Book 7

One more immortal name thy death bequeathed,

Nurse of Aeneas, to Italian shores,

Caieta; there thy honor hath a home;

Thy bones a name: and on Hesperia's breast

Their proper glory. When Aeneas now

The tribute of sepulchral vows had paid

Beside the funeral mound, and o'er the seas

Stillness had fallen, he flung forth his sails,

And leaving port pursued his destined way.

Freshly the night-winds breathe; the cloudless moon

Outpours upon his path unstinted beam,

And with far-trembling glory smites the sea.

Close to the lands of Circe soon they fare,

Where the Sun's golden daughter in far groves

Sounds forth her ceaseless song; her lofty hall

Is fragrant every night with flaring brands

Of cedar, giving light the while she weaves

With shrill-voiced shuttle at her linens fine.

From hence are heard the loud lament and wrath

Of lions, rebels to their linked chains

And roaring all night long; great bristly boars

And herded bears, in pinfold closely kept,

Rage horribly, and monster-wolves make moan;

Whom the dread goddess with foul juices strong

From forms of men drove forth, and bade to wear the mouths and maws of beasts in Circe's thrall.

But lest the sacred Trojans should endure such prodigy of doom, or anchor there on that destroying shore, kind Neptune filled their sails with winds of power, and sped them on in safety past the perils of that sea.

Now morning flushed the wave, and saffron-garbed

Aurora from her rose-red chariot beamed in highest heaven; the sea-winds ceased to stir;

a sudden calm possessed the air, and tides of marble smoothness met the laboring oar.

Then, gazing from the deep, Aeneas saw a stretch of groves, whence Tiber 's smiling stream, its tumbling current rich with yellow sands, burst seaward forth: around it and above shore-haunting birds of varied voice and plume flattered the sky with song, and, circling far o'er river-bed and grove, took joyful wing.

Thither to landward now his ships he steered, and sailed, high-hearted, up the shadowy stream.

Hail, Erato! while olden kings and thrones and all their sequent story I unfold!

How Latium 's honor stood, when alien ships brought war to Italy, and from what cause the primal conflict sprang, O goddess, breathe upon thy bard in song. Dread wars I tell, array of battle, and high-hearted kings thrust forth to perish, when Etruria's host and all Hesperia gathered to the fray.

Events of grander march impel my song, and loftier task I try. Latinus, then an aged king, held long-accepted sway o'er tranquil vales and towns. He was the son of Faunus, so the legend tells, who wed the nymph Marica of Laurentian stem.

Picus was Faunus' father, whence the line to Saturn's Ioins ascends. O heavenly sire, from thee the stem began! But Fate had given to King Latinus' body no heirs male:

for taken in the dawning of his day his only son had been; and now his home and spacious palace one sole daughter kept, who was grown ripe to wed and of full age to take a husband. Many suitors tried from all Ausonia and Latium 's bounds;

but comeliest in all their princely throng came Turnus, of a line of mighty sires.

Him the queen mother chiefly loved, and yearned to call him soon her son. But omens dire and menaces from Heaven withstood her will.

A laurel-tree grew in the royal close, of sacred leaf and venerated age, which, when he builded there his wall and tower,

Father Latinus found, and hallowed it to Phoebus' grace and power, wherefrom the name

Laurentian, which his realm and people bear.

Unto this tree-top, wonderful to tell, came hosts of bees, with audible acclaim voyaging the stream of air, and seized a place on the proud, pointing crest, where the swift swarm, with interlacement of close-clinging feet, swung from the leafy bough. “Behold, there comes,”

the prophet cried, “a husband from afar!

To the same region by the self-same path behold an arm'd host taking lordly sway upon our city's crown!” Soon after this, when, coming to the shrine with torches pure,

Lavinia kindled at her father's side the sacrifice, swift seemed the flame to burn along her flowing hair—O sight of woe!

Over her broidered snood it sparkling flew, lighting her queenly tresses and her crown of jewels rare: then, wrapt in flaming cloud, from hall to hall the fire-god's gift she flung.

This omen dread and wonder terrible was rumored far: for prophet-voices told bright honors on the virgin's head to fall by Fate's decree, but on her people, war.

The King, sore troubled by these portents, sought oracular wisdom of his sacred sire,

Faunus, the fate-revealer, where the groves stretch under high Albunea, and her stream roars from its haunted well, exhaling through vast, gloomful woods its pestilential air.

Here all Oenotria's tribes ask oracles in dark and doubtful days: here, when the priest has brought his gifts, and in the night so still, couched on spread fleeces of the offered flock, awaiting slumber lies, then wondrously a host of flitting shapes he sees, and hears voices that come and go: with gods he holds high converse, or in deep Avernian gloom parleys with Acheron. Thither drew near

Father Latinus, seeking truth divine.

Obedient to the olden rite, he slew a hundred fleecy sheep, and pillowed lay upon their outstretched skins. Straightway a voice out of the lofty forest met his prayer.

“Seek not in wedlock with a Latin lord to join thy daughter, O my son and seed!

