HOMER: ODYSSEY BOOK VI: THE PRINCESS AND THE STRANGER

Introduction.

On 17th September 2010 Sabidius published on this blog an extract from Book V of Homer's "Odyssey". He has now translated the whole of Book VI, and this translation is hereby offered to his readers below. As much of the introduction to the extract from Book V is relevant here it is not repeated, but the reader is referred to it now. 

Book VI explores the themes of 'xenia' (hospitality) and its abuse, and survival through endurance and cunning. After Odysseus' terrible seven year imprisonment by the nymph Calypso on the island of Ogygea, he now has the pleasure of meeting the beautiful young Nausicaa, an exemplary maiden in all respects. The manner in which Odysseus addresses the dangers and temptations of the position in which he finds himself as a naked castaway is most intriguing. 

The book also has some memorable extracts. For instance, the reference to the inestimable benefit of a harmonious marriage: "For there is not anything greater or better than when a man and his wife inhabit a house in like-minded understanding" (lines 182-184); and Nausicaa's perception of the importance of pre-marital chastity: "For I too would be indignant with another woman who might do such a thing, and, against the will of her dear father and mother while they are alive, should consort with men before she has reached public marriage" (lines 286-288).

The text of this translation and the titles of the sections into which it is divided come from "Homer: Odyssey VI &VII ", edited by Janet Watson and published by the Bristol Classical Press in 2002.

Ll. 1-14.  Athene visits the land of the Phaeacians.

So, he slumbered there, the much-enduring noble Odysseus, overcome by sleep and weariness; but then Athene went to the land and city of the men of Phaeacia, who once previously used to dwell in Hypereia, with its broad-dancing places, near to the Cyclopes, overbearing men, who kept on harming them, for (lit. and) they were superior in (lit. by) strength. Godlike Nausithous, making (them) emigrate, brought (them) thence, and settled (them) in Scheria, far from men of toil, and round about he drew a wall for the city, and built houses, and made temples for the gods, and divided up the ploughlands. But he, having been overcome by fate, had gone to (the house of) Hades, and Alcinous, endowed with wisdom (lit. knowing counsels) from the gods, was ruling at that time. To his palace went the goddess, bright-eyed Athene, contriving the return home of great-hearted Odysseus.


Ll. 15-40.  The goddess brings a message in a dream to Nausicaa.

She set out to go to the highly decorated bed-chamber in which slept a maiden, like to the immortals in respect of stature and beauty, Nausicaa, the daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, and by the door posts, on either side, (slept) two attendants, possessing beauty from the Graces; and the shining doors were closed. Like a breath of wind she sped to the couch of the maiden, and straightway stood above her head, and, disguised as the daughter of Dymas, famed for his ships, who was equal to her in age and was dear to her heart, she spoke words to her. Looking like her, bright-eyed Athene addressed her (thus):

'Nausicaa, why now did your mother bear you so heedless? Your bright raiment is lying uncared for, yet your marriage is near at hand, where you yourself must (lit. it is necessary for [you] yourself to) put on fine clothes, and provide them for those who may escort you, for from these things, you know, a good reputation spreads among men, so that (lit. and) your father and revered mother rejoice. But (come now), let us go to wash them with the sunrise (lit. at the same time as dawn appearing), and I shall follow you at the same time as a fellow-worker, so that you may prepare yourself speedily, since, to be sure, you will not be a virgin for much longer (lit. for a long time yet); for already the noblest men of all the Phaeacians throughout the land, where you yourself have (lit. there is to you yourself) family also, are wooing you. But come, at the dawn bestir your illustrious father to  make ready mules and a wagon ( for you) which may carry your girdles and robes and shining  coverlets. And for you yourself also it is much more seemly to go thus than on foot, for the washing troughs are far from the city.'

Ll. 41-47.  Athene returns to Olympus.

Then, speaking thus, she, the bright-eyed Athene departed to Olympus, where they say that the abode of the gods is forever secure; neither is it shaken by the winds nor ever drenched by rain, nor does snow come near, but cloudless clear air is quite spread (over it) and a bright radiance floats (over it); in this place the blessed gods take their pleasure every day. Thither the bright-eyed one departed, when she had admonished the maiden.

Ll. 48-70.  Nausicaa and her parents.

At once then came fair-throned Dawn, who aroused her, the fair-robed Nausicaa; and straightway she wondered greatly at her dream, and she set out to go through the palace, in order to report to her parents, her dear father and mother; and she finds (them) as they are (lit. being) within; she was sitting at the hearth with her women attendants, spinning sea-purple yarn; and she met him at the door, going with his famous nobles to the council-chamber, where the illustrious Phaeacians had called him. Then she, standing very close to her dear father, addressed (him thus):

'Dear papa, could you not prepare for me a high (and) well-wheeled cart, so that I can take to the river, for washing, my renowned raiment, which is lying by me soiled? And for you yourself also it is fitting (for you), being with your nobles to deliberate plans, to have (lit. having) clean clothing on your body. And five dear sons have been born to you in this house, two of these being married and three  vigorous bachelors, and these are always wanting to have freshly washed clothes to go to the dance; and all these things are an object of care to my mind.'

Thus she spoke, for she was ashamed to mention by name fertile marriage to her dear father, but he understood everything, and answered with these words:

'I do not begrudge you the mules, child, nor anything else. Go on your way! But the slaves will make ready for you a high (and) well-wheeled cart, fitted with an upper part.'

Ll. 71-98.  Nausicaa and her attendants wash the clothes. 

Speaking thus, he instructed the slaves and they obeyed. So, outside (the palace) they were getting ready the well-wheeled mule wagon, and they led up the mules and yoked (them) under the cart; and the maiden brought the shining raiment from her bed-chamber and placed it upon the well-polished cart, and her mother put satisfying food of every kind into a hamper, and therein she put dainties and therein she poured wine into a goat-leather bottle; then the maiden mounted the cart. And she gave (her) moist olive-oil in a golden flask, so that she might (lit. until she should) anoint herself after bathing together with her women attendants. She then took the whip and the gleaming reins, and she lashed (them) to drive (them) on; and there was a clatter of the mules; they exerted themselves eagerly and they bore the clothing and (the maiden) herself, not alone, as in addition her attendants also went with her.

Now, when they came to the very beautiful streams of the river, where there were surely indeed the never-failing washing-troughs, and abundant water flowed up and under to cleanse even very soiled (clothes), there they loosed the mules from under the cart to browse upon the honey-sweet grass; and they took in their hands the clothing from the cart and carried (it) into the dark water, and they trampled (it) in the troughs, swiftly engaging in rivalry. But, when they (had) washed all (the garments) and cleansed all the stains, they spread (them) out in rows along the shore of the sea, just where the sea, (beating) against the shore, used to wash the pebbles clean. And they, having bathed and having anointed themselves richly with olive-oil, thereupon took their meal by the banks of the river, and waited for the clothing to become dry in the sunshine (lit. in the glow of the sun).

Ll. 99-126.  A game of ball wakes Odysseus.


But, when they had had their hearts' content of food, both her servants and (the maiden) herself, then, having thrown off their head-dresses, they played at ball; and white-armed Nausicaa led them in play, even as arrow-shooting Artemis goes over mountains, either lofty Taygetus or Erymanthus, revelling in boars and swift deer; and together with her sport the woodland nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus; and Leto is glad at heart; and she (i.e. Artemis) holds her head and forehead above (them) all, and she is easily recognisable, although (lit. and) all are beautiful; thus she (i.e. Nausicaa), an unmarried virgin, stood out among her attendants.

But, when, having yoked up the mules and having folded up the beautiful raiment, she was thus about to go back homewards again, then, on the other hand, the goddess, the bright-eyed Athene thought another thing, that Odysseus might awake and see the fair-faced maiden, who would guide him towards the city of the men of Phaeacia. Then the princess tossed the ball at an attendant; she missed the attendant, but threw (it) into a deep eddy, and thereupon they cried out aloud. And he, the noble Odysseus, awoke and, sitting up, he pondered in his heart and in his mind:

'Oh, (woe is) to me, to the land of what mortals am I come this time? Can it be then that they (are) both violent and wild, and unjust, or (are they) hospitable, and do they have a god-fearing mind (lit. is there a god-fearing mind to them)? A female cry has come upon me, as it were, of maidens, of nymphs, who inhabit the steep peaks of mountains and the sources of rivers and the grassy meadows. Can it now be perhaps that I am near to men possessed of voices? But come, let me make trial myself and see.'

Ll. 127-147.  Odysseus sets out from his hiding-place like a lion.


Speaking thus, the noble Odysseus emerged from under the bushes, and with his stout hand he broke off from the thick bushes a sapling of leaves, so that he might cover the male genitals (lit. the genitals of a man) around his body. And he set out to come like a mountain-bred lion, trusting in his own might, who goes forth drenched with rain and weather-beaten, and yet his eyes are burning within him; but he goes among the cattle or the sheep or after the wild deer; and his stomach bids him to go even to the strongly-built sheep-fold to make an attempt on the flocks; thus Odysseus was about to mix with the fair-tressed maidens, even though being naked; for need was coming (to him). But, begrimed with brine, he appeared terrible to them, and they fled in different directions (lit. one hither, one thither) over the jutting sand-spits; but alone, the daughter of Alcinous remained; for Athene put courage into her heart and and took the fear from her limbs. And holding (her ground), she stood facing (him); and Odysseus pondered whether he should supplicate the fair-faced maiden (by) clasping (her) by the knees, or whether, standing at a distance, just as he was, he should beseech (her) with mild words, in the hope that (lit. if only) she would show (him) the city and give (him) clothes. Then, it seemed to him, pondering thus, to be more advantageous to supplicate (her) with gentle words, standing at a distance, lest the maiden should be angry in her mind with him clasping her knees.

Ll. 148-185.  Odysseus' supplication to Nausicaa. 


