The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) š
- Author: Virgil
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Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues.
Thus, when a fearful stag is closād around
With crimson toils, or in a river found,
High on the bank the deep-mouthād hound appears,
Still opening, following still, whereāer he steers;
The persecuted creature, to and fro,
Turns here and there, to scape his Umbrian foe:
Steep is thā ascent, and, if he gains the land,
The purple death is pitchād along the strand.
His eager foe, determinād to the chase,
Stretchād at his length, gains ground at evāry pace;
Now to his beamy head he makes his way,
And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey:
Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear;
He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air:
The rocks, the lakes, the meadows ring with cries;
The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies.
Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames
His tardy troops, and, calling by their names,
Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats
The realm with ruin, and their ancient seats
To lay in ashes, if they dare supply
With arms or aid his vanquishād enemy:
Thus menacing, he still pursues the course,
With vigour, thoā diminishād of his force.
Ten times already round the listed place
One chief had fled, and tā other givān the chase:
No trivial prize is playād; for on the life
Or death of Turnus now depends the strife.
Within the space, an olive tree had stood,
A sacred shade, a venerable wood,
For vows to Faunus paid, the Latinsā guardian god.
Here hung the vests, and tablets were engravād,
Of sinking mariners from shipwreck savād.
With heedless hands the Trojans fellād the tree,
To make the ground enclosād for combat free.
Deep in the root, whether by fate, or chance,
Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance;
Then stoopād, and tuggād with force immense, to free
Thā encumberād spear from the tenacious tree;
That, whom his fainting limbs pursued in vain,
His flying weapon might from far attain.
Confusād with fear, bereft of human aid,
Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus prayād:
āO Faunus, pity! and thou Mother Earth,
Where I thy foster son receivād my birth,
Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand
Your plant has honourād, which your foes profanād,
Propitious hear my pious prayār!ā He said,
Nor with successless vows invokād their aid.
Thā incumbent hero wrenchād, and pullād, and strainād;
But still the stubborn earth the steel detainād.
Juturna took her time; and, while in vain
He strove, assumād Meticusā form again,
And, in that imitated shape, restorād
To the despairing prince his Daunian sword.
The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief,
Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief,
Tā assert her offspring with a greater deed,
From the tough root the lingāring weapon freed.
Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance:
One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance;
And both resolvād alike to try their fatal chance.
Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke,
Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock:
āWhat new arrest, O Queen of Heavān, is sent
To stop the Fates now labāring in thā event?
What farther hopes are left thee to pursue?
Divine Aeneas, (and thou knowāst it too,)
Foredoomād, to these celestial seats are due.
What more attempts for Turnus can be made,
That thus thou lingārest in this lonely shade?
Is it becoming of the due respect
And awful honour of a god elect,
A wound unworthy of our state to feel,
Patient of human hands and earthly steel?
Or seems it just, the sister should restore
A second sword, when one was lost before,
And arm a conquerād wretch against his conqueror?
For what, without thy knowledge and avow,
Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do?
At last, in deference to my love, forbear
To lodge within thy soul this anxious care;
Reclinād upon my breast, thy grief unload:
Who should relieve the goddess, but the god?
Now all things to their utmost issue tend,
Pushād by the Fates to their appointed end.
While leave was givān thee, and a lawful hour
For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted powār,
Tossād on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress,
And, drivān ashore, with hostile arms oppress;
Deform the royal house; and, from the side
Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride:
Now cease at my command.ā The Thundārer said;
And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made:
āBecause your dread decree too well I knew,
From Turnus and from earth unwilling I withdrew.
Else should you not behold me here, alone,
Involvād in empty clouds, my friends bemoan,
But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight
Engagād against my foes in mortal fight.
āTis true, Juturna mingled in the strife
By my command, to save her brotherās lifeā ā
At least to try; but, by the Stygian lake,
(The most religious oath the gods can take,)
With this restriction, not to bend the bow,
Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw.
And now, resignād to your superior might,
And tirād with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight.
This let me beg (and this no fates withstand)
Both for myself and for your fatherās land,
That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace,
(Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless,)
The laws of either nation be the same;
But let the Latins still retain their name,
Speak the same language which they spoke before,
Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore.
Call them not Trojans: perish the renown
And name of Troy, with that detested town.
Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign
And Romeās immortal majesty remain.ā
Then thus the founder of mankind replies
(Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes)
āCan Saturnās issue, and heavānās other heir,
Such endless anger in her bosom bear?
Be mistress, and your full desires obtain;
But quench the choler you foment in vain.
From ancient blood thā Ausonian people sprung,
Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue.
The Trojans to their customs shall be tied:
I will, myself, their common rites provide;
The natives shall command, the foreigners subside.
All shall be Latium; Troy without a name;
And her lost sons forget from whence they came.
From blood so mixād, a pious race shall flow,
Equal to gods, excelling all below.
No nation more respect to you shall pay,
Or greater offārings on your altars lay.ā
Juno consents, well pleasād that her desires
Had found success, and from the cloud retires.
The peace thus made, the Thundārer next prepares
To force the watāry goddess from the wars.
Deep in the dismal regions void of light,
Three daughters at a birth were born to Night:
These their brown mother, brooding on her
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