The Embassy to Evander

When Turnus ran up the flag of war on the towers of Laurentum, and the trumpets blared with harsh music, when he spurred his fiery steeds and clashed his armour, straightway men's hearts are in tumult; all Latium at once flutters in banded uprisal, and her warriors rage furiously. Their chiefs, Messapus, and Ufens, and Mezentius, scorner of the gods, begin to enrol forces on all sides, and dispeople the wide fields of husbandmen. Venulus too is sent to the town of mighty Diomede to seek succour, to instruct him that Teucrians set foot in Latium; that Aeneas in his fleet invades them with the vanquished gods of his home, and proclaims himself the King summoned of fate; that many tribes join the Dardanian, and his name swells high in Latium. What he will rear on these foundations, what issue of battle he desires, if Fortune attend him, lies clearer to his own sight than to King Turnus or King Latinus.

When Turnus raised the flag of war on the towers of Laurentum, the trumpets blared harshly. He spurred his fiery horses and clashed his armor. At once, hearts were thrown into turmoil. All Latium rose in a united revolt, and its warriors raged furiously. Their chiefs, Messapus, Ufens, and Mezentius, who scorned the gods, began recruiting forces everywhere. They emptied the vast fields of their farmers. Venulus was also sent to the city of mighty Diomede to seek help. He was to tell Diomede that Teucrians had set foot in Latium. Aeneas had invaded with his fleet and the defeated gods of his homeland, proclaiming himself the king summoned by fate. Many tribes were joining the Dardanian, and his name was growing in fame throughout Latium. If Fortune favored Aeneas, he knew better than King Turnus or King Latinus what he would build on these beginnings and what outcome he sought from battle.

Thus was it in Latium. And the hero of Laomedon's blood, seeing it all, tosses on a heavy surge of care, and throws his mind rapidly this way and that, and turns it on all hands in swift change of thought: even as when the quivering light of water brimming in brass, struck back from the sunlight or the moon's glittering reflection, flickers abroad over all the room, and now mounts aloft and strikes the high panelled roof. Night fell, and over all lands weary creatures were fast in deep slumber, the race of fowl and of cattle; when lord Aeneas, sick at heart of the dismal warfare, stretched him on the river bank under the cope of the cold sky, and let sleep, though late, overspread his limbs. To him the very god of the ground, the pleasant Tiber stream, seemed to raise his aged form among the poplar boughs; thin lawn veiled him with its gray covering, and shadowy reeds hid his hair. Thereon he addressed him thus, and with these words allayed his distresses:

This was how things stood in Latium. Seeing it all, the hero descended from Laomedon was overwhelmed by a great surge of worry. His mind raced from one thought to another, turning in every direction. It was like the trembling light reflected from water filling a brass vessel, struck by sunlight or moonlight. The light flickers across the room, then climbs and strikes the high paneled ceiling. Night fell, and weary creatures across all lands slept soundly, birds and cattle alike. Aeneas, sick at heart over the grim war, lay down on the riverbank beneath the cold sky. At last, sleep came over him. The god of the land itself, the pleasant Tiber stream, seemed to rise before him in aged form among the poplar branches. A thin gray cloth covered him, and shadowy reeds hid his hair. Then the god spoke to Aeneas and eased his distress with these words:

'O born of the family of the gods, thou who bearest back our Trojan city from hostile hands, and keepest Troy towers in eternal life; O long looked for on Laurentine ground and Latin fields! here is thine assured home, thine home's assured gods. Draw not thou back, nor be alarmed by menace of war. All the anger and wrath of the gods is passed away . . . And even now for thine assurance, that thou think not this the idle fashioning of sleep, a great sow shall be found lying under the oaks on the shore, with her new-born litter of thirty head: white she couches on the ground, and the brood about her teats is white. By this token in thirty revolving years shall Ascanius found a city, Alba of bright name. My prophecy is sure. Now hearken, and I will briefly instruct thee how thou mayest unravel and overcome thy present task. An Arcadian people sprung of Pallas, following in their king Evander's company beneath his banners, have chosen a place in these coasts, and set a city on the hills, called Pallanteum after Pallas their forefather. These wage perpetual war with the Latin race; these do thou take to thy camp's alliance, and join with them in league. Myself I will lead thee by my banks and straight along my stream, that thou mayest oar thy way upward against the river. Up and arise, goddess-born, and even with the setting stars address thy prayers to Juno as is meet, and vanquish her wrath and menaces with humble vows. To me thou shalt pay a conqueror's sacrifice. I am he whom thou seest washing the banks with full flood and severing the rich tilth, glassy Tiber, best beloved by heaven of rivers. Here is my stately home; my fountain-head is among high cities.'

