| |
| WHEN Turnus had assembled all his pow’rs, | |
| His standard planted on Laurentum’s tow’rs; | |
| When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar, | |
| Had giv’n the signal of approaching war, | |
| Had rous’d the neighing steeds to scour the fields, | 5 |
| While the fierce riders clatter’d on their shields; | |
| Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare | |
| To join th’ allies, and headlong rush to war. | |
| Fierce Ufens, and Messapus, led the crowd, | |
| With bold Mezentius, who blasphem’d aloud. | 10 |
| These thro’ the country took their wasteful course, | |
| The fields to forage, and to gather force. | |
| Then Venulus to Diomede they send, | |
| To beg his aid Ausonia to defend, | |
| Declare the common danger, and inform | 15 |
| The Grecian leader of the growing storm: | |
| Æneas, landed on the Latian coast, | |
| With banish’d gods, and with a baffled host, | |
| Yet now aspir’d to conquest of the state, | |
| And claim’d a title from the gods and fate; | 20 |
| What num’rous nations in his quarrel came, | |
| And how they spread his formidable name. | |
| What he design’d, what mischief might arise, | |
| If fortune favor’d his first enterprise, | |
| Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears, | 25 |
| And common interest, was involv’d in theirs. | |
| While Turnus and th’ allies thus urge the war, | |
| The Trojan, floating in a flood of care, | |
| Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare. | |
| This way and that he turns his anxious mind; | 30 |
| Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design’d; | |
| Explores himself in vain, in ev’ry part, | |
| And gives no rest to his distracted heart. | |
| So, when the sun by day, or moon by night, | |
| Strike on the polish’d brass their trembling light, | 35 |
| The glitt’ring species here and there divide, | |
| And cast their dubious beams from side to side; | |
| Now on the walls, now on the pavement play, | |
| And to the ceiling flash the glaring day. | |
| ’T was night; and weary nature lull’d asleep | 40 |
| The birds of air, and fishes of the deep, | |
| And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief | |
| Was laid on Tiber’s banks, oppress’d with grief, | |
| And found in silent slumber late relief. | |
| Then, thro’ the shadows of the poplar wood, | 45 |
| Arose the father of the Roman flood; | |
| An azure robe was o’er his body spread, | |
| A wreath of shady reeds adorn’d his head: | |
| Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear’d, | |
| And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer’d: | 50 |
| “Undoubted offspring of ethereal race, | |
| O long expected in this promis’d place! | |
| Who thro’ the foes hast borne thy banish’d gods, | |
| Restor’d them to their hearths, and old abodes; | |
| This is thy happy home, the clime where fate | 55 |
| Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state. | |
| Fear not! The war shall end in lasting peace, | |
| And all the rage of haughty Juno cease. | |
| And that this nightly vision may not seem | |
| Th’ effect of fancy, or an idle dream, | 60 |
| A sow beneath an oak shall lie along, | |
| All white herself, and white her thirty young. | |
| When thirty rolling years have run their race, | |
| Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space, | |
| Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame, | 65 |
| Which from this omen shall receive the name. | |
| Time shall approve the truth. For what remains, | |
| And how with sure success to crown thy pains, | |
| With patience next attend. A banish’d band, | |
| Driv’n with Evander from th’ Arcadian land, | 70 |
| Have planted here, and plac’d on high their walls; | |
| Their town the founder Pallanteum calls, | |
| Deriv’d from Pallas, his great-grandsire’s name: | |
| But the fierce Latians old possession claim, | |
| With war infesting the new colony. | 75 |
| These make thy friends, and on their aid rely. | |
| To thy free passage I submit my streams. | |
| Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams; | |
| And, when the setting stars are lost in day, | |
| To Juno’s pow’r thy just devotion pay; | 80 |
| With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease: | |
| Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease. | |
| When thou return’st victorious from the war, | |
| Perform thy vows to me with grateful care. | |
| The god am I, whose yellow water flows | 85 |
| Around these fields, and fattens as it goes: | |
| Tiber my name; among the rolling floods | |
| Renown’d on earth, esteem’d among the gods. | |
| This is my certain seat. In times to come, | |
| My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome.” | 90 |
| He said, and plung’d below. While yet he spoke, | |
| His dream Æneas and his sleep forsook. | |
| He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies | |
| With purple blushing, and the day arise. | |
| Then water in his hollow palm he took | 95 |
| From Tiber’s flood, and thus the pow’rs bespoke: | |
| “Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed, | |
| And Father Tiber, in thy sacred bed | |
| Receive Æneas, and from danger keep. | |
| Whatever fount, whatever holy deep, | 100 |
| Conceals thy wat’ry stores; where’er they rise, | |
| And, bubbling from below, salute the skies; | |
| Thou, king of horned floods, whose plenteous urn | |
| Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn, | |
| For this thy kind compassion of our woes, | 105 |
| Shalt share my morning song and ev’ning vows. | |
| But, O be present to thy people’s aid, | |
| And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!” | |
| Thus having said, two galleys from his stores, | |
| With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars. | 110 |
| Now on the shore the fatal swine is found. | |
| Wondrous to tell!—She lay along the ground: | |
| Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung; | |
| She white herself, and white her thirty young. | |
| Æneas takes the mother and her brood, | 115 |
| And all on Juno’s altar are bestow’d. | |
| The foll’wing night, and the succeeding day, | |
| Propitious Tiber smooth’d his wat’ry way: | |
| He roll’d his river back, and pois’d he stood, | |
| A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood. | 120 |
| The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore, | |
| Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar. | |
| Shouts from the land give omen to their course, | |
| And the pitch’d vessels glide with easy force. | |
| The woods and waters wonder at the gleam | 125 |
| Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream. | |
| One summer’s night and one whole day they pass | |
| Betwixt the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass. | |
| The fiery sun had finish’d half his race, | |
| Look’d back, and doubted in the middle space, | 130 |
| When they from far beheld the rising tow’rs, | |
| The tops of sheds, and shepherds’ lowly bow’rs, | |
| Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay, | |
| Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway. | |
| These cots (Evander’s kingdom, mean and poor) | 135 |
| The Trojan saw, and turn’d his ships to shore. | |
| ’T was on a solemn day: th’ Arcadian states, | |
| The king and prince, without the city gates, | |
| Then paid their off’rings in a sacred grove | |
| To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove. | 140 |
| Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies, | |
| And fat of entrails on his altar fries. | |
| But, when they saw the ships that stemm’d the flood, | |
| And glitter’d thro’ the covert of the wood, | |
| They rose with fear, and left th’ unfinish’d feast, | 145 |
| Till dauntless Pallas reassur’d the rest | |
| To pay the rites. Himself without delay | |
| A jav’lin seiz’d, and singly took his way; | |
| Then gain’d a rising ground, and call’d from far: | |
| “Resolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are; | 150 |
| Your bus’ness here; and bring you peace or war?” | |
| High on the stern Æneas took his stand, | |
| And held a branch of olive in his hand, | |
| While thus he spoke: “The Phrygians’ arms you see, | |
| Expell’d from Troy, provok’d in Italy | 155 |
| By Latian foes, with war unjustly made; | |
| At first affianc’d, and at last betray’d. | |
| This message bear: ‘The Trojans and their chief | |
| Bring holy peace, and beg the king’s relief.’” | |
| Struck with so great a name, and all on fire, | 160 |
| The youth replies: “Whatever you require, | |
| Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend, | |
| A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend.” | |
| He said, and, downward hasting to the strand, | |
| Embrac’d the stranger prince, and join’d his hand. | 165 |
| Conducted to the grove, Æneas broke | |
| The silence first, and thus the king bespoke: | |
| “Best of the Greeks, to whom, by fate’s command, | |
| I bear these peaceful branches in my hand, | |
| Undaunted I approach you, tho’ I know | 170 |
| Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe; | |
| From Atreus tho’ your ancient lineage came, | |
| And both the brother kings your kindred claim; | |
| Yet, my self-conscious worth, your high renown, | |
| Your virtue, thro’ the neighb’ring nations blown, | 175 |
| Our fathers’ mingled blood, Apollo’s voice, | |
| Have led me hither, less by need than choice. | |
| Our founder Dardanus, as fame has sung, | |
| And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung: | |
| Electra from the loins of Atlas came; | 180 |
| Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame. | |
| Your sire is Mercury, whom long before | |
| On cold Cyllene’s top fair Maia bore. | |
| Maia the fair, on fame if we rely, | |
| Was Atlas’ daughter, who sustains the sky. | 185 |
| Thus from one common source our streams divide; | |
| Ours is the Trojan, yours th’ Arcadian side. | |
| Rais’d by these hopes, I sent no news before, | |
| Nor ask’d your leave, nor did your faith implore; | |
| But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador. | 190 |
| The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue | |
| The Trojan race, are equal foes to you. | |
| Our host expell’d, what farther force can stay | |
| The victor troops from universal sway? | |
| Then will they stretch their pow’r athwart the land, | 195 |
| And either sea from side to side command. | |
| Receive our offer’d faith, and give us thine; | |
| Ours is a gen’rous and experienc’d line: | |
| We want not hearts nor bodies for the war; | |
| In council cautious, and in fields we dare.” | 200 |
| He said; and while he spoke, with piercing eyes | |
| Evander view’d the man with vast surprise, | |
| Pleas’d with his action, ravish’d with his face: | |
| Then answer’d briefly, with a royal grace: | |
| “O valiant leader of the Trojan line, | 205 |
| In whom the features of thy father shine, | |
| How I recall Anchises! how I see | |
| His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee! | |
| Long tho’ it be, ’t is fresh within my mind, | |
| When Priam to his sister’s court design’d | 210 |
| A welcome visit, with a friendly stay, | |
| And thro’ th’ Arcadian kingdom took his way. | |
| Then, past a boy, the callow down began | |
| To shade my chin, and call me first a man. | |
| I saw the shining train with vast delight, | 215 |
| And Priam’s goodly person pleas’d my sight: | |
| But great Anchises, far above the rest, | |
| With awful wonder fir’d my youthful breast. | |
| I long’d to join in friendship’s holy bands | |
| Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands. | 220 |
| I first accosted him: I sued, I sought, | |
| And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought. | |
| He gave me, when at length constrain’d to go, | |
| A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow, | |
| A vest embroider’d, glorious to behold, | 225 |
| And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold, | |
| Which my son’s coursers in obedience hold. | |
| The league you ask, I offer, as your right; | |
| And, when to-morrow’s sun reveals the light, | |
| With swift supplies you shall be sent away. | 230 |
| Now celebrate with us this solemn day, | |
| Whose holy rites admit no long delay. | |
| Honor our annual feast; and take your seat, | |
| With friendly welcome, at a homely treat.” | |
| Thus having said, the bowls (remov’d for fear) | 235 |
| The youths replac’d, and soon restor’d the cheer. | |
| On sods of turf he set the soldiers round: | |
| A maple throne, rais’d higher from the ground, | |
| Receiv’d the Trojan chief; and, o’er the bed, | |
| A lion’s shaggy hide for ornament they spread. | 240 |
| The loaves were serv’d in canisters; the wine | |
| In bowls; the priest renew’d the rites divine: | |
| Broil’d entrails are their food, and beef’s continued chine. | |
| But when the rage of hunger was repress’d, | |
| Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest: | 245 |
| “These rites, these altars, and this feast, O king, | |
| From no vain fears or superstition spring, | |
| Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance, | |
| Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance; | |
| But, sav’d from danger, with a grateful sense, | 250 |
| The labors of a god we recompense. | |
| See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky, | |
| About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie; | |
| Such indigested ruin; bleak and bare, | |
| How desart now it stands, expos’d in air! | 255 |
| ’T was once a robber’s den, inclos’d around | |
| With living stone, and deep beneath the ground. | |
| The monster Cacus, more than half a beast, | |
| This hold, impervious to the sun, possess’d. | |
| The pavement ever foul with human gore; | 260 |
| Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door. | |
| Vulcan this plague begot; and, like his sire, | |
| Black clouds he belch’d, and flakes of livid fire. | |
| Time, long expected, eas’d us of our load, | |
| And brought the needful presence of a god. | 265 |
| Th’ avenging force of Hercules, from Spain, | |
| Arriv’d in triumph, from Geryon slain: | |
| Thrice liv’d the giant, and thrice liv’d in vain. | |
| His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove | |
| Near Tiber’s bank, to graze the shady grove. | 270 |
| Allur’d with hope of plunder, and intent | |
| By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent, | |
| The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray’d, | |
| Four oxen thence, and four fair kine convey’d; | |
| And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen, | 275 |
| He dragg’d ’em backwards to his rocky den. | |
| The tracks averse a lying notice gave, | |
| And led the searcher backward from the cave. | |
| “Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place, | |
| To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass. | 280 |
| The beasts, who miss’d their mates, fill’d all around | |
| With bellowings, and the rocks restor’d the sound. | |
| One heifer, who had heard her love complain, | |
| Roar’d from the cave, and made the project vain. | |
| Alcides found the fraud; with rage he shook, | 285 |
| And toss’d about his head his knotted oak. | |
| Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows’ flight, | |
| He clomb, with eager haste, th’ ærial height. | |
| Then first we saw the monster mend his pace; | |
| Fear in his eyes, and paleness in his face, | 290 |
| Confess’d the god’s approach. Trembling he springs, | |
| As terror had increas’d his feet with wings; | |
| Nor stay’d for stairs; but down the depth he threw | |
| His body, on his back the door he drew | |
| (The door, a rib of living rock; with pains | 295 |
| His father hew’d it out, and bound with iron chains): | |
| He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos’d, | |
| And bars and levers to his foe oppos’d. | |
| The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast; | |
| The fierce avenger came with bounding haste; | 300 |
| Survey’d the mouth of the forbidden hold, | |
| And here and there his raging eyes he roll’d. | |
| He gnash’d his teeth; and thrice he compass’d round | |
| With winged speed the circuit of the ground. | |
| Thrice at the cavern’s mouth he pull’d in vain, | 305 |
| And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain. | |
| A pointed flinty rock, all bare and black, | |
| Grew gibbous from behind the mountain’s back; | |
| Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night, | |
| Here built their nests, and hither wing’d their flight. | 310 |
| The leaning head hung threat’ning o’er the flood, | |
| And nodded to the left. The hero stood | |
| Adverse, with planted feet, and, from the right, | |
| Tugg’d at the solid stone with all his might. | |
| Thus heav’d, the fix’d foundations of the rock | 315 |
| Gave way; heav’n echo’d at the rattling shock. | |
| Tumbling, it chok’d the flood: on either side | |
| The banks leap backward, and the streams divide; | |
| The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread, | |
| And trembling Tiber div’d beneath his bed. | 320 |
| The court of Cacus stands reveal’d to sight; | |
| The cavern glares with new-admitted light. | |
| So the pent vapors, with a rumbling sound, | |
| Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground; | |
| A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high, | 325 |
| The gods with hate beheld the nether sky: | |
| The ghosts repine at violated night, | |
| And curse th’ invading sun, and sicken at the sight. | |
| The graceless monster, caught in open day, | |
| Inclos’d, and in despair to fly away, | 330 |
| Howls horrible from underneath, and fills | |
| His hollow palace with unmanly yells. | |
| The hero stands above, and from afar | |
| Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war. | |
| He, from his nostrils and huge mouth, expires | 335 |
| Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father’s fires, | |
| Gath’ring, with each repeated blast, the night, | |
| To make uncertain aim, and erring sight. | |
| The wrathful god then plunges from above, | |
| And, where in thickest waves the sparkles drove, | 340 |
| There lights; and wades thro’ fumes, and gropes his way, | |
| Half sing’d, half stifled, till he grasps his prey. | |
| The monster, spewing fruitless flames, he found; | |
| He squeez’d his throat; he writh’d his neck around, | |
| And in a knot his crippled members bound; | 345 |
| Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes: | |
| Roll’d on a heap, the breathless robber lies. | |
| The doors, unbarr’d, receive the rushing day, | |
| And thoro’ lights disclose the ravish’d prey. | |
| The bulls, redeem’d, breathe open air again. | 350 |
| Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den. | |
| The wond’ring neighborhood, with glad surprise, | |
| Behold his shagged breast, his giant size, | |
| His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish’d eyes. | |
| From that auspicious day, with rites divine, | 355 |
| We worship at the hero’s holy shrine. | |
| Potitius first ordain’d these annual vows: | |
| As priests, were added the Pinarian house, | |
| Who rais’d this altar in the sacred shade, | |
| Where honors, ever due, for ever shall be paid. | 360 |
| For these deserts, and this high virtue shown, | |
| Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown: | |
| Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood, | |
| And with deep draughts invoke our common god.” | |
| This said, a double wreath Evander twin’d, | 365 |
| And poplars black and white his temples bind. | |
| Then brims his ample bowl. With like design | |
| The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine. | |
