Aeneid

To guide the path of Theseus through the gloom.

0 Icarus, in such well-graven scene

How proud thy place should be! but grief forbade:

Twice in pure gold a father's fingers strove

To shape thy fall, and twice they strove in vain.

Aeneas long the various work would scan;

But now Achates comes, and by his side

Deiphobe, the Sibyl, Glaucus' child.

Thus to the prince she spoke :

“Is this thine hour

To stand and wonder? Rather go obtain

From young unbroken herd the bullocks seven,

And seven yearling ewes, our wonted way.”

Thus to Aeneas; his attendants haste

To work her will; the priestess, calling loud,

Gathers the Trojans to her mountain-shrine.

Deep in the face of that Euboean crag

A cavern vast is hollowed out amain,

With hundred openings, a hundred mouths,

Whence voices flow, the Sibyl's answering songs.

While at the door they paused, the virgin cried :

“Ask now thy doom!—the god! the god is nigh!”

So saying, from her face its color flew,

Her twisted locks flowed free, the heaving breast

Swelled with her heart's wild blood; her stature seemed

Vaster, her accent more than mortal man,

As all th' oncoming god around her breathed :

“On with thy vows and prayers, 0 Trojan, on!

For only unto prayer this haunted cave

May its vast lips unclose.” She spake no more.

An icy shudder through the marrow ran

Of the bold Trojans; while their sacred King

Poured from his inmost soul this plaint and prayer :

“Phoebus, who ever for the woes of Troy

Hadst pitying eyes! who gavest deadly aim

To Paris when his Dardan shaft he hurled

On great Achilles! Thou hast guided me

Through many an unknown water, where the seas

Break upon kingdoms vast, and to the tribes

Of the remote Massyli, whose wild land

To Syrtes spreads. But now; because at last

I touch Hesperia's ever-fleeting bound,

May Troy's ill fate forsake me from this day!

0 gods and goddesses, beneath whose wrath

Dardania's glory and great Ilium stood,

Spare, for ye may, the remnant of my race!

And thou, most holy prophetess, whose soul

Foreknows events to come, grant to my prayer

(Which asks no kingdom save what Fate decrees)

That I may stablish in the Latin land

My Trojans, my far-wandering household-gods,

And storm-tossed deities of fallen Troy.

Then unto Phoebus and his sister pale

A temple all of marble shall be given,

And festal days to Phoebus evermore.

Thee also in my realms a spacious shrine

Shall honor; thy dark books and holy songs

I there will keep, to be my people's law;

And thee, benignant Sibyl for all time

A company of chosen priests shall serve.

O, not on leaves, light leaves, inscribe thy songs!

Lest, playthings of each breeze, they fly afar

In swift confusion! Sing thyself, I pray.”

So ceased his voice;the virgin through the cave,

Scarce bridled yet by Phoebus' hand divine,

Ecstatic swept along, and vainly stove

To fing its potent master from her breast;

But he more strongly plied his rein and curb

Upon her frenzied lips, and soon subdued

Her spirit fierce, and swayed her at his will.

Free and self-moved the cavern's hundred adoors

Swung open wide, and uttered to the air

The oracles the virgin-priestess sung :

“Thy long sea-perils thou hast safely passed;

But heavier woes await thee on the land.

Truly thy Trojans to Lavinian shore

Shall come—vex not thyself thereon—but, oh!

Shall rue their coming thither! war, red war!

And Tiber stained with bloody foam I see.

Simois, Xanthus, and the Dorian horde

Thou shalt behold; a new Achilles now

In Latium breathes,—he, too, of goddess born;

And Juno, burden of the sons of Troy,

Will vex them ever; while thyself shalt sue

In dire distress to many a town and tribe

Through Italy; the cause of so much ill

Again shall be a hostess-queen, again

A marriage-chamber for an alien bride.

Oh! yield not to thy woe, but front it ever,

And follow boldly whither Fortune calls.

Thy way of safety, as thou least couldst dream,

Lies through a city of the Greeks, thy foes.”

Thus from her shrine Cumaea's prophetess

Chanted the dark decrees; the dreadful sound

Reverberated through the bellowing cave,

Commingling truth with ecstasies obscure.

Apollo, as she raged, flung loosened rein,

And thrust beneath her heart a quickening spur.

When first her madness ceased, and her wild lips

Were still at last, the hero thus began :