And there shall end thy labors and thy woe. Nor let the threaten'd famine fright thy mind,
For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find.
Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent, Which fronts from far th' Epirian continent: Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess'd; The salvage Locrians here the shores infest; There fierce Idomeneus his city builds,
And guards with arms the Salentinian fields; And on the mountain's brow Petilia stands, Which Philoctetes with his troops commands. Ev'n when thy fleet is landed on the shore, And priests with holy vows the gods adore, Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,
Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice.
These rites and customs to the rest commend, That to your pious race they may descend. "'When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits
Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way, Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea: Veer starboard sea and land. Th' Italian shore And fair Sicilia's coast were one, before
An earthquake caus'd the flaw: the roaring tides
The passage broke that land from land divides;
And where the lands retir'd, the rushing ocean rides. Distinguish'd by the straits, on either hand,
Now rising cities in long order stand,
And fruitful fields: so much can time invade
The mold'ring work that beauteous Nature made. Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides: Charybdis roaring on the left presides,
And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides; Then spouts them from below: with fury driv'n, The waves mount up and wash the face of heav'n. But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,
The sinking vessel in her eddy draws, Then dashes on the rocks. A human face,
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And virgin bosom, hides her tail's disgrace: Her parts obscene below the waves descend, With dogs inclos'd, and in a dolphin end.
'T is safer, then, to bear aloof to sea,
And coast Pachynus, tho' with more delay, Than once to view misshapen Scylla near, And the loud yell of wat'ry wolves to hear. "'Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,
And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true,
Do not this precept of your friend forget, Which therefore more than once I must repeat: Above the rest, great Juno's name adore;
Pay vows to Juno; Juno's aid implore.
Let gifts be to the mighty queen design'd, And mollify with pray'rs her haughty mind. Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free, And you shall safe descend on Italy.
Arriv'd at Cumae, when you view the flood Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood, The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find, Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin'd.
She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits,
The notes and names, inscrib'd, to leafs commits. What she commits to leafs, in order laid,
Before the cavern's entrance are display'd: Unmov'd they lie; but, if a blast of wind Without, or vapors issue from behind, The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air,
And she resumes no more her museful care, Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter'd verse, Nor sets in order what the winds disperse. Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid
The madness of the visionary maid,
And with loud curses leave the mystic shade. "'Think it not loss of time a while to stay, Tho' thy companions chide thy long delay;
Tho' summon'd to the seas, tho' pleasing gales Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails: But beg the sacred priestess to relate
With willing words, and not to write thy fate.
The fierce Italian people she will show,
And all thy wars, and all thy future woe,
And what thou may'st avoid, and what must undergo. She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind,
And teach thee how the happy shores to find.
This is what Heav'n allows me to relate: Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate,
And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.' "This when the priest with friendly voice declar'd, He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar'd: Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want
With heavy gold, and polish'd elephant; Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board, And ev'ry ship with sums of silver stor'd. A trusty coat of mail to me he sent,
Thrice chain'd with gold, for use and ornament; The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest,
That flourish'd with a plume and waving crest.
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Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends; And large recruits he to my navy sends:
Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores; Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars. Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails, Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales. "The prophet bless'd the parting crew, and last,
With words like these, his ancient friend embrac'd:
'Old happy man, the care of gods above, Whom heav'nly Venus honor'd with her love, And twice preserv'd thy life, when Troy was lost, Behold from far the wish'd Ausonian coast: There land; but take a larger compass round,
For that before is all forbidden ground.
The shore that Phoebus has design'd for you, At farther distance lies, conceal'd from view. Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes, Blest in a son, and favor'd by the gods:
For I with useless words prolong your stay, When southern gales have summon'd you away.' "Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor'd, Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord.
A noble present to my son she brought,
A robe with flow'rs on golden tissue wrought,
A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside
Of precious texture, and of Asian pride.
'Accept,' she said, 'these monuments of love, Which in my youth with happier hands I wove: Regard these trifles for the giver's sake;
'T is the last present Hector's wife can make. Thou call'st my lost Astyanax to mind;
In thee his features and his form I find: His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame;
Such were his motions; such was all his frame;
And ah! had Heav'n so pleas'd, his years had been the same.' "With tears I took my last adieu, and said:
'Your fortune, happy pair, already made, Leaves you no farther wish. My diff 'rent state, Avoiding one, incurs another fate.
To you a quiet seat the gods allow:
You have no shores to search, no seas to plow,
Nor fields of flying Italy to chase: (Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!) You see another Simois, and enjoy
The labor of your hands, another Troy, With better auspice than her ancient tow'rs, And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs. If e'er the gods, whom I with vows adore, Conduct my steps to Tiber's happy shore;
If ever I ascend the Latian throne, And build a city I may call my own;
As both of us our birth from Troy derive, So let our kindred lines in concord live, And both in acts of equal friendship strive.
Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same: The double Troy shall differ but in name; That what we now begin may never end,
But long to late posterity descend.'
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"Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore; The shortest passage to th' Italian shore.
Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light, And