Aeneid 1.210-417 English Passage

Aeneid 1.210-417. Translation by A. S. Kline

BkI:210-222 The Trojans Feast

They make ready the game, and the future feast: (210)

they flay the hides from the ribs and lay the flesh bare:

some cut it in pieces, quivering, and fix it on spits,

others place cauldrons on the beach, and feed them with flames.

Then they revive their strength with food, stretched on the grass,

and fill themselves with rich venison and old wine. (215)

When hunger is quenched by the feast, and the remnants cleared,

deep in conversation, they discuss their missing friends,

and, between hope and fear, question whether they live,

or whether they’ve suffered death and no longer hear their name.

Aeneas, the virtuous, above all mourns the lot of fierce Orontes, (220)

then that of Amycus, together with Lycus’s cruel fate,

and those of brave Gyus, and brave Cloanthus.

BkI:223-256 Venus Intercedes with Jupiter

Now, all was complete, when Jupiter, from the heights of the air,

looked down on the sea with its flying sails, and the broad lands,

and the coasts, and the people far and wide, and paused, (225)

at the summit of heaven, and fixed his eyes on the Libyan kingdom.

And as he weighed such cares as he had in his heart, Venus spoke

to him, sadder still, her bright eyes brimming with tears:

‘Oh you who rule things human, and divine, with eternal law,

and who terrify them all with your lightning-bolt, (230)

what can my Aeneas have done to you that’s so serious,

what have the Trojans done, who’ve suffered so much destruction,

to whom the whole world’s closed, because of the Italian lands?

Surely you promised that at some point, as the years rolled by,

the Romans would rise from them, leaders would rise, (235)

restored from Teucer’s blood, who would hold power

over the sea, and all the lands. Father, what thought has changed

your mind? It consoled me for the fall of Troy, and its sad ruin,

weighing one destiny, indeed, against opposing destinies:

now the same misfortune follows these men driven on by such (240)

disasters. Great king, what end to their efforts will you give?

Antenor could escape through the thick of the Greek army,

and safely enter the Illyrian gulfs, and deep into the realms

of the Liburnians, and pass the founts of Timavus,

from which the river bursts, with a huge mountainous roar, (245)

through nine mouths, and buries the fields under its noisy flood.

Here, nonetheless, he sited the city of Padua, and homes

for Teucrians, and gave the people a name, and hung up

the arms of Troy: now he’s calmly settled, in tranquil peace.

But we, your race, to whom you permit the heights of heaven, (250)

lose our ships (shameful!), betrayed, because of one person’s anger,

and kept far away from the shores of Italy.

Is this the prize for virtue? Is this how you restore our rule?

The father of men and gods, smiled at her with that look

with which he clears the sky of storms, (255)

kissed his daughter’s lips, and then said this:

BkI:257-296 Jupiter’s Prophecy

‘Don’t be afraid, Cytherea, your child’s fate remains unaltered:

You’ll see the city of Lavinium, and the walls I promised,

and you’ll raise great-hearted Aeneas high, to the starry sky:

No thought has changed my mind. This son of yours (260)

(since this trouble gnaws at my heart, I’ll speak,

and unroll the secret scroll of destiny)

will wage a mighty war in Italy, destroy proud peoples,

and establish laws, and city walls, for his warriors,

until a third summer sees his reign in Latium, and (265)

three winter camps pass since the Rutulians were beaten.

But the boy Ascanius, surnamed Iulus now (He was Ilus

while the Ilian kingdom was a reality) will imperially

complete thirty great circles of the turning months,

and transfer his throne from its site at Lavinium, (270)

and mighty in power, will build the walls of Alba Longa.

Here kings of Hector’s race will reign now

for three hundred years complete, until a royal priestess,

Ilia, heavy with child, shall bear Mars twins.

Then Romulus will further the race, proud in his nurse (275)

the she-wolf’s tawny pelt, and found the walls of Mars,

and call the people Romans, from his own name.

I’ve fixed no limits or duration to their possessions:

I’ve given them empire without end. Why, harsh Juno

who now torments land, and sea and sky with fear, (280)

will respond to better judgement, and favour the Romans,

masters of the world, and people of the toga, with me.

So it is decreed. A time will come, as the years glide by,

when the Trojan house of Assaracus will force Phthia

into slavery, and be lords of beaten Argos. (285)

From this glorious source a Trojan Caesar will be born,

who will bound the empire with Ocean, his fame with the stars,

Augustus, a Julius, his name descended from the great Iulus.

You, no longer anxious, will receive him one day in heaven,

burdened with Eastern spoils: he’ll be called to in prayer. (290)

Then with wars abandoned, the harsh ages will grow mild:

White haired Trust, and Vesta, Quirinus with his brother Remus

will make the laws: the gates of War, grim with iron,

and narrowed by bars, will be closed: inside impious Rage will roar

frighteningly from blood-stained mouth, seated on savage weapons, (295)

hands tied behind his back, with a hundred knots of bronze.’

BkI:297-371 Venus Speaks to Aeneas

Saying this, he sends Mercury, Maia’s son, down from heaven,

so that the country and strongholds of this new Carthage

would open to the Trojans, as guests, and Dido, unaware of fate,

would not keep them from her territory. He flies through the air (300)

with a beating of mighty wings and quickly lands on Libyan shore.

And soon does as commanded, and the Phoenicians set aside

their savage instincts, by the god’s will: the queen above all

adopts calm feelings, and kind thoughts, towards the Trojans.

But Aeneas, the virtuous, turning things over all night, (305)

decides, as soon as kindly dawn appears, to go out

and explore the place, to find what shores he has reached,

on the wind, who owns them (since he sees desert)

man or beast, and bring back the details to his friends.

