The sun had now fulfill'd his annual course,
And Boreas on the seas display'd his force:
I fix'd
upon the temple's lofty door
The brazen shield which vanquish'd Abas bore:
The verse beneath my name and action speaks:
"These arms Eneas took from conqu'ring
Greeks."

Then I command to weigh: the seamen ply
Their sweeping oars: the smoking billows fly.
The sight of high Phæacia soon we lost,
And skimm'd along Epirus' rocky coast.
Then to Chaonia's port our course we bend,
And, landed, to Buthrotus' heights ascend.
Here wond'rous things were loudly blaz'd by
Fame-

How Helenus reviv'd the Trojan name,
And reign'd in Greece; that Priam's captive son
Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne;
And fair Andromache, restor'd by Fate,
Once more was happy in a Trojan mate.
I leave my galleys riding in the port,
And long to see the new Dardanian court.
By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate,
Then solemniz'd her former husband's fate.
Green altars, rais'd of turf, with gifts she

crown'd;

And sacred priests in order stand around,
And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound.
The grove itself resembles Ida's woods;
And Simoïs seem'd the well-dissembled flood.
But when, at nearer distance, she beheld
My shining armour, and my Trojan shield,
Astonish'd at the sight, the vital heat
Forsook her limbs, her veins no longer beat:
She faints, she falls, and scarce recov'ring
strength,

In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne,
Endur'd the victor's lust, sustain❜d the scorn:
Thus I submitted to the lawless pride
Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride.
Cloy'd with possession, he forsook my bed,
And Helen's lovely daughter sought to wed;
Then me to Trojan Helenus resign'd,
And his two slaves in equal marriage join'd;
Till young Orestes, pierc'd with deep despair,
And longing to redeem the promis'd fair,
Before Apollo's altar slew the ravisher.
By Pyrrhus' death the kingdom we regain'd;
At least one half with Helenus remain❜d,
Our part from Chaon, he Chaonia calls,
And names from Pergamus his rising walls,
But
you what Fates have landed on our coast?
What gods have sent you, or what storms have
toss'd?

Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy,
Sav'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy?
O! tell me how his mother's loss he bears,
What hopes are promis'd from his blooming
years.

How much of Hector in his face appears?"
She spoke; and mix'd her speech with mournful
cries;

And fruitless tears came trickling from her

eyes.

At length her lord descends upon the plain,
In pomp, attended with a num'rous train;
Receives his friends, and to the city leads,
And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.
Proceeding on, another Troy I see,

Or, in less compass, Troy's epitome.
A riv'let by the name of Xanthus ran ;
And I embrace the Scaan gate again :

length:

"Are you alive, O goddess-born?" she said,
"Or, if a ghost, then where is Hector's shade?
At this she cast a loud and frightful cry.-
With broken words I made this brief reply:
"All of me that remains, appears in sight;
I live; if living be to loathe the light-
No phantom; but I drag a wretched life;
My fate resembling that of Hector's wife.
What have you suffer'd since you lost your lord?
By what strange blessing are you now re-
stor❜d?

Still are you Hector's? or is Hector fled,
And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus' bed?"
With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone,
After a modest pause, she thus begun :
66 Oh, only happy maid of Priam's race,
Whom death deliver'd from the foe's embrace!
Commanded on Achilles' tomb to die,
Nor forc'd, like us, to hard captivity,
Or in a haughty master's arms to lie.

And feasts and pleasures through the city

reign'd.

The tables fill'd the spacious hall around; And golden bowls with sparkling wine were

crown'd.

Two days we pass'd in mirth, till friendly gales, Blown from the south, supplied our swelling

sails.

Then to the royal seer I thus began:
"O thou who know'st, beyond the reach of man,
The laws of heav'n and what the stars decree ;
Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy,
From his own tripod, and his holy tree-
Skill'd in the wing'd inhabitants of air,
What auspices their notes and flights declare-
O say-for all religious rites portend
A happy voyage and a prosp'rous end;
And ev'ry pow'r and omen of the sky
Direct my course for destin'd Italy;
But only dire Celano, from the gods,
A dismal famine fatally forebodes-

O! say, what dangers I am first to shun, What toils to vanquish, and what course to run."

The prophet first with sacrifice adores
The greater gods; their pardon then implores;
Unbinds the fillet from his holy head;
To Phœbus, next, my trembling steps he led,
Full of religious doubts and awful dread.
Then, with his god possess'd, before the shrine,
These words proceeded from his mouth divine:
"O goddess born! (for heav'n's appointed will,
With greater auspices of good than ill,
Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs:
Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,)
Of many things some few I shall explain,
Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main,
And how at length the promis'd shore to gain.
The rest the Fates from Helenus conceal,
And Juno's angry pow'r forbids to tell. [nigh,
First, then, that happy shore, that seems so
Will far from your deluded wishes fly :
Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy:
For you must cruise along Sicilian shores,
And stem the currents with your struggling oars;
Then round th' Italian coast your navy steer,
And, after this, to Circe's island veer;
And, last, before your new foundations rise,
Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether
skies.

