The Aeneid - The Original Classic Edition. Virgil Virgil

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The labor of your hands, another Troy, With better auspice than her ancient tow'rs, And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs. If e'er the gods, whom I with vows adore, Conduct my steps to Tiber's happy shore;

       If ever I ascend the Latian throne, And build a city I may call my own;

       As both of us our birth from Troy derive, So let our kindred lines in concord live, And both in acts of equal friendship strive.

       Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same: The double Troy shall differ but in name; That what we now begin may never end,

       But long to late posterity descend.'

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       "Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore; The shortest passage to th' Italian shore.

       Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light, And hills were hid in dusky shades of night: We land, and, on the bosom Of the ground, A safe retreat and a bare lodging found.

       Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep Their watches, and the rest securely sleep. The night, proceeding on with silent pace,

       Stood in her noon, and view'd with equal face

       Her steepy rise and her declining race. Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy

       The face of heav'n, and the nocturnal sky; And listen'd ev'ry breath of air to try;

       Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course, The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat'ry force;

       And both the Bears is careful to behold,

       And bright Orion, arm'd with burnish'd gold. Then, when he saw no threat'ning tempest nigh, But a sure promise of a settled sky,

       He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep, Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep. "And now the rising morn with rosy light Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight; When we from far, like bluish mists, descry The hills, and then the plains, of Italy.

       Achates first pronounc'd the joyful sound; Then, 'Italy!' the cheerful crew rebound. My sire Anchises crown'd a cup with wine,

       And, off 'ring, thus implor'd the pow'rs divine:

       'Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas,

       And you who raging winds and waves appease, Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp'rous wind, And smooth our passage to the port assign'd!' The gentle gales their flagging force renew,

       And now the happy harbor is in view. Minerva's temple then salutes our sight,

       Plac'd, as a landmark, on the mountain's height. We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore; The curling waters round the galleys roar.

       The land lies open to the raging east,

       Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress'd, Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain, And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.

       The port lies hid within; on either side

       Two tow'ring rocks the narrow mouth divide. The temple, which aloft we view'd before,

       To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore. Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld

       Were four white steeds that cropp'd the flow'ry field.

       'War, war is threaten'd from this foreign ground,' My father cried, 'where warlike steeds are found. Yet, since reclaim'd to chariots they submit,

       And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit, Peace may succeed to war.' Our way we bend

       To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend; There prostrate to the fierce virago pray, Whose temple was the landmark of our way.

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       Each with a Phrygian mantle veil'd his head, And all commands of Helenus obey'd,

       And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid.

       These dues perform'd, we stretch our sails, and stand

       To sea, forsaking that suspected land.

       "From hence Tarentum's bay appears in view, For Hercules renown'd, if fame be true.

       Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands; Caulonian tow'rs, and Scylacaean strands,

       For shipwrecks fear'd. Mount Aetna thence we spy, Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky. Far off we hear the waves with surly sound

       Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound. The billows break upon the sounding strand,

       And roll the rising tide, impure with sand. Then thus Anchises, in experience old:

       ''T is that Charybdis which the seer foretold, And those the promis'd rocks! Bear off to sea!' With haste the frighted mariners obey.

       First Palinurus to the larboard veer'd; Then all the fleet by his example steer'd. To heav'n aloft on ridgy waves we ride,

       Then down to hell descend, when they divide; And thrice our galleys knock'd the stony ground, And thrice the hollow rocks return'd the sound,

       And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around.

       The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun; And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run. The port capacious, and secure from wind,

       Is to the foot of thund'ring Aetna join'd. By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high; By turns hot embers from her entrails fly,

       And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky. Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown, And, shiver'd by the force, come piecemeal down. Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow,

       Fed from the fiery springs that boil below. Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove,

       With blasted limbs came tumbling from above; And, where he fell, th' avenging father drew This flaming hill, and on his body threw.

       As often as he turns his weary sides,

       He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides. In shady woods we pass the tedious night,

       Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright, Of which no cause is offer'd to the sight;

       For not one star was kindled in the sky,

       Nor could the moon her borrow'd light supply;

       For misty clouds involv'd the firmament,

       The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent. "Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal'd, Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell'd,

       When from the woods there bolts, before our sight, Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite,

       So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan,

       So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man.

       This thing, all tatter'd, seem'd from far t' implore

       Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.

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       We look behind, then view his shaggy

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