The Aeneid Virgil (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) đ
- Author: Virgil
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Penthisilea there, with haughty grace,
Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:
In their right hands a pointed dart they wield;
The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield.
Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws,
Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,
And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose.
Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,
Fixâd on the walls with wonder and surprise,
The beauteous Dido, with a numârous train
And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.
Such on Eurotasâ banks, or Cynthusâ height,
Diana seems; and so she charms the sight,
When in the dance the graceful goddess leads
The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads:
Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,
She walks majestic, and she looks their queen;
Latona sees her shine above the rest,
And feeds with secret joy her silent breast.
Such Dido was; with such becoming state,
Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great.
Their labour to her future sway she speeds,
And passing with a gracious glance proceeds;
Then mounts the throne, high placâd before the shrine:
In crowds around, the swarming people join.
She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,
Hears and determines evâry private cause;
Their tasks in equal portions she divides,
And, where unequal, there by lots decides.
Another way by chance Aeneas bends
His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,
Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,
And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,
Whom late the tempest on the billows tossâd,
And widely scatterâd on another coast.
The prince, unseen, surprisâd with wonder stands,
And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands;
But, doubtful of the wishâd event, he stays,
And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,
Impatient till they told their present state,
And where they left their ships, and what their fate,
And why they came, and what was their request;
For these were sent, commissionâd by the rest,
To sue for leave to land their sickly men,
And gain admission to the gracious queen.
Entâring, with cries they fillâd the holy fane;
Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:
âO Queen! indulgâd by favour of the gods
To found an empire in these new abodes,
To build a town, with statutes to restrain
The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign,
We wretched Trojans, tossâd on evâry shore,
From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.
Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!
Receive thâ unhappy fugitives to grace,
And spare the remnant of a pious race!
We come not with design of wasteful prey,
To drive the country, force the swains away:
Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;
The vanquishâd dare not to such thoughts aspire.
A land there is, Hesperia namâd of old;
The soil is fruitful, and the men are boldâ â
Thâ Oenotrians held it onceâ âby common fame
Now callâd Italia, from the leaderâs name.
To that sweet region was our voyage bent,
When winds and evâry warring element
Disturbâd our course, and, far from sight of land,
Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand:
The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar,
Dispersâd and dashâd the rest upon the rocky shore.
Those few you see escapâd the storm, and fear,
Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.
What men, what monsters, what inhuman race,
What laws, what barbârous customs of the place,
Shut up a desert shore to drowning men,
And drive us to the cruel seas again?
If our hard fortune no compassion draws,
Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,
The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.
Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord,
Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword;
Observant of the right, religious of his word.
If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,
Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair;
Nor you, great queen, these offices repent,
Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.
We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,
Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts.
Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,
Refitted from your woods with planks and oars,
That, if our prince be safe, we may renew
Our destinâd course, and Italy pursue.
But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain
That thou art swallowâd in the Libyan main,
And if our young IĂŒlus be no more,
Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,
That we to good Acestes may return,
And with our friends our common losses mourn.â
Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew
With cries and clamours his request renew.
The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes,
Ponderâd the speech; then briefly thus replies:
âTrojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate,
And doubts attending an unsettled state,
Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes.
Who has not heard the story of your woes,
The name and fortune of your native place,
The fame and valour of the Phrygian race?
We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,
Nor so remote from Phoebusâ influence.
Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,
Or, drivân by tempests from your first intent,
You seek the good Acestesâ government,
Your men shall be receivâd, your fleet repairâd,
And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard:
Or, would you stay, and join your friendly powârs
To raise and to defend the Tyrian towârs,
My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.
And would to Heavân, the Storm, you felt, would bring
On Carthaginian coasts your wandâring king.
My people shall, by my command, explore
The ports and creeks of evâry winding shore,
And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest
Of so renownâd and so desirâd a guest.â
Raisâd in his mind the Trojan hero stood,
And longâd to break from out his ambient cloud:
Achates found it, and thus urgâd his way:
âFrom whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?
What more can you desire, your welcome sure,
Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure?
One only wants; and him we saw in vain
Oppose the Storm, and swallowâd in the main.
Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid;
The rest agrees with what your mother said.â
Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,
The mists flew upward and dissolvâd in day.
The Trojan chief appearâd in open sight,
August in visage, and serenely bright.
His mother goddess, with her hands divine,
Had formâd his curling locks, and made his temples shine,
And givân his rolling eyes a sparkling grace,
And breathâd a youthful vigour on his face;
Like polishâd ivory, beauteous to behold,
Or Parian marble, when enchasâd in gold:
Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke,
And thus with manly modesty he spoke:
âHe whom you seek am I; by tempests tossâd,
And savâd from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;
Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,
A prince that owes his life
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