THEOSOPHY
AENEID
Cardiff, Wales, UK, CF24 – 1DL.
Publius
Vergilius Maro (Virgil)
The Aeneid
Virgil
Contents
BkI:1-11
Invocation to the Muse
BkI:50-80 Juno
Asks Aeolus for Help
BkI:81-123 Aeolus
Raises the Storm
BkI:124-156 Neptune
Intervenes
BkI:157-222
Shelter on the Libyan Coast
BkI:223-256 Venus
Intercedes with Jupiter
BkI:257-296
Jupiter’s Prophecy
BkI:297-371 Venus
Speaks to Aeneas
BkI:372-417 She
Directs Him to Dido’s Palace
BkI:418-463 The
Temple of Juno
BkI:494-519 The
Arrival of Queen Dido
BkI:520-560
Ilioneus Asks Her Assistance
BkI:561-585 Dido
Welcomes the Trojans
BkI:586-612
Aeneas Makes Himself Known
BkI:613-656 Dido
Receives Aeneas
BkI:657-694 Cupid
Impersonates Ascanius
BkI:695-722 Cupid
Deceives Dido
BkI:723-756 Dido
Asks for Aeneas’s Story
BkII:1-56 The
Trojan Horse: Laocoön’s Warning
BkII:145-194
Sinon Deludes the Trojans
BkII:195-227
Laocoön and the Serpents
BkII:228-253 The
Horse Enters Troy
BkII:254-297 The
Greeks Take the City
BkII:298-354
Aeneas Gathers his Comrades
BkII:355-401
Aeneas and his Friends Resist
BkII:402-437
Cassandra is Taken
BkII:438-485 The
Battle for the Palace
BkII:559-587
Aeneas Sees Helen
BkII:588-623
Aeneas is Visited by his Mother Venus.
BkII:624-670
Aeneas Finds his Family
BkII:705-729
Aeneas and his Family Leave Troy
BkII:730-795 The
Loss of Creusa
BkII:796-804
Aeneas Leaves Troy
BkIII:1-18 Aeneas
Sails to Thrace
BkIII:19-68 The
Grave of Polydorus
BkIII:69-120 The
Trojans Reach Delos
BkIII:121-171 The
Plague and a Vision
BkIII:172-208 The
Trojans Leave Crete for Italy
BkIII:278-293 The
Games at Actium
BkIII:294-355
Andromache in Chaonia
BkIII:356-462 The
Prophecy of Helenus
BkIII:463-505 The
Departure from Chaonia
BkIII:506-547 In
Sight of Italy
BkIII:548-587 The
Approach to Sicily
BkIII:692-718 The
Death of Anchises
BkIV:1-53 Dido
and Anna Discuss Aeneas
BkIV:129-172 The
Hunt and the Cave
BkIV:173-197
Rumour Reaches Iarbas
BkIV:198-218 Iarbas
Prays to Jupiter
BkIV:219-278
Jupiter Sends Mercury to Aeneas
BkIV:279-330 Dido
Accuses Aeneas
BkIV:331-361
Aeneas Justifies Himself
BkIV:450-503 Dido
Resolves to Die
BkIV:554-583
Mercury Visits Aeneas Again
BkIV:630-705 The
Death of Dido
BkV:1-41 Aeneas
Returns to Sicily
BkV:42-103 Aeneas
Declares the Games
BkV:104-150 The
Start of the Games
BkV:244-285 The
Prize-Giving for the Boat Race
BkV:362-484 The
Boxing Contest
BkV:485-544 The
Archery Contest
BkV:545-603 The
Exhibition of Horsemanship
BkV:604-663 Juno
sends Iris to Fire the Trojan Ships
BkV:664-699 The
Fleet is Saved
BkV:700-745
Nautes’ Advice and Anchises’ Ghost
BkV:746-778
Departure from Sicily
BkV:779-834 Venus
Seeks Neptune’s Help
BkV:835-871 The
Loss of Palinurus
BkVI:56-97 The Sibyl’s
Prophecy
BkVI:98-155
Aeneas Asks Entry to Hades
BkVI:156-182 The
Finding of Misenus’s Body
BkVI:236-263 The
Sacrifice to Hecate
BkVI:264-294 The
Entrance to Hades
BkVI:295-336 The
Shores of Acheron
BkVI:337-383 The
Shade of Palinurus
BkVI:384-416
Charon the Ferryman
BkVI:417-439
Beyond the Acheron
BkVI:440-476 The
Shade of Dido
BkVI:477-534 The
Shade of Deiphobus
BkVI:535-627 The
Sibyl Describes Tartarus
BkVI:628-678 The
Fields of Elysium
BkVI:679-702 The
Meeting with Anchises
BkVI:703-723 The
Souls Due for Re-birth
BkVI:724-751 The
Transmigration of Souls
BkVI:752-776 The
Future Race – The Alban Kings
BkVI:777-807 The
Future Race – Romulus and the Caesars.
BkVI:808-853 The
Future Race – Republic and Beyond
BkVI:854-885 The
Future Race – Marcellus
BkVI:886-901 The
Gates of Sleep
BkVII:1-36 The
Trojans Reach the Tiber
BkVII:37-106 King
Latinus and the Oracle
BkVII:107-147
Fulfilment of A Prophecy
BkVII:148-191 The
Palace of Latinus
BkVII:192-248 The
Trojans Seek Alliance With Latinus
BkVII:249-285
Latinus Offers Peace
BkVII:286-341
Juno Summons Allecto
BkVII:341-405
Allecto Maddens Queen Amata
BkVII:406-474
Allecto Rouses Turnus
BkVII:475-539
Allecto Among the Trojans
BkVII:540-571
Allecto Returns to Hades
BkVII:572-600
Latinus Abdicates
BkVII:601-640
Latium Prepares for War
BkVII:783-817
Turnus and Camilla Complete the Array.
BkVIII:1-25 The
Situation in Latium
BkVIII:26-65
Aeneas’s Dream of Tiberinus
BkVIII:66-101
Aeneas Sails to Pallanteum
BkVIII:102-151
Aeneas Meets Evander
BkVIII:152-183
Evander Offers Alliance
BkVIII:184-305
The Tale of Hercules and Cacus
BkVIII:306-369
Pallanteum – the Site of Rome
BkVIII:370-406
Venus Seeks Weapons from Vulcan
BkVIII:407-453
Vulcan’s Smithy
BkVIII:454-519
Evander Proposes Assistance
BkVIII:520-584
The Preliminary Alarms
BkVIII:585-625
Venus’s Gift of Armour
BkVIII:626-670
Vulcan’s Shield: Scenes of Early Rome.
BkVIII:671-713
Vulcan’s Shield: The Battle of Actium..