Now mark the signs of future ease and rest;
And bear them safely treasur'd in thy breast.
When, in the shady shelter of a wood,
And near the margin of a gentle flood,
Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground,
With thirty sucking young encompass'd round:
The damn and offspring white as falling snow-
These on thy city shall their name bestow;
And there shall end thy labours and thy wo.
Nor let the threaten'd famine fright thy mind:
For Phoebus will assist; and Fate the way will
find.

Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent,
Which fronts from far th' Epirian continent:
Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess'd.
The savage Locrians here the shores infest:
There fierce Idomeneus his city builds,
And guards with arms the Salentinian fields;
And on the mountain's brow Petilla stands,
Which Philoctetes with his troops commands.
E'en when thy fleet is landed on the shore,
And priests with holy vows the gods adore,
Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,
Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice.
These rites and customs to the rest commend,
That to your pious race they may descend.
When parted, hence, the winds, that ready
waits
For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits,

Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way,
Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea;
Veer starbord sea and land. Th' Italian shore,
And fair Sicilia's coast, were one, before
An earthquake caus'd the flaw: the roaring

tides

The passage broke, that land from land divides; And, where the lands retir'd, the rushing ocean rides.

Distinguish'd by the straits, on either hand,
Now rising cities in long order stand
And fruitful fields: so much can time invade
The mould'ring work, that beauteous nature
made.

Far on the right, her dogs fair Scylla hides:
Charybdis roaring on the left presides,

And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides:
Then spouts them from below: with fury driv❜n,
The waves mount up, and wash the face of
heav'n.

But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,
The sinking vessel in her eddy draws,
Then dashes on the rocks.-A human face,
And virgin bosom hides her tail's disgrace;
Her parts obscene below the waves descend,
With dogs enclos'd; and in a dolphin end.
'Tis safer then to bear aloof to sea,
And coast Pachynus, though with more delay,
Than once to view misshapen Scylla near,
And the loud yells of wat'ry wolves to hear.
Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,

And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true,
Do not this precept of your friend forget,
Which therefore more than once I must repeat:
Above the rest, great Juno's name adore ;
Pay vows to Juno; Juno's aid implore.
Let gifts be to the mighty queen design'd;
And mollify with pray'rs her haughty mind.
Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free,
And you shall safe descend on Italy.
Arriv'd at Cuma, when you view the flood
Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood,
The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find,
Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin❜d.
She sings the Fates, and, in her frantic fits,
The notes and names, inscrib'd, to leaves com-

mits.

What she commits to leaves, in order laid,
Before the cavern's entrance are display'd:
Unmov'd they lie: but, if a blast of wind
Without, or vapours issue from behind,
The leaves are borne aloft in liquid air;
And she resumes no more her museful care,
Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter'd verse,
Nor sets in order what the winds disperse.
Thus many, not succeeding, must upbraid
The madness of the visionary maid,
And with loud curses leave the mystic shade.

Think it not loss of time a while to stay,
Though thy companions chide thy long delay;
Tho' summon'd to the seas, tho' pleasing gales
Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails:
But beg the sacred priestess to relate
With willing words, and not to write thy fate.
The fierce Italian people she will show,
And all thy wars, and all thy future wo,
And what thou mayst avoid, and what must
undergo.

She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind,
And teach thee how the happy shores to find.
This is what heav'n allows me to relate:
Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate,
And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan

state.

[clar'd, This when the priest with friendly voice deHe gave me license, and rich gifts prepar'd; Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want With heavy gold, and polish'd elephant, Then Dodonæan caldrons put on board, And ev'ry ship with sums of silver stor❜d. A trusty coat of mail to me he sent, Thrice chain'd with gold, for use and ornament; The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest, That flourish'd with a plume and waving crest. Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends: And large recruits he to my navy sendsMen, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores;

Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars. Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails, Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales. The prophet bless'd the parting crew, and last, With words like these, his ancient friend embrac'd:

"Old happy man, the care of gods above, Whom heav'nly Venus honour'd with her love, And twice preserv'd thy life when Troy was lost!