'O descendant of the gods, you are bringing our Trojan city back from enemy hands. You keep Troy's towers alive forever. You have long been awaited on Laurentine soil and in the Latin fields! Here is your destined home, with its own gods to protect you. Do not turn back or fear the threat of war. All the anger and wrath of the gods has passed away . . . To assure you that this is not an idle dream, you will find a great sow beneath the oaks on the shore. She will be lying there with thirty newborn young. She is white, and the young nursing around her are white. This sign means that in thirty years Ascanius will found a city, Alba, whose name will be renowned. My prophecy is certain. Now listen. I will briefly tell you how to work through and overcome the task before you. An Arcadian people descended from Pallas have settled on these shores. They followed their king Evander under his banners. They have built a city on the hills and called it Pallanteum, after their ancestor Pallas. They are always at war with the Latin race. Bring them into alliance with your camp, and make a treaty with them. I myself will guide you along my banks and up my stream. You will be able to row against the current. Get up, son of a goddess. As the stars set, offer Juno the prayers she is due. Overcome her wrath and threats with humble vows. When you have conquered, you shall offer a sacrifice to me. I am the river you see flooding its banks and flowing between fertile fields. I am the clear Tiber, the river most beloved by heaven. Here is my grand home, and my source lies among great cities.'

Thus spoke the River, and sank in the depth of the pool: night and sleep left Aeneas. He arises, and, looking towards the radiant sky of the sunrising, holds up water from the river in fitly-hollowed palms, and pours to heaven these accents:

After speaking, the River sank into the depths of the pool. Night passed, and Aeneas woke. He rose and looked toward the bright sky at sunrise. He cupped his hands, lifted water from the river, and spoke these words to heaven:

'Nymphs, Laurentine Nymphs, from whom is the generation of rivers, and thou, O father Tiber, with thine holy flood, receive Aeneas and deign to save him out of danger. What pool soever holds thy source, who pitiest our discomforts, from whatsoever soil thou dost spring excellent in beauty, ever shall my worship, ever my gifts frequent thee, the hornèd river lord of Hesperian waters. Ah, be thou only by me, and graciously confirm thy will.' So speaks he, and chooses two galleys from his fleet, and mans them with rowers, and withal equips a crew with arms.

'Nymphs, Laurentine Nymphs, from whom rivers spring, and you, Father Tiber, with your sacred waters, receive Aeneas. Please save him from danger. You pity our troubles, and wherever your source lies, whatever land you spring from in your beauty, I will always worship you. I will always bring gifts to you, the horned river lord of Hesperian waters. Ah, only stand by me and kindly show me your favor.' So he speaks, and chooses two galleys from his fleet. He supplies them with rowers and arms a crew.

And lo! suddenly, ominous and wonderful to tell, the milk-white sow, of one colour with her white brood, is espied through the forest couched on the green brink; whom to thee, yes to thee, queenly Juno, good Aeneas offers in sacrifice, and sets with her offspring before thine altar. All that night long Tiber assuaged his swelling stream, and silently stayed his refluent wave, smoothing the surface of his waters to the fashion of still pool and quiet mere, to spare labour to the oar. So they set out and speed on their way with prosperous cries; the painted fir slides along the waterway; the waves and unwonted woods marvel at their far-gleaming shields, and the gay hulls afloat on the river. They outwear a night and a day in rowing, ascend the long reaches, and pass under the chequered shadows of the trees, and cut through the green woodland in the calm water. The fiery sun had climbed midway in the circle of the sky when they see afar fortress walls and scattered house roofs, where now the might of Rome hath risen high as heaven; then Evander held a slender state. Quickly they turn their prows to land and draw near the town.

Then suddenly they saw the milk-white sow lying on the grassy bank in the forest, with her white piglets beside her. It was an ominous and wondrous sight. To you, yes, to you, queenly Juno, good Aeneas sacrificed the sow and placed her and her offspring before your altar. All night the Tiber calmed its swollen current and quietly held back its flowing waves. It smoothed its waters like a still pool or a quiet lake, sparing the rowers work. So they set out and sped on their way with joyful cries. Their painted fir boats glided along the water. The waves and the unaccustomed woods marveled at their gleaming shields and the colorful hulls afloat on the river. They rowed through a night and a day, traveling upstream along the long stretches of the river. They passed beneath the shifting shadows of the trees and cut through the green woodland reflected in the calm water. The fiery sun had climbed halfway across the sky when they saw fortress walls and scattered rooftops in the distance. There, where Rome’s power now rises as high as heaven, Evander then ruled a small kingdom. Quickly they turned their bows toward land and approached the town.