| Meantime the sun descended from the skies, | |
| And the bright evening star began to rise. | 370 |
| And now the priests, Potitius at their head, | |
| In skins of beasts involv’d, the long procession led; | |
| Held high the flaming tapers in their hands, | |
| As custom had prescrib’d their holy bands; | |
| Then with a second course the tables load, | 375 |
| And with full chargers offer to the god. | |
| The Salii sing, and cense his altars round | |
| With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound— | |
| One choir of old, another of the young, | |
| To dance, and bear the burthen of the song. | 380 |
| The lay records the labors, and the praise, | |
| And all th’ immortal acts of Hercules: | |
| First, how the mighty babe, when swath’d in bands, | |
| The serpents strangled with his infant hands; | |
| Then, as in years and matchless force he grew, | 385 |
| Th’ OEchalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew. | |
| Besides, a thousand hazards they relate, | |
| Procur’d by Juno’s and Eurystheus’ hate: | |
| “Thy hands, unconquer’d hero, could subdue | |
| The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew: | 390 |
| Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood, | |
| Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood. | |
| The triple porter of the Stygian seat, | |
| With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet, | |
| And, seiz’d with fear, forgot his mangled meat. | 395 |
| Th’ infernal waters trembled at thy sight; | |
| Thee, god, no face of danger could affright; | |
| Not huge Typhœus, nor th’ unnumber’d snake, | |
| Increas’d with hissing heads, in Lerna’s lake. | |
| Hail, Jove’s undoubted son! an added grace | 400 |
| To heav’n and the great author of thy race! | |
| Receive the grateful off’rings which we pay, | |
| And smile propitious on thy solemn day!” | |
| In numbers thus they sung; above the rest, | |
| The den and death of Cacus crown the feast. | 405 |
| The woods to hollow vales convey the sound, | |
| The vales to hills, and hills the notes rebound. | |
| The rites perform’d, the cheerful train retire. | |
| Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire, | |
| The Trojan pass’d, the city to survey, | 410 |
| And pleasing talk beguil’d the tedious way. | |
| The stranger cast around his curious eyes, | |
| New objects viewing still, with new surprise; | |
| With greedy joy enquires of various things, | |
| And acts and monuments of ancient kings. | 415 |
| Then thus the founder of the Roman tow’rs: | |
| “These woods were first the seat of sylvan pow’rs, | |
| Of Nymphs and Fauns, and salvage men, who took | |
| Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak. | |
| Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care | 420 |
| Of lab’ring oxen, or the shining share, | |
| Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain’d to spare. | |
| Their exercise the chase; the running flood | |
| Supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food. | |
| Then Saturn came, who fled the pow’r of Jove, | 425 |
| Robb’d of his realms, and banish’d from above. | |
| The men, dispers’d on hills, to towns he brought, | |
| And laws ordain’d, and civil customs taught, | |
| And Latium call’d the land where safe he lay | |
| From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway. | 430 |
| With his mild empire, peace and plenty came; | |
| And hence the golden times deriv’d their name. | |
| A more degenerate and discolor’d age | |
| Succeeded this, with avarice and rage. | |
| Th’ Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians came; | 435 |
| And Saturn’s empire often chang’d the name. | |
| Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest, | |
| With arbitrary sway the land oppress’d: | |
| For Tiber’s flood was Albula before, | |
| Till, from the tyrant’s fate, his name it bore. | 440 |
| I last arriv’d, driv’n from my native home | |
| By fortune’s pow’r, and fate’s resistless doom. | |
| Long toss’d on seas, I sought this happy land, | |
| Warn’d by my mother nymph, and call’d by Heav’n’s command.” | |
| Thus, walking on, he spoke, and shew’d the gate, | 445 |
| Since call’d Carmental by the Roman state; | |
| Where stood an altar, sacred to the name | |
| Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame, | |
| Who to her son foretold th’ Ænean race, | |
| Sublime in fame, and Rome’s imperial place: | 450 |
| Then shews the forest, which, in after times, | |
| Fierce Romulus for perpetrated crimes | |
| A sacred refuge made; with this, the shrine | |
| Where Pan below the rock had rites divine: | |
| Then tells of Argus’ death, his murder’d guest, | 455 |
| Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest. | |
| Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads; | |
| Now roof’d with gold, then thatch’d with homely reeds. | |
| A reverent fear (such superstition reigns | |
| Among the rude) ev’n then possess’d the swains. | 460 |
| Some god, they knew—what god, they could not tell— | |
| Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell. | |
| Th’ Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw | |
| The mighty Thund’rer with majestic awe, | |
| Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around, | 465 |
| And scatter’d tempests on the teeming ground. | |
| Then saw two heaps of ruins, (once they stood | |
| Two stately towns, on either side the flood,) | |
| Saturnia’s and Janicula’s remains; | |
| And either place the founder’s name retains. | 470 |
| Discoursing thus together, they resort | |
| Where poor Evander kept his country court. | |
| They view’d the ground of Rome’s litigious hall; | |
| (Once oxen low’d, where now the lawyers bawl;) | |
| Then, stooping, thro’ the narrow gate they press’d, | 475 |
| When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest: | |
| “Mean as it is, this palace, and this door, | |
| Receiv’d Alcides, then a conqueror. | |
| Dare to be poor; accept our homely food, | |
| Which feasted him, and emulate a god.” | 480 |
| Then underneath a lowly roof he led | |
| The weary prince, and laid him on a bed; | |
| The stuffing leaves, with hides of bears o’erspread. | |
| Now Night had shed her silver dews around, | |
| And with her sable wings embrac’d the ground, | 485 |
| When love’s fair goddess, anxious for her son, | |
| (New tumults rising, and new wars begun,) | |
| Couch’d with her husband in his golden bed, | |
| With these alluring words invokes his aid; | |
| And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move, | 490 |
| Inspires each accent with the charms of love: | |