Behold from far the wish'd Ausonian coast:
There land; but take a larger compass round;
For that before is all forbidden ground.
The shore that Phoebus has design'd for you,
At further distance lies, conceal'd from view.
Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes,
Bless'd in a son, and favour'd by the gods :
For I with useless words prolong your stay
When southern gales have summon'd you
away."
[plor'd,

Nor less the queen our parting thence deNor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord. A noble present to my son she brought; A robe with flow'rs on golden tissue wrought. A Phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside Of precious texture, and of Asian pride. [love, "Accept," she said, "these monuments of Which in my youth with happier hands I wove :

Regard these trifles for the giver's sake;
'T is the last present Hector's wife can make.
Thou call'st my lost Astyanax to mind:
In thee, his features and his form I find.
His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame;
Such were his motions; such was all his frame;
And ah! had heav'n so pleas'd, his years had
been the same.'

With tears I took my last adieu, and said,
"Your fortune, happy pair, already made,
Leaves you no further wish. My diff'rent state,
Avoiding one, incurs another fate.
To you a quiet seat the gods allow :
You have no shores to search, no seas to plough:
Nor fields of flying Italy to chase—
Deluding visions, and a vain embrace :
You see another Simois, and enjoy
The labour of your hands, another Troy,
With better auspice than her ancient tow'rs,
And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs.
If e'er the gods, whom I with vows adore,
Conduct my steps to Tyber's happy shore—
If ever I ascend the Latian throne,
And build a city I may call my own
As both of us our birth from Troy derive,
So let our kindred lines in concord live,
And both in acts of equal friendship strive.
Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same:
The double Troy shall differ but in name:
That what we now begin, may never end,
But long to late posterity descend."

[bore

Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we The shortest passage to th' Italian shore. Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light, And hills were hid in dusky shades of night: We land, and, on the bosom of the ground, A safe retreat and a bare lodging found. Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep Their watches, and the rest securely sleep. The night, proceeding on with silent pace, Stood in her noon, and view'd with equal face Her steepy rise, and her declining race. Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy The face of heav'n, and the nocturnal sky; And listen'd ev'ry breath of air to try; Observes the stars, and notes their sliding

course,

The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat'ry force;
And both the Bears is careful to behold,
And bright Orion, arm'd with burnish'd gold.
Then, when he saw no threat' ning tempest
nigh,

But a sure promise of a settled sky,

He gave the sign to weigh, we break our sleep, Forsake the pleasing shore, and plough the deep.

And now the rising morn with rosy light Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight

When we from far, like bluish mist, descry
The hills, and then the plains of Italy.
Achates first pronounc'd the joyful sound;
Then "Italy" the cheerful crew rebound;
My sire Anchises crown'd a cup with wine,
And off'ring, thus implor'd the pow'rs divine:
"Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas,
And you who raging winds and waves appease,
Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp❜rous wind,
And smooth our passage to the port assign'd."
The gentle gales their flagging force renew;
And now the happy harbour is in view.
Minerva's temple then salutes our sight,
Plac'd, as a landmark, on the mountain's
height.

We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore;
The curling waters round the galleys roar.
The land lies open to the raging East,
Then, bending like a bow, with rocks com-
press'd,

Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain,

And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.
The port lies hid within; on either side,
Two tow'ring rocks the narrow mouth divide.
The temple, which aloft we view'd before,
To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore.
Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld
Were four white steeds that cropp'd the flow'ry
field.

"War, war, is threaten'd from this foreign
ground,
[found.

(My father cried,) where warlike steeds are
Yet, since, reclaim'd, to chariots they submit,
And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit,
Peace may succeed to war."-Our way we bend
To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend;
There prostrate to the fierce virago pray,
Whose temple was the landmark of our way.
Each with a Phrygian mantle veil'd his head,
And all commands of Helenus obey'd,
And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid.

Then thus Anchises, in experience old;
''Tis that Charybdis which the seer foretold,
And those the promis'd rocks! Bear off to
sea!"

With haste the frighted mariners obey.
First Palinurus to the larboard veer'd;
Then all the fleet by his example steer'd.
To heav'n aloft on ridgy waves we ride,
Then down to hell descend, when they divide:
And thrice our galleys knock'd the stony ground,
And thrice the hollow rocks return'd the sound,
And thrice we saw the stars that stood with
dews around.

The flagging winds forsook us with the sun;
And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run.
The port, capacious and secure from wind,
Is to the foot of thund'ring Ætna join'd.
By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high;
By turns hot embers from her entrails fly,
And flakes of mountain flames that lick the
sky.

Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown,
And, shiver'd by the force, come piecemeal

down:

Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow,
Fed from the fiery springs that boil below.
Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove,
With blasted limbs came tumbling from above;
And, where he fell, th' avenging father drew
This flaming hill, and on his body threw.
As often as he turns his weary sides,
He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the hea-
vens hides.