It chanced on that day the Arcadian king paid his accustomed sacrifice to the great son of Amphitryon and all the gods in a grove before the city. With him his son Pallas, with him all the chief of his people and his poor senate were offering incense, and the blood steamed warm at their altars. When they saw the high ships, saw them glide up between the shady woodlands and rest on their silent oars, the sudden sight appals them, and all at once they rise and stop the banquet. Pallas courageously forbids them to break off the rites; snatching up a spear, he flies forward, and from a hillock cries afar: 'O men, what cause hath driven you to explore these unknown ways? or whither do you steer? What is your kin, whence your habitation? Is it peace or arms you carry hither?' Then from the lofty stern lord Aeneas thus speaks, stretching forth in his hand an olive bough of peace-bearing:

On that day, the Arcadian king was offering his customary sacrifice to the great son of Amphitryon and all the gods. He was in a grove outside the city. With him were his son Pallas, all the chiefs of his people, and his humble senate. They offered incense, and warm blood steamed on their altars. Then they saw the tall ships glide between the shady woods and come to rest, their oars still. Alarmed by the sudden sight, they all rose at once and stopped the feast. Pallas boldly told them not to interrupt the rites. He seized a spear and rushed forward. From a small hill, he called out to the strangers: 'Men, what has brought you to these unfamiliar waters? Where are you sailing? Who are your people, and where do you live? Do you come in peace or for war?' Then lord Aeneas spoke from the high stern of his ship, holding out an olive branch as a sign of peace:

'Thou seest men born of Troy and arms hostile to the Latins, who have driven us to flight in insolent warfare. We seek Evander; carry this message, and tell him that chosen men of the Dardanian captains are come pleading for an armed alliance.'

'You see men born in Troy, armed against the Latins. The Latins drove us into flight with their arrogant attacks. We seek Evander. Tell him that chosen Dardanian captains have come to ask for a military alliance.'

Pallas stood amazed at the august name. 'Descend,' he cries, 'whoso thou art, and speak with my father face to face, and enter our home and hospitality.' And giving him the grasp of welcome, he caught and clung to his hand. Advancing, they enter the grove and leave the river. Then Aeneas in courteous words addresses the King:

Pallas was amazed by the honored name. 'Come down,' he cried, 'whoever you are. Speak with my father face to face, and accept our hospitality in our home.' He took Aeneas by the hand and held it in welcome. They left the river and walked into the grove. Then Aeneas spoke politely to the King:

'Best of the Grecian race, thou whom fortune hath willed that I supplicate, holding before me boughs dressed in fillets, no fear stayed me because thou wert a Grecian chief and an Arcadian, or allied by descent to the twin sons of Atreus. Nay, mine own prowess and the sanctity of divine oracles, our ancestral kinship, and the fame of thee that is spread abroad over the earth, have allied me to thee and led me willingly on the path of fate. Dardanus, who sailed to the Teucrian land, the first father and founder of the Ilian city, was born, as Greeks relate, of Electra the Atlantid; Electra's sire is ancient Atlas, whose shoulder sustains the heavenly spheres. Your father is Mercury, whom white Maia conceived and bore on the cold summit of Cyllene; but Maia, if we give any credence to report, is daughter of Atlas, that same Atlas who bears up the starry heavens; so both our families branch from a single blood. In this confidence I sent no embassy, I framed no crafty overtures; myself I have presented mine own person, and come a suppliant to thy courts. The same Daunian race pursues us and thee in merciless warfare; we once expelled, they trust nothing will withhold them from laying all Hesperia wholly beneath their yoke, and holding the seas that wash it above and below. Accept and return our friendship. We can give brave hearts in war, high souls and men approved in deeds.'

'Best of the Grecian race, fortune has willed that I come to you as a suppliant. I hold out branches wrapped in ribbons. I was not afraid to approach you because you are a Grecian chief and an Arcadian, or because you are related by descent to the twin sons of Atreus. No, my own courage, the sacred divine oracles, our ancestral kinship, and your fame throughout the earth have brought me to your side. They have led me willingly along the path of fate. Dardanus sailed to the Teucrian land and was the first father and founder of the Ilian city. The Greeks say he was born to Electra, daughter of Atlas. Electra's father is ancient Atlas, who supports the heavenly spheres on his shoulder. Your father is Mercury, whom white Maia conceived and bore on the cold summit of Cyllene. But Maia, if we can believe what is said, is the daughter of Atlas. He is the same Atlas who holds up the starry heavens. So both our families descend from the same blood. Confident of this, I sent no embassy and made no cunning approaches. I have come in person as a suppliant to your court. The same Daunian race wages merciless war against both us and you. Once we are driven out, they believe nothing will stop them from bringing all Hesperia under their yoke. They expect to control the seas that wash its upper and lower shores. Accept our friendship and offer yours in return. We can offer brave hearts in war, noble spirits, and men who have proved themselves in action.'

Aeneas ended. The other ere now scanned in a long gaze the face and eyes and all the form of the speaker; then thus briefly returns:

Aeneas finished speaking. The other man had already studied his face, eyes, and whole figure for a long time. Then he answered briefly:

'How gladly, bravest of the Teucrians, do I hail and own thee! how I recall thy father's words and the very tone and glance of great Anchises! For I remember how Priam son of Laomedon, when he sought Salamis on his way to the realm of his sister Hesione, went on to visit the cold borders of Arcadia. Then early youth clad my cheeks with bloom. I admired the Teucrian captains, admired their lord, the son of Laomedon; but Anchises moved high above them all. My heart burned with youthful passion to accost him and clasp hand in hand; I made my way to him, and led him eagerly to Pheneus' high town. Departing he gave me an adorned quiver and Lycian arrows, a scarf inwoven with gold, and a pair of golden bits that now my Pallas possesses. Therefore my hand is already joined in the alliance you seek, and soon as to-morrow's dawn rises again over earth, I will send you away rejoicing in mine aid, and supply you from my store. Meanwhile, since you are come hither in friendship, solemnise with us these yearly rites which we may not defer, and even now learn to be familiar at your comrades' board.'