Beware this purposed marriage! There shall come sons from afar, whose blood shall bear our name starward; the children of their mighty loins, as far as eve and morn enfold the seas, shall see a subject world beneath their feet submissive lie.” This admonition given

Latinus hid not. But on restless wing rumor had spread it, when the men of Troy along the river-bank of mounded green their fleet made fast. Aeneas and his chiefs, with fair Iulus, under spreading boughs of one great tree made resting-place, and set the banquet on. Thin loaves of altar-bread along the sward to bear their meats were laid

(such was the will of Jove), and wilding fruits rose heaping high, with Ceres' gift below.

Soon, all things else devoured, their hunger turned to taste the scanty bread, which they attacked with tooth and nail audacious, and consumed both round and square of that predestined leaven.

“Look, how we eat our tables even!” cried

Iulus, in a jest. Such was the word which bade their burdens fall. From his boy's lip the father caught this utterance of Fate, silent with wonder at the ways of Heaven;

then swift he spoke: “Hail! O my destined shore, protecting deities of Ilium, hail!

Here is our home, our country here! This day

I publish the mysterious prophecy by Sire Anchises given: ‘My son,’ said he,

‘When hunger in strange lands shall bid devour the tables of thy banquet gone, then hope for home, though weary, and take thought to build a dwelling and a battlement.’ Behold!

This was our fated hunger! This last proof will end our evil days. Up, then! For now by morning's joyful beam we will explore what men, what cities, in this region be, and, leaving ship, our several errands ply.

Your gift to Jove outpour! Make thankful prayer unto Anchises' shade! To this our feast bring back the flowing wine!” Thereat he bound his forehead with green garland, calling loud upon the Genius of that place, and Earth, eldest of names divine; the Nymphs he called, and river-gods unknown; his voice invoked the night, the omen-stars through night that roll.

Jove, Ida's child, and Phrygia 's fertile Queen:

he called his mother from Olympian skies, and sire from Erebus. Lo, o'er his head three times unclouded Jove omnipotent in thunder spoke, and, with effulgent ray from his ethereal tract outreaching far, shook visibly the golden-gleaming air.

Swift, through the concourse of the Trojans, spread news of the day at hand when they should build their destined walls. So, with rejoicing heart at such vast omen, they set forth a feast with zealous emulation, ranging well the wine-cups fair with many a garland crowned.

Soon as the morrow with the lamp of dawn looked o'er the world, they took their separate ways, exploring shore and towns; here spread the pools and fountain of Numicius; here they see the river Tiber, where bold Latins dwell.

Anchises' son chose out from his brave band a hundred envoys, bidding them depart to the King's sacred city, each enwreathed with Pallas' silver leaf; and gifts they bear to plead for peace and friendship at his throne.

While on this errand their swift steps are sped,

Aeneas, by a shallow moat and small, his future city shows, breaks ground, and girds with mound and breastwork like a camp of war the Trojans' first abode. Soon, making way to where the Latin citadel uprose, the envoys scanned the battlements, and paused beneath its wall. Outside the city gates fair youths and striplings in life's early bloom course with swift steeds, or steer through dusty cloud the whirling chariot, or stretch stout bows, or hurl the seasoned javelin, or strive in boxing-bout and foot-race: one of these made haste on horseback to the aged King, with tidings of a stranger company in foreign garb approaching. The good King bade call them to his house, and took his seat in mid-court on his high, ancestral throne.

Large and majestical the castle rose:

a hundred columns lifted it in air upon the city's crown—the royal keep of Picus of Laurentum; round it lay deep, gloomy woods by olden worship blest.

Here kings took sceptre and the fasces proud with omens fair; the selfsame sacred place was senate-house and temple; here was found a hall for hallowed feasting, where a ram was offered up, and at long banquet-boards the nation's fathers sat in due array.

Here ranged ancestral statues roughly hewn of ancient cedar-wood: King Italus;

Father Sabinus, planter of the vine, a curving sickle in his sculptured hand;

gray-bearded Saturn; and the double brow of Janus' head; and other sires and kings were wardens of the door, with many a chief wounded in battle for his native land.

Trophies of arms in goodly order hung along the columns: chariots of war from foeman taken, axes of round blade, plumed helmets, bolts and barriers of steel from city-gates, shields, spears, and beaks of bronze from captured galleys by the conqueror torn.

Here, wielding his Quirinal augur-staff, girt in scant shift, and bearing on his left the sacred oval shield, appeared enthroned

Picus, breaker of horses, whom his bride, enamoured Circe, smote with golden wand, and, raining o'er him potent poison-dew, changed to a bird of pied and dappled wings.

In such a temple of his gods did Sire

Latinus, on hereditary throne, welcome the Trojans to his halls, and thus with brow serene gave greeting as they came:

“O sons of Dardanus, think not unknown your lineage and city! Rumored far your venturous voyage has been. What seek ye here?

What cause, what quest, has brought your barks and you o'er the blue waters to Ausonia's hills?

What way uncharted, or wild stress of storm, or what that sailors suffer in mid-sea, unto this river bank and haven bore?

Doubt not our welcome! We of Latin land are Saturn's sons, whose equitable minds, not chained by statute or compulsion, keep in freedom what the god's good custom gave.

Now I bethink me our Ausonian seers have dark, dim lore that 't was this land gave birth to Dardanus, who after took his way through Phrygian Ida's towns and Samothrace.

Once out of Tuscan Corythus he fared;

but now in golden house among the stars he has a throne, and by his altars blest adds to the number of the gods we praise.”

