'er cruel rocks and seas, from star to star,

from alien land to land, as evermore

we chase, storm-tossed, that fleeting Italy

across the waters wide. Behold this land

of Eryx, of Acestes, friend and kin;

what hinders them to raise a rampart here

and build a town? O city of our sires!

O venerated gods from haughty foes

rescued in vain! Will nevermore a wall

rise in the name of Troy? Shall I not see

a Xanthus or a Simois, the streams

to Hector dear? Come now! I lead the way.

Let us go touch their baneful ships with fire!

I saw Cassandra in a dream. Her shade,

prophetic ever, gave me firebrands,

and cried, ‘Find Ilium so! The home for thee

is where thou art.’ Behold, the hour is ripe

for our great act! No longer now delay

to heed the heavenly omen. Yonder stand

four altars unto Neptune. 'T is the god,

the god himself, gives courage for the deed,

and swift-enkindling fire.” So having said,

she seized a dreadful brand; then, lifting high,

waved it all flaming, and with furious arm

hurled it from far. The Ilian matrons gazed,

bewildered and appalled. But one, of all

the eldest, Pyrgo, venerated nurse

of Priam's numerous sons, exclaimed, “Nay, nay!

This is no Beroe, my noble dames.

Doryclus knew her not. Behold and see

her heavenly beauty and her radiant eyes!

What voice of music and majestic mien,

what movement like a god! Myself am come

from Beroe sick, and left her grieving sore

that she, she only, had no gift to bring

of mournful honor to Anchises' shade.”

She spoke. The women with ill-boding eyes

looked on the ships. Their doubting hearts were torn

'twixt tearful passion for the beauteous isle

their feet then trod, and that prophetic call

of Fate to lands unknown. Then on wide wings

soared Iris into heaven, and through the clouds

clove a vast arch of light. With wonder dazed,

the women in a shrieking frenzy rose,

took embers from the hearth-stones, stole the fires

upon the altars—faggots, branches, brands —

and rained them on the ships. The god of fire,

through thwarts and oars and bows of painted fir,

ran in unbridled flame. Swift to the tomb

of Sire Anchises, to the circus-seats,

the messenger Eumelus flew, to bring

news of the ships on fire; soon every eye

the clouds of smoke and hovering flame could see.

Ascanius, who had led with smiling brow

his troops of horse, accoutred as he was,

rode hot-haste to the turmoil of the camp,

nor could his guards restrain . “What madness now?

What is it ye would do?” he cried. “Alas!

Ill-fated women! Not our enemies,

nor the dread bulwarks of the Greek ye burn,

but all ye have to hope for. Look at me,

your own Ascanius!” His helmet then

into their midst he flung, which he had worn

for pageantry of war. Aeneas, too,

with Trojan bands sped thither. But far off,

the women, panic-scattered on the shore,

fled many ways, and deep in caverned crags

or shadowed forests hid them, for they Ioathed

their deed and life itself; their thoughts were changed;