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My men-some fall, the rest in fevers fry. Again my father bids me seek the shore Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,
To learn what end of woes we might expect, And to what clime our weary course direct.
"'T was night, when ev'ry creature, void of cares, The common gift of balmy slumber shares:
The statues of my gods (for such they seem'd), Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem'd, Before me stood, majestically bright,
Full in the beams of Phoebe's ent'ring light.
Then thus they spoke, and eas'd my troubled mind:
'What from the Delian god thou go'st to find, He tells thee here, and sends us to relate. Those pow'rs are we, companions of thy fate,
Who from the burning town by thee were brought, Thy fortune follow'd, and thy safety wrought.
Thro' seas and lands as we thy steps attend, So shall our care thy glorious race befriend. An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain,
A town that o'er the conquer'd world shall reign. Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build;
Nor let thy weary mind to labors yield:
But change thy seat; for not the Delian god, Nor we, have giv'n thee Crete for our abode. A land there is, Hesperia call'd of old,
(The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold-Th' Oenotrians held it once,) by later fame Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name. lasius there and Dardanus were born;
From thence we came, and thither must return. Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet. Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.' "Astonish'd at their voices and their sight,
(Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night; I saw, I knew their faces, and descried,
In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;) I started from my couch; a clammy sweat On all my limbs and shiv'ring body sate.
To heav'n I lift my hands with pious haste, And sacred incense in the flames I cast. Thus to the gods their perfect honors done, More cheerful, to my good old sire I run, And tell the pleasing news. In little space
He found his error of the double race;
Not, as before he deem'd, deriv'd from Crete; No more deluded by the doubtful seat:
Then said: 'O son, turmoil'd in Trojan fate! Such things as these Cassandra did relate. This day revives within my mind what she Foretold of Troy renew'd in Italy,
And Latian lands; but who could then have thought That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought, Or who believ'd what mad Cassandra taught?
Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.' "He said; and we with glad consent obey, Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind,
We spread our sails before the willing wind.
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Now from the sight of land our galleys move, With only seas around and skies above;
When o'er our heads descends a burst of rain, And night with sable clouds involves the main; The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise;
The scatter'd fleet is forc'd to sev'ral ways;
The face of heav'n is ravish'd from our eyes,
And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies.
Cast from our course, we wander in the dark. No stars to guide, no point of land to mark. Ev'n Palinurus no distinction found
Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign'd around. Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays,
Without distinction, and three sunless days;
The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds, We view a rising land, like distant clouds;
The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight, And curling smoke ascending from their height. The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply;
From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly.
At length I land upon the Strophades, Safe from the danger of the stormy seas. Those isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main, The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign, Forc'd by the winged warriors to repair
To their old homes, and leave their costly fare. Monsters more fierce offended Heav'n ne'er sent From hell's abyss, for human punishment:
With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene, Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean; With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean. "We landed at the port, and soon beheld
Fat herds of oxen graze the flow'ry field, And wanton goats without a keeper stray'd. With weapons we the welcome prey invade, Then call the gods for partners of our feast, And Jove himself, the chief invited guest.
We spread the tables on the greensward ground; We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round; When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry, And clatt'ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly;
They snatch the meat, defiling all they find, And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind. Close by a hollow rock, again we sit,
New dress the dinner, and the beds refit, Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade, Where tufted trees a native arbor made. Again the holy fires on altars burn;
And once again the rav'nous birds return, Or from the dark recesses where they lie, Or from another quarter of the sky;
With filthy claws their odious meal repeat,
And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat. I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,
And with the hellish nation wage the war. They, as commanded, for the fight provide, And in the grass their glitt'ring weapons hide; Then, when along the crooked shore we hear
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Their clatt'ring wings, and saw the foes appear, Misenus sounds a charge: we take th' alarm,
And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm. In this new kind of combat all employ
Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy. In vain-the fated skin is proof to wounds;
And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds. At length rebuff 'd, they leave their mangled prey, And their stretch'd pinions to the skies display.
Yet one remain'd-the messenger of Fate: High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate,
And thus her dismal errand did relate:
'What! not contented with our oxen slain,
Dare you with Heav'n an impious war maintain, And drive the Harpies from their native reign? Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design'd, And I, the Furies' queen, from both relate-
You seek th' Italian shores, foredoom'd by fate:
Th' Italian shores are granted you to find,
And a safe passage to the port assign'd.
But know, that ere your promis'd walls you build,
My curses shall severely be fulfill'd.
Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed, Reduc'd to grind the plates on which you feed.' She said, and to the neighb'ring forest flew.
Our courage fails us, and our fears renew. Hopeless to win by war, to pray'rs we fall, And on th' offended Harpies humbly call,
And whether gods or birds obscene they were, Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer.
But old Anchises, off 'ring sacrifice,
And lifting up to heav'n his hands and eyes, Ador'd the greater gods: 'Avert,' said he,
'These omens; render vain this prophecy,
And from th' impending curse a pious people free!' "Thus having said, he bids us put to sea;
We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey,
And soon with swelling sails pursue the wat'ry way. Amidst