He spoke; Ilioneus this answer made:

“O King, great heir of Faunus! No dark storm impelled us o'er the flood thy realm to find.

Nor star deceived, nor strange, bewildering shore threw out of our true course; but we are come by our free choice and with deliberate aim to this thy town, though exiled forth of realms once mightiest of all the sun-god sees when moving from his utmost eastern bound.

From Jove our line began; the sons of Troy boast Jove to be their sire, and our true King is of Olympian seed. To thine abode

Trojan Aeneas sent us. How there burst o'er Ida's vales from dread Mycenae 's kings a tempest vast, and by what stroke of doom all Asia 's world with Europe clashed in war, that lone wight hears whom earth's remotest isle has banished to the Ocean's rim, or he whose dwelling is the ample zone that burns betwixt the changeful sun-god's milder realms, far severed from the world. We are the men from war's destroying deluge safely borne over the waters wide. We only ask some low-roofed dwelling for our fathers' gods, some friendly shore, and, what to all is free, water and air. We bring no evil name upon thy people; thy renown will be but wider spread; nor of a deed so fair can grateful memory die. Ye ne'er will rue that to Ausonia's breast ye gathered Troy.

I swear thee by the favored destinies of great Aeneas, by his strength of arm in friendship or in war, that many a tribe

(O, scorn us not, that, bearing olive green, with suppliant words we come), that many a throne has sued us to be friends. But Fate's decree to this thy realm did guide. Here Dardanus was born; and with reiterate command this way Apollo pointed to the stream of Tiber and Numicius' haunted spring.

Lo, these poor tributes from his greatness gone

Aeneas sends, these relics snatched away from Ilium burning: with this golden bowl

Anchises poured libation when he prayed;

and these were Priam's splendor, when he gave laws to his gathered states; this sceptre his, this diadem revered, and beauteous pall, handwork of Asia 's queens.” So ceased to speak

Ilioneus. But King Latinus gazed unanswering on the ground, all motionless save for his musing eyes. The broidered pall of purple, and the sceptre Priam bore, moved little on his kingly heart, which now pondered of giving to the bridal bed his daughter dear. He argues in his mind the oracle of Faunus:—might this be that destined bridegroom from an alien land, to share his throne, to get a progeny of glorious valor, which by mighty deeds should win the world for kingdom? So at last with joyful brow he spoke: “Now let the gods our purpose and their own fair promise bless!

Thou hast, O Trojan, thy desire. Thy gifts

I have not scorned; nor while Latinus reigns shall ye lack riches in my plenteous land, not less than Trojan store. But where is he,

Aeneas' self? If he our royal love so much desire, and have such urgent mind to be our guest and friend, let him draw near, nor turn him from well-wishing looks away!

My offering and pledge of peace shall be to clasp your monarch's hand. Bear back, I pray, this answer to your King: my dwelling holds a daughter, whom with husband of her blood great signs in heaven and from my father's tomb forbid to wed. A son from alien shores they prophesy for Latium 's heir, whose seed shall lift our glory to the stars divine.

I am persuaded this is none but he, that man of destiny; and if my heart be no false prophet, I desire it so.”

Thus having said, the sire took chosen steeds from his full herd, whereof, well-groomed and fair, three hundred stood within his ample pale.

Of these to every Teucrian guest he gave a courser swift and strong, in purple clad and broidered housings gay; on every breast hung chains of gold; in golden robes arrayed, they champed the red gold curb their teeth between.

For offering to Aeneas, he bade send a chariot, with chargers twain of seed ethereal, their nostrils breathing fire:

the famous kind which guileful Circe bred, cheating her sire, and mixed the sun-god's team with brood-mares earthly born. The sons of Troy, such gifts and greetings from Latinus bearing, rode back in pomp his words of peace to bring.

But lo! from Argos on her voyage of air rides the dread spouse of Jove. She, sky-enthroned above the far Sicilian promontory, pachynus, sees Dardania's rescued fleet, and all Aeneas' joy. The prospect shows houses a-building, lands of safe abode, and the abandoned ships. With bitter grief she stands at gaze: then with storm-shaken brows, thus from her heart lets loose the wrathful word:

“O hated race! O Phrygian destinies — to mine forevermore (unhappy me!)

a scandal and offense! Did no one die on Troy 's embattled plain? Could captured slaves not be enslaved again? Was Ilium's flame no warrior's funeral pyre? Did they walk safe through serried swords and congregated fires?

At last, methought, my godhead might repose, and my full-fed revenge in slumber lie.

But nay! Though flung forth from their native land,

I o'er the waves, with enmity unstayed, dared give them chase, and on that exiled few hurled the whole sea. I smote the sons of Troy with ocean's power and heaven's. But what availed

Syrtes, or Scylla, or Charybdis' waves?

The Trojans are in Tiber; and abide within their prayed-for land delectable, safe from the seas and me! Mars once had power the monstrous Lapithae to slay; and Jove to Dian's honor and revenge gave o'er the land of Calydon. What crime so foul was wrought by Lapithae or Calydon?

But I, Jove's wife and Queen, who in my woes have ventured each bold stroke my power could find, and every shift essayed,—behold me now outdone by this Aeneas! If so weak my own prerogative of godhead be, let me seek strength in war, come whence it will!

If Heaven I may not move, on Hell I call.

