VIRGIL'S ENEID.

BOOK I.

THE ARGUMENT.

THE Trojans, after a seven years' voyage, set sail for Italy, but are overtaken by a dreadful storm, which Eolus raises at Juno's request. The tempest sinks one ship, and scatters the rest: Neptune drives off the winds, and calms the seas. Eneas, with his own, and six more ships, arrives safe at an African port. Venus complains to Jupiter of her son's misfortunes. Jupiter comforts her, and sends Mercury to procure him a kind reception among the Carthaginians. Æneas, going out to discover the country, meets his mother in the shape of a huntress, who conveys him in a cloud to Carthage; where he sees his friends whom he thought lost, and receives a kind entertainment from the queen. Dido, by a device of Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and. after some discourse with him desires the history of of his adventures since the siege of Troy; which is the subject of the two following books.

ARMS and the man I sing, the first who bore
His course to Latium from the Trojan shore;
By fate expell'd, on land and ocean tost,
Before he reach'd the fair Lavinian coast:
Doom'd by the gods a length of wars to wage,
And urg'd by Juno's unrelenting rage;
Fre the brave hero rais'd, in these abodes,
His destin'd walls, and fix'd his wandering gods.
Hence the fam'd Latian line, and senates come,
And the proud triumphs, and the towers of Rome,
Say, Muse, what causes could so far incense
Celestial pow'rs, and what the dire offence
That mov'd Heav'n's awful empress to impose
On such a pious prince a weight of woes,
Expos'd to danger, and with toils opprest?
Can rage so fierce inflame an heavenly breast?
Against th' Italian coast, of ancient fame
A city rose, and Carthage was the name;
A Tyrian colony; from Tiber far;
Rich, rough, and brave, and exercis'd in war.
Which Juno far above all realms, above
Her own dear Samos, honoured with her love.
Here stood her chariot, here her armour lay,
Here she design'd, would destiny give way,
Ev'n then the seat of universal sway.

But of a race she heard, that should destroy
The Tyrian tow'rs, a race deriv'd from Troy,
Who, proud in arms, triumphant by their swords,
Should rise in time, the world's victorious lords;
By fate design'd her Carthage to subdue,
And on her ruin'd empire raise a new.
This fear'd the goddess; and in mind she bore
The late long war her fury rais'd before
For Greece with Troy; nor was her wrath resign'd,
But every cause hung heavy on her mind;
Her form disdain'd, and Paris' judgment, roll
Deep in her breast, and kindle all her soul;
Th' immortal honours of the ravish'd boy,
And last, the whole detested race of Troy.
With all these motives fir'd, from Latium far
She drove the relics of the Grecian war: [o'er
Fate urg'd their course and long they wander'd
The spacious ocean tost from shore to shore.
So vast the work to build the mighty frame,
And raise the glories of the Roman name!

Scarce from Sicilian shores the shouting train Spread their broad sails, and plough'd the foamy Th' eternal wound still rankling in her breast. When haughty Juno thus her rage express'd; [main;

And must this Trojan prince in Latium reign?
"Then must I stop? are all my labours vain?
Belike, the fates may bafle Juno's aims;
And why could Pallas, with avenging flames,
Burn a whole navy of the Grecian ships,
And whelm the scatter'd Argives in the deeps?..
She, for the crime of Ajax, from above
Lanch'd through the clouds the fiery bolts of Jove;
Dash'd wide his fleet, and, as her tempest flew,
Expos'd the ocean's inmost depths to view.
Then, while transfix'd the blasted wretch expires,
Flames from his breast, and fires succeeding fires,
Snatch'd in a whirlwind, with a sudden shock,
She hurl'd him headlong on a pointed rock.
But I, who move supreme in Heaven's abodes,
Jove's sister-wife, and empress of the gods,
With this one nation must a war maintain
For years on years; and wage that war in vain
And now what suppliants will invoke my name,
Adore my pow'r, or bid my altars flame?"