Straightway he spoke gentle and artful words:

'I supplicate you, (O) queen; are you some goddess or a mortal? If you are a goddess, one (of those) who hold the broad heaven, I liken you, in beauty, size and stature, most nearly to Artemis, daughter of great Zeus; but if you are one of the mortals that dwell upon the earth, then thrice-blessed (are) your father and your queenly mother, and thrice-blessed (are) your brothers; indeed, their hearts are, doubtless, always warmed with joy because of you, seeing such a young shoot entering the dance. But he again is blessed in heart far beyond (all) others, who, having prevailed with his wooing gifts, shall escort you to his house. For I have not ever seen with my eyes such a (mortal), whether man or woman; amazement takes hold of me, as I look (lit. looking) upon (you). For indeed I once saw such a thing in Delos, a fresh shoot of a palm-tree springing up beside the altar of Apollo; for thither too I went, and many people followed me on that journey, on which indeed evil troubles were about to happen to me. Just so, seeing that also, I was astounded in my heart for a long time, since not ever (yet) did such a tree shoot up from the ground, as now, lady, I marvel at you, and I am amazed, and fear greatly to touch your knees; but painful sorrow comes upon me. Yesterday, on the twentieth day, I escaped from the wine-dark sea; but always during that time the waves and the swift winds bore me from the island of Ogygia; and now fate has cast (me) ashore here, so that, no doubt, I shall suffer something evil in this place too; for I do not think that (my troubles) will cease, but before (that) the gods will yet bring many to pass. But, (O) queen, have pity; for, having suffered many evils, I came to you first, and of those other men who possess this city and this land, I do not know anyone. But show me the city, and give me some rag to put on myself, if perhaps you had some cloth wrapper for the garments when you came (lit. coming) hither. And for yourself may the gods give (you) as many things as you may in your heart desire, and may they grant (you) a husband and a home and a goodly harmony; for (there is) not (anything) greater and better than when a man and his wife inhabit a house in like-minded understanding; (there are) many pains for their enemies and joys for their well-wishers; and they themselves are most highly reputed.'

Ll. 186-197.  Nausicaa's reply.

Then, in her turn, white-armed Nausicaa spoke to him in answer:

'Stranger, since you resemble neither an evil nor a foolish man, and Olympian Zeus himself dispenses fortune to men, to the good and to the evil, to each man as he wishes; he has given this (lot) to you, I suppose, and you must (lit. it is necessary for you to) endure it nevertheless. But now, since you are come to our city and our land, so you will not lack clothing nor anything else which it is fitting for a much-tried suppliant (not to lack) when he encounters (lit. encountering) (one). I shall show you the city, and I shall tell you the name of the people. The Phaeacians inhabit this city and this land, and I am the daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, and upon him the strength and the might of the Phaeacians depend.'

Ll. 198-216.  Nausicaa gives orders to her attendants.


So she spoke, and instructed her fair-tressed attendants (thus): 'Stop, I tell you, my attendants; whither do you flee at the sight of (lit. seeing) a man; surely you do not think that he is one of those hostile men? That mortal man is not living, nor has been born, who has come to the land of the Phaeacians bringing warfare; for (we are) very dear to the immortals. Far apart, we dwell in the much-surging sea, remote, nor does anyone else among mortals have dealings with us. (Nay) but this (is) some hapless wanderer (who) comes hither, whom we now must (lit. it is now necessary [for us] to) care for; for from Zeus (are) all strangers and beggars, and a gift, though small, is welcome (lit. is both small and welcome). But (come now), give the stranger both food and drink, and bathe (him) in the river, where, besides, there is shelter from the wind.'

So she spoke, and they halted and encouraged one another, and then they set Odysseus down in a sheltered spot, as Nausicaa, the daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, (had) ordered,, and then beside him they placed clothing, both a cloak and a tunic, and they gave (him) moist olive-oil in a golden flask, and then bade him bathe himself in the streams of the river.

Ll. 217-237.  Odysseus bathes and Athene enhances his beauty. 


So then indeed the noble Odysseus addressed the attendants (thus):

'(O) attendants, stand, as you are, at a distance, so that I can wash the brine from my shoulders (by) myself, and anoint myself all over with olive-oil; for indeed anointing has been (lit. is) (away) from my skin for a long time. But I shall not wash myself in front of (you); for I am ashamed to be naked, coming among fair-tressed maidens.'

So he spoke, and they went apart and then spoke to the maiden. But (with water) from the river, he, the noble Odysseus, washed from his skin the brine which covered his back and his broad shoulders; and from his head he wiped away the scurf of the barren sea. But when he had washed all (his body) and richly anointed (himself), and he had put on all around (himself) the clothes which the unwed virgin had given him, Athene, sprung from Zeus, made him better and more substantial to look upon, and let the thick hair fall down from his head like a hyacinth flower. And, as when some skilled man, whom Hephaestus and Pallas Athene have taught every kind of craft, pours gold upon silver, and he accomplishes graceful works, so thus she poured grace upon him, (that is) upon his head and shoulders. Then going to the shore of the sea, he sat down apart, shining with beauty and grace; and the maiden gazed (at him) in wonder.

Ll. 238-250.  Nausicaa's reaction to Odysseus' transformation.


So then indeed she addressed her fair-tressed attendants:

'Listen to me, (O) fair-tressed attendants, so that I may say something. Not against the will of all the gods who inhabit Olympus does this man come among the godlike Phaeacians. For before he seemed to me uncouth, but now he is like the gods who hold broad heaven. For if only such a man could be called husband to me, living here, and it might please him to stay here. But (come), my attendants, give the stranger both food and drink.'

So she spoke, and they heard her readily and obeyed, and so they set before Odysseus both food and drink. Then, to be sure, did he drink and eat greedily; for he had been (lit. was) without food for a long time.

Ll. 251-296.  Nausicaa advises Odysseus how they should approach the city. 


But white-armed Nausicaa thought another thing; so, having folded up the raiment, she placed it in the fine wagon and she yoked the strong-hoofed mules and mounted herself up. And she hailed Odysseus, and she spoke a word (to him) and called (him) by name: 'Stir yourself now, stranger, to go to the city so that I may escort you to the palace of my wise father, where I say you will get to know (those) who (are) pre-eminent among all the Phaeacians. But act just as follows; and it seems to me you are not lacking in understanding; for as long as we are going through fields and cultivated land (lit. the works of men), for so long go quickly with my attendants behind the mules and the wagon; and I shall show the way. But when we set foot in the city, around which (there is) a lofty wall, and a fair harbour on either side of the city, and the entrance (is) narrow, and ships, curved at both ends, are drawn up along the road; for there is a mooring-station for all, (one) for each man. And there also (is) their place of assembly about the fair temple of Poseidon, fitted with hauled quarried stones. And here they attend to the tackle of their black ships, their cables and sails, and they sharpen their oars. For the bow is not a care to the Phaeacians nor (is) the quiver, but (rather) masts and oars of ships and shapely ships, rejoicing in which they cross over the grey sea; I shun their malicious speech, lest hereafter some insolent man should taunt (me); and certainly there are some insolent men in this land; and thus someone of lower birth will now say, when they encounter (lit. encountering) (us):

"Who (is) this handsome and tall stranger (who) follows Nausicaa? He will now be a husband for her herself. Indeed she has brought from his own ship a wanderer of some far off people, since there are not any from near (us); or some much prayed-to god, descending from heaven, will come in answer to her prayers (lit. to her praying), and he will have her (as his wife) all her days. It is better (thus), even if she, having gone forth herself, has found a husband from elsewhere; for she certainly dishonours those Phaeacians across this land, who are wooing her, (although) both many and noble." So will they say, and this may become a reproach to me. And  I too would be (lit. am) indignant with another woman who might do such a thing, and who, against the will of her dear father and mother while they are alive (lit. being alive), should consort with men before she has reached public marriage. Stranger, do you swiftly heed my word, so that you may obtain from my father an escort and a return home. You will find a splendid grove of Athene hard by the road, (a grove) of poplar-trees; and in (it) a spring is flowing, and around (it is) a meadow. And there (is) my father's parkland and blooming orchard, as far from the city as one can make oneself heard (by) shouting. Remain sitting there for a time, until we come to to the city and my father's palace.

Ll. 297-315.  How Odysseus is to find the palace and supplicate Arete. 


But when you think it likely that we have arrived at the palace, then go to the city and ask for the house of my father, great-hearted Alcinous. It is easily recognisable, and a young child could guide (you to it); for the houses of the Phaeacians are not in any way built like it, such as (is) the palace of the hero Alcinous. But when the house and the courtyard have confined you, pass through the great hall very quickly, until you reach my mother. She sits at the hearth in the glow of the fire, spinning sea-purple yarn, a wonder to behold, leaning against a pillar; and her maidservants sit behind (her). There also turned towards her is my father's throne, sitting on which he quaffs his wine like an immortal. Going past him, cast your hands around my mother's knees, so that you may quickly see the day of your return, even if you are from very far away. If she is sympathetically disposed towards you in her heart, then (there is) hope for you that you may see your friends and reach your well-appointed house and (come) to your native land.'

Ll. 316-331.  Odysseus' prayer to Athene.


And so speaking thus, she lashed the mules with her shiny whip; and they quickly left the streams of the river. And well did they trot and well did they prance with their hooves. And she drove just so that  both her attendants and Odysseus might follow on foot at the same time; and she applied the whip with judgment. And the sun set and they came to the sacred place of Athene, where noble Odysseus at once sat down. Then straightway he prayed to the daughter of great Zeus:

'Hear me, (O) child of aegis-bearing Zeus, (O) Atrytone (i.e. the Unwearied One); now at any rate hearken to me, since once before you did not hear (me) when I was shipwrecked (lit. shipwrecked), when the glorious earthshaker (i.e. Poseidon) smote me. Grant that I may come to the Phaeacians welcome and finding pity.'

So he spoke in prayer (lit. praying), and Pallas Athene heard him; but she did not yet appear to him face to face; for she was then in awe of her father's brother; and he was raging furiously at godlike Odysseus before he should reach his own land.

VIRGIL: AENEID: BOOK V: THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES

Introduction.

Although Book V is not one of the best known or highly regarded of the twelve  books of Virgil's "Aeneid", it was the first to be published for the use of schools in the Macmillan Elementary Classics series. The text, which is translated below, was edited by Arthur Calvert, M.A. in 1879. Book V, which features the funeral  games held on the island of Sicily for Aeneas' father, Anchises, was selected because it was felt by Macmillan that it was helpful for schoolboys to be interested in their work, and that to the British schoolboy "games" must always be a subject of interest. At the same time, however, Book V is full of examples of Virgil's best poetry and, as always, it is a pleasure both to read and to translate his verse.

Ll. 1-34.  Leaving Carthage, Aeneas steers towards Italy, but he is persuaded by Palinurus to change course and make for Sicily instead.


Meanwhile, Aeneas resolutely now kept his fleet on a mid(-sea) course, and he cut through the waves, darkened by the north-north-east wind, looking back at the walls (of Carthage), which are already glowing with the flames of unhappy Elissa (i.e. Dido). What reason had kindled so great a fire  - (this) is unknown (to Aeneas); but bitter grief, great love having been desecrated, and something well-known, what a furious woman can do, draws the hearts of the Teucrians (i.e. Trojans) through a sad foreboding.

