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
The drowsy rowers on their benches lie,
When the soft God of Sleep, with easy flight,
Descends, and draws behind a trail of light.
Thou, Palinurus, art his destinâd prey;
To thee alone he takes his fatal way.
Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears;
And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears.
Then thus the traitor god began his tale:
âThe winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale;
The ships, without thy care, securely sail.
Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I
Will take the rudder and thy room supply.â
To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep:
âMe dost thou bid to trust the treachârous deep,
The harlot smiles of her dissembling face,
And to her faith commit the Trojan race?
Shall I believe the Siren South again,
And, oft betrayâd, not know the monster main?â
He said: his fastenâd hands the rudder keep,
And, fixâd on heavân, his eyes repel invading sleep.
The god was wroth, and at his temples threw
A branch in Lethe dippâd, and drunk with Stygian dew:
The pilot, vanquishâd by the powâr divine,
Soon closâd his swimming eyes, and lay supine.
Scarce were his limbs extended at their length,
The god, insulting with superior strength,
Fell heavy on him, plungâd him in the sea,
And, with the stern, the rudder tore away.
Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main,
Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain.
The victor daemon mounts obscure in air,
While the ship sails without the pilotâs care.
On Neptuneâs faith the floating fleet relies;
But what the man forsook, the god supplies,
And oâer the dangârous deep secure the navy flies;
Glides by the Sirensâ cliffs, a shelfy coast,
Long infamous for ships and sailors lost,
And white with bones. Thâ impetuous ocean roars,
And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores.
The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found
The tossing vessel sailâd on shoaly ground.
Sure of his pilotâs loss, he takes himself
The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf.
Inly he grievâd, and, groaning from the breast,
Deplorâd his death; and thus his pain expressâd:
âFor faith reposâd on seas, and on the flattâring sky,
Thy naked corpse is doomâd on shores unknown to lie.â Book VI
The Sibyl foretells Aeneas the adventures he should meet with in Italy. She attends him to hell; describing to him the various scenes of that place, and conducting him to his father Anchises, who instructs him in those sublime mysteries, of the soul of the world, and the transmigration; and shows him that glorious race of heroes, which was to descend from him and his posterity.
He said, and wept; then spread his sails before
The winds, and reachâd at length the Cumaean shore:
Their anchors droppâd, his crew the vessels moor.
They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land,
And greet with greedy joy thâ Italian strand.
Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed;
Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed,
Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods,
Or trace throâ valleys the discoverâd floods.
Thus, while their sevâral charges they fulfil,
The pious prince ascends the sacred hill
Where Phoebus is adorâd; and seeks the shade
Which hides from sight his venerable maid.
Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode;
Thence full of fate returns, and of the god.
Throâ Triviaâs grove they walk; and now behold,
And enter now, the temple roofâd with gold.
When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore,
His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore,
(The first who sailâd in air,) âtis sung by Fame,
To the Cumaean coast at length he came,
And here alighting, built this costly frame.
Inscribâd to Phoebus, here he hung on high
The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky:
Then oâer the lofty gate his art embossâd
Androgeosâ death, and offârings to his ghost;
Sevân youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet
The fate appointed by revengeful Crete.
And next to those the dreadful urn was placâd,
In which the destinâd names by lots were cast:
The mournful parents stand around in tears,
And rising Crete against their shore appears.
There too, in living sculpture, might be seen
The mad affection of the Cretan queen;
Then how she cheats her bellowing loverâs eye;
The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny,
The lower part a beast, a man above,
The monument of their polluted love.
Not far from thence he gravâd the wondrous maze,
A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways:
Here dwells the monster, hid from human view,
Not to be found, but by the faithful clue;
Till the kind artist, movâd with pious grief,
Lent to the loving maid this last relief,
And all those erring paths describâd so well
That Theseus conquerâd and the monster fell.
Here hapless Icarus had found his part,
Had not the fatherâs grief restrainâd his art.
He twice assayâd to cast his son in gold;
Twice from his hands he droppâd the forming mould.
All this with wondâring eyes Aeneas viewâd;
Each varying object his delight renewâd:
Eager to read the rest, Achates came,
And by his side the mad divining dame,
The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name.
âTime suffers not,â she said, âto feed your eyes
With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice.
Sevân bullocks, yet unyokâd, for Phoebus choose,
And for Diana sevân unspotted ewes.â
This said, the servants urge the sacred rites,
While to the temple she the prince invites.
A spacious cave, within its farmost part,
Was hewâd and fashionâd by laborious art
Throâ the hillâs hollow sides: before the place,
A hundred doors a hundred entries grace;
As many voices issue, and the sound
Of Sybilâs words as many times rebound.
Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries:
âThis is the time; enquire your destinies.
He comes; behold the god!â Thus while she said,
(And shivâring at the sacred entry stayâd,)
Her colour changâd; her face was not the same,
And hollow groans from her deep spirit came.
Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possessâd
Her trembling limbs, and heavâd her labâring breast.
Greater than humankind she seemâd to look,
And with an accent more than mortal spoke.
Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll;
When all the god came rushing on her soul.
Swiftly she turnâd, and, foaming as she spoke:
âWhy this delay?â she criedâ ââthe powârs invoke!
Thy prayârs alone can open this abode;
Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god.â
She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear,
Oâerspread with a damp sweat and holy fear.
The prince himself, with awful dread possessâd,
His vows to great Apollo thus addressâd:
âIndulgent god, propitious powâr to Troy,
Swift to
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