Thas fir'd with rage and vengeance, now she flies
To dark Folia, from the distant skies,
Impregnated with storms; whose tyrant binds
The blust'ring tempests, and reluctant winds.
Their rage imperial Eolus restrains
With rocky dungeons, and enormous chains.
The bellowing brethren, in the mountain pent,
Roar round the cave, and struggle for a vent.
From his high throne, their fury to assuage,
He shakes his sceptre, and controls their rage;
Or down the void their rapid whirls are driv'n
Earth, air, and ocean, and the tow'rs of Heaven

But Jove, the mighty ruin to prevent,
In gloomy caves the aërial captives pent;
O'er their wild rage the pond'rous ro ks he spread,
And hurl'd huge heaps of mountains on their head;
And gave a king, commission'd to restrain
And curb the tempest, or to loose the rein.
Whom thus the queen address'd: "Since mighty
The king of men, and sire of gods above, [Jove,
Gives thee, great olus, the pow'r to raise
Storms at thy sovereign will, or smooth the seas:
A race, I long have labour'd to destroy,
Waft to Hesperia the remains of Troy.
Ev'n now their navy cuts the Tuscan floods,
Charg'd with their exiles, and their vanquish'd gods.
Wing all thy furious winds; o'erwhelm the train,
Disperse, or plunge their vessels in the main.
Twice seven bright nymphs, of beauteous shape, are
For thy reward the fairest I'll resign, [mine;
The charming Deiopea shall be thine;
She, on thy bed, long blessings shall confer,
And make thee father of a race like her."
"'Tis your's, great queen," replies the pow'r, "to
The task, and mine to listen and obey.
By you, I sit a guest with gods above,
And share the graces and the smiles of Jove;
By you, these realms, this sceptre I maintain,
And wear these honours of the stormy reign."
So spoke th' obsequious god; and, while he spoke,
Whirl'd his vast spear, and pierc'd the hollow rock.
The winds, embattled, as the mountain rent,
Flew all at once impetuous thro' the vent;
Earth, in their course, with giddy whirls they sweep,
Rush to the seas, and bare the bosom of the deep:
East, West, and South, all black with tempests,
And roll vast billows to the trembling shore. [roar,
The cordage cracks; with unavailing cries
The Trojans mourn; while sudden clouds arise,
And ravish from their sight the splendours of the
skies.

[lay

Night hovers o'er the floods; the day retires;
The heav'ns flash thick with momentary fires;
Loud thunders shake the poles; from ev'ry place
Grim death appear'd, and glar'd in ev'ry face.

In horrour fix'd the Trojan hero stands,
He groans, and spreads to Heav'n his lifted hands.
"Thrice happy those! whose fate it was to fall,"
(Exclaims the chief) "beneath the Trojan wall.
Oh! 'twas a glorious fate to die in fight,
To die, so bravely, in their parents' sight!
Oh! had I there, beneath Tydides' hand,
That bravest hero of the Grecian band,
Pour'd out this soul, with martial glory fir'd,
And in that field triumphantly expir'd,
Where Hector fell by fierce Achilles' spear,
And great Sarpedon, the renown'd in war;
Where Simois' streams, encumber'd with the slain,
Roll'd shields, and helms, and heroes to the main."
Thus while he mourns, the northern blast pre-
vails,

Breaks all his oars, and rends his flying sails;
The prow turns round; the galley leaves her side
Bare to the working waves, and roaring tide;
While in huge heaps the gathering surges spread,
And hang in wat'ry mountains o'er his head,
These ride on waves sublime; those see the ground,
Low in the boiling deeps, and dark profound.
Three shatter'd gallies the strong southern blast
On hidden rocks, with dreadful fury, cast;
Th' Italians call them altars, as they stood
Sublime, and heav'd their backs above the flood,

Three more, fierce Eurus on the Syrtes threw
From the main sea, and (terrible to view)
He dash'd, and left the vessels, on the land,
Intrench'd with mountains of surrounding sand.
Struck by a billow, in the hero's view.
From prow to stern the shatter'd galley flew
Which bore Orontes, and the Lycian crew:
Swept off the deck, the pilot from the ship,
Stunn'd by the stroke, shot headlong down the deep;
The vessel, by the surge tost round and round,
Sunk, in the whirling gulph devour'd and drown'd.
Some from the dark abyss emerge again;
Arms, planks, and treasures, float along the main.
And now thy ship, Ilioueus, gives way,
Nor thine, Achates, can resist the sea;
Nor old Alethes his strong galley saves;
Then Abas yields to the victorious waves:
The storm dissolves their well-compacted sides,
Which drink at many a leak the hostile tides.

Meantime th' imperial monarch of the main
Heard the loud tumults in his wat'ry reign,
And saw the furious tempest wide around
Work up the waters, from the vast profound.
Then for his liquid realms alarm'd, the god
Lifts his high head above the stormy flood,
Majestic and serene: he rolls his eyes,
And scatter'd wide the Trojan navy spies, [skies,
Opprest by waves below, by thunders from the
Full well he knew his sister's endless hate,
Her wiles and arts to sink the Trojan state.
To Eurus, and the Western blast, he cry'd,
"Does your high birth inspire this boundless pride,
Audacious winds! without a pow'r from me,
To raise, at will, such mountains on the sea?
Thus to confound Heav'n, earth, the air, and main?
Whom I-but first I'll calm the waves again.
But if you tempt my rage a second time,
Know, that some heavier vengeance waits the crime.
Hence; fly with speed; from me, your tyrant tell,
That to my lot this wat'ry empire fell.

