The Aeneid Virgil (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) đ
- Author: Virgil
Book online «The Aeneid Virgil (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) đ». Author Virgil
My fatal course is finishâd; and I go,
A glorious name, among the ghosts below.
A lofty city by my hands is raisâd,
Pygmalion punishâd, and my lord appeasâd.
What could my fortune have afforded more,
Had the false Trojan never touchâd my shore!â
Then kissâd the couch; and, âMust I die,â she said,
âAnd unrevengâd? âTis doubly to be dead!
Yet evân this death with pleasure I receive:
On any terms, âtis better than to live.
These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view;
These boding omens his base flight pursue!â
She said, and struck; deep enterâd in her side
The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed:
Cloggâd 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 throâ 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 ifâ âancient Tyre,
Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fireâ â
The rolling ruin, with their lovâd abodes,
Involvâd 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 Elizaâs name aloud,
Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.
âWas all that pomp of woe for this preparâd;
These fires, this funâral pile, these altars rearâd?
Was all this train of plots contrivâd,â said she,
âAll only to deceive unhappy me?
Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend
To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend?
Thy summonâd sister, and thy friend, had come;
One sword had servâd us both, one common tomb:
Was I to raise the pile, the powârs invoke,
Not to be present at the fatal stroke?
At once thou hast destroyâd 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.â
This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste,
And in her arms the gasping queen embracâd;
Her temples chafâd; 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 grovâling on the bed;
Thrice opâd her heavy eyes, and sought the light,
But, having found it, sickenâd at the sight,
And closâd her lids at last in endless night.
Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain
A death so lingâring, and so full of pain,
Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife
Of labâring nature, and dissolve her life.
For since she died, not doomâd by Heavânâs decree,
Or her own crime, but human casualty,
And rage of love, that plungâd 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 loverâs head,
And said: âI thus devote thee to the dead.
This offâring to thâ infernal gods I bear.â
Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair:
The struggling soul was loosâd, and life dissolvâd in air.
Aeneas, setting sail from Afric, is driven by a storm on the coast of Sicily, where he is hospitably receivâd 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 consumâd the rest, had not Jupiter, by a miraculous shower extinguishâd 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 watâry way,
Fixâd on his voyage, throâ 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 divinâd;
He knew the stormy souls of womankind,
What secret springs their eager passions move,
How capable of death for injurâd 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 heavâns with shadows were oâerspread;
A swelling cloud hung hovâring oâer their head:
Livid it lookâd, the threatâning of a storm:
Then night and horror oceanâs face deform.
The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud:
âWhat gusts of weather from that gathâring 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.â
The frighted crew perform the task assignâd.
Then, to his fearless chief: âNot Heavân,â said he,
âThoâ 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.
âTis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.
Not far from hence, if I observâd aright
The southing of the stars, and polar light,
Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores
In safety we may reach with struggling oars.â
Aeneas then replied: âToo 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 hallowâd earth Anchisesâ bones contains,
And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?â
The course resolvâd, before the western wind
They scud amain, and make the port assignâd.
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
Comments (0)