BkVIII:714-731 Vulcan’s
Shield: Augustus’s Triple Triumph
BkIX:1-24 Iris
Urges Turnus to War
BkIX:25-76 Turnus
Attacks the Trojan Fleet
BkIX:77-106
Cybele Makes a Plea to Jove
BkIX:107-122
Cybele Transforms the Ships
BkIX:123-167
Turnus Lays Siege to the Camp
BkIX:168-223
Nisus and Euryalus: A Mission Proposed
BkIX:224-313
Nisus and Euryalus: Aletes Consents
BkIX:314-366
Nisus and Euryalus: The Raid
BkIX:367-459 The
Death of Euryalus and Nisus
BkIX:460-524
Euryalus’s Mother Laments
BkIX:590-637
Ascanius (Iulus) in Battle
BkIX:638-671
Apollo Speaks to Iulus
BkIX:672-716
Turnus at the Trojan Gates
BkIX:717-755 The
Death of Pandarus
BkIX:756-787
Turnus Slaughters the Trojans
BkIX:788-818
Turnus Is Driven Off
BkX:1-95 The
Council of the Gods
BkX:96-117
Jupiter Leaves the Outcome to Fate
BkX:118-162
Aeneas Returns From Pallantium
BkX:163-214 The
Leaders of the Tuscan Fleet
BkX:215-259 The
Nymphs of Cybele
BkX:260-307
Aeneas Reaches Land
BkX:308-425 The
Pitched Battle
BkX:426-509 The
Death of Pallas
BkX:510-605
Aeneas Rages In Battle
BkX:606-688 Juno
Withdraws Turnus from the Fight
BkX:689-754
Mezentius Rages in Battle
BkX:755-832 The
Death of Mezentius’s Son, Lausus
BkX:833-908 The
Death of Mezentius
BkXI:1-99 Aeneas
Mourns Pallas
BkXI:100-138
Aeneas Offers Peace
BkXI:139-181
Evander Mourns Pallas
BkXI:182-224 The
Funeral Pyres
BkXI:225-295 An
Answer From Arpi
BkXI:296-335
Latinus’s Proposal
BkXI:336-375 Drances
Attacks Turnus Verbally
BkXI:445-531 The
Trojans Attack
BkXI:532-596
Diana’s Concern For Camilla
BkXI:597-647 The
Armies Engage
BkXI:648-724
Camilla In Action
BkXI:725-767
Arruns Follows Her
BkXI:768-835 The
Death of Camilla
BkXI:836-915 Opis
Takes Revenge
BkXII:1-53 Turnus
Demands Marriage
BkXII:54-80 He
Proposes Single Combat
BkXII:81-112 He
Prepares For Battle
BkXII:113-160
Juno Speaks to Juturna
BkXII:161-215
Aeneas and Latinus Sacrifice
BkXII:216-265 The
Rutulians Break The Treaty
BkXII:266-310
Renewed Fighting
BkXII:311-382
Aeneas Wounded: Turnus Rampant
BkXII:383-467
Venus Heals Aeneas
BkXII:468-499
Juturna Foils Aeneas
BkXII:500-553
Aeneas And Turnus Amongst The Slaughter
BkXII:554-592
Aeneas Attacks The City
BkXII:593-613
Queen Amata’s Suicide
BkXII:614-696
Turnus Hears Of Amata’s Death
BkXII:697-765 The
Final Duel Begins
BkXII:766-790 The
Goddesses Intervene
BkXII:791-842
Jupiter And Juno Decide The Future
BkXII:843-886
Jupiter Sends Juturna A Sign
BkXII:887-952 The
Death Of Turnus
BkI:1-11 Invocation to the Muse
I sing of arms and the man, he who, exiled by fate,
first came from the
coast of Troy to Italy, and to
Lavinian shores – hurled about endlessly by land and
sea,
by the will of the gods, by cruel Juno’s remorseless
anger,
long suffering also in war, until he founded a city
and brought his gods
to Latium: from that the Latin people
came, the lords of Alba
Longa, the walls of noble Rome.
Muse, tell me the cause: how was she offended in her
divinity,
how was she grieved, the Queen of Heaven, to drive a
man,
noted for virtue, to endure such dangers, to face so
many
trials? Can there be such anger in the minds of the
gods?
BkI:12-49 The Anger of Juno
There was an ancient city, Carthage (held by colonists
from Tyre),
opposite Italy, and the
far-off mouths of the Tiber,
rich in wealth, and
very savage in pursuit of war.
They say Juno loved this one land above all others,
even neglecting Samos:
here were her weapons
and her chariot, even
then the goddess worked at,
and cherished, the idea that it should have supremacy
over the nations, if only the fates allowed.
Yet she’d heard of offspring, derived from Trojan
blood,
that would one day overthrow the Tyrian stronghold:
that from them a people would come, wide-ruling,
and proud in war, to
Libya’s ruin: so the Fates ordained.
Fearing this, and remembering the ancient war
she had fought before,
at Troy, for her dear Argos,
(and the cause of her anger
and bitter sorrows
had not yet passed from her mind: the distant
judgement
of Paris stayed deep
in her heart, the injury to her scorned beauty,
her hatred of the
race, and abducted Ganymede’s honours)
the daughter of Saturn, incited further by this,
hurled the Trojans, the Greeks and pitiless Achilles
had left,
round the whole ocean,
keeping them far from Latium:
they wandered for many
years, driven by fate over all the seas.
Such an effort it was to found the Roman people.
They were hardly out of sight of Sicily’s isle, in
deeper water,
joyfully spreading sail, bronze keel ploughing the
brine,
when Juno, nursing the eternal wound in her breast,
spoke to herself: ‘Am I to abandon my purpose,
conquered,
unable to turn the Teucrian
king away from Italy!
Why, the fates forbid it. Wasn’t Pallas able to burn
the Argive fleet, to sink it in the sea, because of
the guilt
and madness of one
single man, Ajax, son of Oileus?
She herself hurled Jupiter’s swift fire from the
clouds,
scattered the ships, and made the sea boil with
storms:
She caught him up in a water-spout, as he breathed
flame
from his pierced chest, and pinned him to a sharp
rock:
yet I, who walk about as queen of the gods, wife
and sister of Jove, wage war on a whole race, for so
many years.
Indeed, will anyone worship Juno’s power from now on,
or place offerings, humbly, on her altars?’
BkI:50-80 Juno Asks Aeolus for Help
So debating with herself, her heart inflamed, the
goddess
came to Aeolia, to the
country of storms, the place
of wild gales. Here
in his vast cave, King Aeolus,
keeps the writhing winds, and the roaring tempests,
under control, curbs them with chains and
imprisonment.
They moan angrily at the doors, with a mountain’s vast
murmurs:
Aeolus sits, holding his sceptre, in his high
stronghold,
softening their passions, tempering their rage: if
not,
they’d surely carry off seas and lands and the highest
heavens,
with them, in rapid flight, and sweep them through the
air.
But the all-powerful Father, fearing this, hid them
in dark caves, and piled a high mountain mass over
them
and gave them a king, who by fixed agreement, would
know
how to give the order to tighten or slacken the reins.
Juno now offered these words to him, humbly:
‘Aeolus, since the Father of gods, and king of men,
gave you the power to quell, and raise, the waves with
the winds,
there is a people I hate
sailing the Tyrrhenian Sea,
bringing Troy’s conquered
gods to Italy:
Add power to the winds, and sink their wrecked boats,
or drive them apart, and scatter their bodies over the
sea.
I have fourteen Nymphs of outstanding beauty:
of whom I’ll name Deiopea, the loveliest in looks,
joined in eternal marriage, and yours for ever, so
that,
for such service to me as yours, she’ll spend all her
years
with you, and make you the father of lovely children.’
Aeolus replied: ‘Your task, O queen, is to decide
what you wish: my duty is to fulfil your orders.
You brought about all this kingdom of mine, the
sceptre,
Jove’s favour, you gave me a seat at the feasts of the
gods,
and you made me lord of the storms and the tempests.’
BkI:81-123 Aeolus Raises the Storm
When he had spoken, he reversed his trident and struck
the hollow mountain on the side: and the winds, formed
ranks,
rushed out by the door he’d made, and whirled across
the earth.
They settle on the sea, East and West wind,
and the wind from
Africa, together, thick with storms,
stir it all from its
furthest deeps, and roll vast waves to shore:
follows a cry of men and a creaking of cables.
Suddenly clouds take sky and day away
from the Trojan’s eyes: dark night rests on the sea.
It thunders from the pole, and the aether flashes
thick fire,
and all things threaten immediate death to men.
Instantly Aeneas groans, his limbs slack with cold:
stretching his two hands towards the heavens,
he cries out in this voice: ‘Oh, three, four times
fortunate
were those who chanced to die in front of their
father’s eyes
under Troy’s high walls!
O Diomede, son of Tydeus
bravest of Greeks! Why
could I not have fallen, at your hand,
in the fields of
Ilium, and poured out my spirit,
where fierce Hector
lies, beneath Achilles’s spear,
and mighty Sarpedon: where Simois rolls, and sweeps
away
so many shields, helmets, brave bodies, of men, in its
waves!’
Hurling these words out, a howling blast from the
north,
strikes square on the sail, and lifts the seas to
heaven:
the oars break: then the prow swings round and offers
the beam to the waves: a steep mountain of water
follows in a mass.
Some ships hang on the breaker’s crest: to others the
yawning deep
shows land between the waves: the surge rages with
sand.
The south wind catches three, and whirls them onto
hidden rocks
(rocks the Italians call the Altars, in mid-ocean,
a vast reef on the surface of the sea) three the east
wind drives
from the deep, to the shallows and quick-sands (a
pitiful sight),
dashes them against the bottom, covers them with a
gravel mound.
A huge wave, toppling, strikes one astern, in front of
his very eyes,
one carrying faithful
Orontes and the Lycians.
The steersman’s thrown out and hurled headlong, face
down:
but the sea turns the ship three times, driving her
round,
in place, and the swift vortex swallows her in the deep.
Swimmers appear here and there in the vast waste,
men’s weapons, planking, Trojan treasure in the waves.
Now the storm conquers Iloneus’s tough ship, now
Achates,
now that in which Abas sailed, and old Aletes’s:
their timbers sprung in their sides, all the ships
let in the hostile tide, and split open at the seams.
BkI:124-156 Neptune Intervenes
Neptune, meanwhile, greatly troubled, saw that the sea
was churned with vast murmur, and the storm was loose
and the still waters welled from their deepest levels:
he raised his calm face from the waves, gazing over
the deep.