| “While cruel fate conspir’d with Grecian pow’rs, | |
| To level with the ground the Trojan tow’rs, | |
| I ask’d not aid th’ unhappy to restore, | |
| Nor did the succor of thy skill implore; | 495 |
| Nor urg’d the labors of my lord in vain, | |
| A sinking empire longer to sustain, | |
| Tho’ much I ow’d to Priam’s house, and more | |
| The dangers of Æneas did deplore. | |
| But now, by Jove’s command, and fate’s decree, | 500 |
| His race is doom’d to reign in Italy: | |
| With humble suit I beg thy needful art, | |
| O still propitious pow’r, that rules my heart! | |
| A mother kneels a suppliant for her son. | |
| By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won | 505 |
| To forge impenetrable shields, and grace | |
| With fated arms a less illustrious race. | |
| Behold, what haughty nations are combin’d | |
| Against the relics of the Phrygian kind, | |
| With fire and sword my people to destroy, | 510 |
| And conquer Venus twice, in conqu’ring Troy.” | |
| She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue, | |
| About her unresolving husband threw. | |
| Her soft embraces soon infuse desire; | |
| His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire; | 515 |
| And all the godhead feels the wonted fire. | |
| Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies, | |
| Or forky lightnings flash along the skies. | |
| The goddess, proud of her successful wiles, | |
| And conscious of her form, in secret smiles. | 520 |
| Then thus the pow’r, obnoxious to her charms, | |
| Panting, and half dissolving in her arms: | |
| “Why seek you reasons for a cause so just, | |
| Or your own beauties or my love distrust? | |
| Long since, had you requir’d my helpful hand, | 525 |
| Th’ artificer and art you might command, | |
| To labor arms for Troy: nor Jove, nor fate, | |
| Confin’d their empire to so short a date. | |
| And, if you now desire new wars to wage, | |
| My skill I promise, and my pains engage. | 530 |
| Whatever melting metals can conspire, | |
| Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire, | |
| Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove, | |
| And think no task is difficult to love.” | |
| Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms, | 535 |
| He snatch’d the willing goddess to his arms; | |
| Till in her lap infus’d, he lay possess’d | |
| Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest. | |
| Now when the Night her middle race had rode, | |
| And his first slumber had refresh’d the god— | 540 |
| The time when early housewives leave the bed; | |
| When living embers on the hearth they spread, | |
| Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise— | |
| With yawning mouths, and with half-open’d eyes, | |
| They ply the distaff by the winking light, | 545 |
| And to their daily labor add the night: | |
| Thus frugally they earn their children’s bread, | |
| And uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed— | |
| Not less concern’d, nor at a later hour, | |
| Rose from his downy couch the forging pow’r. | 550 |
| Sacred to Vulcan’s name, an isle there lay, | |
| Betwixt Sicilia’s coasts and Lipare, | |
| Rais’d high on smoking rocks; and, deep below, | |
| In hollow caves the fires of Ætna glow. | |
| The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; | 555 |
| Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, | |
| Are heard around; the boiling waters roar, | |
| And smoky flames thro’ fuming tunnels soar. | |
| Hether the Father of the Fire, by night, | |
| Thro’ the brown air precipitates his flight. | 560 |
| On their eternal anvils here he found | |
| The brethren beating, and the blows go round. | |
| A load of pointless thunder now there lies | |
| Before their hands, to ripen for the skies: | |
| These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast; | 565 |
| Consum’d on mortals with prodigious waste. | |
| Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more, | |
| Of winged southern winds and cloudy store | |
| As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame; | |
| And fears are added, and avenging flame. | 570 |
| Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair | |
| His broken axletrees and blunted war, | |
| And send him forth again with furbish’d arms, | |
| To wake the lazy war with trumpets’ loud alarms. | |
| The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold | 575 |
| The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold. | |
| Full on the crest the Gorgon’s head they place, | |
| With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face. | |
| “My sons,” said Vulcan, “set your tasks aside; | |
| Your strength and master-skill must now be tried. | 580 |
| Arms for a hero forge; arms that require | |
| Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire.” | |
| He said. They set their former work aside, | |
| And their new toils with eager haste divide. | |
| A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold, | 585 |
| And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll’d; | |
| Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare, | |
| Alone sufficient to sustain the war. | |
| Sev’n orbs within a spacious round they close: | |
| One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows. | 590 |
| The hissing steel is in the smithy drown’d; | |
| The grot with beaten anvils groans around. | |
| By turns their arms advance, in equal time; | |
| By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime. | |
| They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs; | 595 |
| The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs. | |
| While, at the Lemnian god’s command, they urge | |
| Their labors thus, and ply th’ Æolian forge, | |
| The cheerful morn salutes Evander’s eyes, | |
| And songs of chirping birds invite to rise. | 600 |
| He leaves his lowly bed: his buskins meet | |
| Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet: | |
| He sets his trusty sword upon his side, | |
| And o’er his shoulder throws a panther’s hide. | |
| Two menial dogs before their master press’d. | 605 |
| Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest. | |
| Mindful of promis’d aid, he mends his pace, | |
| But meets Æneas in the middle space. | |
| Young Pallas did his father’s steps attend, | |
| And true Achates waited on his friend. | 610 |
| They join their hands; a secret seat they choose; | |
| Th’ Arcadian first their former talk renews: | |
| “Undaunted prince, I never can believe | |
| The Trojan empire lost, while you survive. | |
| Command th’ assistance of a faithful friend; | 615 |