As the ships kept to the open-sea, and no (lit. not any) land now showed itself further, the sea (was) on all sides and the sky (was) on all sides; a leaden-coloured cloud stood above his (i.e. Aeneas') head, bringing night and storm, and the sea grew rough with darkness. From the lofty stern, the helmsman, Palinurus, himself (cries out): "Alas! Why are those very great clouds encircling the sky? Or what, father Neptune, do you have in store (for us now)?" Having spoken thus, he then orders (them) to collect the (ship's) tackle and to bend the stout oars, and he turns the sails aslant to the wind, and says the following (words): "(O) great-hearted Aeneas, not, (even) if Jupiter (as) guarantor gives me his assurance, would I expect to reach Italy under this sky. The changed winds roar in a crosswise (direction) and rise up from the dark west, and the air condenses into cloud. We are not adequate to struggle against (the gale) nor to strain as much (as there is a need against it.) Since Fortune overcomes (us), let us follow (her and) let us change our course to where she calls (us). And I do not think that the trusty shores of your brother Eryx and the harbours of the Sicani (i.e. Sicily) are far off, if only, duly mindful, I scan again the stars which I have observed (lit. having been observed). Then pious Aeneas (replies): "I myself have seen for some time that the winds are demanding such action and that you are striving in vain against (them). Steer (lit. bend) your course by (the set of) your sails. Should there be any (land) more pleasing to me, or (any land) whither I should choose more (readily) to send in my exhausted ships than the land which guards Dardanian Acestes for me and clasps to its bosom the bones of my father Anchises?" When these (words) were said, they seek harbours and a following West Wind stretches their sails: the swift fleet is borne over the depths, and at last they joyfully put in at the familiar strand.

Ll. 35-71.  After the Trojans have been welcomed by Acestes, Aeneas calls a meeting and announces his intention to hold funeral games in honour of his father Anchises. 


But marvelling, from the lofty peak of a mountain a far off, at the arrival of (lit. and) the boats of his friends, Acestes comes to meet (them), bristling in javelins and the skin of a Libyan bear, (he) whom, having been conceived, a Trojan mother bore to the river(-god) Crimisus. Not unmindful of his old parents, he rejoices at the men returning, and joyfully welcomes (them) with his rustic treasures, and cheers the tired men with friendly succour. When at earliest dawn tomorrow's bright day had put the stars to flight, Aeneas calls his companions together and addresses (them) from the rampart of a mound: "Great sons of Dardanus, race (sprung) from the high blood of the gods, a year's cycle, its months having been completed, is  fulfilled, from (the point) at which we buried the relics and the bones of my divine father in the earth and consecrated our sorrowful altars. And now, unless I am deceived, the day is here, which I shall always consider unwelcome, always to be revered [the gods have wished (it) thus]. If I were to spend this (day) (as) an exile in Gaetulian (i..e. African) Syrtes, or were to be surprised (by its arrival while) on the Argive ( i.e. Aegean) sea or in the city of Mycenae, I should still be performing my anniversary vows and  ritual processions in (due) order, and piling up the altars with special gifts. Now beyond (that), we are present near the ashes and the bones of my father himself [for indeed I think (it is) not without the intention, (and) without the will of the gods], and, having come into land, we have entered this friendly harbour. So come, let us all celebrate the joyful duty; let us pray to the Winds, and may it be his (i.e. Anchises') will, my city having been founded and its temples having been consecrated, that I am undertaking these sacred rites for him every year. Acestes, born of Troy, is giving you two heads of cattle in number for each ship; invite our Household Gods and our native (gods), and (those) whom Acestes worships, to our feast. Henceforth, when the ninth dawn has lifted up her kindly day for mortal (creatures) and has renewed the world by her rays, I shall arrange for the Teucrians the first contest, for swift ships; and (he) who is strong at running with his feet, and (he) who, daring in his strength, either steps forward excelling at the javelin and light arrows, or has the confidence to join battle with the bloody gauntlet, let all be present and await the rewards of an earned prize. Keep holy silence (lit. favour [us] with your mouth) everyone, and wreathe your temples with greenery.

Ll. 72-103.  As Aeneas and his companions are offering sacrifices at Anchises' tomb, a huge snake appears, and then, having tasted the libations, returns to its lair. Uncertain as to the significance of this occurrence, Aeneas and his companions offer more sacrifices, before cooking their feast. 


So saying, he covers his temples with his mother's myrtle. Helymus does this - Acestes, mature in age, (does) this - the boy Ascanius (i.e. Iulus) (does) this, and the rest of the young men follow them. He (i.e. Aeneas) goes from the counsel-meeting to the (burial) mound with many thousands (of men), a great throng accompanying, (with him) in the middle. Duly offering a libation, he pours two flagons of undiluted wine (lit. Bacchus) on the earth - two of fresh milk, (and) two of sacrificial blood, and he scatters flowers and speaks the following (words): "Hail, holy father, (once) again: hail, the ashes of one rescued (from Troy) in vain, and the soul and shade of my father. It was not permitted (to me) to seek (together) with you our Italian territories and our predestined fields, or the Ausonian Tiber, wherever it is." He had spoken these (words), when from its innermost sanctuary a huge slimy snake dragged seven rings, its sevenfold coils, encircling the tomb quietly and sliding over the altars, its back of a dark-blue marking, and a flash speckled with gold lit up its scales, just as a rainbow, with the sun opposite, throws a thousand different colours on to the clouds. In seeing (it), Aeneas was stupefied. Finally, that snake (crept) with its long column between the bowls and the smooth goblets, and sampled the sacrificial offerings and again moved harmlessly back to the base of the tomb, and left the altars having been fed off). He celebrates the sacrificial rites to his father which he had begun (lit. having been begun), uncertain whether he supposes (it) to be the familiar spirit of the place or his father's attendant; he slaughters, according to custom, a pair of two-year-old sheep, so many pigs, and the same number of black-backed bullocks (lit. bullocks black in respect of their backs); and he poured wine from the bowls, and called upon the spirit of great Anchises and his shade having been released from Acheron (for this rite): and his comrades also gladly brought bring gifts, as each has the resources (lit. as the resources are to each), (and) they load up the altars and sacrifice bullocks; others place bronze vessels in (due) order, and, stretching (themselves) out on the grass, they bring live coals to the spits and roast the flesh.

Ll. 104-150.  With the ninth day proving fine, competitors and spectators assemble for the games. Four galleys are entered for the rowing match. A good start is achieved, amid much shouting. 


Th awaited day was here, and the horses of Phaethon were now drawing the ninth dawn through a cloudless sky (lit. a clear light). Both rumour and the famous name of Acestes had excited the neighbouring people; they had filled the shore with their joyful gathering, (some) in order to see Aeneas' men, and others ready to compete. Firstly, gifts are placed before their eyes, and, in the middle of the arena, sacred tripods and green crowns and a prize of palm for the victors, and arms and garments dyed in purple, (and) silver and gold talents; and from a mound in their midst a trumpet proclaims (lit. sounds) that the games have started. For the first contest, four well-matched ships (lit. keels) with heavy oars, come forward, selected from the whole fleet. Mnestheus commands (lit. drives) the swift Pristis with its eager crew [soon (to be) the Italian Mnestheus, from whom (is sprung) the family Memmius by name]. Gyas (commands) the huge Chimaera of vast bulk, the work of a city, which Dardan youth in triple tier drives forward; the oars arise in three banks; and Sergestus, from whom the Sergian house derives its name, sails in the mighty (ship) Centaur, and Cloanthus, whence (is sprung) your family, (O) Roman Cluentius (commands) the dark blue Scylla.

Far out in the sea there is a rock facing the foaming shore, which, at times having been submerged, is buffeted by the swelling waves, when winter's north-west wind hides the stars; in calm (weather) it is quiet, and a table of level ground is raised above a motionless sea and (is) a welcome standing-place for diving-birds to bask in the sun. Here father Aeneas erects a green turning-post out of a leafy holm-oak (as) a signal for the sailors, from which they would know (when they ought) to return and where to wheel around the long course. Then the ships' captains determine their places by lot, and on their sterns shone out afar in gold and purple array; the rest of the crews are clothed in poplar leaves, and, smeared in oil, they cause their shoulders to glisten. They settle on the thwarts, and with their arms stretching at the oars; eagerly, they await the (starting) signal, and throbbing anticipation (lit. terror) drains their leaping hearts, and their desire for praise was aroused. Then, when a shrill trumpet gave the signal, they all spurted forward from their starting positions (lit. limits) without delay: the sailors' shouts hit the sky, and the churned up straits are foaming, their arms having been brought up to (their chests). They cleave their furrows in unison, and, torn open by the oars and the three-pronged beaks, the whole sea is split apart. No chariots in a two-horse competition have seized hold of the track so precipitously and rush streaming forth from the starting-cage, nor did (any) charioteers so shake the rippling reins over uncurbed pairs and, leaning forward, (so) hang over the lash. Then, all the forest resounds with the applause and the roaring of men and of those favouring (a crew) with enthusiasm, and they roll their voices around the confined shores; having been smitten by the shouting, the hills rebound.

Ll. 151-182.  The Chimaera takes the lead, but is passed by the Scylla at the turning point. An angry Gyas throws his helmsman, Menoetes, into the sea. 


Gyas gets off before the others and glides along in the first (stretch of) water amid the disturbance and noise, (and) then Cloanthus follows him closely, (being) better in oars, but his pine(-timbers), slow in their weight, holds (him back). After them, (with) an equal interval (between them and the leading ships), the Pristis and the Centaur strive to win the prior position; and now the Pristis has (it), now the huge Centaur goes past the beaten (ship), now both together, with prows level (lit. joined), rush onwards and plough the salt sea with their long keels. And now they were approaching the rock and were reaching the turning-point, when Gyas, ahead and victor in the middle of (the course through) the depths, addresses his helmsman in this voice: "Whither are you going so far away to starboard to my (disadvantage)? Direct your course hither; hug the shore, and let the oar-blades graze the rocks to port; the others may keep to the deep (water)." He spoke; but Menoetes, fearing the hidden rocks, directs the prow towards the waters of the open-sea. "Whither are you going off course? (And) again Gyas tried to call (him) back with a shout, "Steer for the rocks, Menoetes!" And, behold, he sees Cloanthus behind (him), pressing at his stern, and holding (a position) nearer (to the turning-post). He scrapes a passage to port on the inner side between both Gyas' ship and the roaring rocks, and suddenly he passes the leader, and, the turning-post having been left behind, he occupies safe waters. Then indeed great anguish blazed forth from the bones of the young man, nor were his cheeks lacking tears, and forgetting both his own dignity and the safety of his comrades, he hurls the sluggish Menoetes headlong from his lofty poop into the sea; he himself takes his place at the helm (as) pilot, himself (as) master, and he encourages his men, and turns the rudder towards the shore. But Menoetes, as he has scarcely returned at last from the lowest depths, now older and soaking in his sodden clothing, seeks the top of the crag, and sank down on dry rock. The Teucrians laughed at him, both sinking and swimming, and they laugh at (him) disgorging the salt water from his chest.

Ll. 183-219.  The race continues. The Centaur and the Pristis seek to overhaul the Chimaera, but the Centaur runs aground. 


Hereupon, joyful hope was rekindled in the last two (competitors), Sergestus and Mnestheus to surpass Gyas, (who was) delaying. Sergestus takes the space (of water) ahead and approaches the rock, but he was not however ahead by a whole keel leading; (he was) ahead by a part (of a keel only); the rivalling Pristis grinds (the other) part with her beak. But Mnestheus, walking down through the middle of his ship among his comrades themselves, encourages (them thus): "Now, now, rise to your oars, (you former) comrades of Hector, whom I chose (as) my companions in Troy's last fated hour; now produce that strength, now (produce) that spirit, which you employed in the Gaetulian (i.e. African) Syrtes and in the Ionian sea and amid Malea's clinging waves. I am not seeking the first place now nor do I strive to achieve victory; [although oh! (if I only could win) - but, Neptune, let them to whom you have granted this be the victors] : let it shame (us) to have returned last; achieve this (point), comrades (lit. citizens), and prevent our disgrace." Those men hurled (themselves) forward with a supreme effort; the bronze(-plated) ship (lit. stern) shudders at their enormous strokes, and the (sea) surface (lit. floor) is drawn away from underneath (them); then, abundant panting convulses their limbs and parched mouths; sweat flows in streams from them all. Pure (lit. very) chance brought to these men the honour (which they) craved. For indeed, while Sergestus, wild at heart, drives his prow close up to the rocks and enters the insufficient space on the inside (of Mnestheus), he unfortunately runs aground on some protruding rocks. The rocks shuddered, and the oars, fouling on a jagged  (rock resembling a) shell-fish, cracked, and the prow, having been dashed against (it), hung (in the air). The sailors leap up, and with loud shouting they are checked (lit. linger), and they get out iron-headed poles and boat-hooks with sharp points, and they gather up the broken oars in the water. But Mnestheus, joyful and more keen through sheer success, makes for favourable (lit. downward sloping) waters with a swift stroke (lit. forward movement) of oars and with the winds having been invoked, and he skims across the open sea. Just as a rock-dove, suddenly disturbed in a cavern, who (has) (lit. to whom [there is]) a nest and sweet chicks hidden in the pumice-stone (lit. in the hidden pumice-stone), hurries flying into the fields, and, frightened from her home, she gives a huge clap of her wings, (and) soon, gliding down through the still air, she skims her serene way, nor does she move her swift wings: so Mnestheus, so the Pristis itself, cuts the last stage of the sea, so pure impetus carries it as it flies (along) (lit. flying).

Ll. 220-267.  The finish of the race. The Pristis overtakes the Chimaera, but just fails to catch the Scylla, which is therefore awarded the first prize by Aeneas.


And he (i.e. Mnestheus) leaves Sergestus struggling first on the deep-set rock and (then) in the shallow water, and calling in vain for help and learning how to row (lit. run) with broken oars. Thence, he overtakes Gyas and the Chimaera itself with her enormous bulk; she gives way, since she has been robbed of her master. And now only Cloanthus is left on the very end (of the course); he goes after him and presses (him) with the utmost of his strength. Then, indeed, the shouting redoubles, and everyone spurs on the pursuer with enthusiasm, and the sky resounds with the thunderous noise. The one (crew) are resentful unless they can keep the glory (which is ) their own and the honour (which they have) procured, and they wish to stake their lives in return for praise; success nourishes the other (crew): they can (win), because they seem (to themselves) to be able (to win). And perhaps they might have taken the prizes for a dead heat (lit. for level beaks), if Cloanthus, stretching both his hand-palms towards the ocean, had not both poured out prayers and called upon the gods to bear witness to his vows (lit. in respect of his vows): "(O) gods, who have (lit. to whom there is) power over the sea, (and) on whose sea I sail (lit. run), I shall gladly station before an altar on this coast a shining white bull for you, and, (being) liable for my vow, I shall scatter its entrails into the salty waters and pour streams of (lit. flowing) wine." He spoke, and at the bottom of the waves, all the dancing band of the Nereids and of Phorcus and the maiden Panopea heard him, and father Portunus himself thrust forward the moving (ship) with his mighty hand: she (i.e. the Scylla) flies to the land, and buried herself within the deep harbour. Then, the man sprung from Anchises, everyone having been called together according to custom, in the loud voice of a herald, declares Cloanthus the victor, and garlands his temples with green bay-leaves; and (as) gifts for the ships he gives three bullocks each to choose (from), wine and a great talent of silver to carry off. To the captains themselves he adds especial honours: to the victor (i.e. Cloanthus) a mantle embroidered with gold, around which ran a broad (border) of Meliboean purple with a double meander, and embroidered (on it) the royal boy (i.e. Ganymede) exhausts the fleet stags on leafy Ida with his javelin and his running, eager and similar to someone breathless, whom the bird from Ida, the armour-bearer of Jupiter, seized aloft in its hooked feet; the old men (as) his guardians stretch their hand-palms to the stars in vain, and the barking of dogs rages into the air. But to him who has held the second place by his prowess (i.e.  Mnestheus) (he gives) a cuirass woven with smooth hooks and thrice-laced with gold, which he himself had stripped from Demoleos (when) victor beside the swift-flowing Simois beneath lofty Ilium (i.e. Troy), (and) he gives it to a warrior (as) his pride and protection in warfare. His retainers, Phegeus and Sagaris, (could) scarcely carry that many-plied (cuirass), struggling (with it) on their shoulders; yet, wearing (it), Demoleos once pushed back straggling Trojans at (full) speed. As third prizes he presents a pair of cauldrons (made) from bronze and cups fashioned in silver and embossed with designs.

Ll. 268-285.  Having managed to extricate the Centaur from the rocks, Segestus is consoled with a prize as well.


And so now, everyone, having been rewarded and proud of their rich prizes, began to move off, with their temples bound (lit. bound in respect of their temples) with purple ribbons, when, having barely extricated himself from that cruel rock with much ingenuity, Sergestus brought in his boat, (which was) laughed at without honour. (She was) like a snake, caught, (as) often (happens), on the bank of a roadway, which a bronze wheel has gone over crosswise, or (which) a traveller with a heavy blow (lit. severe with a blow) has left half-dead and mangled by a stone; trying in vain to escape, it makes long writhes with its body, with a part (of it still) fierce and burning with its eyes, and raising its hissing neck up high (lit. raising [itself] up in respect of its neck); the other part, maimed by the wound, holds (itself) back, struggling in knots and enfolding itself into its own limbs. With such oarage the ship moves itself slowly; however, she hoists her sails and enters the harbour-mouth under full sail. Aeneas, glad on account of the ship having been saved and the crew having been brought back, presents Sergestus with his promised gift. A slave-girl is given to him, Pholoe, Cretan by race, not ignorant of the tasks of Minerva (i.e. weaving), and twin sons at her breast.

Ll. 286-314.  Aeneas leaves the shore and goes inland in order to hold the rest of the games. He then invites entries for a foot-race. Many come forward, both Trojans and Sicilians.


This contest having been completed, pious Aeneas proceeds towards a grassy field, which woods surrounded on all sides with undulating hill-slopes, and in the middle of the valley there was the circus of a theatre; thither with many thousands did the hero betake himself in the middle of the concourse, and he sat down on the piled up (turf). Here, he invites with prizes, and earmarks rewards for, any brave spirits who may perhaps wish to compete (with each other) in fast running. Teucrians and Sicanians (i.e. Sicilians), mixed together, congregate from all sides. Nisus and Euryalus (were) the first, Euryalus remarkable in appearance and in fresh youth, Nisus in true love of the boy; then, following them, (came) Diores, (of) royal (blood), (sprung) from the exalted stock of Priam; (after) him (came) Salius and, at the same time, Patron, of whom one was an Acarnanian, and the other from Arcadian blood, of Tegean birth; then (came) two young Trinacrian (i.e. Sicilian) men, Helymus and Panopes, familiar with the woodlands and companions of the older Acestes; (and there were) many (others), whom unknown report buries. (Standing) in their midst, Aeneas then spoke to them thus: " Receive these (words) in your minds and direct your attention (to them) joyfully: no one from your number will depart not rewarded by me. I shall give to each (of you), to carry off, two shining Cnossian (i.e. Cretan) arrow-heads of burnished steel and a two-headed axe, (its handle) embossed with silver. This prize will be one (and the same) for all of you. The first three will receive (special) rewards, and will be wreathed in respect of their heads with yellowish olive. Let the first have, (as) the winner, a horse splendid with trappings, the second a quiver (won) from the Amazons and full with Thracian arrows, which a baldrick of broad gold clasps around, and (which) a buckle of polished jewelry fastens underneath, (and) let the third depart content with this Argive helmet."

Ll. 316-361.  The foot-race. Nisus takes the lead at first, but then slips. As he arises he baulks Salius who is then overtaken by Euryalus, who goes on to win the race, despite Salius' protests.