He sees Aeneas’s fleet scattered all over the ocean,
the Trojans crushed by the breakers, and the
plummeting sky.
And Juno’s anger, and her stratagems, do not escape
her brother.
He calls the East and West winds to him, and then
says:
‘Does confidence in your birth fill you so? Winds, do
you dare,
without my intent, to mix earth with sky, and cause
such trouble,
now? You whom I – ! But it’s better to calm the
running waves:
you’ll answer to me later for this misfortune, with a
different punishment. Hurry, fly now, and say this to your king:
control of the ocean, and the fierce trident, were
given to me,
by lot, and not to him. He owns the wild rocks, home
to you,
and yours, East Wind: let Aeolus officiate in his
palace,
and be king in the closed prison of the winds.’
So he speaks, and swifter than his speech, he calms
the swollen sea,
scatters the gathered cloud, and brings back the sun.
Cymothoë and Triton, working together, thrust the
ships
from the sharp reef: Neptune himself raises them with
his trident,
parts the vast quicksand, tempers the flood,
and glides on weightless wheels, over the tops of the
waves.
As often, when rebellion breaks out in a great nation,
and the common rabble rage with passion, and soon
stones
and fiery torches fly (frenzy supplying weapons),
if they then see a man of great virtue, and weighty
service,
they are silent, and stand there listening
attentively:
he sways their passions with his words and soothes
their hearts:
so all the uproar of the ocean died, as soon as their
father,
gazing over the water, carried through the clear sky,
wheeled
his horses, and gave them their head, flying behind in
his chariot.
BkI:157-222 Shelter on the Libyan Coast
The weary followers of Aeneas made efforts to set a
course
for the nearest land, and tacked towards the Libyan
coast.
There is a place there in a deep inlet: an island
forms a harbour
with the barrier of its bulk, on which every wave from
the deep
breaks, and divides into diminishing ripples.
On this side and that, vast cliffs and twin crags loom
in the sky,
under whose summits the whole sea is calm, far and
wide:
then, above that, is a scene of glittering woods,
and a dark grove overhangs the water, with leafy
shade:
under the headland opposite is a cave, curtained with
rock,
inside it, fresh water, and seats of natural stone,
the home of Nymphs. No hawsers moor the weary ships
here, no anchor, with its hooked flukes, fastens them.
Aeneas takes shelter here with seven ships gathered
from the fleet, and the Trojans, with a passion for
dry land,
disembarking, take possession of the sands they longed
for,
and stretch their brine-caked bodies on the shore.
At once Achates strikes a spark from his flint,
catches the fire in the leaves, places dry fuel round
it,
and quickly has flames among the kindling.
Then, wearied by events, they take out wheat, damaged
by the sea, and implements of Ceres, and prepare to
parch
the grain over the flames, and grind it on stone.
Aeneas climbs a crag meanwhile, and searches the whole
prospect
far and wide over the sea, looking if he can see
anything
of Antheus and his storm-tossed Phrygian galleys,
or Capys, or Caicus’s arms blazoned on a high stern.
There’s no ship in sight: he sees three stags
wandering
on the shore: whole herds of deer follow at their
back,
and graze in long lines along the valley.
He halts at this, and grasps in his hand his bow
and swift arrows, shafts that loyal Achates carries,
and first he shoots the leaders themselves, their
heads,
with branching antlers, held high, then the mass, with
his shafts,
and drives the whole crowd in confusion among the
leaves:
The conqueror does not stop until he’s scattered seven
huge
carcasses on the ground, equal in number to his ships.
Then he seeks the harbour, and divides them among all
his friends.
Next he shares out the wine that the good Acestes had
stowed
in jars, on the Trinacrian coast, and that hero had
given them
on leaving: and speaking to them, calmed their sad
hearts:
‘O friends (well, we were not unknown to trouble
before)
O you who’ve endured worse, the god will grant an end
to this too.
You’ve faced rabid Scylla, and her deep-sounding
cliffs:
and you’ve experienced the Cyclopes’s rocks:
remember your courage and chase away gloomy fears:
perhaps one day you’ll even delight in remembering
this.
Through all these misfortunes, these dangerous times,
we head for Latium,
where the fates hold peaceful lives
for us: there Troy’s
kingdom can rise again. Endure,
and preserve
yourselves for happier days.’
So his voice utters, and sick with the weight of care,
he pretends
hope, in his look, and stifles the pain deep in his
heart.
They make ready the game, and the future feast:
they flay the hides from the ribs and lay the flesh
bare:
some cut it in pieces, quivering, and fix it on spits,
others place cauldrons on the beach, and feed them
with flames.
Then they revive their strength with food, stretched
on the grass,
and fill themselves with rich venison and old wine.
When hunger is quenched by the feast, and the remnants
cleared,
deep in conversation, they discuss their missing
friends,
and, between hope and fear, question whether they
live,
or whether they’ve suffered death and no longer hear
their name.
Aeneas, the virtuous, above all mourns the lot of
fierce Orontes,
then that of Amycus, together with Lycus’s cruel fate,
and those of brave Gyus, and brave Cloanthus.
BkI:223-256 Venus Intercedes with Jupiter
Now, all was complete, when Jupiter, from the heights
of the air,
looked down on the sea with its flying sails, and the
broad lands,
and the coasts, and the people far and wide, and
paused,
at the summit of heaven, and fixed his eyes on the
Libyan kingdom.
And as he weighed such cares as he had in his heart,
Venus spoke
to him, sadder still, her bright eyes brimming with
tears:
‘Oh you who rule things human, and divine, with
eternal law,
and who terrify them all with your lightning-bolt,
what can my Aeneas have done to you that’s so serious,
what have the Trojans done, who’ve suffered so much
destruction,
to whom the whole world’s closed, because of the
Italian lands?
Surely you promised that at some point, as the years
rolled by,
the Romans would rise from them, leaders would rise,
restored from Teucer’s blood, who would hold power
over the sea, and all the lands. Father, what thought
has changed
your mind? It consoled me for the fall of Troy, and
its sad ruin,
weighing one destiny, indeed, against opposing
destinies:
now the same misfortune follows these men driven on by
such
disasters. Great king, what end to their efforts will
you give?
Antenor could escape through the thick of the Greek
army,
and safely enter the Illyrian gulfs, and deep into the
realms
of the Liburnians, and pass the founts of Timavus,
from which the river bursts, with a huge mountainous
roar,
through nine mouths, and buries the fields under its
noisy flood.
Here, nonetheless, he sited the city of Padua, and
homes
for Teucrians, and gave the people a name, and hung up
the arms of Troy: now
he’s calmly settled, in tranquil peace.
But we, your race, to whom you permit the heights of
heaven,
lose our ships (shameful!), betrayed, because of one
person’s anger,
and kept far away from
the shores of Italy.
Is this the prize for virtue? Is this how you restore
our rule?
The father of men and gods, smiled at her with that
look
with which he clears the sky of storms,
kissed his daughter’s lips, and then said this:
BkI:257-296 Jupiter’s Prophecy
‘Don’t be afraid, Cytherea, your child’s fate remains
unaltered:
You’ll see the city of Lavinium, and the walls I
promised,
and you’ll raise great-hearted Aeneas high, to the
starry sky:
No thought has changed my mind. This son of yours
(since this trouble gnaws at my heart, I’ll speak,
and unroll the secret scroll of destiny)
will wage a mighty war
in Italy, destroy proud peoples,
and establish laws,
and city walls, for his warriors,
until a third summer
sees his reign in Latium, and
three winter camps pass
since the Rutulians were beaten.
But the boy Ascanius, surnamed Iulus now (He was Ilus
while the Ilian kingdom was a reality) will imperially
complete thirty great circles of the turning months,
and transfer his throne from its site at Lavinium,
and mighty in power,
will build the walls of Alba Longa.
Here kings of Hector’s race will reign now
for three hundred years complete, until a royal
priestess,
Ilia, heavy with child, shall bear Mars twins.
Then Romulus will further the race, proud in his nurse
the she-wolf’s tawny pelt, and found the walls of
Mars,
and call the people Romans, from his own name.
I’ve fixed no limits or duration to their possessions:
I’ve given them empire without end. Why, harsh Juno
who now torments land, and sea and sky with fear,
will respond to better judgement, and favour the
Romans,
masters of the world, and people of the toga, with me.
So it is decreed. A time will come, as the years glide
by,
when the Trojan house of Assaracus will force Phthia
into slavery, and be
lords of beaten Argos.