'How gladly I welcome and recognize you, bravest of the Teucrians! I remember your father's words, and even the voice and gaze of the great Anchises. I remember when Priam, son of Laomedon, was on his way to his sister Hesione's kingdom. He went to Salamis, then visited the cold borders of Arcadia. I was young then, with the bloom of youth on my cheeks. I admired the Teucrian captains and their lord, the son of Laomedon. But Anchises stood far above them all. My young heart burned with eagerness to speak to him and clasp his hand. I made my way to him and eagerly led him to the high town of Pheneus. When he left, he gave me a decorated quiver and Lycian arrows, a scarf woven with gold, and two golden bits. My Pallas has the bits now. So I am already pledged to the alliance you seek. As soon as dawn rises over the earth tomorrow, I will send you on your way, rejoicing in my aid. I will also supply you from my stores. Meanwhile, since you have come as friends, join us in these yearly rites, which we cannot postpone. And even now, make yourselves at home at your comrades' table.'

This said, he commands the feast and the wine-cups to be replaced whence they were taken, and with his own hand ranges them on the grassy seat, and welcomes Aeneas to the place of honour, with a lion's shaggy fell for cushion and a hospitable chair of maple. Then chosen men with the priest of the altar in emulous haste bring roasted flesh of bulls, and pile baskets with the gift of ground corn, and serve the wine. Aeneas and the men of Troy with him feed on the long chines of oxen and the entrails of the sacrifice.

After saying this, he orders the food and wine cups returned to where they had been. He arranges them himself on the grassy seat. He welcomes Aeneas to the place of honor, offering him a maple chair with a shaggy lion's skin as a cushion. Then chosen men and the priest of the altar hurry to outdo one another as they bring roasted bull meat. They fill baskets with bread and serve the wine. Aeneas and the men of Troy with him feast on long cuts of ox meat and the entrails of the sacrificed animals.

After hunger is driven away and the desire of food stayed, King Evander speaks: 'No idle superstition that knows not the gods of old hath ordered these our solemn rites, this customary feast, this altar of august sanctity; saved from bitter perils, O Trojan guest, do we worship, and most due are the rites we inaugurate. Look now first on this overhanging cliff of stone, where shattered masses lie strewn, and the mountain dwelling stands desolate, and rocks are rent away in vast ruin. Here was a cavern, awful and deep-withdrawn, impenetrable to the sunbeams, where the monstrous half-human shape of Cacus had his hold: the ground was ever wet with fresh slaughter, and pallid faces of men, ghastly with gore, hung nailed on the haughty doors. This monster was the son of Vulcan, and spouted his black fires from his mouth as he moved in giant bulk. To us also in our desire time bore a god's aid and arrival. For princely Alcides the avenger came glorious in the spoils of triple Geryon slain; this way the Conqueror drove the huge bulls, and his oxen filled the river valley. But savage Cacus, infatuate to leave nothing undared or unhandled in craft or crime, drives four bulls of choice shape away from their pasturage, and as many heifers of excellent beauty. And these, that there should be no straightforward footprints, he dragged by the tail into his cavern, the track of their compelled path reversed, and hid them behind the screen of rock. No marks were there to lead a seeker to the cavern. Meanwhile the son of Amphitryon, his herds filled with food, was now breaking up his pasturage and making ready to go. The oxen low as they depart; all the woodland is filled with their complaint as they clamorously quit the hills. One heifer returned the cry, and, lowing from the depth of the dreary cave, baffled the hope of Cacus from her imprisonment. At this the grief and choler of Alcides blazed forth dark and infuriate. Seizing in his hand his club of heavy knotted oak, he seeks with swift pace the aery mountain steep. Then, as never before, did we see Cacus afraid and his countenance troubled; he goes flying swifter than the wind and seeks his cavern; fear wings his feet. As he shut himself in, and, bursting the chains, dropped the vast rock slung in iron by his father's craft, and blocked the doorway with its pressure, lo! the Tirynthian came in furious wrath, and, scanning all the entry, turned his face this way and that and ground his teeth. Thrice, hot with rage, he circles all Mount Aventine; thrice he assails the rocky portals in vain; thrice he sinks down outwearied in the valley. There stood a sharp rock of flint with sides cut sheer away, rising over the cavern's ridge a vast height to see, fit haunt for foul birds to build on. This—for, sloping from the ridge, it leaned on the left towards the river—he loosened, urging it from the right till he tore it loose from its deep foundations; then suddenly shook it free; with the shock the vast sky thunders, the banks leap apart, and the amazed river recoils. But the den, Cacus' huge palace, lay open and revealed, and the depths of gloomy cavern were made manifest; even as though some force tearing earth apart should unlock the infernal house, and disclose the pallid realms abhorred of heaven, and deep down the monstrous gulf be descried where the ghosts flutter in the streaming daylight. On him then, surprised in unexpected light, shut in the rock's recesses and howling in strange fashion, Alcides from above hurls missiles and calls all his arms to aid, and presses hard on him with boughs and enormous millstones. And he, for none other escape from peril is left, vomits from his throat vast jets of smoke, wonderful to tell, and enwreathes his dwelling in blind gloom, blotting view from the eyes, while in the cave's depth night thickens with smoke-bursts in a darkness shot with fire. Alcides broke forth in anger, and with a bound hurled himself sheer amid the flames, where the smoke rolls billowing and voluminous, and the cloud surges black through the enormous den. Here, as Cacus in the darkness spouts forth his idle fires, he grasps and twines tight round him, till his eyes start out and his throat is drained of blood under the strangling pressure. Straightway the doors are torn open and the dark house laid plain; the stolen oxen and forsworn plunder are shewn forth to heaven, and the misshapen carcase dragged forward by the feet. Men cannot satisfy their soul with gazing on the terrible eyes, the monstrous face and shaggy bristling chest, and the throat with its quenched fires. Thenceforth this sacrifice is solemnised, and a younger race have gladly kept the day; Potitius the inaugurator, and the Pinarian family, guardians of the rites of Hercules, have set in the grove this altar, which shall ever be called of us Most Mighty, and shall be our mightiest evermore. Wherefore arise, O men, and enwreathe your hair with leafy sprays, and stretch forth the cups in your hands; call on our common god and pour the glad wine.' He ended; when the twy-coloured poplar of Hercules hid his shaded hair with pendulous plaited leaf, and the sacred goblet filled his hand. Speedily all pour glad libation on the board, and supplicate the gods.

After everyone had eaten and satisfied their hunger, King Evander spoke: 'Trojan guest, these solemn rites, this customary feast, and this deeply sacred altar were not established by empty superstition ignorant of the gods of old. We worship because we were saved from bitter dangers, and the rites we have begun are richly deserved. 'First, look at that overhanging cliff. Broken masses of stone lie scattered beneath it, and the mountain dwelling stands deserted, with great rocks torn away. Here was a deep, terrifying cave, hidden from the sun. It was the lair of Cacus, a monster half human in shape. The ground was always wet with the blood of his latest victims. The pale, bloody faces of men hung nailed to his towering doors. This monster was the son of Vulcan. As he moved in his giant bulk, he breathed black fire from his mouth. 'In time, our prayers were answered, and a god came to our aid. The noble Alcides came to avenge us, glorious in the spoils of three-bodied Geryon, whom he had killed. The Conqueror drove his great bulls this way, and his cattle filled the river valley. But savage Cacus was determined to shrink from no trick or crime. He stole four fine bulls from their pasture, along with four beautiful heifers. To leave no clear trail, he dragged them backward by their tails into his cave. He hid them behind the rock, and their reversed tracks could not lead anyone searching for them to the cave. 'Meanwhile, the son of Amphitryon had let his herds feed their fill. He was leaving the pasture and preparing to move on. The cattle lowed as they departed, and their cries filled the woods as they left the hills. One heifer answered from deep inside the dreary cave. Her lowing betrayed Cacus and ruined his plan. 'Alcides was consumed with grief and fury. He seized his heavy club of knotted oak and hurried toward the steep mountain heights. Then we saw Cacus afraid and troubled, as never before. He fled faster than the wind toward his cave, with fear lending speed to his feet. He shut himself inside, broke the chains holding a huge rock, and let it drop across the entrance. His father had used his skill to hang the rock in iron. Just then, the Tirynthian arrived in a rage. He searched the whole entrance, looking this way and that and grinding his teeth. Three times, burning with anger, he circled all Mount Aventine. Three times he attacked the rocky entrance in vain. Three times he sank down exhausted in the valley. 'A sharp flint rock rose to a great height above the cave. Its sides were sheer, and it was a fitting place for foul birds to nest. The rock sloped down from the ridge, leaning to the left toward the river. Alcides pushed it from the right until he tore it from its deep foundations. Then he suddenly shook it free. The vast sky thundered at the crash, the riverbanks sprang apart, and the astonished river recoiled. 'Cacus' den, his huge palace, now lay open, and the depths of the gloomy cave were exposed. It was as if some force had torn the earth apart, opening the house of the dead and revealing the pale realms hated by heaven. Deep below, the monstrous gulf could be seen, where ghosts fluttered in the streaming daylight. 'Caught in the unexpected light, Cacus howled strangely from his rocky retreat. Alcides hurled missiles at him from above, using every weapon he could find. He pressed the attack with branches and enormous millstones. With no other way to escape the danger, Cacus spewed huge jets of smoke from his throat, astonishing to tell. He wrapped his dwelling in blinding gloom, blocking all sight. Deep in the cave, smoke thickened the night, and fire flashed through the darkness. 'Alcides burst out in anger and leaped straight into the flames. Smoke rolled in great billows there, and a black cloud surged through the enormous den. In the darkness, Cacus breathed fire to no avail. Alcides seized him and wrapped himself tightly around him. Under that crushing grip, Cacus' eyes bulged and the blood was squeezed from his throat. 'At once, the doors were torn open, and the dark house lay exposed. The stolen cattle and the plunder Cacus had denied taking were brought out into the daylight. His misshapen corpse was dragged out by the feet. The men could not look long enough at his terrible eyes, monstrous face, shaggy, bristling chest, and throat with its fires now extinguished. 'Ever since, this sacrifice has been offered, and a younger generation has gladly observed the day. Potitius, who began the rites, and the Pinarian family, guardians of the rites of Hercules, placed this altar in the grove. We shall always call it Most Mighty, and it shall forever be our mightiest altar. So rise, men, and crown your hair with leafy branches. Raise the cups in your hands, call on the god we all share, and pour the joyful wine.' When he had finished, he crowned his shaded hair with a hanging wreath of the two-colored poplar sacred to Hercules. He held the sacred cup in his hand. At once, everyone poured joyful offerings on the table and prayed to the gods.