He conceals the boats in over-hanging woods (310)

under an arching cliff, enclosed by trees

and leafy shadows: accompanied only by Achates,

he goes, swinging two broad-bladed spears in his hand.

His mother met him herself, among the trees, with the face

and appearance of a virgin, and a virgin’s weapons, (315)

a Spartan girl, or such as Harpalyce of Thrace,

who wearies horses, and outdoes winged Hebrus in flight.

For she’d slung her bow from her shoulders, at the ready,

like a huntress, and loosed her hair for the wind to scatter,

her knees bare, and her flowing tunic gathered up in a knot. (320)

And she cried first: ‘Hello, you young men, tell me,

if you’ve seen my sister wandering here by any chance,

wearing a quiver, and the hide of a dappled lynx,

or shouting, hot on the track of a slavering boar?’

So Venus: and so Venus’s son began in answer: (325)

‘I’ve not seen or heard any of your sisters, O Virgin –

or how should I name you? Since your looks are not mortal

and your voice is more than human: oh, a goddess for certain!

Or Phoebus’s sister? Or one of the race of Nymphs?

Be kind, whoever you may be, and lighten our labour, (330)

and tell us only what sky we’re under, and what shores

we’ve landed on: we’re adrift here, driven by wind and vast seas,

knowing nothing of the people or the country:

many a sacrifice to you will fall at the altars, under our hand.’

Then Venus said: ‘I don’t think myself worthy of such honours: (335)

it’s the custom of Tyrian girls to carry a quiver,

and lace our calves high up, over red hunting boots.

You see the kingdom of Carthage, Tyrians, Agenor’s city:

but bordered by Libyans, a people formidable in war.

Dido rules this empire, having set out from Tyre, (340)

fleeing her brother. It’s a long tale of wrong, with many

windings: but I’ll trace the main chapters of the story.

Sychaeus was her husband, wealthiest, in land, of Phoenicians

and loved with a great love by the wretched girl,

whose father gave her as a virgin to him, and wed them (345)

with great solemnity. But her brother Pygmalion, savage

in wickedness beyond all others, held the kingdom of Tyre.

Madness came between them. The king, blinded by greed for gold,

killed the unwary Sychaeus, secretly, with a knife, impiously,

in front of the altars, indifferent to his sister’s affections. (350)

He concealed his actions for a while, deceived the lovesick girl,

with empty hopes, and many evil pretences.

But the ghost of her unburied husband came to her in dream:

lifting his pale head in a strange manner, he laid bare the cruelty

at the altars, and his heart pierced by the knife, (355)

and unveiled all the secret wickedness of that house.

Then he urged her to leave quickly and abandon her country,

and, to help her journey, revealed an ancient treasure

under the earth, an unknown weight of gold and silver.

Shaken by all this, Dido prepared her flight and her friends. (360)

Those who had fierce hatred of the tyrant or bitter fear,

gathered together: they seized some ships that by chance

were ready, and loaded the gold: greedy Pygmalion’s riches

are carried overseas: a woman leads the enterprise.

The came to this place, and bought land, where you now see (365)

the vast walls, and resurgent stronghold, of new Carthage,

as much as they could enclose with the strips of hide

from a single bull, and from that they called it Byrsa.

But who then are you? What shores do you come from?

What course do you take?’ He sighed as she questioned him, (370)

and drawing the words from deep in his heart he replied:

BkI:372-409 She Directs Him to Dido’s Palace

‘O goddess, if I were to start my tale at the very beginning,

and you had time to hear the story of our misfortunes,

Vesper would have shut day away in the closed heavens.

A storm drove us at whim to Libya’s shores, (375)

sailing the many seas from ancient Troy,

if by chance the name of Troy has come to your hearing.

I am that Aeneas, the virtuous, who carries my household gods

in my ship with me, having snatched them from the enemy,

my name is known beyond the sky. (380)

I seek my country Italy, and a people born of Jupiter on high.

I embarked on the Phrygian sea with twenty ships,

following my given fate, my mother, a goddess, showing the way:

barely seven are left, wrenched from the wind and waves.

I myself wander, destitute and unknown, in the Libyan desert, (385)

driven from Europe and Asia.’ Venus did not wait

for further complaint but broke in on his lament like this:

‘Whoever you are I don’t think you draw the breath of life

while hated by the gods, you who’ve reached a city of Tyre.

Only go on from here, and take yourself to the queen’s threshold, (390)

since I bring you news that your friends are restored,

and your ships recalled, driven to safety by the shifting winds,

unless my parents taught me false prophecies, in vain.

See, those twelve swans in exultant line, that an eagle,

Jupiter’s bird, swooping from the heavens, (395)

was troubling in the clear sky: now, in a long file, they seem

to have settled, or be gazing down now at those who already have.

As, returning, their wings beat in play, and they circle the zenith

in a crowd, and give their cry, so your ships and your people

are in harbour, or near its entrance under full sail. (400)

Only go on, turn your steps where the path takes you.’

She spoke, and turning away she reflected the light

from her rose-tinted neck, and breathed a divine perfume

from her ambrosial hair: her robes trailed down to her feet,

and, in her step, showed her a true goddess. He recognised (405)

his mother, and as she vanished followed her with his voice:

‘You too are cruel, why do you taunt your son with false

phantoms? Why am I not allowed to join hand

with hand, and speak and hear true words?’

So he accuses her, and turns his steps towards the city. (410)

But Venus veiled them with a dark mist as they walked,

and, as a goddess, spread a thick covering of cloud around them,

so that no one could see them, or touch them,

or cause them delay, or ask them where they were going.

She herself soars high in the air, to Paphos, and returns to her home (415)

with delight, where her temple and its hundred altars

steam with Sabean incense, fragrant with fresh garlands.