Bid him his rocks, your darksome dungeons keep,
Nor dare usurp the trident of the deep.
There, in that gloomy court, display his pow'r,
And hear his tempests round their caverns roar."

He spoke, and speaking chas'd the clouds away,
Hush'd the loud billows, and restor❜d the day.
Cymothoë guards the vessels in the shock,
And Triton heaves them from the pointed rock.
With his huge trident the majestic god
Clear'd the wild Syrtes, and compos'd the flood;
Then mounted on his radiant car he rides,
And wheels along the level of the tides.
As when sedition fires th' ignoble crowd,
And the wild rabble storms and thirsts for blood:
Of stones and brands, à mingled tempest flies,
With all the sudden arms that rage supplies:
If some grave sire appears, amid the strife,
In morals strict, and innocence of life,
All stand attentive; while the sage controuls
Their wrath, and calms the tumult of their souls.
So did the roaring deeps their rage compose,
When the great father of the floods arose.
Rapt by his steeds he flies in open day,
Throws up the reins, and skims the wat'ry way.
The Trojans, weary'd with the storın, explore
The nearest land, and reach the Libyan shore.
Far in a deep recess, her jutting sides
An isle projects, to break the rolling tides,
And forms a port, where, curling from the sea,
The waves steal back, and wind into a bay.

On either side, sublime in air, arise

[sand.

Two tow'ring rocks, whose summits brave the skies; Low at their feet the sleeping ocean lies: Crown'd with a gloomy shade of waving woods, Their awful brows hang nodding o'er the floods. Oppos'd to these, a secret grotto stands, The haunt of Nereids, fram'd by Nature's hands; Where polish'd seats appear of living stone, And limpid rills, that tinkle as they run. No cable here, nor circling anchor binds The floating vessel harass d with the winds. The Dardan hero brings to this retreat Seven shatter'd ships, the relics of his fleet. With fierce desire to gain the friendly strand, The Trojans leap in rapture to the land, And, drench'd in brine, lie stretch'd along the Achates strikes the flint, and from the stroke The lurking seeds of fire in sparkles broke ; The catching flame on leaves and stubble preys, Then gathers strength, and mounts into a blaze. Tir'd with their labours, they prepare to dine, And grind their corn, infected with the brine. Eneas mounts a rock, and thence surveys The wide and wat'ry prospect of the seas; Now hopes the shatter'd Phrygian ships to find, Antheus, or Capys, driving with the wind; And now, Caïcus' glitt'ring arms to spy, Wide o'er the vast horizon darts his eye. The chief could view no vessel on the main; But three tall stags stalk'd proudly o'er the plain; Before the herd their beamy fronts they rais'd; Stretch'd out in length, the train along the valley graz'd.

The prince, who spy'd 'em on the shore below, Stopp'd short-then snatch'd the feather'd shafts

and bow,

Which good Achates bore: his arrows fled;
And first he laid the lordly leaders dead;
Next all th' ignoble vulgar he pursu'd,

And with his shafts dispers'd 'em thro' the wood;
Nor ceas'd the chief, 'till, stretch'd beneath his

feet,

Lay seven huge stags, the number of his fleet.
Back to the port the victor bends his way,
And with his friends divides the copious prey.
The generous wine to crown the genial feast,
Which kind Acestes gave his parting guest,
Next to his sad associates he imparts;
And with these words revives their drooping hearts.
"Friends! we have known more toils, than

now we know,

By long experience exercis'd in woe;
And soon to these disasters shall be giv'n
A certain period by relenting Heaven
Think, how you saw the dire Cyclopean shore,
Heard Scylla's rocks, and all her monsters, roar.
Dismiss your fears; on these misfortunes past
Your minds with pleasure may reflect at last.
Through such varieties of woes, we tend
To promis'd Latium, where our toils shall end:
Where the kind fates shall peaceful seats ordain,
And Troy, in all her glories, rise again.
With manly patience bear your present state,
And with firm courage wait a better fate."