Meanwhile the evening star draws nigher down the slope of heaven, and now the priests went forth, Potitius at their head, girt with skins after their fashion, and bore torches aflame. They renew the banquet, and bring the grateful gift of a second repast, and heap the altars with loaded platters. Then the Salii stand round the lit altar-fires to sing, their brows bound with poplar boughs, one chorus of young men, one of elders, and extol in song the praises and deeds of Hercules; how first he strangled in his gripe the twin terrors, the snakes of his stepmother; how he likewise shattered in war famous cities, Troy and Oechalia; how under Eurystheus the King he bore the toil of a thousand labours by Juno's malign decrees. Thine hand, unconquered, slays the cloud-born double-bodied race, Hylaeus and Pholus, the Cretan monster, and the huge lion in the hollow Nemean rock. Before thee the Stygian pools shook for fear, before thee the warder of hell, couched on half-gnawn bones in his blood-stained cavern; to thee not any form was terrible, not Typhoeus' self towering in arms; thou wast not bereft of counsel when the snake of Lerna encompassed thee with thronging heads. Hail, true seed of Jove, deified glory! graciously visit us and these thy rites with favourable feet. Such are their songs of praise; they crown all with the cavern of Cacus and its fire-breathing lord. All the woodland echoes with their clamour, and the hills resound.

Meanwhile, the evening star sinks lower in the sky. The priests come forward, led by Potitius. As was their custom, they wear animal skins and carry burning torches. They resume the feast, gratefully offering a second meal, and pile the altars high with platters of food. Then the Salii gather around the burning altars to sing, with poplar branches around their brows. One chorus is made up of young men, the other of elders. They sing the praises of Hercules and his deeds. First, he strangled the two terrifying snakes sent by his stepmother. He also destroyed the famous cities of Troy and Oechalia in war. Under King Eurystheus, he endured a thousand labors, imposed on him by Juno's cruel commands. Your unconquered hand kills the cloud-born, double-bodied race, Hylaeus and Pholus, the Cretan monster, and the huge lion in the hollow Nemean rock. The Stygian pools trembled before you. So did the guardian of hell, lying on half-gnawed bones in his bloodstained cave. No creature could frighten you, not even Typhoeus himself, towering in arms. You did not lose your wits when the snake of Lerna surrounded you with its many heads. Hail, true son of Jove, a glory raised to godhood! Come graciously to us and look with favor on these rites in your honor. These are their songs of praise. They end with the story of Cacus's cave and its fire-breathing lord. All the woodland echoes with their cries, and the hills ring with sound.

Thence all at once, the sacred rites accomplished, retrace their way to the city. The age-worn King walked holding Aeneas and his son by his side for companions on his way, and lightened the road with changing talk. Aeneas admires and turns his eyes lightly round about, pleased with the country; and gladly on spot after spot inquires and hears of the memorials of earlier men. Then King Evander, founder of the fortress of Rome:

Once the sacred rites were complete, they all returned to the city. The aged king walked with Aeneas and his son beside him, passing the time with conversation on many subjects. Aeneas looked around with admiration, delighted by the countryside. At each place, he eagerly asked about the monuments of earlier generations and listened to their stories. Then King Evander, founder of the fortress of Rome, spoke:

