And thou, O matron of immortal fame, Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;Cajeta still the place is call'd from thee, The nurse of great Aeneas' infancy.
Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia's plains;Thy name ('t is all a ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the prince her fun'ral rites had paid, He plow'd the Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night, Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe's shores they run, (Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)A dang'rous coast: the goddess wastes her days In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays:
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night, And cedar brands supply her father's light.
From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main, The roars of lions that refuse the chain, The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors' ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night, Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe's pow'r, (That watch'd the moon and planetary hour,)With words and wicked herbs from humankind Had alter'd, and in brutal shapes confin'd.
Which monsters lest the Trojans' pious host Should bear, or touch upon th' inchanted coast, Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night With rising gales that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore, And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise, And wav'd her saffron streamer thro' the skies;When Thetis blush'd in purple not her own, And from her face the breathing winds were blown, A sudden silence sate upon the sea, And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, That drove the sand along, he took his way, And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea.
About him, and above, and round the wood, The birds that haunt the borders of his flood, That bath'd within, or basked upon his side, To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.
The captain gives command; the joyful train Glide thro' the gloomy shade, and leave the main.
Now, Erato, thy poet's mind inspire, And fill his soul with thy celestial fire!
Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings;Declare the past and state of things, When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought, And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought.
These are my theme, and how the war began, And how concluded by the godlike man:
For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage, Which princes and their people did engage;And haughty souls, that, mov'd with mutual hate, In fighting fields pursued and found their fate;That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms, And peaceful Italy involv'd in arms.
A larger scene of action is display'd;
And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh'd.
Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd The Latin scepter, and his people blest:
His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame His mother; fair Marica was her name.
But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew His birth from Saturn, if records be true.
Thus King Latinus, in the third degree, Had Saturn author of his family.
But this old peaceful prince, as Heav'n decreed, Was blest with no male issue to succeed:
His sons in blooming youth were snatch'd by fate;One only daughter heir'd the royal state.
Fir'd with her love, and with ambition led, The neighb'ring princes court her nuptial bed.
Among the crowd, but far above the rest, Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd.
Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien, Was first, and favor'd by the Latian queen;With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand, But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand.
Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood;Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair Was kept and cut with superstitious care.
This plant Latinus, when his town he wall'd, Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call'd;And last, in honor of his new abode, He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's god.
It happen'd once (a boding prodigy!)
A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky, (Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,)Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight;There with their clasping feet together clung, And a long cluster from the laurel hung.
An ancient augur prophesied from hence:
"Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince!
From the same parts of heav'n his navy stands, To the same parts on earth; his army lands;The town he conquers, and the tow'r commands."Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire Before the gods, and stood beside her sire, (Strange to relate!) the flames, involv'd in smoke Of incense, from the sacred altar broke, Caught her dishevel'd hair and rich attire;Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire:
From thence the fuming trail began to spread And lambent glories danc'd about her head.
This new portent the seer with wonder views, Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews:
"The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around, Shall shine with honor, shall herself be crown'd;But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate, War shall the country waste, and change the state."Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent, For counsel to his father Faunus went, And sought the shades renown'd for prophecy Which near Albunea's sulph'rous fountain lie.
To these the Latian and the Sabine land Fly, when distress'd, and thence relief demand.
The priest on skins of off'rings takes his ease, And nightly visions in his slumber sees;A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears, And, flutt'ring round his temples, deafs his ears:
These he consults, the future fates to know, From pow'rs above, and from the fiends below.
Here, for the gods' advice, Latinus flies, Off'ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice:
Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd, He laid beneath him, and to rest retir'd.