When these (words) were spoken, they take their places, and, the signal having been heard, they suddenly seize hold of the course and leave the starting-position, (and), streaming forth similar to a cloud, at once they mark their goal. Nisus goes away ahead and shoots forth in front of all the (other) persons, swifter than both the winds and the wings of a thunderbolt; next to him, but next by a long interval, Salius follows; then, a gap having been left after (him), Euryalus (is) third; and Helymus follows Euryalus; then, look, just behind him flies Diores, and. leaning over his shoulder, he now rubs heel with heel, and, if more of the course were remaining, he would go past (him), having slipped in front, and leave behind (him) someone doubtful. And now they were almost approaching the end of the last stage of the course and (were) exhausted at the very end (of the race), when the unfortunate Nisus falls in some slippery blood, as by chance, some bullocks having been slaughtered, it had poured over the ground and had soaked the green grass. Here, the young man, already rejoicing (as) the winner, the ground having been pounded, did not keep control of his tottering footsteps, but falls on his face in the filthy dirt itself and the sacrificial blood. However, he did not forget Euryalus, nor his beloved friendship; for, rising up on the slippery (path), he placed himself in the way of Salius; so the latter lay sprawling on the caked sand. Euryalus shoots ahead and holds the first (place), (as) the winner, due to the good offices of his friend, and he flies (home) with both accompanying applause and cheering. Helymus comes in after (him), and now Diores is the third prize(-winner). Hereupon, Salius fills with loud shouts the whole assemblage in the huge theatre and before the gaze of the fathers in the first (row), and he demands that the honour torn (from him) by a trick be returned to him. Acclamation supports Euryalus, as do (lit. and) his appealing tears and his manly prowess, (which was) the more pleasing coming in a beautiful body. Diores, who has come in for a prize, helps too (and) he protests in a loud voice, and he attains the third (lit. last) prize in vain, if the first prize should be given to Salius. Then father Aeneas says, "Your gifts remain secure in your case, lads, and no one is moving any prize from the (proper) order; (but) it may be permitted to me to show sympathy for the misfortune of an innocent friend." Having spoken thus, he gives to Salius the gigantic hide of a  Gaetulian lion, weighed down by its shaggy mane and its golden-plated claws. Hereupon, Nisus says, "If the defeated have such great rewards (lit. if there are such great rewards to the defeated) and you have sympathy for the fallen (lit. it moves you to pity in respect of the fallen), what worthy gifts will you give to Nisus? (I), who earned the first garland on merit, (should have received it), if hostile fate had not borne me down, as (it did) Salius." These (words) having been said, at the same time he showed (them) his face and limbs soiled with wet mud. The best of fathers smiled at him and ordered a shield to be brought out, the work of Didymaon, taken down by the Danaans (i.e. Greeks) from some sacred lintel of Neptune. He presents the excellent young man with this superb gift.

Ll. 362-425.  Aeneas now proposes a boxing match. At first only the Trojan Dares steps forward, but eventually the Sicilian veteran Entellus is persuaded to compete with him.  After some dispute over the gauntlets to be used, Aeneas produces two pairs of equally weighted ones.  


Afterwards, when the racing was completed and he had distributed the prizes, (Aeneas says): " Now, if (there is anyone) to whom (there is) courage and a ready spirit in his breast, let him come forward and let him lift up his arms with bound (hand-)palms."  So he speaks and he sets out two prizes for the fight, for the victor a bullock (its horns) arrayed with gold and ribbons, and a sword and a splendid helmet for the loser. Nor (was there) any delay; at once Dares, with his enormous strength, shows his face and raises himself up amid the great murmuring of the men; (he was) the only man who was accustomed to compete against Paris, and the same man, at the burial-mound, in which peerless Hector lies dead, overthrew the conquering Butes who carried himself with his giant bulk, coming (to Troy) (sprung) from the Bebrycian (i.e. Thracian) race of Amycus, and stretches (him) out dying on the yellow sand. Such (was)  Dares (who) raises his lofty head for the first battle, and displays his broad shoulders, and, stretching out, he spars with (lit. throws) alternate arms and thrashes the air with his blows. A match (lit. another) is sought for him; but no one from that great host of men dares to come forward and to wind the boxing-leathers on to his hands. Therefore, he stood before the feet of Aeneas with sparkling eyes and thinking that all have declined (the contest) for the prize, and, not delaying any further, he then takes hold of the bull by the left horn, and speaks thus: "(O) son of the goddess, if no one dares to entrust himself to the fight, what end of (myself) having to stand (here)? To what (end) is it right for me to be held (here) all this time? Tell (me) to lead away the prize." All the Dardanids (i.e. Trojans) shouted from their mouths together, and demanded that the promised prize should be given to the man. Hereupon, grave Acestes, as he had been sitting nearest (to him) on a bank of green grass, berates Entellus with these words: "Entellus, in vain once the greatest of heroes, will you so patiently allow so great a prize to be carried off with no struggle? Where now (is) Eryx, that god in vain remembered (as) your teacher? Where (now is) your fame throughout all Trinacria, and those trophies hanging in your house? At this he (replies): "Neither my love of glory nor my honour has retreated, routed by fear; but, indeed, my cold blood is sluggish  with retarding old age, and the exhausted strength in my body is lifeless. If (there were) to me what (youth) there once had been, and in which yonder braggart exults (so) confidently - if there were now that youth (to me), I should have come (forward), not indeed induced by any prize or fine steer; I do not care for gifts." Then, having spoken thus, he threw down in their midst two boxing-leathers of enormous weight, with which the fierce Eryx had been accustomed to engage in battle at close quarters and to bind tightly his arms with tough hide. Their minds were stupefied; the huge hides of seven of the greatest oxen were stiff with lead and iron sewn (therein). Dares himself is bemused and recoils some way; and the great-hearted son of Anchises both tries the weight and (turns) this way and that the immense coils of the thongs. Then, the older man replied with the following words (lit. voices) from his heart: "What if anyone had seen these very gauntlets and the weapons of Hercules and the grim fight on these very shores? Your brother Eryx once wore these; [you (can) still see (them) stained with blood and fragmented brain] with these he stood against the mighty Alcides (i.e. Hercules); I was accustomed to these, as long as richer blood gave (me) strength, (and) before jealous old-age, speckled (with grey) on both temples, became white. But if Trojan Dares declines these weapons of mine, and this (refusal) is acceptable to pious Aeneas, (and) my abettor Acestes approves, let us make the fight equal. For you I give up the hide of Eryx; (so) calm your fears, and, you, take off your Trojan gauntlets." Saying these (words) he threw his double cloak off his shoulders and bared the great joints of his limbs (and) his great bones and upper arms, and he stands there, gigantic, in the middle of the arena. Then, the man sprung from Anchises, (as) patron, took out matching gauntlets, and entwined the hands of both (contestants) with equal weapons.

Ll. 426-484.  Dares is quicker on his legs to begin with. After a fall, Entellus gets up and drives Dares all over the place, until Aeneas steps in to stop the fight.


Each man took his position, alert and on his toes, and, undaunted, raised his arms into the air above. They held their heads high, far back from punches, and they intermingle fist with fist, and provoke a battle. One (was) better with the movement of his feet and (was) relying on youth, the other (was) strong in his limbs and bulk; but his slow knees totter with trembling, (and) painful panting shakes his vast limbs. The men aim (lit. throw) many punches between themselves in vain, they repeat many (punches) on a hollow flank and they cause a loud thump on the chest, and their hands dart (lit. wander) around ears and temples in quick succession, (and) jaws crack under a hard blow. Entellus stands solidly and unmoved in the same posture, and he escapes blows only by (the inclination of) his body and by watchful eyes. The other, like (a man) who attacks some tall city with assault-ramps, or settles around a mountain fortress under arms, (tries) now this, now that, approach, and explores the whole position with skill, and he follows up with various attacks, (but) to no avail. Entellus, rising up, displays his right(-arm) and lifts (it) high: the other quickly foresees the blow coming from above, and dodging, with his swift body, he stepped back: Entellus wasted his strength on the wind, and, himself a heavy man, he falls heavily to the earth through his own momentum (lit. of his own accord) and due to his vast weight: he falls, as sometimes, either on Erymanthus or on mighty Ida, a hollow pine falls, torn up by its roots. The Teucrians and the Trinacrian youth rise up in their excitement; their shouting goes to the sky, and Acestes goes to (him) first and, sympathetically, lifts up his friend of equal age. But the hero, neither slowed nor dismayed by his fall, returns to the fight keener (than ever) and stirs up his strength with rage. Then shame and conscious prowess rekindle his strength, and, blazing with fury, he drives Dares headlong over the whole plain, redoubling his blows, now with the right (hand), now, old fellow, with the left (hand); (there was) neither delay nor respite: as many as the hailstones (by which) the storm-clouds clatter the roof-tops, so the hero buffets Dares with thick blows from each hand in quick succession and sends (him) spinning. Then, father Aeneas did not allow Entellus to progress his anger and to rage in his bitter mind any longer, but put an end to the fight and rescued Dares, soothing (him) with words, and he says as follows: "Unfortunate (fellow), what very great madness has taken hold of your mind? Do you not see that (this is) another (order of) strength, and that the gods have turned against (you)? Submit to the divine will." And he spoke (thus) and stopped the battle by his voice. But his companions (lit. equals) conduct him (i.e Dares) to the ships, dragging his painful knees, shaking his head from one side to the other, and spitting from his mouth thick gore and teeth amid the blood: (those) called receive the helmet and sword; they leave the palm-leaves and the bull to Entellus. Then the victor, in an abundance of spirit, and proud at (winning) the bull (speaks): "Son of the goddess," he says, "and (all) you Teucrians, know what strength I had (lit. there was to me) in my young body, and from what a death you are saving Dares, (who has been) reprieved. " He spoke, and he took up his position in front of the muzzle of the bullock facing (him), which was standing there (as) the prize of the fight, and, his right (arm) having been drawn back, he aimed the hard boxing-leathers midway between its horns, and, (standing up) high, he dashed (them) into the bones, the brains having been broken open. The ox is laid out, and collapses on the ground, lifeless and twitching. He pours forth the following words  from the bottom of his heart: "Eryx, I pay to you this more welcome spirit in place of the death of Dares; hereupon (as) victor, I lay aside these gauntlets and my skill."

Ll. 485-544.  The archery contest. Four competitors take part. The target is a dove, tied with a cord by the leg to a mast-head.


Straightway, Aeneas invites (any) who may perhaps wish to compete with the swift(-flying) arrow and he earmarks prizes (for this), and with his huge hand erects a mast-head (taken) from Serestus' ship, and he hangs from the high mast a winged dove on a cord thrown across (it), to which they aim their steel (arrow-heads). The contestants (lit. men) gathered together and a bronze helmet received the lots dropped down (into them); the lot (lit. place) of Hippocoon, the son of Hyrtacus, comes out first with a shout from his followers; Mnestheus, victor in the boating contest just before, follows him - Mnestheus was (still) wreathed with the green olive-leaf. Third (was) Eurytion, your brother, O most illustrious Pandarus, you, who, many years ago, having been commanded to wreck the truce, were the first to bend your dart into the midst of the Achaeans. Last (was) Acestes, and (his lot) settled at the bottom of the helmet, and he himself ventured, with all his might (lit. hand), to attempt a young man's work. Then, the competitors (lit. men) bend their flexed bows, each with powerful strength on his own behalf, and draw arrows from their quivers. And the young son of Hyrtacus was the first to cut through the fleeting breezes across the sky with his arrow, his bow-string twanging. And it reaches, and is fixed in, the timber of the mast-head opposite. The mast quivered, and the bird, startled, showed fear by (fluttering) its wings, and everything resounded with huge applause. After (him), the eager Mnestheus took his stand, his bow having been drawn back, aiming at the heights, and he strained eyes and arrow at the same time. But, pitiably, he was not able to touch the bird itself with his steel (arrow-head); and he rent the knotted linen bond, by which, having been tethered in respect of its foot, it hung from the high mast; it flees, flying into the south wind and into the dark clouds. Then, for a long time holding his arrow tightly fixed (on its string) with his bow at the ready, Eurytion quickly called to his brother to bear witness (lit. in relation) to his vows, (while) observing the dove now (flying) happily in an empty sky, and he transfixes (it) beating its wings under a black cloud. It falls down dead and leaves its life amid the etherial stars, and, falling, she brings back the arrow (which has been) thrust into (her). Only Acestes was left, the palm having been lost (already); however, he aimed his arrow into the breezes of the air, a veteran (lit. father) displaying both his skill and his resounding bow. Then, an unexpected thing is cast before their eyes, and it was destined to be a portent of great presentiment: (this) its mighty issue has since revealed, and (so) terrifying seers have interpreted latter-day omens. For indeed his reed(-shaft), flying amid the vaporous clouds, caught fire, and marked its trail with flames, and, having been burned up, it faded into the thin winds; like shooting stars, often having become unfixed from the sky, run across (it) and draw their tresses (behind them). Their minds having been stunned, the Trinacrian and the Teucrian men were rooted to the spot and prayed to the beings above; nor did greatest Aeneas deny the omen; but, embracing the delighted Acestes, he heaps great prizes (on him) and says the following (words): "Take (them), father, for by such signs the great king of Olympus has wished you to receive special honour. You will have this gift from aged Anchises himself, this mixing-bowl embossed with designs, which Cisseus of Thrace had once given to my father Anchises, to take to his (home) as a generous (lit. great) token, a reminder and a pledge of his affection." Thus speaking, he wreathes his temples with green bay-leaves, and he names Acestes the winner (and) first before all (the others). Nor did good(-hearted) Eurytion envy (him) the honour (of him) having been preferred, although he alone had brought down the bird from the high heaven. The next to step forward for his prize (was he) who broke the bond (i.e. Mnestheus), (and) the last (was he) who pierced the mast-head with his reed(-shaft) (i.e. Hippocoon).

Ll. 545-603.  Next, Aeneas surprises the assemblage with an equestrian pageant, in which three troops - each composed of twelve Trojan horsemen - display their riding skills.


But father Aeneas, the (archery) contest not yet ended, calls Epytides, the guardian and companion of the boy Iulus, to him, and speaks thus into his trusty ear: "Come, go and tell Ascanius, if he now has his troop of boys ready, and has arranged for the ride of the horses, to lead (out) these squadrons in honour of his grandfather, and show themselves in arms," he says. He himself commands that all the people who have (lit. having) poured on to the long track, should leave (it) and that the grounds should be (kept) clear (lit. open). The boys come forward, and shine on their bridled horses (and) at the same time before the gaze (lit. faces) of their parents, and all the young men of Trinacria and Troy murmur in admiration at them as they advance (lit. advancing). They all have (lit. [There is] to all [of them]) hair bound, according to custom, by a clipped wreath, (and) they are each carrying two cornel-wood spear-shafts headed with iron. Some (have) polished quivers (slung) from the shoulder; a pliant circlet of twisted gold passes over the top of their chests (and) around their necks. The squadrons (are) three in number, and three leaders are roving around; twelve (lit. twice six) boys, following each one, with their own trainers, shine in parted columns. The first line of young men, which a little Priam, recalling the name of his grandfather, leads triumphantly, your illustrious progeny, Polites, destined to increase the Italians; a piebald (lit. two-coloured) horse with white spots bears him, displaying white feet in the front of (each) leg and, (standing) erect (lit. high), a white forehead. The second (leader was) Atys, from whom the family of the Latin Atii have derived, little Atys and a boy beloved by the boy Iulus. Lastly, Iulus, fair in appearance before all (others), rode on a Sidonian horse, which the lovely (lit. white[-skinned]) Dido had given (to him) to be his own (as) a reminder and a pledge of her love. The rest of the youths ride (lit. are borne by) Trinacrian horses of old Acestes. The Dardanids welcome the nervous (boys) and rejoice, looking at (them), and they recognise the features of old forbears (lit. parents). After they had joyfully paraded on their horses past the whole concourse and the eyes of their (kindred), Epytides gave the signal with a lengthy shout to them having been prepared, and cracked with his whip. They gallop apart in equal (detachments) and each of the three (detachments) dissolve their column into divided ranks, and, having been called upon once more, they changed direction and levelled (lit. lifted up) their couched lances. Thence, they enter upon other charges and other retreats, facing (one another) across a space (of ground), and they entangle alternate wheels with wheels and give rise to the pretence of fighting under arms; and sometimes they expose their backs in flight, sometimes they turn their spear-points in a hostile manner, sometimes, peace having been made, they ride (lit. are borne along) together. (It is) as the Labyrinth in mountainous Crete is once said to have had a path hedged with blind walls and a puzzle with a thousand ways, by which the untraceable and irretraceable maze would baffle (any) clue of getting out. By just this (lit. not by another) course the sons of the Teucrians entangle their footsteps and weave their flights and skirmishes in play, like dolphins that by swimming through the wet seas cut the Carpathian and Libyan (waters) [and play among the waves]. Ascanius was the first to repeat this custom of riding and this contest, when he encircled Alba Longa with walls, and he taught the ancient Latins to celebrate (it) in the way, in which (he) himself (had celebrated it as) a boy, (and ) in which the Trojan youth (had celebrated it) with him; the Albans taught (it) to their (sons); hence greatest Rome inherited (it) in succession, and preserved the ancestral ceremony; (the game is) now (named) Troy, (and) the boys are said (to be) the Trojan troop. To this (end) the games in honour of that venerated father were celebrated.

Ll. 604-699.  Not satisfied with the mischief she has previously caused the Trojans, Juno send Iris in the form of Beroe to stir up discontent among the Trojan women, who set the ships on fire. Only rain stops the destruction of all the ships, but still four are lost completely.

Hereupon, Fortune, having first shifted, altered its loyalty. While they were paying solemn (rites) to the burial-mound by these various games, Saturnian Juno sent Iris (down) from the sky to the Ilian (i.e. Trojan) fleet, and she blows winds (to assist her) as she went (lit. going), and, not yet assuaged in respect of her old resentment, setting many things in motion. She, hurrying on her way along a rainbow with a thousand colours, the maiden, being visible to no one, comes down in swift course. She catches sight of the huge assembly, and scans the shore, and she sees the deserted harbour and the unattended fleet. But, far apart on the lonely sea-shore, the Trojan women were weeping for the lost Anchises, and, as they wept (lit. weeping), they all looked out over the deep ocean. Alas, that so many shoals and such a great (expanse) of sea should be left, (them being so) weary! (There was) one voice on all (their lips). They plead for a city (of their own), (and) it wearies (them) to endure the toils of the sea. So, not unaware of mischief-making, she flies (lit. throws herself) into their midst, and lays aside the aspect and the garments of a goddess; she becomes Beroe, the aged wife of Tmarian Doryclus, who would have had (lit. to whom there would have been) ancestry and, at one time, a (good) name and sons, and thus she rushes (lit. betakes herself) into the midst of the mothers of the Dardanids. "O wretched women, whom no Greek hands have dragged to death in war under the walls of our native-city! O unlucky race, for what (manner of) destruction is Fortune reserving you? The seventh summer has now passed since the downfall of Troy, while we are being borne over straits, while (we are being borne over) every land, surveying so many inhospitable rocks and stars, while we are in quest of an (ever) receding Italy across the great sea, and are rolled in the waves. Here (are) the fraternal territories of Eryx, and our host (is) Acestes: who is preventing (us) from laying down walls and giving a city to our citizens? O fatherland and household gods, rescued in vain from the enemy, will nothing now be called the walls of Troy? Shall I nowhere see the rivers of Hector, Xanthus and Simois? Come with me and set fire to the ill-omened ships (lit. sterns). For, in my sleep, the prophetess Cassandra seemed to give me burning brands: 'Look here for Troy; here is a home for you,' she says. Now (is) the time for matters to be taken in hand, nor, with such great portents, (can there be) delay. Behold, the four altars to Neptune! The god himself is supplying (us) with brands and courage (as well)." Saying these (words), she was the first to snatch a menacing flame with force, and, her right (hand) having been raised to its full distance, with all her might (lit. straining) she brandishes (it) and throws (it). The minds of the Ilian women were aroused and their hearts were astounded. Hereupon, one out of the many women, (she) who was the oldest (lit. the greatest by birth), Pyrgo, the royal nurse to so many of the sons of Priam, (cried out): "You have (lit. There is to you) no Beroe (here), mothers, not that lady of Rhoteum, the consort of Doryclus; observe the marks of divine beauty and the burning eyes; what a spirit in her case, what a countenance, (what) a sound of voice or (what) a stride in respect of her going forward! Indeed I myself, having parted (from her) a little while ago, have left Beroe sick and resentful, because she alone was missing such a (fine) ceremony, nor could she bring to Anchises his due honours." She spoke these (words). But at first the mothers (were) confused, and with malignant eyes they look at the ships, undecided between their pathetic love of their present land and the kingdom calling (them) according to destiny, when the goddess soared (lit. raised herself) through the sky on evenly balanced wings, and, in her flight she cuts a huge rainbow beneath the clouds. Then indeed, astonished by this portent and driven by madness, they scream and seize fire from their innermost hearths; some (of them) pillage altars, (and) hurl foliage, faggots and torches. Vulcan rages, the reins having been let loose, along the thwarts and oars and the sterns decorated with fir-wood.  Eumelus, (as) the messenger, brings the news to the burial-mound of Anchises and to the benches of the theatre that the ships have been set on fire, and they see for themselves the black ashes floating in the cloud (of smoke). And, in the first place, Ascanius, just as he was happily leading his troop of horsemen, just so he eagerly made for the troubled camp on his horse, nor could his breathless mentors restrain (him). "What is this strange madness of yours? Alas, (O) reckless women citizens, at what now, at what are you aiming?" he says. "You are burning, not the enemy and the hostile camp of the Argives, (but) your own hopes (for the future). Look, (it is) I, your Ascanius! - (and) he flung down at his feet his empty helmet, with which, wearing (it) in play, he was giving rise to the pretence of warfare. At the same time, Aeneas comes up in haste, together with a column of Teucrians. And the women, having scattered in fear, disperse along the shore in all directions, and, wherever (there are) woods and hollow caves, they make for (them) furtively; they hate (lit. it irks [them] in respect of) the beginning of the daylight, and, having been changed for the better, they  recognise their own people (once more), and (the power of) Juno has been expelled from their hearts. But not for this reason did the flames and the conflagration abate their indomitable strength; beneath the moist timbers the tow is (now) alive, discharging a lingering smoke, and the sluggish steam devours the keels, and  the canker penetrates throughout the whole hulk, nor does the strength of the heroes, and the rivers (of water) poured (by them), avail (anything). Then, pious Aeneas tears the cloak from his shoulders, and calls upon the gods for help and stretches (out) his palms, (saying): "Almighty Jupiter, if not yet detesting Trojans to a single man, (and) if that old loving-kindness (still) takes note of human tribulations, grant that the flames now evade our fleet, Father, and pluck the tenuous fortunes of the Teucrians from death. If I (so) deserve, do you cast what is left (of us) down to death by a hostile thunderbolt, and overwhelm (us) here by your own right (hand)." Scarcely had he uttered these (words), when, rain having poured forth, a blackening tempest rages without pause, and at its thundering the high (places) of the earth and its plains begin to shake; from the whole sky rushes the downpour, murky with water, and very darkened by the dense southerly winds; and the ships were  filled (with water) from above, (and) the charred timbers are soaked, until all the heat was quenched, and all the ships, (except) four having been lost, were saved from ruin.