From this glorious source a Trojan Caesar will be
born,
who will bound the empire with Ocean, his fame with
the stars,
Augustus, a Julius, his name descended from the great
Iulus.
You, no longer anxious, will receive him one day in
heaven,
burdened with Eastern spoils: he’ll be called to in
prayer.
Then with wars abandoned, the harsh ages will grow
mild:
White haired Trust, and Vesta, Quirinus with his
brother Remus
will make the laws: the gates of War, grim with iron,
and narrowed by bars, will be closed: inside impious
Rage will roar
frighteningly from blood-stained mouth, seated on
savage weapons,
hands tied behind his back, with a hundred knots of
bronze.’
BkI:297-371 Venus Speaks to Aeneas
Saying this, he sends Mercury, Maia’s son, down from
heaven,
so that the country
and strongholds of this new Carthage
would open to the
Trojans, as guests, and Dido, unaware of fate,
would not keep them from her territory. He flies
through the air
with a beating of mighty wings and quickly lands on
Libyan shore.
And soon does as commanded, and the Phoenicians set
aside
their savage instincts, by the god’s will: the queen
above all
adopts calm feelings, and kind thoughts, towards the
Trojans.
But Aeneas, the virtuous, turning things over all
night,
decides, as soon as kindly dawn appears, to go out
and explore the place, to find what shores he has
reached,
on the wind, who owns them (since he sees desert)
man or beast, and bring back the details to his
friends.
He conceals the boats in over-hanging woods
under an arching cliff, enclosed by trees
and leafy shadows: accompanied only by Achetes,
he goes, swinging two broad-bladed spears in his hand.
His mother met him herself, among the trees, with the
face
and appearance of a virgin, and a virgin’s weapons,
a Spartan girl, or such as Harpalyce of Thrace,
who wearies horses, and outdoes winged Hebrus in
flight.
For she’d slung her bow from her shoulders, at the
ready,
like a huntress, and loosed her hair for the wind to
scatter,
her knees bare, and her flowing tunic gathered up in a
knot.
And she cried first: ‘Hello, you young men, tell me,
if you’ve seen my sister wandering here by any chance,
wearing a quiver, and the hide of a dappled lynx,
or shouting, hot on the track of a slavering boar?’
So Venus: and so Venus’s son began in answer:
‘I’ve not seen or heard any of your sisters, O Virgin
–
or how should I name you? Since your looks are not
mortal
and your voice is more than human: oh, a goddess for
certain!
Or Phoebus’s sister? Or one of the race of Nymphs?
Be kind, whoever you may be, and lighten our labour,
and tell us only what sky we’re under, and what shores
we’ve landed on: we’re adrift here, driven by wind and
vast seas,
knowing nothing of the people or the country:
many a sacrifice to you will fall at the altars, under
our hand.’
Then Venus said: ‘I don’t think myself worthy of such
honours:
it’s the custom of Tyrian girls to carry a quiver,
and lace our calves high up, over red hunting boots.
You see the kingdom of Carthage, Tyrians, Agenor’s
city:
but bordered by Libyans, a people formidable in war.
Dido rules this empire, having set out from Tyre,
fleeing her brother. It’s a long tale of wrong, with
many
windings: but I’ll trace the main chapters of the
story.
Sychaeus was her husband, wealthiest, in land, of
Phoenicians
and loved with a great love by the wretched girl,
whose father gave her as a virgin to him, and wed them
with great solemnity. But her brother Pygmalion,
savage
in wickedness beyond
all others, held the kingdom of Tyre.
Madness came between them. The king, blinded by greed
for gold,
killed the unwary Sychaeus, secretly, with a knife,
impiously,
in front of the altars, indifferent to his sister’s
affections.
He concealed his actions for a while, deceived the
lovesick girl,
with empty hopes, and many evil pretences.
But the ghost of her unburied husband came to her in
dream:
lifting his pale head in a strange manner, he laid
bare the cruelty
at the altars, and his heart pierced by the knife,
and unveiled all the secret wickedness of that house.
Then he urged her to leave quickly and abandon her
country,
and, to help her journey, revealed an ancient treasure
under the earth, an unknown weight of gold and silver.
Shaken by all this, Dido prepared her flight and her
friends.
Those who had fierce hatred of the tyrant or bitter
fear,
gathered together: they seized some ships that by
chance
were ready, and loaded the gold: greedy Pygmalion’s
riches
are carried overseas: a woman leads the enterprise.
The came to this place, and bought land, where you now
see
the vast walls, and
resurgent stronghold, of new Carthage,
as much as they could
enclose with the strips of hide
from a single bull, and from that they called it
Byrsa.
But who then are you? What shores do you come from?
What course do you take?’ He sighed as she questioned
him,
and drawing the words from deep in his heart he
replied:
BkI:372-417 She Directs Him to Dido’s Palace
‘O goddess, if I were to start my tale at the very
beginning,
and you had time to hear the story of our misfortunes,
Vesper would have shut day away in the closed heavens.
A storm drove us at whim to Libya’s shores,
sailing the many seas from
ancient Troy,
if by chance the name
of Troy has come to your hearing.
I am that Aeneas, the virtuous, who carries my
household gods
in my ship with me, having snatched them from the
enemy,
my name is known beyond the sky.
I seek my country Italy, and a people born of Jupiter
on high.
I embarked on the Phrygian sea with twenty ships,
following my given fate, my mother, a goddess, showing
the way:
barely seven are left, wrenched from the wind and
waves.
I myself wander, destitute and unknown, in the Libyan desert,
driven from Europe and
Asia.’ Venus did not wait
for further complaint
but broke in on his lament like this:
‘Whoever you are I don’t think you draw the breath of
life
while hated by the gods,
you who’ve reached a city of Tyre.
Only go on from here, and take yourself to the queen’s
threshold,
since I bring you news that your friends are restored,
and your ships recalled, driven to safety by the
shifting winds,
unless my parents taught me false prophecies, in vain.
See, those twelve swans in exultant line, that an
eagle,
Jupiter’s bird, swooping from the heavens,
was troubling in the clear sky: now, in a long file,
they seem
to have settled, or be gazing down now at those who
already have.
As, returning, their wings beat in play, and they
circle the zenith
in a crowd, and give their cry, so your ships and your
people
are in harbour, or near its entrance under full sail.
Only go on, turn your steps where the path takes you.’
She spoke, and turning away she reflected the light
from her rose-tinted neck, and breathed a divine
perfume
from her ambrosial hair: her robes trailed down to her
feet,
and, in her step, showed her a true goddess. He
recognised
his mother, and as she vanished followed her with his
voice:
‘You too are cruel, why do you taunt your son with
false
phantoms? Why am I not allowed to join hand
with hand, and speak and hear true words?’
So he accuses her, and turns his steps towards the
city.
But Venus veiled them with a dark mist as they walked,
and, as a goddess, spread a thick covering of cloud
around them,
so that no one could see them, or touch them,
or cause them delay, or ask them where they were
going.
She herself soars high in the air, to Paphos, and
returns to her home
with delight, where her temple and its hundred altars
steam with Sabean incense, fragrant with fresh
garlands.
BkI:418-463 The Temple of Juno
Meanwhile they’ve tackled the route the path revealed.
And soon they climbed the hill that looms high over
the city,
and looks down from above on the towers that face it.
Aeneas marvels at the mass of buildings, once huts,
marvels at the gates, the noise, the paved roads.
The eager Tyrians are busy, some building walls,
and raising the citadel, rolling up stones by hand,
some choosing the site for a house, and marking a
furrow:
they make magistrates and laws, and a sacred senate:
here some are digging a harbour: others lay down
the deep foundations of a theatre, and carve huge
columns
from the cliff, tall adornments for the future stage.
Just as bees in early summer carry out their tasks
among the flowery fields, in the sun, when they lead
out
the adolescent young of their race, or cram the cells
with liquid honey, and swell them with sweet nectar,
or receive the incoming burdens, or forming lines
drive the lazy herd of drones from their hives:
the work glows, and the fragrant honey’s sweet with
thyme.
‘O fortunate those whose walls already rise!’
Aeneas cries, and admires the summits of the city.
He enters among them, veiled in mist (marvellous to
tell)
and mingles with the people seen by no one.
There was a grove in the centre of the city, delightful
with shade, where the wave and storm-tossed
Phoenicians
first uncovered the head of a fierce horse, that regal
Juno
showed them: so the race would be noted in war,
and rich in substance throughout the ages.
Here Sidonian Dido was establishing a great temple
to Juno, rich with gifts and divine presence,
with bronze entrances rising from stairways, and beams
jointed with bronze, and hinges creaking on bronze
doors.
Here in the grove something new appeared that calmed
his fears
for the first time, here for the first time Aeneas
dared to hope
for safety, and to put greater trust in his afflicted
fortunes.
While, waiting for the queen, in the vast temple, he
looks
at each thing: while he marvels at the city’s wealth,
the skill of their artistry, and the products of their
labours,
he sees the battles
at Troy in their correct order,
the War, known through
its fame to the whole world,
the sons of Atreus, of Priam, and Achilles angered
with both.
He halted, and said, with tears: ‘What place is there,
Achates, what region of earth not full of our
hardships?
See, Priam! Here too virtue has its rewards, here too
there are tears for events, and mortal things touch
the heart.
Lose your fears: this fame will bring you benefit.’
BkI:464-493 The Frieze
So he speaks, and feeds his spirit with the
insubstantial frieze,
sighing often, and his face wet with the streaming
tears.
For he saw how, here, the Greeks fled, as they fought
round Troy,
chased by the Trojan youth, and, there, the Trojans
fled,
with plumed Achilles pressing them close in his
chariot.
Not far away, through his tears, he recognises
Rhesus’s
white-canvassed tents, that blood-stained Diomede,
Tydeus’s son,
laid waste with great slaughter, betrayed in their
first sleep,
diverting the fiery horses to his camp, before they
could eat
Trojan fodder, or drink from the river Xanthus.
Elsewhere Troilus, his weapons discarded in flight,
unhappy boy, unequally matched in his battle with
Achilles,
is dragged by his horses, clinging face-up to the
empty chariot,
still clutching the reins: his neck and hair trailing
on the ground, and his spear reversed furrowing the
dust.
Meanwhile the Trojan women with loose hair, walked
to unjust Pallas’s temple carrying the sacred robe,
mourning humbly, and beating their breasts with their
hands.
The goddess was turned away, her eyes fixed on the
ground.
Three times had Achilles dragged Hector round the
walls of Troy,
and now was selling the lifeless corpse for gold.
Then Aeneas truly heaves a deep sigh, from the depths of
his heart,
as he views the spoils, the chariot, the very body of
his friend,
and Priam stretching out his unwarlike hands.
He recognised himself as well, fighting the Greek
princes,
and the Ethiopian ranks and black Memnon’s armour.
Raging Penthesilea leads the file of Amazons,
with crescent shields, and shines out among her
thousands,
her golden girdle fastened beneath her exposed
breasts,
a virgin warrior daring to fight with men.
BkI:494-519 The Arrival of Queen Dido
While these wonderful sights are viewed by Trojan
Aeneas,
while amazed he hangs there, rapt, with fixed gaze,
Queen Dido, of loveliest form, reached the temple,
with a great crowd of youths accompanying her.
Just as Diana leads her dancing throng on Eurotas’s
banks,
or along the ridges of Cynthus, and, following her,
a thousand mountain-nymphs gather on either side:
and she carries a quiver on her shoulder, and overtops
all the other goddesses as she walks: and delight
seizes her mother Latona’s silent heart:
such was Dido, so she carried herself, joyfully,
amongst them, furthering the work, and her rising
kingdom.
Then, fenced with weapons, and resting on a high
throne,
she took her seat, at the goddess’s doorway, under the
central vault.
She was giving out laws and statutes to the people,
and sharing
the workers labour out in fair proportions, or
assigning it by lot:
when Aeneas suddenly saw Antheus, and Sergestus,
and brave Cloanthus, approaching, among a large crowd,
with others of the Trojans whom the black storm-clouds
had scattered over the sea and carried far off to
other shores.
He was stunned, and Achates was stunned as well
with joy and fear: they burned with eagerness to clasp
hands,
but the unexpected event confused their minds.
They stay concealed and, veiled in the deep mist, they
watch
to see what happens to their friends, what shore they
have left
the fleet on, and why they are here: the elect of
every ship came
begging favour, and made for the temple among the
shouting.
BkI:520-560 Ilioneus Asks Her Assistance
When they’d entered, and freedom to speak in person
had been granted, Ilioneus, the eldest, began calmly:
‘O queen, whom Jupiter grants the right to found
a new city, and curb proud tribes with your justice,
we unlucky Trojans, driven by the winds over every
sea,
pray to you: keep the terror of fire away from our
ships,
spare a virtuous race and look more kindly on our
fate.
We have not come to despoil Libyan homes with the
sword,
or to carry off stolen plunder to the shore: that
violence
is not in our minds, the conquered have not such
pride.
There’s a place called Hesperia by the Greeks,
an ancient land, strong in men, with a rich soil:
There the Oenotrians lived: now rumour has it
that a later people has
called it Italy, after their leader.
We had set our course there when stormy Orion,
rising with the tide, carried us onto hidden shoals,
and fierce winds scattered us far, with the
overwhelming surge,
over the waves among uninhabitable rocks:
we few have drifted here to your shores.
What race of men is this? What land is so barbaric as
to allow
this custom, that we’re denied the hospitality of the
sands?
They stir up war, and prevent us setting foot on dry
land.
If you despise the human race and mortal weapons,
still trust that the gods remember right and wrong.
Aeneas was our king, no one more just than him
in his duty, or greater in war and weaponry.
If fate still protects the man, if he still enjoys the
ethereal air,
if he doesn’t yet rest among the cruel shades, there’s
nothing
to fear, and you’d not repent of vying with him first
in kindness.
Then there are cities and fields too in the region of
Sicily,
and famous Acestes, of Trojan blood. Allow us
to beach our fleet, damaged by the storms,
and cut planks from trees, and shape oars,
so if our king’s restored and our friends are found
we can head for
Italy, gladly seek Italy and Latium:
and if our saviour’s
lost, and the Libyan seas hold you,
Troy’s most virtuous father, if no hope now remains
from Iulus,
let us seek the Sicilian straits, from which we were
driven,
and the home prepared for us, and a king, Acestes.’
So Ilioneus spoke: and the Trojans all shouted with
one voice.
BkI:561-585 Dido Welcomes the Trojans
Then, Dido, spoke briefly, with lowered eyes:
‘Trojans, free your hearts of fear: dispel your cares.
Harsh events and the newness of the kingdom force me
to effect
such things, and protect my borders with guards on all
sides.
Who doesn’t know of Aeneas’s race, and the city of Troy,
the bravery, the men,
or so great a blaze of warfare,
indeed, we Phoenicians don’t possess unfeeling hearts,
the sun doesn’t harness his horses that far from this
Tyrian city.
Whether you opt for mighty Hesperia, and Saturn’s
fields,
or the summit of Eryx, and Acestes for king,
I’ll see you safely escorted, and help you with my
wealth.
Or do you wish to settle here with me, as equals in my
kingdom?
The city I build is yours: beach your ships:
Trojans and Tyrians will be treated by me without
distinction.
I wish your king Aeneas himself were here, driven
by that same storm! Indeed, I’ll send reliable men
along the coast, and order them to travel the length
of Libya,
in case he’s driven aground, and wandering the woods
and towns.’
Brave Achetes, and our forefather Aeneas, their spirits
raised
by these words, had been burning to break free of the
mist.
Achates was first to speak, saying to Aeneas: ‘Son of
the goddess,
what intention springs to your mind? You see all’s
safe,
the fleet and our friends have been restored to us.
Only one is missing, whom we saw plunged in the waves:
all else is in accord with your mother’s words.’
BkI:586-612 Aeneas Makes Himself Known
He’d scarcely spoken when the mist surrounding them
suddenly parted, and vanished in the clear air.
Aeneas stood there, shining in the bright daylight,
like a god in shoulders and face: since his mother
had herself imparted to her son beauty to his hair,
a glow of youth, and a joyful charm to his eyes:
like the glory art can give to ivory, or as when silver,
or Parian marble, is surrounded by gold.
Then he addressed the queen, suddenly, surprising them
all,
saying: ‘I am here in person, Aeneas the Trojan,
him whom you seek, saved from the Libyan waves.
O Dido, it is not in our power, nor those of our Trojan
race,
wherever they may be, scattered through the wide
world,
to pay you sufficient thanks, you who alone have
pitied
Troy’s unspeakable miseries, and share your city and
home
with us, the remnant left by the Greeks, wearied
by every mischance, on land and sea, and lacking
everything.
May the gods, and the mind itself conscious of right,
bring you a just reward, if the gods respect the
virtuous,
if there is justice anywhere. What happy age gave
birth
to you? What parents produced such a child?
Your honour, name and praise will endure forever,
whatever lands may summon me, while rivers run
to the sea, while shadows cross mountain slopes,
while the sky nourishes the stars.’ So saying he
grasps
his friend Iloneus by the right hand, Serestus with
the left,
then others, brave Gyus and brave Cloanthus.
BkI:613-656 Dido Receives Aeneas
Sidonian Dido was first amazed at the hero’s looks
then at his great misfortunes, and she spoke, saying:
‘Son of a goddess, what fate pursues you through all
these dangers? What force drives you to these
barbarous shores?
Are you truly that Aeneas whom kindly Venus bore
to Trojan Anchises, by the waters of Phrygian Simois?
Indeed, I myself remember Teucer coming to Sidon,
exiled from his country’s borders, seeking a new
kingdom
with Belus’s help: Belus, my father, was laying waste
rich Cyprus, and, as victor, held it by his authority.
Since then the fall of the Trojan city is known to me,
and your name, and those of the Greek kings.
Even their enemy granted the Teucrians high praise,
maintaining they were born of the ancient Teucrian
stock.
So come, young lords, and enter our palace.
Fortune, pursuing me too, through many similar
troubles,
willed that I would find peace at last in this land.
Not being unknown to evil, I’ve learned to aid the
unhappy.’
So she speaks, and leads Aeneas into the royal house,
and proclaims, as well, offerings at the god’s
temples.
She sends no less than twenty bulls to his friends
on the shore, and a hundred of her largest pigs with
bristling backs, a hundred fat lambs with the ewes,
and joyful gifts of wine, but the interior of the
palace
is laid out with royal luxury, and they prepare
a feast in the centre of the palace: covers worked
skilfully in princely purple, massive silverware
on the tables, and her forefathers’ heroic deeds
engraved in gold, a long series of exploits traced
through many heroes, since the ancient origins of her
people.
Aeneas quickly sends Achates to the ships
to carry the news to Ascanius (since a father’s love
won’t let his mind rest) and bring him to the city:
on Ascanius all the care of a fond parent is fixed.
He commands him to bring gifts too, snatched
from the ruins of Troy, a figured robe stiff with gold,
and a cloak fringed with yellow acanthus,
worn by Helen of Argos, brought from Mycenae
when she sailed to Troy and her unlawful marriage,
a wonderful gift from her mother Leda:
and the sceptre that Ilione, Priam’s eldest daughter,
once carried, and a necklace of pearls, and a
double-coronet
of jewels and gold. Achates, hastening to fulfil
these commands, took his way towards the ships.
BkI:657-694 Cupid Impersonates Ascanius
But Venus was planning new wiles and stratagems
in her heart: how Cupid, altered in looks, might
arrive
in place of sweet Ascanius, and arouse the passionate
queen
by his gifts, and entwine the fire in her bones: truly
she fears
the unreliability of this house, and the duplicitous
Tyrians:
unyielding Juno angers her, and her worries increase
with nightfall.
So she speaks these words to winged Cupid:
‘My son, you who alone are my great strength, my
power,
a son who scorns mighty Jupiter’s Typhoean
thunderbolts,
I ask your help, and humbly call on your divine will.
It’s known to you how Aeneas, your brother, is driven
over the sea, round all the shores, by bitter Juno’s
hatred,
and you have often grieved with my grief.
Phoenician Dido holds him there, delaying him with
flattery,
and I fear what may come of Juno’s hospitality:
at such a critical turn of events she’ll not be idle.
So I intend to deceive the queen with guile, and
encircle
her with passion, so that no divine will can rescue
her,
but she’ll be seized, with me, by deep love for
Aeneas.
Now listen to my thoughts on how you can achieve this.
Summoned by his dear father, the royal child,
my greatest concern, prepares to go to the Sidonian
city,
carrying gifts that survived the sea, and the flames
of Troy.
I’ll lull him to sleep and hide him in my sacred
shrine
on the heights of Cythera or Idalium, so he can know
nothing of my deceptions, or interrupt them mid-way.
For no more than a single night imitate his looks by
art,
and, a boy yourself, take on the known face of a boy,
so that when Dido takes you to her breast, joyfully,
amongst the royal feast, and the flowing wine,
when she embraces you, and plants sweet kisses on you,
you’ll breathe hidden fire into her, deceive her with
your poison.’
Cupid obeys his dear mother’s words, sets aside his
wings,
and laughingly trips along with Iulus’s step.
But Venus pours gentle sleep over Ascanius’s limbs,
and warming him in her breast, carries him, with
divine power,
to Idalia’s high groves, where soft marjoram smothers
him
in flowers, and the breath of its sweet shade.
BkI:695-722 Cupid Deceives Dido
Now, obedient to her orders, delighting in Achetes as
guide,
Cupid goes off carrying royal gifts for the Tyrians.
When he arrives the queen has already settled herself
in the centre, on her golden couch under royal
canopies.
Now our forefather Aeneas and the youth of Troy
gather there, and recline on cloths of purple.
Servants pour water over their hands: serve bread
from baskets: and bring napkins of smooth cloth.
Inside there are fifty female servants, in a long
line,
whose task it is to prepare the meal, and tend the
hearth fires:
a hundred more, and as many pages of like age,
to load the tables with food, and fill the cups.
And the Tyrians too are gathered in crowds through the
festive
halls, summoned to recline on the embroidered couches.
They marvel at Aeneas’s gifts, marvel at Iulus,
the god’s brilliant appearance, and deceptive words,
at the robe, and the cloak embroidered with yellow
acanthus.
The unfortunate Phoenician above all, doomed to future
ruin,
cannot pacify her feelings, and catches fire with
gazing,
stirred equally by the child and by the gifts.
He, having hung in an embrace round Aeneas’s neck,
and sated the deceived father’s great love,
seeks out the queen. Dido, clings to him with her eyes
and with her heart, taking him now and then on her
lap,
unaware how great a god is entering her, to her
sorrow.
But he, remembering his Cyprian mother’s wishes,
begins gradually to erase all thought of Sychaeus,
and works at seducing her mind, so long unstirred,
and her heart unused to love, with living passion.
BkI:723-756 Dido Asks for Aeneas’s Story
At the first lull in the feasting, the tables were
cleared,
and they set out vast bowls, and wreathed the wine
with garlands.
Noise filled the palace, and voices rolled out across
the wide halls:
bright lamps hung from the golden ceilings,
and blazing candles dispelled the night.
Then the queen asked for a drinking-cup, heavy
with gold and jewels, that Belus and all Belus’s line
were accustomed to use, and filled it
with wine. Then the halls were silent. She spoke:
‘Jupiter, since they say you’re the one who creates
the laws of hospitality, let this be a happy day
for the Tyrians and those from Troy,
and let it be remembered by our children.
Let Bacchus, the joy-bringer, and kind Juno be
present,
and you, O Phoenicians, make this gathering festive.’
She spoke and poured an offering of wine onto the
table,
and after the libation was the first to touch the bowl
to her lips,
then she gave it to Bitias, challenging him: he
briskly drained
the brimming cup, drenching himself in its golden
fullness,
then other princes drank. Iolas, the long-haired, made
his golden lyre resound, he whom great Atlas taught.
He sang of the wandering moon and the sun’s labours,
where men and beasts came from, and rain and fire,
of Arcturus, the rainy Hyades, the two Bears:
why the winter suns rush to dip themselves in the sea,
and what delay makes the slow nights linger.
The Tyrians redoubled their applause, the Trojans too.
And unfortunate Dido, she too spent the night
in conversation, and drank deep of her passion,
asking endlessly about Priam and Hector:
now about the armour that Memnon, son of the Dawn,
came with to Troy, what kind were Diomed’s horses,
how great was Achilles. ‘But come, my guest, tell us
from the start all the Greek trickery, your men’s
mishaps,
and your wanderings: since it’s the seventh summer now
that brings you here, in your journey, over every land
and sea.’
BkII:1-56
The Trojan Horse: Laocoön’s Warning
They were all silent, and turned their faces towards
him intently.
Then from his high couch our forefather Aeneas began:
‘O queen, you command me to renew unspeakable grief,
how the Greeks destroyed the riches of Troy,
and the sorrowful kingdom, miseries I saw myself,
and in which I played a great part. What Myrmidon,
or Dolopian, or warrior of fierce Ulysses, could keep
from tears in telling such a story? Now the dew-filled
night
is dropping from the sky, and the setting stars urge
sleep.
But if you have such desire to learn of our
misfortunes,
and briefly hear of Troy’s last agonies, though my
mind
shudders at the memory, and recoils in sorrow, I’ll
begin.
‘After many years have slipped by, the leaders of the
Greeks,
opposed by the Fates, and damaged by the war,
build a horse of mountainous size, through Pallas’s
divine art,
and weave planks of fir over its ribs:
they pretend it’s a votive offering: this rumour
spreads.
They secretly hide a picked body of men, chosen by
lot,
there, in the dark body, filling the belly and the
huge
cavernous insides with armed warriors.
Tenedos is within sight, an island known to fame,
rich in wealth when Priam’s kingdom remained,
now just a bay and an unsafe anchorage for boats:
they sail there, and hide themselves, on the lonely
shore.
We thought they had gone, and were seeking Mycenae
with the wind. So all the Trojan land was free of its
long sorrow.
The gates were opened: it was a joy to go and see the
Greek camp,
the deserted site and the abandoned shore.
Here the Dolopians stayed, here cruel Achilles,
here lay the fleet, here they used to meet us in
battle.
Some were amazed at virgin Minerva’s fatal gift,
and marvel at the horse’s size: and at first
Thymoetes,
whether through treachery, or because Troy’s fate was
certain,
urged that it be dragged inside the walls and placed
on the citadel.
But Capys, and those of wiser judgement, commanded us
to either hurl this deceit of the Greeks, this suspect
gift,
into the sea, or set fire to it from beneath,
or pierce its hollow belly, and probe for hiding
places.
The crowd, uncertain, was split by opposing opinions.
Then Laocoön rushes down eagerly from the heights
of the citadel, to confront them all, a large crowd
with him,
and shouts from far off: ‘O unhappy citizens, what
madness?
Do you think the enemy’s sailed away? Or do you think
any Greek gift’s free of treachery? Is that Ulysses’s
reputation?
Either there are Greeks in hiding, concealed by the
wood,
or it’s been built as a machine to use against our
walls,
or spy on our homes, or fall on the city from above,
or it hides some other trick: Trojans, don’t trust
this horse.
Whatever it is, I’m afraid of Greeks even those
bearing gifts.’
So saying he hurled his great spear, with extreme
force,
at the creature’s side, and into the frame of the
curved belly.
The spear stuck quivering, and at the womb’s
reverberation
the cavity rang hollow and gave out a groan.
And if the gods’ fate, if our minds, had not been
ill-omened,
he’d have incited us to mar the Greeks hiding-place
with steel:
Troy would still stand: and you, high tower of Priam
would remain.
BkII:57-144
Sinon’s Tale
See, meanwhile, some Trojan shepherds, shouting
loudly,
dragging a youth, his hands tied behind his back, to
the king.
In order to contrive this, and lay Troy open to the
Greeks,
he had placed himself in their path, calm in mind, and
ready
for either course: to engage in deception, or find
certain death.
The Trojan youth run, crowding round, from all sides,
to see him, and compete in mocking the captive.
Listen now to Greek treachery, and learn of all their
crimes
from just this one. Since, as he stood, looking
troubled,
unarmed, amongst the gazing crowd,
and cast his eyes around the Phrygian ranks,
he said: ‘Ah! What land, what seas would accept me
now?
What’s left for me at the last in my misery, I who
have
no place among the Greeks, when the hostile Trojans,
themselves, demand my punishment and my blood?
At this the mood changed and all violence was checked.
We urged him to say what blood he was sprung from,
and why he suffered: and tell us what trust could be
placed
in him as a captive. Setting fear aside at last he
speaks:
“O king, I’ll tell you the whole truth, whatever
happens,
and indeed I’ll not deny that I’m of Argive birth:
this first of all: if Fortune has made me wretched,
she’ll not also wrongly make me false and a liar.
If by any chance some mention of Palamedes’s name
has reached your ears, son of Belus, and talk
of his glorious fame, he whom the Pelasgians,
on false charges of treason, by atrocious perjury,
because he opposed the war, sent innocent to his
death,
and who they mourn, now he’s taken from the light:
well my father, being poor, sent me here to the war
when I was young, as his friend, as we were blood
relatives.
While Palamades was safe in power, and prospered
in the kings’ council, I also had some name and
respect.
But when he passed from this world above, through
the jealousy of plausible Ulysses (the tale’s not
unknown)
I was ruined, and spent my life in obscurity and
grief,
inwardly angry at the fate of my innocent friend.
Maddened I could not be silent, and I promised, if
chance allowed,
and if I ever returned
as a victor to my native Argos,
to avenge him, and
with my words stirred bitter hatred.
The first hint of trouble came to me from this,
because of it
Ulysses was always frightening me with new
accusations,
spreading veiled rumours among the people, and
guiltily
seeking to defend himself. He would not rest till,
with Calchas
as his instrument – but why I do unfold this unwelcome
story?
Why hinder you? If you consider all Greeks the same,
and that’s sufficient, take your vengeance now: that’s
what
the Ithacan wants, and the sons of Atreus would pay
dearly for.”
Then indeed we were on fire to ask, and seek the
cause,
ignorant of such wickedness and Pelasgian trickery.
Trembling with fictitious feelings he continued,
saying:
“The Greeks, weary with the long war, often longed
to leave Troy and
execute a retreat: if only they had!
Often a fierce storm from the sea land-locked them,
and the gale terrified them from leaving:
once that horse, made of maple-beams, stood there,
especially then, storm-clouds thundered in the
sky.
Anxious, we send Eurypylus to consult Phoebus’s
oracle,
and he brings back these dark words from the
sanctuary:
‘With blood, and a virgin sacrifice, you calmed the
winds,
O Greeks, when you first came to these Trojan shores,
seek your
return in blood, and the well-omened sacrifice of an
Argive life.’
When this reached the ears of the crowd, their minds
were stunned,
and an icy shudder ran to their deepest marrow:
who readies this fate, whom does Apollo choose?
At this the Ithacan thrust the seer, Calchas, into
their midst,
demanding to know what the god’s will might be,
among the uproar. Many were already cruelly
prophesying
that ingenious man’s wickedness towards me, and
silently saw
what was coming. For ten days the seer kept silence,
refusing
to reveal the secret by his words, or condemn anyone
to death.
But at last, urged on by Ulysses’s loud clamour, he
broke
into speech as agreed, and doomed me to the altar.
All acclaimed it, and what each feared himself, they
endured
when directed, alas, towards one man’s destruction.
Now the terrible day arrived, the rites were being
prepared
for me, the salted grain, and the headbands for my
forehead.
I confess I saved myself from death, burst my bonds,
and all that night hid by a muddy lake among the
reeds,
till they set sail, if as it happened they did.
And now I’ve no hope of seeing my old country again,
or my sweet children or the father I long for:
perhaps they’ll seek to punish them for my flight,
and avenge my crime through the death of these
unfortunates.
But I beg you, by the gods, by divine power that knows
the truth,
by whatever honour anywhere remains pure among men,
have pity
on such troubles, pity the soul that endures
undeserved suffering.”
BkII:145-194
Sinon Deludes the Trojans
With these tears we grant him his life, and also pity
him.
Priam himself is the first to order his manacles and
tight bonds
removed, and speaks these words of kindness to him:
“From now on, whoever you are, forget the Greeks, lost
to you:
you’ll be one of us. And explain to me truly what I
ask:
Why have they built this huge hulk of a horse? Who
created it?
What do they aim at? What religious object or war
machine is it?”
He spoke: the other, schooled in Pelasgian art and
trickery,
raised his unbound palms towards the stars, saying:
“You, eternal fires, in your invulnerable power, be
witness,
you altars and impious swords I escaped,
you sacrificial ribbons of the gods that I wore as
victim:
with right I break the Greek’s solemn oaths,
with right I hate them, and if things are hidden
bring them to light: I’m bound by no laws of their
country.
Only, Troy, maintain your assurances, if I speak
truth, if I repay
you handsomely: kept intact yourself, keep your
promises intact.
All the hopes of the Greeks and their confidence to
begin the war
always depended on Pallas’s aid. But from that moment
when the impious son of Tydeus, Diomede, and Ulysses
inventor of wickedness, approached the fateful
Palladium to snatch
it from its sacred temple, killing the guards on the
citadel’s heights,
and dared to seize the holy statue, and touch the
sacred ribbons
of the goddess with blood-soaked hands: from that
moment
the hopes of the Greeks receded, and slipping
backwards ebbed:
their power fragmented, and the mind of the goddess
opposed them.
Pallas gave sign of this, and not with dubious
portents,
for scarcely was the statue set up in camp, when
glittering flames
shone from the upturned eyes, a salt sweat ran over
its limbs,
and (wonderful to tell) she herself darted from the
ground
with shield on her arm, and spear quivering.