So spoke the chief, and hid his inward smart ;
Hope smooth'd his looks, but anguish rack'd his
The hungry crowd prepare, without delay, [heart.
To dress the banquet, and to share the prey.
Some from the body strip the smoking hide,
Some eut in morsels, and the parts divide;

These bid, with busy care, the flames aspire; Those roast the limbs, yet quiv'ring o'er the fire. Thus, while their strength and spirits they restore, The brazen cauldrons smoke along the shore. Stretch'd on the grass, their bodies they recline, Enjoy the rich repast, and quaff the generous wine.

The rage of hunger quell'd, they pass'd away In long and melancholy talk the day, Nor knew, by fears and hopes alternate led, Whether to deem their friends distress'd, or dead. Apart the pious chief, who suffer'd most, Bemoans brave Gyas and Cloanthus lost; For Lycus' fate, for Amycus he weeps, And great Orontes, whelm d beneath the deeps. Now, from high Heav'n, imperial Jove surveys The nations, shores, and navigable seas; There, as he sat, enthron'd above the skies, Full on the Libyan realms he fix'd his eyes. When lo! the mournful queen of love appears; Her starry eyes were dimm'd with streaming tears; Who to the sire her humble suit address'd, The schemes of fate revolving in his breast.

"Oh thou! whose sacred, and eternal sway,
Aw'd by thy thunders, men, and gods obey;
What have my poor exhausted Trojans done?
Or what, alas! my dear unhappy son?
Still, for the sake of Italy, deny'd
All other regions, all the world beside ?
Sure, once you promis'd, that a race divine
Of Roman chiefs should spring from Teucer's line;
The world in future ages to command,
And in the empire grasp the sea and land.
Oh! sov'reign father, say! what cause could move
The fixt unalterable word of Jove?

Which sooth'd my grief, when Ilion felt her doom;
And Troy 1 balanc'd with the fates of Rome.
But see! their fortune still pursues her blow;
When wilt the fix a period to their woe?
In safety, bold Antenor broke his way
Through hosts of foes, and pierc'd th' Illyrian bay,
Where, through nine ample mouths, Timavus pours,
Wide as a sea, and deluges the shores;
The flood rebellows, and the mountain roars ;
Yet with his colonies, secure he came,
Rais'd Padua's walls, and gave the realms a name,
Then fix'd his Trojan arms; his labours cease;
And now the hoary monarch reigns in peace.
But we, your progeny, ordain'd to rise,
And share th' eternal honours of the skies,
To glut the rage of one, our vessels lost,

Barr'd by her vengeance, from the promis'd coast
Are these the palms that virtue must obtain,
And is our empire thus restor'd again?"

The sire of men and gods, superior, smil'd
On the sad queen, and gently kiss'd his child.
Then, with those looks that clear the clouded skies,
And calm the raging tempest, he replies.

Daughter, dismiss your fears; by doom divine
Fixt are the fates of your immortal line.
Your eyes Lavinium's promis'd walls shall see,
And here we ratify our first decree.
Your son, the brave Æneas, soon shall rise,
Himself a god, and mount the starry skies.
To soothe your care, these secrets I relate
From the dark volumes of eternal fate :

The chief fair Italy shall reach, and there
With mighty nations wage a dreadful war,
New cities raise, the savage nations awe,
And to the conquer'd kingdoms give the law.

Hence Byrsa nam'd: but now, ye strangers, say, Who? whence you are? and whither lies your way?"

Deep, from his soul, he draws a length of sighs, And, with a mournful accent, thus replies:

Should I, O goddess! from their source relate, Or you attend, the annals of our fate,

The golden Sun would sink, and ev'ning close,
Before my tongue could tell you half our woes.
By Grecian foes expell'd from Troy we came,
From ancient Troy (if e'er you heard the name)
Through various seas; when lo! a tempest roars,
And raging drives us on the Libyan shores.
The good neas am I call'd; my fame,
And brave exploits, have reach'd the starry frame:
From Grecian flames I bear my rescu'd gods,
Safe in my vessels, o'er the stormy floods.
In search of ancient Italy I rove,

And draw my lineage from almighty Jove.
A goddess-mother and the fates my guides,
With twenty ships I plough'd the Phrygian tides,
Scarce sev'n of all my fleet are left behind,
Rent by the waves, and shatter'd by the wind.
Myself, from Europe and from Asia cast,
A helpless stranger rove the Libyan waste."
No more could Venus hear her son bewail
His various woes, but interrupts his tale.
"Whoe'er you are, arriv'd in these abodes,
No wretch I deem abandon'd by the gods;
Hence then, with haste, to yon proud palace bend
Your course, and on the gracious queen attend.
Your friends are safe, the winds are chang'd again,
Or all my skill in augury is vain!

