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
This pow'rful people: seek a foreign head.'
Awed with these words, in camps they still abide,
nd wait with longing looks their promised guide.
chon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent
eir crown, and ev'ry regal ornament:
people join their own with his desire;
all my conduct, as their king, require.
ae chill blood that creeps within my veins,
ge, and listless limbs unfit for pains,
coul conscious of its own decay,
ced me to refuse imperial sway.
were more fit to mount the throne,
but he's a Sabine mother's son,
Dative: but, in you, combine
and a foreign line.
d smiling Fortune show the way,
y path to sov'reign sway. eclining days, my son,
ood or ill success his own;
om you shall learn to dare,
pprenticeship of war;
ge and your conduct view;
orse he shall comm
and well-chosen
copy you.
ed; and mys in his own."
es and his g ment grinde
Who, short of succors, and in deep despair,
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,
Presaged 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.
Heav'n calls me to the war: th' expected sign
Is giv'n of promised aid, and arms divine.
My goddess mother, whose indulgent care
Foresaw the dangers of the growing war,
This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms,
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 corpse, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne,
Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms :
And, Latian troops, prepare your perjured arms.'
He said, and, rising from his homely throne,
The solemn rites of Hercules begun,
And on his altars waked the sleeping fires ;
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.
Down with the falling stream the refuse run,
To raise with joyful news his drooping son.
Steeds are prepared to mount the Trojan band,
Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land.
A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest,
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 through the little city spreads aloud
Th' intended march: amid the fearful crowd
The matrons beat their breast, dissolve in tears,
And double their devotion in their fears.
The war at hand appears with more affright,
Strain'd his departing friend; and tears o'erflow his
And rises ev'ry moment to the sight.
Then old Evander, with a close embrace,
'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,
Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas' arms;
Nor proud Mezentius thus, unpunish'd, boast
His rapes and murders on the Tuscan coast.
Ye gods! and mighty Jove! in pity bring
Relief, and hear a father and a king!
If fate and you reserve these eyes to see
My son return'd with peace and victory:
If the loved boy shall bless his father's sight;
If we shall meet again with more delight;
Then draw my life in length; let me sustain,
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;
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
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.
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,
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 show from far
The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war.
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.
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,
That sacred forest to Sylvanus 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,
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.
Thither his warlike train the Trojan led,
Refresh'd his men, and wearied horses fed.
Meantime the mother goddess, crown'd with charms, Breaks through the clouds, and brings the fated
Within a winding vale she finds her son,
On the cool river's banks, retired alone.
She shows 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,
And haughty Turnus to the field defy.'
She said: and, having first her son embraced,
The radiant arms beneath an oak she placed.
Proud of the gift, he roll'd his greedy sight
Around the work, and gazed with vast delight.
He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires
The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires:
His hands the fatal sword and corselet hold,
One keen with temper'd steel, one stiff with gold;
Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright.
So shines a cloud, when edged with adverse light.
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