Ll. 700-745.  Much disturbed by this calamity, Aeneas ponders whether or not the Trojans should now settle down in Sicily and give up all thoughts of Italy. However, Nautes advises him to leave some of his weaker compatriots in Sicily with Acestes, and to take a select band to Italy. The ghost of his father Anchises then visits him and supports Nautes' advice. 


Then father Aeneas, shaken by this bitter misfortune, shifted his heavy responsibilities in his breast, now in this direction, now in that direction, pondering whether, forgetting his destiny, he should settle in the fields of Sicily, (or) whether he should strive to reach the shores of Italy. Then old Nautes, whom (as) the one man Tritonian Pallas taught and rendered pre-eminent for his vast skill - [she used to give (such) answers (as) these, either what the great anger of the gods did portend, or what the (immutable) order of destiny did demand] and he, consoling Aeneas, instructs (him) with these words: "Son of the goddess, we should follow whither destiny leads (us) and leads (us) back; whatever shall befall (us), every (turn of) fortune (which) must be (lit. is meet to be) surmounted must be (lit. is meet to be) endured. You have (lit. There is to you) Acestes, a Dardanian of divine lineage. Take him into your counsels (as) a comrade, and join with him, as he is willing (lit. being willing); hand over to him (those) who are superfluous, the ships having been lost, and those who are tired of (lit. those whom it moves to tiredness in respect of) your great enterprise and your fortunes; choose both old men of great age and mothers worn out by the sea, and whomever (of those) with you is frail and afraid of risk; and allow that the weary may have a city in this land; the (right of choosing its) name having been permitted (to them), they will call the city Acesta." His mind, having been set on fire by such words from his old friend, is indeed then distracted among all his cares. And (now) black night, having been supported by its chariot and pair, was occupying the vault of heaven: then the ghost of his father Anchises was suddenly seen, gliding down from the sky, to pour forth the following words: "(O) son, once more dear to me than life, while life remained (to me), son, having been kept occupied by the destiny of Ilium, I come hither by the command of Jupiter, who has driven away the fire from the fleet, and from high heaven has taken pity (on you) at last. Obey the advice, which, most excellent (as it is), old Nautes is now giving (you); convey to Italy your chosen young men, the bravest hearts; in Latium a hardy nation and (one) rough in its manner of life must be (lit. is meet to be) subdued in war by you. But, before (that), go down to the infernal dwelling-place of Dis (i.e. Pluto), and through the depths of Avernus seek a meeting with me, my son. For indeed neither impious Tartarus nor the gloomy shades are holding me, but I inhabit the pleasant gatherings of the dutiful and Elysium. A chaste Sibyl shall guide you hither with much blood from black flocks. You will then learn about all your progeny and what city walls shall be granted (to you). And now, farewell, (for) damp Night is turning in the middle of her course, and cruel dawn (lit. the East) breathes upon me with her panting horses." He had spoken, and he fled like smoke in thin air. Aeneas cries, "Whither then are you rushing off? Whither are you hurrying away? Whom are you fleeing? Or who is keeping you away from my embraces? Saying these (words), he stirs the ash and the smouldering fires, and worships the Hearth God of Pergama (i.e. the citadel of Troy) and the innermost shrines of white(-haired) Vesta, as a suppliant, with ritual meal  and a full incense-casket.

Ll. 746-778.  Aeneas and Acestes make arrangements for the new city of Acesta (Segesta), and Aeneas and those whom he has selected then set sail for Italy.


Immediately, he summons his comrades, and Acestes first, and he expounds (to them) Jupiter's command and the instructions of his dear father, and the decision which is now clear in his mind. (There is) no delay to the debate, nor does Acestes reject his orders. They transfer mothers to the city, and set ashore those people (who are) willing, their hearts not in need of great renown. They themselves repaired the thwarts and in the ships replace the timbers consumed by the flames; they fit both oars and rigging; (they were) few in number but their valour (was) vital in war. Meanwhile, Aeneas marks out (the boundaries of) the city with a plough and allots (the ground for) homes; he ordains this (place to be) Ilium and those places (to be) Troy. Trojan Acestes delights in his kingdom, and proclaims an (assembly) forum and gives laws to the senators (whom he has) summoned.  Then, on the crest of Eryx and in the neighbourhood of the stars, he founds a temple (lit. dwelling-place) for Idalian Venus, and a priest and a broad grove sacred to the burial-mound of  Anchises. And now the whole nation have feasted for nine days and honours have been paid to to the altars: gentle winds have calmed (lit. smoothed) the seas, and a regular and favourable South Wind summons (them) again on to the deep (sea). Loud weeping arises along the curved shore; for both a night and a day they linger, embracing among themselves. Now the very mothers, the very men, to whom the appearance of the sea once seemed rough, and (even) its name not bearable, wish to go and to endure every ordeal of exile. Good Aeneas consoles them with friendly words, and tearfully commends (them) to their kinsman Acestes. Then, he orders (them) to sacrifice three calves to Eryx and a lamb to the Storm(-Gods), and the stern-cable (of each ship) to be loosed in turn (lit. in due order). He himself, standing on his prow well away (from the land), wreathed in respect of his head with the leaves of trimmed olive, holds an offering bowl and offers the entrails as a sacrifice and pours the flowing wine into the salty waves. A wind, rising from the stern, follows (them) as they go (lit. going). His comrades strike the seas (with their oars) in rivalry and sweep the surface of the ocean.

Ll. 779-826.  Venus, much vexed by Juno's harassment of the Trojans, applies to Neptune for help. Neptune agrees to help, and says that the Trojans will reach Italy with the loss of only one life.


But, meanwhile, Venus, agitated by anxiety, addresses Neptune, and pours out the following complaints from her heart: "The oppressive anger and the not appeasable heart of Juno compel me, (O) Neptune, to stoop to every entreaty; neither a long period of time (lit. a day) nor any honour mollifies her, nor, unbroken, is she pacified by the command of Jupiter and by (the will of) destiny. In her wicked hatred it is not enough (for her) to have consumed the city (of Troy) out of the midst of the race of the Phrygians, nor to have dragged (it) through every (form of) punishment; she persecutes (even) the relics, the ashes and the bones of Troy (which has been) destroyed. She may be aware of the reasons for so great a rage. You yourself (were) recently a witness for me with regard to the turmoil which she has suddenly aroused: she has mingled all the seas with the sky, relying in vain upon the storms of Aeolus, having ventured this in your domains. Behold, even the Trojan mothers having been driven into (sheer) wickedness, she has foully burned up their ships, and, the fleet having been lost, she has forced (Aeneas) to abandon his comrades in an unknown land. As for what is left (of them), may it be permitted (to them), I pray, to set sail safely over your waves, and (even) if I am seeking things (which have been) conceded, and if the Fates are granting (them) that walled city, may it be permitted (to them) to reach the Laurentine Tiber. Then, the son of Saturn (i.e. Neptune), master of the deep sea, uttered these (words): "It is wholly right, Cytherea (i.e. Venus), that you should trust my realm, whence you draw your birth. Also, I have earned (it); I have often restrained those frenzies and that very great madness from both the sky and the sea. Nor have I had (lit. has there been to me) any less care for your Aeneas on land [(I call) Xanthus and Simois (as) witness]. When Achilles, pursuing the breathless columns of Troy, dashed (them) against its walls, and gave many thousands (notice) of death, and the rivers, choked (with corpses) were groaning, and Xanthus could not find a path and roll himself down to the sea, then did I rescue Aeneas (as he was) contending with the valiant son of Peleus, neither the gods nor his (own) strength (being) favourable (to him), by a hollow cloud, although I desired to overthrow from its foundations (lit. its lowest point), the walls of forsworn Troy built by my own hands. Now also my mind continues the same, (so) dispel your fears. He will safely reach the harbour of Avernus (i.e. Cumae), which you wish for (as his destination). There will only be one man lost, whom you will seek upon the sea; one man will be given on behalf of many." When he has calmed the joyful breast of the goddess by these words, the father (i.e. Neptune) harnesses his horses with a golden (bridle) and inserts the foaming bits into (the mouths of) the steeds and let all the reins go through his hands. He flies over the top of the surface of the sea in his blue-green chariot; the waves subside, and the swelling sea is becalmed with its waters beneath the thundering axle; the storm-clouds flee from the vast (expanse of) sky. Then, the various shapes of his retinue (appear), monstrous sea-beasts, and the hoary dance-troop of Glaucus, and Palaemon, (son) of Ino, and the swift Tritons, and all the host of Phorcus; Thetis occupies the left-hand (side), and Melite, and the maiden Panopea, Nisaee and Spio and Thalia and Cymodoce.

Ll. 827-870.  Aeneas, with Palinurus as helmsman, makes for Italy under full sail. Somnus, the god of sleep, induces Palinurus to fall asleep, and he falls in the water and drowns. Aeneas then steers his ship past the dangerous reef of the Sirens. 

