Aeneid

Discerned his sad face through the blinding gloom,

And hailed him thus : “0 Palinurus, tell

What god was he who ravished thee away

From me and mine, beneath the o'crwhelming wave?

Speak on! for he who ne'er had spoke untrue,

Apollo's self, did mock my listening mind,

And chanted me a faithful oracle

That thou shouldst ride the seas unharmed, and touch

Ausonian shores. Is this the pledge divine?”

Then he, “0 chieftain of Anchises' race,

Apollo's tripod told thee not untrue.

No god did thrust me down beneath the wave,

For that strong rudder unto which I clung,

My charge and duty, and my ship's sole guide,

Wrenched from its place, dropped with me as I fell.

Not for myself—by the rude seas I swear—

Did I have terror, but lest thy good ship,

Stripped of her gear, and her poor pilot lost,

Should fail and founder in that rising flood.

Three wintry nights across the boundless main

The south wind buffeted and bore me on;

At the fourth daybreak, lifted from the surge,

I looked at last on Italy, and swam

With weary stroke on stroke unto the land.

Safe was I then. Alas! but as I climbed

With garments wet and heavy, my clenched hand

Grasping the steep rock, came a cruel horde

Upon me with drawn blades, accounting me—

So blind they were!—a wrecker's prize and spoil.

Now are the waves my tomb; and wandering winds

Toss me along the coast. 0, I implore,

By heaven's sweet light, by yonder upper air,

By thy lost father, by Iulus dear,

Thy rising hope and joy, that from these woes,

Unconquered chieftain, thou wilt set me free!

Give me a grave where Velia's haven lies,

For thou hast power! Or if some path there be,

If thy celestial mother guide thee here

(For not, I ween, without the grace of gods

Wilt cross yon rivers vast, you Stygian pool)

Reach me a hand! and bear with thee along!

Until (least gift!) death bring me peace and calm.”

Such words he spoke: the priestess thus replied:

“Why, Palinurus, these unblest desires?

Wouldst thou, unsepulchred, behold the wave

Of Styx, stern river of th' Eumenides?

Wouldst thou, unbidden, tread its fearful strand?

Hope not by prayer to change the laws of Heaven!

But heed my words, and in thy memory

Cherish and keep, to cheer this evil time.

Lo, far and wide, led on by signs from Heaven,

Thy countrymen from many a templed town

Shall consecrate thy dust, and build thy tomb,

A tomb with annual feasts and votive flowers,

To Palinurus a perpetual fame!”

Thus was his anguish stayed, from his sad heart

Grief ebbed awhile, and even to this day,

Our land is glad such noble name to wear.

The twain continue now their destined way

Unto the river's edge. The Ferryman,

Who watched them through still groves approach his shore,

Hailed them, at distance, from the Stygian wave,

And with reproachful summons thus began:

“Whoe'er thou art that in this warrior guise

Unto my river comest,—quickly tell

Thine errand! Stay thee where thou standest now!

This is ghosts' land, for sleep and slumbrous dark.

That flesh and blood my Stygian ship should bear

Were lawless wrong. Unwillingly I took

Alcides, Theseus, and Pirithous,

Though sons of gods, too mighty to be quelled.

One bound in chains yon warder of Hell's door,

And dragged him trembling from our monarch's throne:

The others, impious, would steal away

Out of her bride-bed Pluto's ravished Queen.”

Briefly th' Amphrysian priestess made reply:

“Not ours, such guile: Fear not! This warrior's arms

Are innocent. Let Cerberus from his cave

Bay ceaselessly, the bloodless shades to scare;

Let Proserpine immaculately keep

The house and honor of her kinsman King.

Trojan Aeneas, famed for faithful prayer

And victory in arms, descends to seek

His father in this gloomy deep of death.

If loyal goodness move not such as thee,

This branch at least” (she drew it from her breast)

“Thou knowest well.”

Then cooled his wrathful heart;

With silent lips he looked and wondering eyes

Upon that fateful, venerable wand,

Seen only once an age. Shoreward he turned,

And pushed their way his boat of leaden hue.

The rows of crouching ghosts along the thwarts

He scattered, cleared a passage, and gave room

To great Aeneas. The light shallop groaned

Beneath his weight, and, straining at each seam,

Took in the foul flood with unstinted flow.

At last the hero and his priestess-guide

Came safe across the river, and were moored

'mid sea-green sedges in the formless mire.