'In these woodlands dwelt Fauns and Nymphs sprung of the soil, and a tribe of men born of stocks and hard oak; who had neither law nor grace of life, nor did they know to yoke bulls or lay up stores or save their gains, but were nurtured by the forest boughs and the hard living of the huntsman. Long ago Saturn came from heaven on high in flight before Jove's arms, an exile from his lost realm. He gathered together the unruly race scattered on the mountain heights, and gave them statutes, and chose Latium to be their name, since in these borders he had found a safe hiding-place. Beneath his reign were the ages named of gold; thus, in peace and quietness, did he rule the nations; till gradually there crept in a sunken and stained time, the rage of war, and the lust of possession. Then came the Ausonian clan and the tribes of Sicania, and many a time the land of Saturn put away her name. Then were kings, and fierce Thybris with his giant bulk, from whose name we of Italy afterwards called the Tiber river, when it lost the true name of old, Albula. Me, cast out from my country and following the utmost limits of the sea, Fortune the omnipotent and irreversible doom settled in this region; and my mother the Nymph Carmentis' awful warnings and Apollo's divine counsel drove me hither.'

'In these woodlands lived Fauns and Nymphs born from the soil. A tribe of men born from tree trunks and hard oak lived there too. They had no laws or civilized way of life. They did not know how to yoke bulls, put food in storage, or save what they gained. Instead, they lived on what the forest branches provided and the hard fare of hunters. Long ago, Saturn fled from heaven before Jove's armies, exiled from his lost kingdom. He gathered the unruly race scattered across the mountain heights and gave them laws. He named the land Latium because he had found a safe hiding place within its borders. The years of his reign were called the golden ages. He ruled the nations in peace and quiet until a worse, corrupt age gradually crept in. With it came the fury of war and the desire for possessions. Then came the Ausonian clan and the tribes of Sicania. The land of Saturn changed its name many times. Kings followed, including the fierce, giant Thybris. We in Italy later named the Tiber river after him. Before that, it had lost its true ancient name, Albula. I was driven from my country and followed the sea to its farthest shores. All-powerful Fortune and unchangeable fate settled me in this region. The solemn warnings of my mother, the Nymph Carmentis, and Apollo's divine counsel drove me here.'

Scarce was this said; next advancing he points out the altar and the Carmental Gate, which the Romans call anciently by that name in honour of the Nymph Carmentis, seer and soothsayer, who sang of old the coming greatness of the Aeneadae and the glory of Pallanteum. Next he points out the wide grove where valiant Romulus set his sanctuary, and the Lupercal in the cool hollow of the rock, dedicate to Lycean Pan after the manner of Parrhasia. Therewithal he shows the holy wood of Argiletum, and calls the spot to witness as he tells the slaying of his guest Argus. Hence he leads him to the Tarpeian house, and the Capitol golden now, of old rough with forest thickets. Even then men trembled before the wood and rock. 'This grove,' he cries, 'this hill with its leafy crown, is a god's dwelling, though whose we know not; the Arcadians believe Jove himself hath been visible, when often he shook the darkening aegis in his hand and gathered the storm-clouds. Thou seest these two towns likewise with walls overthrown, relics and memorials of men of old. This fortress lord Janus built, this Saturn; the name of this was once Janiculum, of that Saturnia.'

He had hardly finished speaking when he moved on and pointed out the altar and the Carmental Gate. The Romans gave the gate its ancient name in honor of the Nymph Carmentis, a seer and prophet. Long ago, she foretold the greatness of the Aeneadae and the glory of Pallanteum. Next he pointed out the wide grove where brave Romulus established his sanctuary. He also showed him the Lupercal, in a cool hollow in the rock. It was dedicated to Lycean Pan in the manner of Parrhasia. Then he showed him the sacred wood of Argiletum. He called the place itself to witness as he told of the killing of his guest Argus. From there he led him to the Tarpeian house and the Capitol. The Capitol is golden now, but long ago it was covered in rough forest thickets. Even then, men trembled before the wood and rock. 'This grove, this hill with its crown of leaves, is a god's home,' he cried. 'But we do not know which god. The Arcadians believe Jove himself has appeared here. They believe he has often shaken the darkening aegis in his hand and gathered the storm clouds. You can also see these two towns with their ruined walls. They are remains and reminders of people who lived long ago. Lord Janus built this fortress, and Saturn built that one. This one was once called Janiculum, and that one Saturnia.'

With such mutual words they drew nigh the house of poor Evander, and saw scattered herds lowing on the Roman Forum and down the gay Carinae. When they reached his dwelling, 'This threshold,' he cries, 'Alcides the Conqueror stooped to cross; in this palace he rested. Dare thou, my guest, to despise riches; mould thyself to like dignity of godhead, and come not exacting to our poverty.' He spoke, and led tall Aeneas under the low roof of his narrow dwelling, and laid him on a couch of stuffed leaves and the skin of a Libyan she-bear. Night falls and clasps the earth in her dusky wings.