| But feeble are the succors I can send. | |
| Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds; | |
| That other side the Latian state surrounds, | |
| Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds. | |
| But mighty nations I prepare, to join | 620 |
| Their arms with yours, and aid your just design. | |
| You come, as by your better genius sent, | |
| And fortune seems to favor your intent. | |
| Not far from hence there stands a hilly town, | |
| Of ancient building, and of high renown, | 625 |
| Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race, | |
| Who gave the name of Cære to the place, | |
| Once Agyllina call’d. It flourish’d long, | |
| In pride of wealth and warlike people strong, | |
| Till curs’d Mezentius, in a fatal hour, | 630 |
| Assum’d the crown, with arbitrary pow’r. | |
| What words can paint those execrable times, | |
| The subjects’ suff’rings, and the tyrant’s crimes! | |
| That blood, those murthers, O ye gods, replace | |
| On his own head, and on his impious race! | 635 |
| The living and the dead at his command | |
| Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand, | |
| Till, chok’d with stench, in loath’d embraces tied, | |
| The ling’ring wretches pin’d away and died. | |
| Thus plung’d in ills, and meditating more— | 640 |
| The people’s patience, tir’d, no longer bore | |
| The raging monster; but with arms beset | |
| His house, and vengeance and destruction threat. | |
| They fire his palace: while the flame ascends, | |
| They force his guards, and execute his friends. | 645 |
| He cleaves the crowd, and, favor’d by the night, | |
| To Turnus’ friendly court directs his flight. | |
| By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire, | |
| With arms, their king to punishment require: | |
| Their num’rous troops, now muster’d on the strand, | 650 |
| My counsel shall submit to your command. | |
| Their navy swarms upon the coasts; they cry | |
| To hoist their anchors, but the gods deny. | |
| An ancient augur, skill’d in future fate, | |
| With these foreboding words restrains their hate: | 655 |
| ‘Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow’r | |
| Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow’r, | |
| Whom just revenge against Mezentius arms, | |
| To seek your tyrant’s death by lawful arms; | |
| Know this: no native of our land may lead | 660 |
| This pow’rful people; seek a foreign head.’ | |
| Aw’d with these words, in camps they still abide, | |
| And wait with longing looks their promis’d guide. | |
| Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent | |
| Their crown, and ev’ry regal ornament: | 665 |
| The people join their own with his desire; | |
| And all my conduct, as their king, require. | |
| But the chill blood that creeps within my veins, | |
| And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains, | |
| And a soul conscious of its own decay, | 670 |
| Have forc’d me to refuse imperial sway. | |
| My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne, | |
| And should, but he’s a Sabine mother’s son, | |
| And half a native; but, in you, combine | |
| A manly vigor, and a foreign line. | 675 |
| Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way, | |
| Pursue the ready path to sov’reign sway. | |
| The staff of my declining days, my son, | |
| Shall make your good or ill success his own; | |
| In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare, | 680 |
| And serve the hard apprenticeship of war; | |
| Your matchless courage and your conduct view, | |
| And early shall begin t’ admire and copy you. | |
| Besides, two hundred horse he shall command; | |
| Tho’ few, a warlike and well-chosen band. | 685 |
| These in my name are listed; and my son | |
| As many more has added in his own.” | |
| Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest, | |
| With downcast eyes, their silent grief express’d; | |
| Who, short of succors, and in deep despair, | 690 |
| Shook at the dismal prospect of the war. | |
| But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud, | |
| To cheer her issue, thunder’d thrice aloud; | |
| Thrice forky lightning flash’d along the sky, | |
| And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high. | 695 |
| Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear; | |
| And, in a heav’n serene, refulgent arms appear: | |
| Redd’ning the skies, and glitt’ring all around, | |
| The temper’d metals clash, and yield a silver sound. | |
| The rest stood trembling, struck with awe divine; | 700 |
| Æneas only, conscious to the sign, | |
| Presag’d th’ event, and joyful view’d, above, | |
| Th’ accomplish’d promise of the Queen of Love. | |
| Then, to th’ Arcadian king: “This prodigy | |
| (Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me. | 705 |
| Heav’n calls me to the war: th’ expected sign | |
| Is giv’n of promis’d aid, and arms divine. | |
| My goddess mother, whose indulgent care | |
| Foresaw the dangers of the growing war, | |
| This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms, | 710 |
| Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms, | |
| Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow’d | |
| Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood. | |
| Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn; | |
| And corps, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne, | 715 |
| Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms; | |
| And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur’d arms.” | |
| He said, and, rising from his homely throne, | |
| The solemn rites of Hercules begun, | |
| And on his altars wak’d the sleeping fires; | 720 |
| Then cheerful to his household gods retires; | |
| There offers chosen sheep. Th’ Arcadian king | |
| And Trojan youth the same oblations bring. | |
| Next, of his men and ships he makes review; | |
| Draws out the best and ablest of the crew. | 725 |
| Down with the falling stream the refuse run, | |
| To raise with joyful news his drooping son. | |
| Steeds are prepar’d to mount the Trojan band, | |
| Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land. | |
| A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest, | 730 |
| The king himself presents his royal guest: | |
| A lion’s hide his back and limbs infold, | |
| Precious with studded work, and paws of gold. | |
| Fame thro’ the little city spreads aloud | |
| Th’ intended march, amid the fearful crowd: | 735 |
| The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears, | |
| And double their devotion in their fears. | |