In shady woods we pass the tedious night, Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright,

Of which no cause is offer'd to the sight.
For not one star was kindled in the sky,
Nor could the moon her borrow'd light supply:
For misty clouds involv'd the firmament;
The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent.
Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal'd;

stand

To sea, forsaking that suspected land.
From hence Tarentum's bay appears in view
For Hercules renown'd, if fame be true.
Just opposite, Licinian Juno stands;
Caulonian tow'rs and Scylacæan strands,
For shipwrecks fear'd. Mount Etna thence

we spy,

Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky.

Far off we hear the waves with surly sound Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound.

The billows break upon the sounding strand, And roll the rising tide, impure with sand.

When from the woods, their bolts before our

sight,

Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite,
So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan,
So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man.
This thing, all tatter'd, seem'd from far t' im-
plore

Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.
We look behind; then view his shaggy beard:
His clothes were tagg'd with thorns; and filth
his limbs besmear'd.

The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face,
Appear'd a Greek; and such indeed he was.
He cast on us, from far, a frightful view,
Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew→→

Stood still and paus'd; then all at once began To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran. Soon as approach'd, upon his knees he falls, And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls: "Now, by the powers above, and what we share

From nature's common gift, this vital air,

O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more,
But bear me far from this unhappy shore.
'T is true, I am a Greek, and further own,
Among your foes besieg'd the imperial town.
For such demerits if my death be due,
No more for this abandon'd life I sue:
This only favour let my tears obtain,
To throw me headlong in the rapid main:
Since nothing more than death my crime de-
mands

I die content, to die by human hands."

He said, and on his knees my knees embrac'd:
I bade him boldly tell his fortune past,
His present state, his lineage, and his name,
Th' occasion of his fears, and whence he came.
The good Anchises rais'd him with his hand,
Who, thus encourag'd, answer'd our demand:
"From Ithaca, my native soil, I came
To Troy; and Achæmenides my name.
Me my poor father with Ulysses sent;
(O! had I stay'd, with poverty content!)
But fearful for themselves, my countrymen
Left me forsaken in the Cyclop's den.
The cave, though large, was dark; the dismal
floor

Was pav'd with mangled limbs and putrid gore.
Our monstrous host, of more than human size,
Erects his head, and stares within the skies.
Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue.
Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view!
The joints of slaughter'd wretches are his food,
And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood.
These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand
He seiz'd two captives of our Grecian band;
Stretch'd on his back, he dash'd against the

stones

Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones:
With spouting blood the purple pavement
swims,
[limbs.
While the dire glutton grinds the trembling
Not unreveng'd Ulysses bore their fate,
Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state;
For, gorg'd with flesh, and drunk with human
wine,

While fast asleep the giant lay supine,
Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw
His indigested foam, and morsels raw-
We pray, we cast the lots, and then surround
The monstrous body, stretch'd along the ground:
Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand,
To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.

Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye;
For only one did the vast frame supply-
But that a globe so large, his front it fill'd,
Like the sun's disk, or like a Grecian shield.
The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends:
This vengeance follow'd for our slaughter'd
friends.-

But haste, unhappy wretches! haste to fly!
Your cables cut, and on your oars rely!
Such and so vast as Polypheme appears,
A hundred more this hated island bears:
Like him, in caves, they shut their woolly sheep;
Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep;
Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from
[new,
And now three moons their sharpen❜d horns re-
Since thus in woods and wilds, obscure from
view,

steep to steep.

I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,
And in deserted caverns lodge by night;
Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see,
Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree:
From far I hear his thund'ring voice resound,
And trampling feet that shake the solid ground.
Cornels, and savage berries of the wood,
And roots and herbs,have been my meager food.
While all around my longing eyes I cast,
I saw your happy ships appear at last.
On those I fix'd my hopes, to these I run:
'Tis all I ask, this cruel race to shun.
What other death you please, yourselves be-
stow."
[brow

Scarce had he said, when on the mountain's
We saw the giant shepherd stalk before
His following flock, and leading to the shore-
A monstrous bulk, deform'd, depriv'd of sight;
His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps
aright.

His pond'rous whistle from his neck descends;
His woolly care their pensive lord attends :
This only solace his hard fortune sends,
Soon as he reach'd the shore, and touch'd the

waves

From his bor'd eye the glutt'ring blood he laves:
He gnash'd his teeth, and groan'd: through seas
he strides ;
[sides.
And scarce the topmost billows touch'd his
Seiz'd with a sudden fear, we run to sea,
The cables cut and silent haste away;
The well-deserving stranger entertain; [main.
Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the
The giant hearken'd to the dashing sound:
But, when our vessels out of reach he found,
He strided onward, and in vain essay'd
Th' Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.
With that he roar'd aloud: the dreadful cry
Shakes earth and air and seas; the billows fly,
Before the bellowing noise, to distant Italy.