Aeneid

the famous kind which guileful Circe bred,

cheating her sire, and mixed the sun-god's team

with brood-mares earthly born. The sons of Troy,

such gifts and greetings from Latinus bearing,

rode back in pomp his words of peace to bring.

But lo! from Argos on her voyage of air

rides the dread spouse of Jove. She, sky-enthroned

above the far Sicilian promontory,

pachynus, sees Dardania's rescued fleet,

and all Aeneas' joy. The prospect shows

houses a-building, lands of safe abode,

and the abandoned ships. With bitter grief

she stands at gaze: then with storm-shaken brows,

thus from her heart lets loose the wrathful word:

“O hated race! O Phrygian destinies —

to mine forevermore (unhappy me!)

a scandal and offense! Did no one die

on Troy's embattled plain? Could captured slaves

not be enslaved again? Was Ilium's flame

no warrior's funeral pyre? Did they walk safe

through serried swords and congregated fires?

At last, methought, my godhead might repose,

and my full-fed revenge in slumber lie.

But nay! Though flung forth from their native land,

I o'er the waves, with enmity unstayed,

dared give them chase, and on that exiled few

hurled the whole sea. I smote the sons of Troy

with ocean's power and heaven's. But what availed

Syrtes, or Scylla, or Charybdis' waves?

The Trojans are in Tiber; and abide

within their prayed-for land delectable,

safe from the seas and me! Mars once had power

the monstrous Lapithae to slay; and Jove

to Dian's honor and revenge gave o'er

the land of Calydon. What crime so foul

was wrought by Lapithae or Calydon?

But I, Jove's wife and Queen, who in my woes

have ventured each bold stroke my power could find,

and every shift essayed,—behold me now

outdone by this Aeneas! If so weak

my own prerogative of godhead be,

let me seek strength in war, come whence it will!

If Heaven I may not move, on Hell I call.

To bar him from his Latin throne exceeds

my fated power. So be it! Fate has given

Lavinia for his bride. But long delays

I still can plot, and to the high event

deferment and obstruction. I can smite

the subjects of both kings. Let sire and son

buy with their people's blood this marriage-bond!

Let Teucrian and Rutulian slaughter be

thy virgin dower, and Bellona's blaze

light thee the bridal bed! Not only teemed

the womb of Hecuba with burning brand,

and brought forth nuptial fires; but Venus, too,

such offspring bore, a second Paris, who

to their new Troy shall fatal wedlock bring.”

So saying, with aspect terrible she sped

earthward her way; and called from gloom of hell

Alecto, woeful power, from cloudy throne

among the Furies, where her heart is fed

with horrid wars, wrath, vengeance, treason foul,

and fatal feuds. Her father Pluto loathes

the creature he engendered, and with hate

her hell-born sister-fiends the monster view.

A host of shapes she wears, and many a front

of frowning black brows viper-garlanded.

Juno to her this goading speech addressed:

“O daughter of dark Night, arouse for me

thy wonted powers and our task begin!

Lest now my glory fail, my royal name

be vanquished, while Aeneas and his crew

cheat with a wedlock bond the Latin King

and seize Italia's fields. Thou canst thrust on

two Ioving brothers to draw sword and slay,

and ruin homes with hatred, calling in

the scourge of Furies and avenging fires.

A thousand names thou bearest, and thy ways

of ruin multiply a thousand-fold.

Arouse thy fertile breast! Go, rend in twain

this plighted peace! Breed calumnies and sow

causes of battle, till yon warrior hosts

cry out for swords and leap to gird them on.”

Straightway Alecto, through whose body flows

the Gorgon poison, took her viewless way

to Latium and the lofty walls and towers

of the Laurentian King. Crouching she sate

in silence on the threshold of the bower

where Queen Amata in her fevered soul

pondered, with all a woman's wrath and fear,

upon the Trojans and the marriage-suit

of Turnus. From her Stygian hair the fiend

a single serpent flung, which stole its way

to the Queen's very heart, that, frenzy-driven,

she might on her whole house confusion pour.

Betwixt her smooth breast and her robe it wound

unfelt, unseen, and in her wrathful mind

instilled its viper soul. Like golden chain

around her neck it twined, or stretched along

the fillets on her brow, or with her hair