The Aeneid. Публий Марон Вергилий

For while, expecting there the queen, he rais’d

       His wond’ring eyes, and round the temple gaz’d,

       Admir’d the fortune of the rising town,

       The striving artists, and their arts’ renown;

       He saw, in order painted on the wall,

       Whatever did unhappy Troy befall:

       The wars that fame around the world had blown,

       All to the life, and ev’ry leader known.

       There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies,

       And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies.

       He stopp’d, and weeping said: “O friend! ev’n here

       The monuments of Trojan woes appear!

       Our known disasters fill ev’n foreign lands:

       See there, where old unhappy Priam stands!

       Ev’n the mute walls relate the warrior’s fame,

       And Trojan griefs the Tyrians’ pity claim.”

       He said, his tears a ready passage find,

       Devouring what he saw so well design’d,

       And with an empty picture fed his mind:

       For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield,

       And here the trembling Trojans quit the field,

       Pursued by fierce Achilles thro’ the plain,

       On his high chariot driving o’er the slain.

       The tents of Rhesus next, his grief renew,

       By their white sails betray’d to nightly view;

       And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword

       The sentries slew, nor spar’d their slumb’ring lord,

       Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food

       Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood.

       Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied

       Achilles, and unequal combat tried;

       Then, where the boy disarm’d, with loosen’d reins,

       Was by his horses hurried o’er the plains,

       Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg’d around:

       The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound,

       With tracks of blood inscrib’d the dusty ground.

       Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress’d with woe,

       To Pallas’ fane in long procession go,

       In hopes to reconcile their heav’nly foe.

       They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair,

       And rich embroider’d vests for presents bear;

       But the stern goddess stands unmov’d with pray’r.

       Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew

       The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.

       Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,

       The lifeless body of his son is sold.

       So sad an object, and so well express’d,

       Drew sighs and groans from the griev’d hero’s breast,

       To see the figure of his lifeless friend,

       And his old sire his helpless hand extend.

       Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train,

       Mix’d in the bloody battle on the plain;

       And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew,

       His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew.

       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,

       Fix’d on the walls with wonder and surprise,

       The beauteous Dido, with a num’rous train

       And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.

       Such on Eurotas’ banks, or Cynthus’ 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 plac’d before the shrine:

       In crowds around, the swarming people join.

       She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,

       Hears and determines ev’ry 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 toss’d,

       And widely scatter’d on another coast.

       The prince, unseen, surpris’d with wonder stands,

       And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands;

       But, doubtful of the wish’d 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, commission’d by the rest,

       To sue for leave to land their sickly men,

       And gain admission to the gracious queen.

       Ent’ring, with cries they fill’d the holy fane;

       Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:

      “O Queen! indulg’d 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, toss’d on ev’ry shore,

       From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.

       Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!

       Receive th’ 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: