Aeneid

down to his deepest cave; then night and sleep

together from Aeneas fled away.

He rose, and to the orient beams of morn

his forehead gave; in both his hollowed palms

he held the sacred waters of the stream,

and called aloud: “O ye Laurentian nymphs,

whence flowing rills be born, and chiefly thou,

O Father Tiber, worshipped stream divine,

accept Aeneas, and from peril save!

If in some hallowed lake or haunted spring

thy power, pitying my woes, abides,

or wheresoe'er the blessed place be found

whence first thy beauty flows, there evermore

my hands shall bring thee gift and sacrifice.

O chief and sovereign of Hesperian streams,

O river-god that hold'st the plenteous horn,

protect us, and confirm thy words divine!”

He spoke; then chose twin biremes from the fleet,

gave them good gear and armed their loyal crews.

But, lo! a sudden wonder met his eyes:

white gleaming through the grove, with all her brood

white like herself, on the green bank the Sow

stretched prone. The good Aeneas slew her there,

Great Juno, for a sacrifice to thee,

himself the priest, and with the sucklings all

beside shine altar stood. So that whole night

the god of Tiber calmed his swollen wave,

ebbing or lingering in silent flow,

till like some gentle lake or sleeping pool

his even waters lay, and strove no more

against the oarsmen's toil. Upon their way

they speed with joyful sound; the well-oiled wood

slips through the watery floor; the wondering waves,

and all the virgin forests wondering,

behold the warriors in far-shining arms

their painted galleys up the current drive.

O'er the long reaches of the winding flood

their sturdy oars outweary the slow course

of night and day. Fair groves of changeful green

arch o'er their passage, and they seem to cleave

green forests in the tranquil wave below.

Now had the flaming sun attained his way

to the mid-sphere of heaven, when they discerned

walls and a citadel in distant view,

with houses few and far between; 't was there,

where sovran Rome to-day has rivalled Heaven,

Evander's realm its slender strength displayed:

swiftly they turned their prows and neared the town.

It chanced th' Arcadian King had come that day

to honor Hercules, Amphitryon's son,

and to the powers divine pay worship due

in groves outside the wall. Beside him stood

Pallas his son, his noblest men-at-arms,

and frugal senators, who at the shrines

burnt incense, while warm blood of victims flowed.

But when they saw the tall ships in the shade

of that dark forest plying noiseless oars,

the sudden sight alarmed, and all the throng

sprang to its feet and left the feast divine.

But dauntless Pallas bade them give not o'er

the sacred festival, and spear in hand

flew forward to a bit of rising ground,

and cried from far: “Hail, warriors! what cause

drives you to lands unknown, and whither bound?

Your kin, your country? Bring ye peace or war?”

Father Aeneas then held forth a bough

of peaceful olive from the lofty ship,

thus answering : “Men Trojan-born are we,

foes of the Latins, who have driven us forth

with insolent assault. We fain would see

Evander. Pray, deliver this, and say

that chosen princes of Dardania

sue for his help in arms.” So wonder fell

on Pallas, awestruck at such mighty name.

O, come, whoe'er thou art,” he said, “and speak

in presence of my father. Enter here,

guest of our hearth and altar.” He put forth

his right hand in true welcome, and they stood

with lingering clasp; then hand in hand advanced

up the steep woodland, leaving Tiber's wave.

Aeneas to Evander speaking fair,

these words essayed: “O best of Grecian-born!

whom Fortune's power now bids me seek and sue,

lifting this olive-branch with fillets bound,

I have not feared thee, though I know thou art

a Greek, and an Arcadian king, allied

to the two sons of Atreus. For behold,

my conscious worth, great oracles from Heaven,

the kinship of our sires, thy own renown

spread through the world—all knit my cause with thine,

all make me glad my fates have so decreed.

The sire and builder of the Trojan town

was Dardanus; but he, Electra's child,

came over sea to Teucria; the sire

of fair Electra was great Atlas, he

whose shoulder carries the vast orb of heaven.

But thy progenitor was Mercury,

and him conceiving, Maia, that white maid,

on hoar Cyllene's frosty summit bore.

But Maia's sire, if aught of truth be told,