Then, caressing joy pervades the anxious mind of father Aeneas in its turn: he commands that all the masts are erected, (and) the yard-arms spread with sails; together they all make (fast) the sail-rope, and at the same time they loosen the sails on the port (side), now on the starboard (side); in unison, they swing and swing around the lofty sailyard ends; suitable winds carry the fleet along. Out in front before everyone, Palinurus drove the close column; the others were ordered to direct their course in his wake (lit. according to him). And now damp Night had almost reached the mid-point of the sky; the sailors were relaxing their limbs in gentle repose, stretched along their hard seats under the oars, when the (God of) Sleep, slipping lightly down from the stars of heaven, parted the gloomy air and dispelled the shadows, seeking you, (O) Palinurus, (and) carrying a sombre dream to you (although you were) blameless; and, like Phorbus, the god took his seat on the lofty stern, and pours these words from his mouth: "(O) Palinurus, son of Iasius, the seas themselves are conveying the fleet; steady (lit. well-balanced) breezes are blowing; an hour is given (to you) for rest. Lay down your head, and withdraw your eyes from their toil. I myself will take over (lit. enter upon) your duties for you for a little while." Scarcely raising his eyes, Palinurus speaks to him (thus): "Are you bidding me to disregard the countenance of this tranquil sea and its quiet waves? (Are you bidding) me to put my trust in this demon? For why should I entrust Aeneas to deceitful winds, having been deceived so often too, by the treachery of a clear sky?" He gave (out) such words, and, fastened to the tiller and sticking (to it), he was not letting go (of it) for anything, and he kept his gaze (lit. eyes) up towards the stars. Behold, the god shakes a branch, dripping with Lethe's dew and inducing drowsiness with the force of the Styx, over both of his temples, and (himself) hesitating, it released his swimming eyes. Scarcely had the unexpected rest relaxed his limbs, when (the god) flinging himself down upon (him), hurled (him) headlong into the flowing waves, a part of the stern having been wrenched away (together) with the tiller, and (him) continually calling his comrades in vain. (The god) himself, flying, soared (lit. raised himself) on his wings into the light breezes. As before (lit. not otherwise), the fleet forges on undaunted in accordance with the promise of father Neptune. And now it was approaching the rocks of the Sirens, once difficult (to pass) and whitened with the bones of many men, (and) then the rocks were sounding raucously afar off in the unceasing surf, when father (Aeneas) realised that (his ship) was drifting at random (lit. afloat), his helmsman having been lost, and he himself steered the ship amid the nocturnal waves, sighing much and shaken in his mind by the misfortune of his friend: "O Palinurus, trusting too much in the clear sky and sea, (now) you will lie naked on an unknown shore."

DE CULTU DEORUM ET VITA HOMINUM

Introduction.

Below are seven verse extracts on the theme "On the worship of the gods and the life of men". Sabidius' English translations follow the Latin texts, which are taken from the "Cambridge Anthology", Cambridge University Press, 1996. 

1.  A country festival (Horace: Odes, Book III, carmen 18).

Faune, Nympharum fugientem amator,

per meos fines et aprica rura

lenis incedas abeasque parvis

   aequus alumnis,

si tener pleno cadit haedus anno,

larga nec desunt veneris sodali

vina craterae, vetus ara multo

   fumat odore. 

ludit herboso pecus omne campo,

cum tibi Nonae redeunt Decembres;

festus in pratis vacat otioso 

   cum bove pagus;

inter audaces lupus errat agnos;

spargit agrestes tibi silva frondes;

gaudet invisam pepulisse fossor

   ter pede terram.

Faunus, lover of the flying Nymphs, may you pass lightly over my boundaries and sunny fields and may you leave the small nurslings in a kindly manner. Since, the year having been fulfilled, a young kid falls (to you in sacrifice), and generous wines are not lacking to the mixing bowl, Venus' companion, the old altar smokes with much fragrance. The whole herd plays in the grassy field, when the Nones of December comes round again in your honour; the village on holiday relaxes with the ox unyoked; a wolf wanders among the fearless sheep; the wood scatters rustic leaves in your honour; the digger rejoices to stamp on the hateful earth three times with his foot.

2.  Recipe for happiness (Martial: Epigrams 10, 47).

vitam quae faciunt beatiorem,

iuncundissime Martialis, haec sunt;

res non parta labore sed relicta;

non ingratus ager, focus perennis;

lis numquam, toga rara, mens quieta;

vires ingenuae, salubrae corpus,

prudens simplicitas, pares amici, 

convictus facilis, sine arte mensa;

nox non ebria sed soluta curis,

non tristis torus et tamen pudicus,

somnus qui faciat breves tenebras;

quod sis esse velis nihilque malis;

summum nec metuas diem nec optes.

These, dearest Martial, are (the things) which make for a happier life; wealth not earned by labour but bequeathed; land not unproductive, an ever-burning hearth; a lawsuit never, a toga seldom seen, an untroubled mind; the vigour of a free-born man, a healthy body, sensible openness, like-minded friends, an easy social life, a table without artifice; a night not drunken but free from cares, a marriage-bed not gloomy and yet faithful, a sleep  to make the darkness brief; may you wish to be what you are, and may you prefer nothing (else); may you neither fear your final day nor long for (it). 

3.  Spring and thoughts of mortality (Horace, Odes, Book IV, carmen 7).

diffugere nives, redeunt iam gramina campis

   arboribusque comae;

mutat terra vices, et descrentia ripas

   flumina praetereunt;

Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audet

   ducere nuda choros.

immortalia ne speres, monet annus et almum

   quae rapit hora diem:

frigora mitescunt Zephyris, ver proterit aestas

   interitura simul

pomifer autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox

   bruma recurrit iners.

damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae:

   nos ubi decidimus

quo pater Aeneas, quo Tullus dives et Ancus,

   pulvis et umbra sumus.

quis scit an adiciant hodiernae crastina summae

  tempora di superi?

cuncta manus avidas fugient heredis, amico

   quae dederis animo.

cum semel occideris et de te splendida Minos

   fecerit arbitria,

non, Torquate, genus, non te faciunda, non te 

   restituet pietas;o 

infernis neque enim tenebris Diana pudicum

   liberat Hippolytum,

nec Lethaea valet Theseus abrumpere caro

   vincula Pirithoo. 

The snow has disappeared, now grass has returned to the fields and foliage to the trees; the earth has changed her seasons, and the subsiding rivers flow between their banks; a Grace, with Nymphs and her twin sisters, ventures to conduct naked dances. The year and the hour which hurries away the day warns (you) not to hope for immortality: the cold is lessened by the West Winds, summer tramples upon spring (and) will perish as soon as fruitful autumn has poured forth its produce, and soon lifeless winter returns. Yet the swiftly passing moons repair their losses in the sky: (but) we, when we go downwards (to the place) where father Aeneas, (and) where rich Tullus and Ancus (have gone down), are dust and shadow. Who knows whether the gods above are adding tomorrow's hours to today's total? Everything which you have bestowed on your own dear self will have escaped the greedy hands of your heir. When once and for all you will have died, and Minos will have made his stately verdict about you, no noble birth, no eloquence, no sense of duty, will bring you back, Torquatus; for Diana does not free chaste Hippolytus from infernal darkness, nor does Theseus have the power to break off the fetters of Lethe from his dear Pirithous.

4.  Elysium (Virgil: Aeneid, Book VI, lines 638-644; 648-649; 652-655; 660-665).

devenere locos laetos et amoena virecta
fortunatorum nemorum sedesque beatas.
largior hic campos aether et lumine vestit
purpureo, solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.
pars in gramineis exercent membra palaestris,
contendunt ludo et fulva luctantur harena;
pars pedibus plaudunt choreas et carmina dicunt.
hic genus antiquum Teucri, pulcherrima proles,
magnanimi heroes, nati melioribus annis.
stant terra defixae hastae passimque soluti
per campum pascuntur equi. quae gratia currum
armorumque fuit vivis, quae cura nitentes
pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos.
hic manus ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi,
quique sacerdotes casti, dum vita manebat,
quique pii vates et Phoebo digna locuti,
inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes,
quique sui memores aliquos fecere merendo:
omnibus his nivea cingitur tempora vitta.


They came down to the joyous places and the lovely lawns and the blessed homes of the fortunate groves. Here (there is) a more generous air and it clothes the plains in a dazzling light, and they get to know their own sun (and) their own stars. Some exercise their limbs in grassy exercise-grounds, contend in sport and wrestle on golden sand; others beat out the (rhythm of) dances with their feet and sing songs. Here (is) the ancient line of Teucer, the fairest breed, great-hearted heroes, born in better years. Fixed in the ground, their spears stand (on end), and the horses, let loose in all directions, graze over the plain. The pleasure in their chariots and weapons which was (theirs) while alive, the care which (was theirs while alive) to feed their glossy horses, the same care follows (them) now laid in the ground. Here (is) a band (of men) having suffered wounds in fighting for the fatherland, and (those) who (were) holy priests, while life remained, and (those) who (were) dutiful prophets and (who) spoke (words) worthy of Phoebus, or (those) who enriched life through the skills they had discovered, and those who made some mindful of them by their being of service: the temples of all these are garlanded with a snow-white head-band.

5.  Live now! (Martial: Epigrammata, Book I, 15, lines 11-12).


non est, crede mihi, sapientis dicere "vivam",
   sera nimis vita est crastina: vive hodie!


It is not, believe me, the mark of a wise man to say "I shall live"; tomorrow's life is too late: live for today!

6.  The only form of immortality (Seneca).


carmina sola carent fato mortemque repellunt.
   carminibus vives semper, Homere, tuis.


Poetry alone escapes fate and repels death. Homer, may you live forever in your songs.

7.  The poet's advice to mourners (Lucretius: De Rerum Natura, Book III, lines 894-903.

"iam iam non domus accipiet te laeta neque uxor
optima, nec dulces occurrent oscula nati
praeripere et tacita pectus dulcedine tangent.
non poteris factis florentibus esse tuisquelearly in their minds
praesidium. misero misere" aiunt "omnia ademit
una dies infesta tibi tot praemia vitae."
illud in his rebus non addunt "nec tibi earum
iam desiderium rerum super insidet una."
quod bene si videant animo dictisque sequantur,
dissolvant animi magno se angore metuque.


"No longer now will a joyful home or the best of wives receive you, nor will sweet children run up to snatch kisses and touch your heart with a sweetness beyond words. You will not be able to be a protection to your prospering affairs and to your family." They say, "One fatal day has unhappily taken away from your wretched self all the many rewards of life." But in these matters they do not add the following: "Yet now a longing  for these things does not any more remain together with you."  If they were to see this clearly in their minds and follow (it) with words, they would free themselves from great distress of mind and fear.