Calchas immediately proclaimed that the flight by sea
must be
attempted, and that Troy
cannot be uprooted by Argive weapons,
unless they renew the
omens at Argos, and take the goddess home,
whom they have indeed
taken by sea in their curved ships.
And now they are heading for their native Mycenae with
the wind,
obtaining weapons and the friendship of the gods,
re-crossing
the sea to arrive unexpectedly, So Calchas reads the
omens.
Warned by him, they’ve set up this statue of a horse
for the wounded goddess, instead of the Palladium,
to atone severely for their sin. And Calchas ordered
them
to raise the huge mass of woven timbers, raised to the
sky,
so the gates would not take it, nor could it be
dragged
inside the walls, or watch over the people in their
ancient rites.
Since if your hands violated Minerva’s gift,
then utter ruin (may the gods first turn that
prediction
on themselves!) would come to Priam and the Trojans:
yet if it ascended into your citadel, dragged by your
hands,
Asia would come to the very walls of Pelops, in mighty
war,
and a like fate would await our children.”
BkII:195-227
Laocoön and the Serpents
Through these tricks and the skill of perjured Sinon,
the thing was
credited, and we were trapped, by his wiliness, and
false tears,
we, who were not conquered by Diomede, or Larissan
Achilles,
nor by the ten years of war, nor those thousand ships.
Then something greater and more terrible befalls
us wretches, and stirs our unsuspecting souls.
Laocoön, chosen by lot as priest of Neptune,
was sacrificing a huge bull at the customary altar.
See, a pair of serpents with huge coils, snaking over
the sea
from Tenedos through the tranquil deep (I shudder to
tell it),
and heading for the shore side by side: their fronts
lift high
over the tide, and their blood-red crests top the
waves,
the rest of their body slides through the ocean
behind,
and their huge backs arch in voluminous folds.
There’s a roar from the foaming sea: now they reach
the shore,
and with burning eyes suffused with blood and fire,
lick at their hissing jaws with flickering tongues.
Blanching at the sight we scatter. They move
on a set course towards Laocoön: and first each serpent
entwines the slender bodies of his two sons,
and biting at them, devours their wretched limbs:
then as he comes to their aid, weapons in hand, they
seize him too,
and wreathe him in massive coils: now encircling his
waist twice,
twice winding their scaly folds around his throat,
their high necks and heads tower above him.
He strains to burst the knots with his hands,
his sacred headband drenched in blood and dark venom,
while he sends terrible shouts up to the heavens,
like the bellowing of a bull that has fled wounded,
from the altar, shaking the useless axe from its neck.
But the serpent pair escape, slithering away to the
high temple,
and seek the stronghold of fierce Pallas, to hide
there
under the goddess’s feet, and the circle of her
shield.
BkII:228-253
The Horse Enters Troy
Then in truth a strange terror steals through each
shuddering heart,
and they say that Laocoön has justly suffered for his
crime
in wounding the sacred oak-tree with his spear,
by hurling its wicked shaft into the trunk.
“Pull the statue to her house”, they shout,
“and offer prayers to the goddess’s divinity.”
We breached the wall, and opened up the defences of
the city.
All prepare themselves for the work and they set up
wheels
allowing movement under its feet, and stretch hemp
ropes
round its neck. That engine of fate mounts our walls
pregnant with armed men. Around it boys, and virgin
girls,
sing sacred songs, and delight in touching their hands
to the ropes:
Up it glides and rolls threateningly into the midst of
the city.
O my country, O Ilium house of the gods, and you,
Trojan walls famous in war! Four times it sticks at
the threshold
of the gates, and four times the weapons clash in its
belly:
yet we press on regardless, blind with frenzy,
and site the accursed creature on top of our sacred
citadel.
Even then Cassandra, who, by the god’s decree, is
never
to be believed by Trojans, reveals our future fate
with her lips.
We unfortunate ones, for whom that day is our last,
clothe the gods’ temples, throughout the city, with
festive branches.
Meanwhile the heavens turn, and night rushes from the
Ocean,
wrapping the earth, and sky, and the Myrmidons’
tricks,
in its vast shadow: through the city the Trojans
fall silent: sleep enfolds their weary limbs.
BkII:254-297
The Greeks Take the City
And now the Greek phalanx of battle-ready ships sailed
from Tenedos, in the benign stillness of the silent
moon,
seeking the known shore, when the royal galley raised
a torch, and Sinon, protected by the gods’ unjust
doom,
sets free the Greeks imprisoned by planks of pine,
in the horses’ belly. Opened, it releases them to the
air,
and sliding down a lowered rope, Thessandrus, and
Sthenelus,
the leaders, and fatal Ulysses, emerge joyfully
from their wooden cave, with Acamas, Thoas,
Peleus’s son Neoptolemus, the noble Machaon,
Menelaus, and Epeus who himself devised this trick.
They invade the city that’s drowned in sleep and wine,
kill the watchmen, welcome their comrades
at the open gates, and link their clandestine ranks.
It was the hour when first sleep begins for weary
mortals,
and steals over them as the sweetest gift of the gods.
See, in dream, before my eyes, Hector seemed to stand
there,
saddest of all and pouring out great tears,
torn by the chariot, as once he was, black with bloody
dust,
and his swollen feet pierced by the thongs.
Ah, how he looked! How changed he was
from that Hector who returned wearing Achilles’s
armour,
or who set Trojan flames to the Greek ships! His beard
was ragged,
his hair matted with blood, bearing those many wounds
he received
dragged around the walls of his city.
And I seemed to weep myself, calling out to him,
and speaking to him in words of sorrow:
“Oh light of the Troad, surest hope of the Trojans,
what has so delayed you? What shore do you come from
Hector, the long-awaited? Weary from the many troubles
of our people and our city I see you, oh, after the
death
of so many of your kin! What shameful events have
marred
that clear face? And why do I see these wounds?’
He does not reply, nor does he wait on my idle
questions,
but dragging heavy sighs from the depths of his heart,
he says:
“Ah! Son of the goddess, fly, tear yourself from the
flames.
The enemy has taken the walls: Troy falls from her
high place.
Enough has been given to Priam and your country: if
Pergama
could be saved by any hand, it would have been saved
by this.
Troy entrusts her sacred relics and household gods to
you:
take them as friends of your fate, seek mighty walls
for them,
those you will found at last when you have wandered
the seas.”
So he speaks, and brings the sacred headbands in his
hands
from the innermost shrine, potent Vesta, and the
undying flame.
BkII:298-354
Aeneas Gathers his Comrades
Meanwhile the city is confused with grief, on every
side,
and though my father Anchises’s house is remote,
secluded
and hidden by trees, the sounds grow clearer and
clearer,
and the terror of war sweeps upon it.
I shake off sleep, and climb to the highest roof-top,
and stand there with ears strained:
as when fire attacks a wheat-field when the south-wind
rages,
or the rushing torrent from a mountain stream covers
the fields,
drowns the ripe crops, the labour of oxen,
and brings down the trees headlong, and the dazed
shepherd,
unaware, hears the echo from a high rocky peak.
Now the truth is obvious, and the Greek plot revealed.
Now the vast hall of Deiphobus is given to ruin
the fire over it: now Ucalegon’s nearby blazes:
the wide Sigean straits throw back the glare.
Then the clamour of men and the blare of trumpets
rises.
Frantically I seize weapons: not because there is much
use
for weapons, but my spirit burns to gather men for
battle
and race to the citadel with my friends: madness and
anger
hurl my mind headlong, and I think it beautiful to die
fighting.
Now, see, Panthus escaping the Greek spears,
Panthus, son of Othrys, Apollo’s priest on the
citadel,
dragging along with his own hands the sacred relics,
the conquered gods, his little grandchild, running
frantically
to my door: “Where’s the best advantage, Panthus, what
position
should we take?” I’d barely spoken, when he answered
with a groan: “The last day comes, Troy’s inescapable
hour.
Troy is past, Ilium is past, and the great glory of
the Trojans:
Jupiter carries all to Argos: the Greeks are lords of
the burning city.
The horse, standing high on the ramparts, pours out
warriors,
and Sinon the conqueror exultantly stirs the flames.
Others are at the wide-open gates, as many thousands
as ever came from great Mycenae: more have blocked
the narrow streets with hostile weapons:
a line of standing steel with naked flickering blades
is ready for the slaughter: barely the first few
guards
at the gates attempt to fight, and they resist in
blind conflict.”
By these words from Othrys’ son, and divine will, I’m
thrust
amongst the weapons and the flames, where the dismal
Fury
sounds, and the roar, and the clamour rising to the
sky.