The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) š
- Author: Virgil
Book online Ā«The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) šĀ». Author Virgil
My fatal course is finishād; and I go,
A glorious name, among the ghosts below.
A lofty city by my hands is raisād,
Pygmalion punishād, and my lord appeasād.
What could my fortune have afforded more,
Had the false Trojan never touchād my shore!ā
Then kissād the couch; and, āMust I die,ā she said,
āAnd unrevengād? āTis doubly to be dead!
Yet evān this death with pleasure I receive:
On any terms, ātis better than to live.
These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view;
These boding omens his base flight pursue!ā
She said, and struck; deep enterād in her side
The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed:
Cloggād in the wound the cruel weapon stands;
The spouting blood came streaming on her hands.
Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke,
And with loud cries the sounding palace shook.
Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled,
And throā the town the dismal rumour spread.
First from the frighted court the yell began;
Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran:
The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries
Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies.
Not less the clamour, than ifā āancient Tyre,
Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fireā ā
The rolling ruin, with their lovād abodes,
Involvād the blazing temples of their gods.
Her sister hears; and, furious with despair,
She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair,
And, calling on Elizaās name aloud,
Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.
āWas all that pomp of woe for this preparād;
These fires, this funāral pile, these altars rearād?
Was all this train of plots contrivād,ā said she,
āAll only to deceive unhappy me?
Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend
To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend?
Thy summonād sister, and thy friend, had come;
One sword had servād us both, one common tomb:
Was I to raise the pile, the powārs invoke,
Not to be present at the fatal stroke?
At once thou hast destroyād thyself and me,
Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony!
Bring water; bathe the wound; while I in death
Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath.ā
This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste,
And in her arms the gasping queen embracād;
Her temples chafād; and her own garments tore,
To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore.
Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head,
And, fainting thrice, fell grovāling on the bed;
Thrice opād her heavy eyes, and sought the light,
But, having found it, sickenād at the sight,
And closād her lids at last in endless night.
Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain
A death so lingāring, and so full of pain,
Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife
Of labāring nature, and dissolve her life.
For since she died, not doomād by Heavānās decree,
Or her own crime, but human casualty,
And rage of love, that plungād her in despair,
The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair,
Which Proserpine and they can only know;
Nor made her sacred to the shades below.
Downward the various goddess took her flight,
And drew a thousand colours from the light;
Then stood above the dying loverās head,
And said: āI thus devote thee to the dead.
This offāring to thā infernal gods I bear.ā
Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair:
The struggling soul was loosād, and life dissolvād in air.
Aeneas, setting sail from Afric, is driven by a storm on the coast of Sicily, where he is hospitably receivād by his friend Acestes, king of part of the island, and born of Trojan parentage. He applies himself to celebrate the memory of his father with divine honours, and accordingly institutes funeral games, and appoints prizes for those who should conquer in them. While the ceremonies are performing, Juno sends Iris to persuade the Trojan woman to burn the ships, who, upon her instigation, set fire to them: which burned four, and would have consumād the rest, had not Jupiter, by a miraculous shower extinguishād it. Upon this, Aeneas, by the advice of one of his generals, and a vision of his father, builds a city for the women, old men, and others, who were either unfit for war, or weary of the voyage, and sails for Italy. Venus procures of Neptune a safe voyage for him and all his men, excepting only his pilot Palinurus, who was unfortunately lost.
Meantime the Trojan cuts his watāry way,
Fixād on his voyage, throā the curling sea;
Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze,
Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze.
The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind
The fate of Dido from the fire divinād;
He knew the stormy souls of womankind,
What secret springs their eager passions move,
How capable of death for injurād love.
Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw;
Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw.
Now seas and skies their prospect only bound;
An empty space above, a floating field around.
But soon the heavāns with shadows were oāerspread;
A swelling cloud hung hovāring oāer their head:
Livid it lookād, the threatāning of a storm:
Then night and horror oceanās face deform.
The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud:
āWhat gusts of weather from that gathāring cloud
My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars,
Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars;
Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind.ā
The frighted crew perform the task assignād.
Then, to his fearless chief: āNot Heavān,ā said he,
āThoā Jove himself should promise Italy,
Can stem the torrent of this raging sea.
Mark how the shifting winds from west arise,
And what collected night involves the skies!
Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea,
Much less against the tempest force their way.
āTis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.
Not far from hence, if I observād aright
The southing of the stars, and polar light,
Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores
In safety we may reach with struggling oars.ā
Aeneas then replied: āToo sure I find
We strive in vain against the seas and wind:
Now shift your sails; what place can please me more
Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore,
Whose hallowād earth Anchisesā bones contains,
And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?ā
The course resolvād, before the western wind
They scud amain, and make the port assignād.
Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand,
Beheld the fleet descending on the land;
And, not unmindful of his ancient race,
Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace,
And
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