To bar him from his Latin throne exceeds my fated power. So be it! Fate has given

Lavinia for his bride. But long delays

I still can plot, and to the high event deferment and obstruction. I can smite the subjects of both kings. Let sire and son buy with their people's blood this marriage-bond!

Let Teucrian and Rutulian slaughter be thy virgin dower, and Bellona's blaze light thee the bridal bed! Not only teemed the womb of Hecuba with burning brand, and brought forth nuptial fires; but Venus, too, such offspring bore, a second Paris, who to their new Troy shall fatal wedlock bring.”

So saying, with aspect terrible she sped earthward her way; and called from gloom of hell

Alecto, woeful power, from cloudy throne among the Furies, where her heart is fed with horrid wars, wrath, vengeance, treason foul, and fatal feuds. Her father Pluto loathes the creature he engendered, and with hate her hell-born sister-fiends the monster view.

A host of shapes she wears, and many a front of frowning black brows viper-garlanded.

Juno to her this goading speech addressed:

“O daughter of dark Night, arouse for me thy wonted powers and our task begin!

Lest now my glory fail, my royal name be vanquished, while Aeneas and his crew cheat with a wedlock bond the Latin King and seize Italia 's fields. Thou canst thrust on two Ioving brothers to draw sword and slay, and ruin homes with hatred, calling in the scourge of Furies and avenging fires.

A thousand names thou bearest, and thy ways of ruin multiply a thousand-fold.

Arouse thy fertile breast! Go, rend in twain this plighted peace! Breed calumnies and sow causes of battle, till yon warrior hosts cry out for swords and leap to gird them on.”

Straightway Alecto, through whose body flows the Gorgon poison, took her viewless way to Latium and the lofty walls and towers of the Laurentian King. Crouching she sate in silence on the threshold of the bower where Queen Amata in her fevered soul pondered, with all a woman's wrath and fear, upon the Trojans and the marriage-suit of Turnus. From her Stygian hair the fiend a single serpent flung, which stole its way to the Queen's very heart, that, frenzy-driven, she might on her whole house confusion pour.

Betwixt her smooth breast and her robe it wound unfelt, unseen, and in her wrathful mind instilled its viper soul. Like golden chain around her neck it twined, or stretched along the fillets on her brow, or with her hair enwrithing coiled; then on from limb to limb slipped tortuous. Yet though the venom strong thrilled with its first infection every vein, and touched her bones with fire, she knew it not, nor yielded all her soul, but made her plea in gentle accents such as mothers use;

and many a tear she shed, about her child, her darling, destined for a Phrygian's bride:

“O father! can we give Lavinia's hand to Trojan fugitives? why wilt thou show no mercy on thy daughter, nor thyself;

nor unto me, whom at the first fair wind that wretch will leave deserted, bearing far upon his pirate ship my stolen child?

Was it not thus that Phrygian shepherd came to Lacedaemon, ravishing away

Helen, the child of Leda, whom he bore to those false Trojan lands? Hast thou forgot thy plighted word? Where now thy boasted love of kith and kin, and many a troth-plight given unto our kinsman Turnus? If we need an alien son, and Father Faunus' words irrevocably o'er thy spirit brood,

I tell thee every land not linked with ours under one sceptre, but distinct and free, is alien; and 't is thus the gods intend.

Indeed, if Turnus' ancient race be told, it sprang of Inachus, Acrisius, and out of mid- Mycenae.” But she sees her lord Latinus resolute, her words an effort vain; and through her body spreads the Fury's deeply venomed viper-sting.

Then, woe-begone, by dark dreams goaded on, she wanders aimless, fevered and unstrung along the public ways; as oft one sees beneath the twisted whips a leaping top sped in long spirals through a palace-close by lads at play: obedient to the thong, it weaves wide circles in the gaping view of its small masters, who admiring see the whirling boxwood made a living thing under their lash. So fast and far she roved from town to town among the clansmen wild.

Then to the wood she ran, feigning to feel the madness Bacchus loves; for she essays a fiercer crime, by fiercer frenzy moved.

Now in the leafy dark of mountain vales she hides her daughter, ravished thus away from Trojan bridegroom and the wedding-feast.

“Hail, Bacchus! Thou alone,” she shrieked and raved,

“art worthy such a maid. For thee she bears the thyrsus with soft ivy-clusters crowned, and trips ecstatic in thy beauteous choir.

For thee alone my daughter shall unbind the glory of her virgin hair.” Swift runs the rumor of her deed; and, frenzy-driven, the wives of Latium to the forests fly, enkindled with one rage. They leave behind their desolated hearths, and let rude winds o'er neck and tresses blow; their voices fill the welkin with convulsive shriek and wail;

and, with fresh fawn-skins on their bodies bound, they brandish vine-clad spears. The Queen herself lifts high a blazing pine tree, while she sings a wedding-song for Turnus and her child.

With bloodshot glance and anger wild, she cries:

“Ho! all ye Latin wives, if e'er ye knew kindness for poor Amata, if ye care for a wronged mother's woes, O, follow me!

Cast off the matron fillet from your brows, and revel to our mad, voluptuous song.”

