Название:
Автор:
Жанр:
Серия:
Издательство:
| XLI . | But good Æneas, pondering through the night Distracting thoughts and many an anxious care, Resolved, when daybreak brought the gladsome light, To search the coast, and back sure tidings bear, What land was this, what habitants were there, If man or beast, for, far as the eye could rove, A wilderness the region seemed, and bare. His ships he hides within a sheltering cove, | 361 | |
| Screened by the caverned rock, and shadowed by the grove, | |||
| XLII . | Then wielding in his hand two broad-tipt spears, Alone with brave Achates forth he strayed, When lo, before him in the wood appears His mother, in a virgin's arms arrayed, In form and habit of a Spartan maid, Or like Harpalyce, the pride of Thrace, Who tires swift steeds, and scours the woodland glade, And outstrips rapid Hebrus in the race. | 370 | |
| So fair the goddess seemed, apparelled for the chase. | |||
| XLIII . | Bare were her knees, and from her shoulders hung The wonted bow, kept handy for the prey Her flowing raiment in a knot she strung, And loosed her tresses with the winds to play. "Ho, Sirs!" she hails them, "saw ye here astray Ought of my sisters, girt in huntress wise With quiver and a spotted lynx-skin gay, Or following on the foaming boar with cries?" | 379 | |
| Thus Venus spake, and thus fair Venus' son replies; | |||
| XLIV . | "Nought of thy sisters have I heard or seen. What name, O maiden, shall I give to thee, For mortal never had thy voice or mien? O Goddess surely, whether Nymph I see, Or Phoebus' sister; whosoe'er thou be, Be kind, for strangers and in evil case We roam, tost hither by the stormy sea. Say, who the people, what the clime and place, | 388 | |
| And many a victim's blood thy hallowed shrine shall grace." | |||
| XLV . | "Nay, nay, to no such honour I aspire." Said Venus, "But a simple maid am I, And 'tis the manner of the maids of Tyre To wear, like me, the quiver, and to tie The purple buskin round the ankles high. The realm thou see'st is Punic; Tyrians are The folk, the town Agenor's. Round them lie The Libyan plains, a people rough in war. | 397 | |
| Queen Dido rules the land, who came from Tyre afar, | |||
| XLVI . | "Flying her brother. Dark the tale of crime, And long, but briefly be the sum supplied. Sychæus was her lord, in happier time The richest of Phoenicians far and wide In land, and worshipped by his hapless bride. Her, in the bloom of maidenhood, her sire Had given him, and with virgin rites allied. But soon her brother filled the throne of Tyre, | 406 | |
| Pygmalion, swoln with sin; 'twixt whom a feud took fire. | |||
| XLVII . | "He, reckless of a sister's love, and blind With lust of gold, Sychæus unaware Slew by the altar, and with impious mind Long hid the deed, and flattering hopes and fair Devised, to cheat the lover of her care. But, lifting features marvellously pale, The ghost unburied in her dreams laid bare His breast, and showed the altar and the bale | 415 | |
| Wrought by the ruthless steel, and solved the crime's dark tale. | |||
| XLVIII . | "Then bade her fly the country, and revealed, To aid her flight, an old and unknown weight Of gold and silver, in the ground concealed. Thus roused, her friends she gathers. All await Her summons, who the tyrant fear or hate. Some ships at hand, chance-anchored in the bay, They seize and load them with the costly freight, And far off o'er the deep is borne away | 424 | |
| Pygmalion's hoarded pelf. A woman leads the way. | |||
| XLIX . | "Hither, where now the walls and fortress high, Of Carthage, and her rising homes are found, They came, and there full cheaply did they buy, Such space—called Byrsa from the deed—of ground As one bull's-hide could compass and surround. But who are ye, pray answer? on what quest Come ye? and whence and whither are ye bound?" Her then Æneas, from his inmost breast | 433 | |
| Heaving a deep-drawn sigh, with labouring speech addressed: | |||
| L . | "O Goddess, should I from the first unfold, Or could'st thou hear, the annals of our woe, Eve's star were shining, ere the tale were told. From ancient Troy—if thou the name dost know— A chance-met storm hath driven us to and fro, And tost us on the Libyan shores. My name Is good Æneas; from the flames and foe I bear Troy's rescued deities. My fame | 442 | |
| Outsoars the stars of heaven; a Jove-born race, we claim | |||
| LI . | "A home in fair Italia far away. With twice ten ships I climbed the Phrygian main, My goddess-mother pointing out the way, As Fate commanded. Now scarce seven remain, Wave-worn and shattered by the tempest's strain. Myself, a stranger, friendless and unknown, From Europe driven and Asia, roam in vain The wilds of Libya"—Then his plaintive tone | 451 | |
| No more could Venus bear, but interrupts her son; | |||
| LII . |
"Stranger," she answered, "whosoe'er thou be; Not unbeloved of heavenly powers, I ween, Thou breath'st the vital air, whom Fate's decree Permits a Tyrian city to have seen. But hence, and seek the palace of the queen. Glad news I bear thee, of thy comrades brought,
|