See those twelve swans, a flock triumphant, fly,
Whom lately shooting from th' etherial sky,
Th' imperial bird of Jove dispers'd around,
Some hov'ring o'er, some settling on the ground.
As these returning clap their sounding wings,
Ride round the skies, and sport in airy rings;
So have your friends and ships possess'd the strand,
Or with full-bellying sails approach the land.
Haste to the palace then, without delay,
And, as this path directs, pursue your way."
She said, and turning round, her neck she show'd,
That with celestial charms divinely glow'd.
Her waving locks immortal odours shed,

And breath'd ambrosial scents around her head.
Her sweeping robe trail'd pompous as she trod,
And her majestic port confess'd the god.
Soon as he knows her through the coy disguise,
He thus pursues his mother as she flies :

"Must never, never more our hands be join'd? Are you, like Heaven, grown cruel and unkind? Why must those borrow'd shapes delude your son? And why, ah! why those accents not your own?" He said; then sought the town; but Venus shrowds

And wraps their persons in a veil of clouds ;
That none may interpose to cause delay,
Nor, fondly curious, ask them of their way.
Through air sublime the queen of love retreats
To Paphos' stately tow'rs, and blissful seats;
Where to her name an hundred altars rise,
And gums, and flow'ry wreaths, perfume the skies.
Now o'er the lofty hill they bend their way,
Whence all the rising town in prospect lay,
And tow'rs and temples; for the mountain's brow
Hung bending o'er, and shaded all below.
Where late the cottage stood, with glad surprise
The prince beholds the stately palace rise;

On the pav'd streets, and gates, looks wond'ring down,

And all the crowd and tumult of the town.
The Tyrians ply their work; with many a groan
These roll, or heave, some huge unwieldy stone;
Those bid the lofty citadel ascend;

Some in vast length th' embattled walls extend;
Others for future dwellings choose the ground,
Mark out the spot, and draw the furrow round.
Some useful laws propose, and some the choice
Of sacred senates, and elect by voice.
These sink a spacious mole beneath the sea,
Those a huge theatre's foundation lay;
Hew massy columns from the mountain's side,
Of future scenes an ornamental pride.
Thas to their toils, in early suminer, run
The clust'ring bees, and labour in the sun;
Led forth, in colonies, their buzzing race,
Or work the liquid sweets, and thicken to a mass
The busy nation flies from flow'r to flow'r,
And hoards, in curious cells, the golden store;
A chosen troop before the gate attends,
To take the burdens, and relieve their friends;
Warm at the fragrant work, in bauds, they drive
The drone, a lazy robber, from the hive.
The prince surveys the lofty tow'rs, and cries,
"Blest, blest are you, whose walls already rise!”
Then, strange to tell, he mingled with the crowds,
And pass'd, unseen, involv'd in mantling clouds.
Amid the town, a stately grove display'd

A cooling shelter, and delightful shade.
Here, tost by winds and waves, the Tyrians found
A courser's head within the sacred ground;
An omen sent by Juno, to declare

A fruitful soil, and race renown'd in war.
A temple here Sidonian Dido rais'd
To Heav'n's dread empress, that with riches blaz'd;
Unnumber'd gifts adorn'd the costly shrine,
By her own presence hallow'd and divine.
Brass were the steps, the beams with brass were
strong,

The lofty doors, on brazen hinges, rung.
Here, a strange scene before his eyes appears,
To raise his courage, and dispel his fears;
Here first, he hopes his fortunes to redress :
And finds a glimmering prospect of success.
While for the queen he waited, and amaz'd,
O'er the proud shrine and pompous temple gaz'd
While he the town admires, and wond'ring stands
At the rich labours of the artists' hands;
Amid the story'd walls, he saw appear,
In speaking paint, the tedious Trojan war;
The war, that fame had blaz'd the world around,
And every battle fought on Phrygian ground.
There Priam stood, and Agamemnon here,
And Peleus' wrathful son, to both severe.
Struck with the view, "Oh, friend!" the hero cries,
(Tears, as he spoke, came starting from his eyes)
"Lo! the wide world our miseries employ;
What realm abounds not with the woes of Troy?
See! where the venerable Priam stands!
See virtue honour'd in the Libyan sands!
For Troy, the generous tears of Carthage flow;
And Tyrian breasts are touch'd with human woe.
Now banish fear; for, since the Trojan name
Is known, we find our safety in our fame."

Thus while his soul the moving picture fed,
A show'r of tears the groaning hero shed.
For here, the fainting Greeks in flight he view'd;
And there the Trojans to their walls pursu'd