Thus, through the woodland haunt of creatures wild,

Alecto urges on the raging Queen with Bacchus' cruel goad. But when she deemed the edge of wrath well whetted, and the house of wise Latinus of all reason reft, then soared the black-winged goddess to the walls of the bold Rutule, to the city built

(So runs the tale) by beauteous Danae and her Acrisian people, shipwrecked there by south wind strong. Its name was Ardea in language of our sires, and that proud name of Ardea still it wears, though proud no more.

Here Turnus in the gloom of midnight lay half-sleeping in his regal hall. For him

Alecto her grim fury-guise put by, and wore an old crone's face, her baleful brow delved deep with wrinkled age, her hoary hair in sacred fillet bound, and garlanded with leaf of olive: Calybe she seemed, an aged servitress ot Juno's shrine, and in this seeming thus the prince addressed:—

“O Turnus, wilt thou tamely see thy toil lavished in vain? and thy true throne consigned to Trojan wanderers? The King repels thy noble wooing and thy war-won dower.

He summons him a son of alien stem to take his kingdom. Rouse thee now, and front, scorned and without reward, these perilous days.

Tread down that Tuscan host! Protect the peace of Latium from its foe! Such is the word which, while in night and slumber thou wert laid,

Saturnia 's godhead, visibly revealed, bade me declare. Up, therefore, and array thy warriors in arms! Swift sallying forth from thy strong city-gates, on to the fray exultant go! Assail the Phrygian chiefs who tent them by thy beauteous river's marge, and burn their painted galleys! 't is the will of gods above that speaks. Yea, even the King

Latinus, if he will not heed thy plea, or hear thy wooing, shall be taught too late what Turnus is in panoply of war.”

In mocking answer to the prophetess the warrior thus replied: “That stranger fleet in Tiber moored, not, as thy folly prates, of me unnoted lies. Vex me no more with thy fantastic terror. Juno's power is watchful of my cause. 'T is mere old age, gone to decay and dotage, fills thy breast with vain foreboding, and, while kings contend, scares and deceives thy visionary eye.

Guard thou in yonder temple's holy shade the images divine! Of peace and war let men and warriors the burden bear!”

So kindled he Alecto's wrath to flame;

and even as he spoke a shudder thrilled the warrior's body, and his eyeballs stood stonily staring at the hydra hair which hissed and writhed above the grisly head of the large-looming fiend. With eyes of fire horribly rolling, she repelled him far, while he but faltered speechless. She upraised two coiling snakes out of her tresses, cracked the lashes of her scourge, and wrathfully, with raving lips replied: “Look well on me, gone to decay and dotage of old age!

And mocked with foolish fear while kings contend!

Wilt hearken now! Behold me, hither flown from where my sister-furies dwell! My hands bring bloody death and war.” She spoke, and hurled her firebrand at the hero, thrusting deep beneath his heart her darkly smouldering flame.

Then horror broke his sleep, and fearful sweat dripped from his every limb. He shrieked aloud for arms; and seized the ready arms that lay around his couch and hall. Then o'er his soul the lust of battle and wild curse of war broke forth in angry power, as when the flames of faggots round the bubbling cauldron sing, and up the waters leap; the close-kept flood brims over, streaming, foaming, breaking bound, and flings thick clouds in air. He, summoning his chieftains, bade them on Latinus move, break peace, take arms, and, over Italy their shields extending, to thrust forth her foe:

himself for Teucrian with Latin joined was more than match. He called upon the gods in witness of his vows: while, nothing loth,

Rutulia's warriors rushed into array;

some by his youth and noble beauty moved, some by his kingly sires and fame in arms.

While Turnus stirred Rutulia's valiant souls,

Alecto on her Stygian pinions sped to where the Teucrians lay. She scanned the ground with eager guile, where by the river's marge fair-browed Iulus with his nets and snares rode fiercely to the chase. Then o'er his hounds that hell-born virgin breathed a sudden rage, and filled each cunning nostril with the scent of stags, till forth in wild pursuit they flew.

Here all the woe began, and here awoke in rustic souls the swift-enkindling war.

For a fair stag, tall-antlered, stolen away even from its mother's milk, had long been kept by Tyrrhus and his sons—the shepherd he of all the royal flocks, and forester of a wide region round. With fondest care their sister Silvia entwined its horns with soft, fresh garlands, tamed it to run close, and combed the creature, or would bring to bathe at a clear, crystal spring. It knew the hands of all its gentle masters, and would feed from their own dish; or wandering through the wood, come back unguided to their friendly door, though deep the evening shade. Iulus' dogs now roused this wanderer in their ravening chase, as, drifted down-stream far from home it lay, on a green bank a-cooling. From bent bow

Ascanius, eager for a hunter's praise, let go his shaft; nor did Alecto fail his aim to guide: but, whistling through the air, the light-winged reed pierced deep in flank and side.

Swift to its cover fled the wounded thing, and crept loud-moaning to its wonted stall, where, like a blood-stained suppliant, it seemed to fill that shepherd's house with plaintive prayer.

Then Silvia the sister, smiting oft on breast and arm, made cry for help, and called the sturdy rustics forth in gathering throng.

These now (for in the silent forest couched the cruel Fury) swift to battle flew.