| The war at hand appears with more affright, | |
| And rises ev’ry moment to the sight. | |
| Then old Evander, with a close embrace, | 740 |
| Strain’d his departing friend; and tears o’erflow his face. | |
| “Would Heav’n,” said he, “my strength and youth recall, | |
| Such as I was beneath Præneste’s wall; | |
| Then when I made the foremost foes retire, | |
| And set whole heaps of conquer’d shields on fire; | 745 |
| When Herilus in single fight I slew, | |
| Whom with three lives Feronia did endue; | |
| And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore, | |
| Till the last ebbing soul return’d no more— | |
| Such if I stood renew’d, not these alarms, | 750 |
| Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas’ arms; | |
| Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish’d, boast | |
| His rapes and murthers on the Tuscan coast. | |
| Ye gods, and mighty Jove, in pity bring | |
| Relief, and hear a father and a king! | 755 |
| If fate and you reserve these eyes, to see | |
| My son return with peace and victory; | |
| If the lov’d boy shall bless his father’s sight; | |
| If we shall meet again with more delight; | |
| Then draw my life in length; let me sustain, | 760 |
| In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain. | |
| But if your hard decrees—which, O! I dread— | |
| Have doom’d to death his undeserving head; | |
| This, O this very moment, let me die! | |
| While hopes and fears in equal balance lie; | 765 |
| While, yet possess’d of all his youthful charms, | |
| I strain him close within these aged arms; | |
| Before that fatal news my soul shall wound!” | |
| He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground. | |
| His servants bore him off, and softly laid | 770 |
| His languish’d limbs upon his homely bed. | |
| The horsemen march; the gates are open’d wide; | |
| Æneas at their head, Achates by his side. | |
| Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along; | |
| Last follows in the rear th’ Arcadian throng. | 775 |
| Young Pallas shone conspicuous o’er the rest; | |
| Gilded his arms, embroider’d was his vest. | |
| So, from the seas, exerts his radiant head | |
| The star by whom the lights of heav’n are led; | |
| Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews, | 780 |
| Dispels the darkness, and the day renews. | |
| The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd, | |
| And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud, | |
| Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far | |
| The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war. | 785 |
| The troops, drawn up in beautiful array, | |
| O’er heathy plains pursue the ready way. | |
| Repeated peals of shouts are heard around; | |
| The neighing coursers answer to the sound, | |
| And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground. | 790 |
| A greenwood shade, for long religion known, | |
| Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town, | |
| Incompass’d round with gloomy hills above, | |
| Which add a holy horror to the grove. | |
| The first inhabitants of Grecian blood, | 795 |
| That sacred forest to Silvanus vow’d, | |
| The guardian of their flocks and fields; and pay | |
| Their due devotions on his annual day. | |
| Not far from hence, along the river’s side, | |
| In tents secure, the Tuscan troops abide, | 800 |
| By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground, | |
| Æneas cast his wond’ring eyes around, | |
| And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight, | |
| Stretch’d on the spacious plain from left to right. | |
| Thether his warlike train the Trojan led, | 805 |
| Refresh’d his men, and wearied horses fed. | |
| Meantime the mother goddess, crown’d with charms, | |
| Breaks thro’ the clouds, and brings the fated arms. | |
| Within a winding vale she finds her son, | |
| On the cool river’s banks, retir’d alone. | 810 |
| She shews her heav’nly form without disguise, | |
| And gives herself to his desiring eyes. | |
| “Behold,” she said, “perform’d in ev’ry part, | |
| My promise made, and Vulcan’s labor’d art. | |
| Now seek, secure, the Latian enemy, | 815 |
| And haughty Turnus to the field defy.” | |
| She said; and, having first her son embrac’d, | |
| The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac’d, | |
| Proud of the gift, he roll’d his greedy sight | |
| Around the work, and gaz’d with vast delight. | 820 |
| He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires | |
| The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires: | |
| His hands the fatal sword and corslet hold, | |
| One keen with temper’d steel, one stiff with gold: | |
| Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright; | 825 |
| So shines a cloud, when edg’d with adverse light. | |
| He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try | |
| The plated cuishes on his manly thigh; | |
| But most admires the shield’s mysterious mold, | |
| And Roman triumphs rising on the gold: | 830 |
| For these, emboss’d, the heav’nly smith had wrought | |
| (Not in the rolls of future fate untaught) | |
| The wars in order, and the race divine | |
| Of warriors issuing from the Julian line. | |
| The cave of Mars was dress’d with mossy greens: | 835 |
| There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins. | |
| Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung; | |
| The foster dam loll’d out her fawning tongue: | |
| They suck’d secure, while, bending back her head, | |
| She lick’d their tender limbs, and form’d them as they fed. | 840 |
| Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games | |
| Projected for the rape of Sabine dames. | |
| The pit resounds with shrieks; a war succeeds, | |
| For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds. | |
| Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend; | 845 |
| The Romans there with arms the prey defend. | |
| Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease; | |
| And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace. | |
| The friendly chiefs before Jove’s altar stand, | |
| Both arm’d, with each a charger in his hand: | 850 |
| A fatted sow for sacrifice is led, | |
| With imprecations on the perjur’d head. | |
| Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch’d between | |
| Four fiery steeds, is dragg’d along the green, | |
| By Tullus’ doom: the brambles drink his blood, | 855 |
| And his torn limbs are left the vulture’s food. | |
| There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings, | |
| And would by force restore the banish’d kings. | |
