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Aeneid

Perseus Latin · Perseus Latin · 13,336 sections

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    the board had massy silver, gold-embossed,

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    where gleamed the mighty deeds of all her sires,

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    a graven chronicle of peace and war

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    prolonged, since first her ancient line began,

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    from royal sire to son.

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    Aeneas now

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    (for love in his paternal heart spoke loud

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    and gave no rest) bade swift Achates run

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    to tell Ascanius all, and from the ship

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    to guide him upward to the town,—for now

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    the father's whole heart for Ascanius yearned.

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    And gifts he bade them bring, which had been saved

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    in Ilium's fall: a richly broidered cloak

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    heavy with golden emblems; and a veil

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    by leaves of saffron lilies bordered round,

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    which Argive Helen o'er her beauty threw,

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    her mother Leda's gift most wonderful,

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    and which to Troy she bore, when flying far

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    in lawless wedlock from Mycenae's towers;

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    a sceptre, too, once fair Ilione's,

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    eldest of Priam's daughters; and round pearls

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    strung in a necklace, and a double crown

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    of jewels set in gold. These gifts to find,

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    Achates to the tall ships sped away.

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    But Cytherea in her heart revolved

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    new wiles, new schemes: how Cupid should transform

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    his countenance, and, coming in the guise

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    of sweet Ascanius, still more inflame

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    the amorous Queen with gifts, and deeply fuse

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    through all her yielding frame his fatal fire.

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    Sooth, Venus feared the many-languaged guile

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    which Tyrians use; fierce Juno's hate she feared,

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    and falling night renewed her sleepless care.

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    Therefore to Love, the light-winged god, she said:

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    “Sweet son, of whom my sovereignty and power

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    alone are given! O son, whose smile may scorn

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    the shafts of Jove whereby the Titans fell,

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    to thee I fly, and humbly here implore

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    thy help divine. Behold, from land to land

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    Aeneas, thine own brother, voyages on

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    storm-driven, by Juno's causeless enmity.

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    Thou knowest it well, and oft hast sighed to see

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    my sighs and tears. Dido the Tyrian now

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    detains him with soft speeches; and I fear

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    such courtesy from Juno means us ill;

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    she is not one who, when the hour is ripe,

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    bids action pause. I therefore now intend

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    the Tyrian Queen to snare, and siege her breast

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    with our invading fire, before some god

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    shall change her mood. But let her bosom burn

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    with love of my Aeneas not less than mine.

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    This thou canst bring to pass. I pray thee hear

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    the plan I counsel. At his father's call

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    Ascanius, heir of kings, makes haste to climb

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    to yon Sidonian citadel; my grace

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    protects him, and he bears gifts which were saved

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    from hazard of the sea and burning Troy.

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    Him lapped in slumber on Cythera's hill,

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    or in Idalia's deep and hallowing shade,

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    myself will hide, lest haply he should learn

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    our stratagem, and burst in, foiling all.

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    Wear thou his shape for one brief night thyself,

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    and let thy boyhood feign another boy's

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    familiar countenance; when Dido there,

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    beside the royal feast and flowing wine,

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    all smiles and joy, shall clasp thee to her breast

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    while she caresses thee, and her sweet lips

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    touch close with thine, then let thy secret fire

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    breathe o'er her heart, to poison and betray.”

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    The love-god to his mother's dear behest

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    gave prompt assent. He put his pinions by

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    and tripped it like Iulus, light of heart.

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    But Venus o'er Ascanius' body poured

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    a perfect sleep, and, to her heavenly breast

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    enfolding him, far, far away upbore

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    to fair Idalia's grove, where fragrant buds

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    of softly-petalled marjoram embower

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    in pleasurable shade.

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    Cupid straightway

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    obeyed his mother's word and bore the gifts,

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    each worthy of a king, as offerings

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    to greet the Tyrian throne; and as he went

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    he clasped Achates' friendly hand, and smiled.

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    Father Aeneas now, and all his band

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    of Trojan chivalry, at social feast,

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    on lofty purple-pillowed couches lie;

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    deft slaves fresh water on their fingers pour,

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    and from reed-woven basketry renew

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    the plenteous bread, or bring smooth napery

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    of softest weave; fifty handmaidens serve,

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    whose task it is to range in order fair

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    the varied banquet, or at altars bright

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    throw balm and incense on the sacred fires.

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    A hundred more serve with an equal band

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    of beauteous pages, whose obedient skill

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    piles high the generous board and fills the bowl.

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    The Tyrians also to the festal hall

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    come thronging, and receive their honor due,

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    each on his painted couch; with wondering eyes

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    Aeneas' gifts they view, and wondering more,

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