One brandished a charred stake, another swung a knotted cudgel, as rude anger shapes its weapon of whate'er the searching eye first haps to fall on. Tyrrhus roused his clans, just when by chance he split with blows of wedge an oak in four; and, panting giant breath, shouldered his woodman's axe. Alecto then, prompt to the stroke of mischief, soared aloft from where she spying sate, to the steep roof of a tall byre, and from its peak of straw blew a wild signal on a shepherd's horn, outflinging her infernal note so far that all the forest shuddered, and the grove throbbed to its deepest glen. Cold Trivia's lake from end to end gave ear, and every wave of the white stream of Nar, the lonely pools of still Velinus heard: while at the sound pale mothers to their breasts their children drew.

Swift to the signal of the dreadful horn, snatching their weapons rude, the freeborn swains assembled for the fray; the Trojan bands poured from their bivouac with instant aid for young Ascanius. In array of war both stand confronting. Not mere rustic brawl with charred oak-staff and cudgel is the fight, but with the two-edged steel; the naked swords wave like dark-bladed harvest-field, while far the brazen arms flash in the smiting sun, and skyward fling their beam: so some wide sea, at first but whitened in the rising wind, swells its slow-rolling mass and ever higher its billows rears, until the utmost deep lifts in one surge to heaven. The first to fall was Almo, eldest-born of Tyrrhus' sons, whom, striding in the van, a loud-winged shaft laid low in death; deep in his throat it clung, and silenced with his blood the dying cry of his frail life. Around him fell the forms of many a brave and strong; among them died gray-haired Galaesus pleading for a truce:

righteous he was, and of Ausonian fields a prosperous master; five full flocks had he of bleating sheep, and from his pastures came five herds of cattle home; his busy churls turned with a hundred ploughs his fruitful glebe.

While o'er the battle-field thus doubtful swung the scales of war, the Fury (to her task now equal proven) having dyed the day a deep-ensanguined hue, and opened fight with death and slaughter, made no tarrying within Hesperia, but skyward soared, and, Ioud in triumph, insolently thus to Juno called: “See, at thy will, their strife full-blown to war and woe! Could even thyself command them now to truce and amity?

But I, that with Ausonia's blood befoul their Trojan hands, yet more can do, if thou shift not thy purpose. For with dire alarms

I will awake the bordering states to war enkindling in their souls the frenzied lust the war-god breathes; till from th' horizon round the reinforcement pours—I scattering seeds of carnage through the land.” In answer spoke juno: “Enough of artifice and fear!

Thy provocation works. Now have they joined in close and deadly combat, and warm blood those sudden-leaping swords incarnadines, which chance put in their hands. Such nuptial joys, such feast of wedlock, let the famous son of Venus with the King Latinus share!

But yon Olympian Sire and King no more permits thee freely in our skies to roam.

Go, quit the field! Myself will take control of hazards and of labors yet to be.”

Thus Saturn's daughter spoke. Alecto then, unfolding far her hissing, viperous wings, turned toward her Stygian home, and took farewell of upper air. Deep in Italia lies a region mountain-girded, widely famed, and known in olden songs from land to land:

the valley of Amsanctus; deep, dark shades enclose it between forest-walls, whereby through thunderous stony channel serpentines a roaring fall. Here in a monstrous cave are breathing-holes of hell, a vast abyss where Acheron opes wide its noisome jaws:

in this Alecto plunged, concealing so her execrable godhead, while the air of earth and heaven felt the curse removed.

Forthwith the sovereign hands of Juno haste to consummate the war. The shepherds bear back from the field of battle to the town the bodies of the slain: young Almo's corse and gray Galaesus' bleeding head. They call just gods in heaven to Iook upon their wrong, and bid Latinus see it. Turnus comes, and, while the angry mob surveys the slain, adds fury to the hour. “Shall the land have Trojan lords? Shall Phrygian marriages debase our ancient, royal blood—and I be spurned upon the threshold?” Then drew near the men whose frenzied women-folk had held bacchantic orgies in the pathless grove, awed by Amata's name: these, gathering, sued loud for war. Yea, all defied the signs and venerable omens; all withstood divine decrees, and clamored for revenge, prompted by evil powers. They besieged the house of King Latinus, shouting-loud with emulous rage. But like a sea-girt rock unmoved he stood; like sea-girt rock when surge of waters o'er it sweeps, or howling waves surround; it keeps a ponderous front of power, though foaming cliffs around it vainly roar;

from its firm base the broken sea-weeds fall.

But when authority no whit could change their counsels blind, and each event fulfilled dread Juno's will, then with complaining prayer the aged sire cried loud upon his gods and on th' unheeding air: “Alas,” said he,

“My doom is shipwreck, and the tempest bears my bark away! O wretches, your own blood shall pay the forfeit for your impious crime.

O Turnus! O abominable deed!

Avenging woes pursue thee; to deaf gods thy late and unavailing prayer shall rise.

Now was my time to rest. But as I come close to my journey's end, thou spoilest me of comfort in my death.” With this the King fled to his house and ceased his realm to guide.

A sacred custom the Hesperian land of Latium knew, by all the Alban hills honored unbroken, which wide-ruling Rome keeps to this day, when to new stroke she stirs the might of Mars; if on the Danube 's wave resolved to fling the mournful doom of war, or on the Caspian folk or Arabs wild;

or chase the morning far as India 's verge, ind from the Parthian despot wrest away our banners Iost. Twin Gates of War there be, of fearful name, to Mars' fierce godhead vowed:

a hundred brass bars shut them, and the strength of uncorrupting steel; in sleepless watch

Janus the threshold keeps. 'T is here, what time the senate's voice is war, the consul grave in Gabine cincture and Quirinal shift himself the griding hinges backward moves, and bids the Romans arm; obedient then the legionary host makes Ioud acclaim, and hoarse consent the brazen trumpets blow.