| One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights; | |
| The Roman youth assert their native rights. | 860 |
| Before the town the Tuscan army lies, | |
| To win by famine, or by fraud surprise. | |
| Their king, half-threat’ning, half-disdaining stood, | |
| While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm’d the flood. | |
| The captive maids there tempt the raging tide, | 865 |
| Scap’d from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide. | |
| High on a rock heroic Manlius stood, | |
| To guard the temple, and the temple’s god. | |
| Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold | |
| The palace thatch’d with straw, now roof’d with gold. | 870 |
| The silver goose before the shining gate | |
| There flew, and, by her cackle, sav’d the state. | |
| She told the Gauls’ approach; th’ approaching Gauls, | |
| Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls. | |
| The gold dissembled well their yellow hair, | 875 |
| And golden chains on their white necks they wear. | |
| Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield, | |
| And their left arm sustains a length of shield. | |
| Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance; | |
| And naked thro’ the streets the mad Luperci dance, | 880 |
| In caps of wool; the targets dropp’d from heav’n. | |
| Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv’n, | |
| To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear, | |
| And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear. | |
| Far hence remov’d, the Stygian seats are seen; | 885 |
| Pains of the damn’d, and punish’d Catiline | |
| Hung on a rock—the traitor; and, around, | |
| The Furies hissing from the nether ground. | |
| Apart from these, the happy souls he draws, | |
| And Cato’s holy ghost dispensing laws. | 890 |
| Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea; | |
| But foaming surges there in silver play. | |
| The dancing dolphins with their tails divide | |
| The glitt’ring waves, and cut the precious tide. | |
| Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage | 895 |
| Their brazen beaks, oppos’d with equal rage. | |
| Actium surveys the well-disputed prize; | |
| Leucate’s wat’ry plain with foamy billows fries. | |
| Young Cæsar, on the stern, in armor bright, | |
| Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight: | 900 |
| His beamy temples shoot their flames afar, | |
| And o’er his head is hung the Julian star. | |
| Agrippa seconds him, with prosp’rous gales, | |
| And, with propitious gods, his foes assails: | |
| A naval crown, that binds his manly brows, | 905 |
| The happy fortune of the fight foreshows. | |
| Rang’d on the line oppos’d, Antonius brings | |
| Barbarian aids, and troops of Eastern kings; | |
| Th’ Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar, | |
| Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war: | 910 |
| And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife, | |
| His ill fate follows him—th’ Egyptian wife. | |
| Moving they fight; with oars and forky prows | |
| The froth is gather’d, and the water glows. | |
| It seems, as if the Cyclades again | 915 |
| Were rooted up, and justled in the main; | |
| Or floating mountains floating mountains meet; | |
| Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet. | |
| Fireballs are thrown, and pointed jav’lins fly; | |
| The fields of Neptune take a purple dye. | 920 |
| The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms, | |
| With cymbals toss’d her fainting soldiers warms— | |
| Fool as she was! who had not yet divin’d | |
| Her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind. | |
| Her country gods, the monsters of the sky, | 925 |
| Great Neptune, Pallas, and Love’s Queen defy: | |
| The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain, | |
| Nor longer dares oppose th’ ethereal train. | |
| Mars in the middle of the shining shield | |
| Is grav’d, and strides along the liquid field. | 930 |
| The Diræ souse from heav’n with swift descent; | |
| And Discord, dyed in blood, with garments rent, | |
| Divides the prease: her steps Bellona treads, | |
| And shakes her iron rod above their heads. | |
| This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height, | 935 |
| Pours down his arrows; at whose winged flight | |
| The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield, | |
| And soft Sabæans quit the wat’ry field. | |
| The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails, | |
| And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales. | 940 |
| Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath, | |
| Panting, and pale with fear of future death. | |
| The god had figur’d her as driv’n along | |
| By winds and waves, and scudding thro’ the throng. | |
| Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide | 945 |
| His arms and ample bosom to the tide, | |
| And spreads his mantle o’er the winding coast, | |
| In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host. | |
| The victor to the gods his thanks express’d, | |
| And Rome, triumphant, with his presence bless’d. | 950 |
| Three hundred temples in the town he plac’d; | |
| With spoils and altars ev’ry temple grac’d. | |
| Three shining nights, and three succeeding days, | |
| The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise, | |
| The domes with songs, the theaters with plays. | 955 |
| All altars flame: before each altar lies, | |
| Drench’d in his gore, the destin’d sacrifice. | |
| Great Cæsar sits sublime upon his throne, | |
| Before Apollo’s porch of Parian stone; | |
| Accepts the presents vow’d for victory, | 960 |
| And hangs the monumental crowns on high. | |
| Vast crowds of vanquish’d nations march along, | |
| Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue. | |
| Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place | |
| For Carians, and th’ ungirt Numidian race; | 965 |
| Then ranks the Thracians in the second row, | |
| With Scythians, expert in the dart and bow. | |
| And here the tam’d Euphrates humbly glides, | |
| And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides, | |
| And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind; | 970 |
| The Danes’ unconquer’d offspring march behind, | |
| And Morini, the last of humankind. | |
| These figures, on the shield divinely wrought, | |
| By Vulcan labor’d, and by Venus brought, | |
| With joy and wonder fill the hero’s thought. | 975 |
| Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace, | |
| And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race. | |
| |