Thus King Latinus on the sons of Troy was urged to open war, and backward roll those gates of sorrow: but the aged king recoiled, refused the loathsome task, and fled to solitary shades. Then from the skies the Queen of gods stooped down, and her sole hand the lingering portal moved; Saturnia swung on their hinges the barred gates of war.

ausonia from its old tranquillity bursts forth in flame. Foot-soldiers through the field run to and fro; and mounted on tall steeds the cavaliers in clouds of dust whirl by.

All arm in haste. Some oil the glittering shield or javelin bright, or on the whetstone wear good axes to an edge, while joyful bands uplift the standards or the trumpets blow.

Five mighty cities to their anvils bring new-tempered arms: Atina—martial name — proud Tibur, Ardea, Crustumium, and river-walled Antemnae, crowned with towers strong hollow helmets on their brows they draw and weave them willow-shields; or melt and mould corselets of brass or shining silver greaves;

none now for pruning-hook or sacred plough have love or care: but old, ancestral swords for hardier tempering to the smith they bring.

Now peals the clarion; through the legions pass the watchwords: the impatient yeoman takes his helmet from the idle roof-tree hung;

while to his chariot the master yokes the mettled war-horse, dons a shining shield and golden mail, and buckles his good sword.

Virgins of Helicon, renew my song!

Instruct me what proud kings to battle flown with following legions throng the serried plain.

Tell me what heroes and illustrious arms

Italia 's bosom in her dawning day benignant bore: for your celestial minds, have memory of the past, but faint and low steals glory's whisper on a mortal ear.

Foremost in fight, from shores Etrurian came

Mezentius, scornful rebel against Heaven, his people all in arms; and at his side

Lausus his heir (no fairer youth than he, save Turnus of Laurentum), Lausus, skilled o break proud horses and wild beasts to quell;

who from Agylla's citadel in vain led forth his thousand warriors: worthy he to serve a nobler sire, and happier far he had ne'er been born Mezentius' son.

Next after these, conspicuous o'er the plain, with palm-crowned chariot and victorious steeds, rode forth well-moulded Aventinus, sprung from shapely Hercules; upon the shield his blazon was a hundred snakes, and showed his father's hydra-cincture serpentine;

him deep in Aventine 's most secret grove the priestess Rhea bore—a mortal maid clasped in a god's embrace the wondrous day when, flushed with conquest of huge Geryon, the lord of Tiryns to Laurentum drove, and washed in Tiber 's wave th' Iberian kine.

His followers brandished pointed pikes and staves, or smooth Sabellian bodkin tipped with steel;

but he, afoot, swung round him as he strode a monstrous lion-skin, its bristling mane and white teeth crowning his ferocious brow:

for garbed as Hercules he sought his King.

Then came twin brethren, leaving Tibur 's keep

(named from Tiburtus, brother of them twain)

Catillus and impetuous Coras, youth of Argive seed, who foremost in the van pressed ever where the foemen densest throng:

as when two centaurs, children of the cloud, from mountain-tops descend in swift career, the snows of Homole and Othrys leaving, while crashing thickets in their pathway fall.

Nor was Praeneste 's founder absent there, by Vulcan sired, among the herds and hinds, and on a hearth-stone found (so runs the tale each pious age repeats) King Caeculus with rustic legions gathered from afar:

from steep Praeneste and the Gabian vale to Juno dear, from Anio's cold stream, from upland Hernic rocks and foaming rills, from rich Anagnia 's pastures, and the plain whence Amasenus pours his worshipped wave.

Not all of armor boast, and seldom sound the chariot and shield; but out of slings they hurl blue balls of lead, or in one hand a brace of javelins bear; pulled o'er their brows are hoods of tawny wolf-skin; as they march the left foot leaves a barefoot track behind, a rawhide sandal on the right they wear.

Messapus came, steed-tamer, Neptune's son, by sword and fire invincible: this day, though mild his people and unschooled in war, he calls them to embattled lines, and draws no lingering sword. Fescennia musters there,

Aequi Falisci, and what clans possess

Soracte's heights, Flavinia's fruitful farms,

Ciminian lake and mountain, and the groves about Capena. Rank on rank they move, loud singing of their chieftain's praise: as when a flock of snowy swans through clouded air return from feeding, and make tuneful cry from their long throats, while Asia 's rivers hear, and lone Cayster's startled moorland rings:

for hardly could the listening ear discern the war-cry of a mail-clad host; the sound was like shrill-calling birds, when home from sea their soaring flock moves shoreward like a cloud.

Then, one of far-descended Sabine name,

Clausus advanced, the captain of a host, and in himself an equal host he seemed;

from his proud loins the high-born Claudian stem through Latium multiplies, since Roman power with Sabine first was wed. A cohort came from Amiternum and the olden wall of Cures, called Quirites even then;

Eretum answered and Mutusca's hill with olives clad, Velinus' flowery field, nomentum's fortress, the grim precipice of Tetrica, Severus' upland fair,

Casperia, Foruli, Himella's waves,

Tiber and Fabaris, and wintry streams of Nursia; to the same proud muster sped

Tuscan with Latin tribes, and loyal towns beside whose walls ill-omened Allia flows.

As numerous they moved as rolling waves that stir smooth Libyan seas, when in cold floods sinks grim Orion's star; or like the throng of clustering wheat-tops in the summer sun, near Hermus or on Lycia 's yellowing plain:

shields clashed; their strong tramp smote the trembling ground.

Now Agamemnon's kinsman, cruel foe to the mere name of Troy, Halaesus, yokes the horses of his car and summons forth a thousand savage clans at Turnus' call:

rude men whose mattocks to the Massic hills bring Bacchus' bounty, or by graybeard sires sent from Auruncan upland and the mead of Sidicinum; out of Cales came its simple folk; and dwellers by the stream of many-shoaled Volturnus, close-allied with bold Saticulan or Oscan swains.

Their arms are tapered javelins, which they wear bound by a coiling thong; a shield conceals the left side, and they fight with crooked swords.

Nor shalt thou, Oebalus, depart unsung, whom minstrels say the nymph Sebethis bore to Telon, who in Capri was a king when old and gray; but that disdaining son quitted so small a seat, and conquering sway among Sarrastian folk and those wide plains watered by Sarnus' wave, became a king over Celenna, Rufrae, Batulum, and where among her apple-orchards rise

Abella's walls. All these, as Teutons use, hurl a light javelin; for helm they wear stripped cork-tree bark; the crescent of their shields is gleaming bronze, and gleaming bronze the sword.

Next Ufens, mountain-bred, from Nersae came to join the war; of goodly fame was he for prosperous arms: his Aequian people show no gentle mien, but scour the woods for prey, or, ever-armed, across the stubborn glebe compel the plough; though their chief pride and joy are rapine, violence, and plundered store.

Next after these, his brows and helmet bound with noble olive, from Marruvium came a priest, brave Umbro, ordered to the field by King Archippus: o'er the viper's brood, and venomed river-serpents he had power to scatter slumber with wide-waving hands and wizard-songs. His potent arts could soothe their coiling rage and heal the mortal sting:

but 'gainst a Trojan sword no drug had he, nor could his drowsy spells his flesh repair, nor gathered simples from the Marsic hills.

Thee soon in wailing woods Anguitia mourned, thee, Fucinus, the lake of crystal wave, thee, many a mountain-tarn!

Next, Virbius in martial beauty rode, son of Hippolytus, whose mother, proud

Aricia, sent him in his flower of fame out of Egeria's hills and cloudy groves where lies Diana's gracious, gifted fane.

For legend whispers that Hippolytus, by step-dame's plot undone, his life-blood gave to sate his vengeful father, and was rent in sunder by wild horses; but the grave to air of heaven and prospect of the stars restored him;—for Diana's love and care poured out upon him Paeon's healing balm.

But Jove, almighty Sire, brooked not to see a mortal out of death and dark reclimb to light of life, and with a thunderbolt hurled to the Stygian river Phoebus' son, who dared such good elixir to compound.

But pitying Trivia hid Hippolytus in her most secret cave, and gave in ward to the wise nymph Egeria in her grove;

where he lived on inglorious and alone, ranging the woods of Italy, and bore the name of Virbius. 'T is for this cause the hallowed woods to Trivia's temple vowed forbid loud-footed horses, such as spilled stripling and chariot on the fatal shore, scared by the monsters peering from the sea.

Yet did the son o'er that tumultuous plain his battle-chariot guide and plunging team.

Lo, Turnus strides conspicuous in the van, full armed, of mighty frame, his lordly head high o'er his peers emerging! His tall helm with flowing triple crest for ensign bears

Chimaera, whose terrific lips outpour volcanic fires; where'er the menace moves of her infernal flames and wrathful frown, there wildest flows the purple flood of war.

On his smooth shield deep graven in the gold is horned Io—wondrous the device!— a shaggy heifer-shape the maiden shows;

Argus is watching her, while Inachus pours forth his river from the pictured urn.

A storm of tramping troops, to Turnus sworn, throngs all the widespread plain with serried shields:

warriors of Argos, and Auruncan bands,

Sicani, Rutuli, Sacranian hosts,

Labicum's painted shields; all who till thy woodland vales, O Tiber! or the shore

Numicius hallows; all whose ploughs upturn

Rutulia's hills, or that Circaean range where Jove of Anxur guards, and forests green make fair Feronia glad; where lie the fens of Satura, and Ufens' icy wave through lowland valleys seeks his seaward way.

Last came Camilla, of the Volscians bred, leading her mail-clad, radiant chivalry;

a warrior-virgin, of Minerva's craft of web and distaff, fit for woman's toil, no follower she; but bared her virgin breast to meet the brunt of battle, and her speed left even the winds behind; for she would skim an untouched harvest ere the sickle fell, nor graze the quivering wheat-tops as she ran;

or o'er the mid-sea billows' swollen surge so swiftly race, she wet not in the wave her flying feet. For sight of her the youth from field and fortress sped, and matrons grave stood wondering as she passed, well-pleased to see her royal scarf in many a purple fold float off her shining shoulder, her dark hair in golden clasp caught fast, and how she bore for arms a quiver of the Lycian mode, and shepherd's shaft of myrtle tipped with steel.