Talking together, they approached poor Evander's house. They saw scattered herds lowing in the Roman Forum and along the lively Carinae. When they reached his home, Evander cried, 'Alcides the Conqueror stooped to cross this threshold. He rested in this palace. Dare to scorn riches, my guest, and make yourself worthy of the gods as he did. Do not expect too much from our poor home.' He led tall Aeneas under the low roof of his small dwelling. There he settled him on a couch of stuffed leaves covered with the skin of a Libyan she-bear. Night falls and folds the earth in her dark wings.

But Venus, stirred in spirit by no vain mother's alarms, and moved by the threats and stern uprisal of the Laurentines, addresses herself to Vulcan, and in her golden bridal chamber begins thus, breathing divine passion in her speech:

But Venus was troubled by a mother’s justified fears and moved by the threats and fierce uprising of the Laurentines. In her golden bridal chamber, she turned to Vulcan and began to speak with divine passion:

'While Argolic kings wasted in war the doomed towers of Troy, the fortress fated to fall in hostile fires, no succour did I require for her wretched people, no weapons of thine art and aid: nor would I task, dear my lord, thee or thy toils for naught, though I owed many and many a debt to the children of Priam, and had often wept the sore labour of Aeneas. Now by Jove's commands he hath set foot in the Rutulian borders; I now therefore come with entreaty, and ask armour of the god I worship. For the son she bore, the tears of Nereus' daughter, of Tithonus' consort, could melt thine heart. Look what nations are gathering, what cities bar their gates and sharpen the sword against me for the desolation of my children.'

'While the Argolic kings ravaged the doomed towers of Troy in war, I asked for no help for her wretched people. The fortress was fated to fall in enemy fires. I asked for no weapons made by your skill and with your help. Nor would I burden you or waste your labor, my dear lord. Yet I owed a great debt to the children of Priam, and I often wept over Aeneas's bitter struggles. Now, by Jove's command, he has entered the Rutulian borders. So I come to plead with you, the god I worship, and ask for armor. The tears of Nereus' daughter and Tithonus' consort moved your heart when each pleaded for her son. Look at the nations gathering against me. Look at the cities barring their gates and sharpening their swords to destroy my children.'

The goddess ended, and, as he hesitates, clasps him round in the soft embrace of her snowy arms. He suddenly caught the wonted flame, and the heat known of old pierced him to the heart and overran his melting frame: even as when, bursting from the thunder peal, a sparkling cleft of fire shoots through the storm-clouds with dazzling light. His consort knew, rejoiced in her wiles, and felt her beauty. Then her lord speaks, enchained by Love the immortal:

The goddess finished speaking and, as he hesitated, wrapped her soft, snowy arms around him. Suddenly, he felt the familiar flame of desire. The old heat pierced his heart and spread through his yielding body. It was like a flash of fire bursting from a thunderclap and shooting through storm clouds with dazzling light. His wife knew what had happened. She delighted in her cleverness and felt the power of her beauty. Then her husband spoke, held captive by immortal Love:

'Why these far-fetched pleas? Whither, O goddess, is thy trust in me gone? Had like distress been thine, even then we might unblamed have armed thy Trojans, nor did doom nor the Lord omnipotent forbid Troy to stand, and Priam to survive yet ten other years. And now, if thou purposest war, and this is thy counsel, whatever charge I can undertake in my craft, in aught that may be made of iron or molten electrum, whatever fire and air can do, cease thou to entreat as doubtful of thy strength.' These words spoken, he clasped his wife in the desired embrace, and, sinking in her lap, wooed quiet slumber to overspread his limbs.

'Why make such elaborate pleas? Goddess, where has your trust in me gone? If you had been in such distress before, we could have armed your Trojans without blame. Neither fate nor the Lord omnipotent forbade Troy to stand or Priam to live another ten years. And now, if you intend to wage war and this is your plan, stop pleading as if you doubted your power. I can undertake any task my craft allows, making anything from iron or molten electrum that fire and air can make.' After saying this, he held his wife in the embrace he desired. Then he sank into her lap and welcomed peaceful sleep over his limbs.

Thereon, so soon as sleep, now in mid-career of waning night, had given rest and gone; soon as a woman, whose task is to sustain life with her distaff and the slender labours of the loom, kindles the ashes of her slumbering fire, her toil encroaching on the night, and sets a long task of fire-lit spinning to her maidens, that so she may keep her husband's bed unsullied and nourish her little children,—even so the Lord of Fire, nor slacker in his hours than she, rises from his soft couch to the work of his smithy. An island rises by the side of Sicily and Aeolian Lipare, steep with smoking cliffs, whereunder the vaulted and thunderous Aetnean caverns are hollowed out for Cyclopean forges, the strong strokes on the anvils echo in groans, ore of steel hisses in the vaults, and the fire pants in the furnaces: the house of Vulcan, and Vulcania the land's name. Hither now the Lord of Fire descends from heaven's height. In the vast cavern the Cyclopes were forging iron, Brontes and Steropes and Pyracmon with bared limbs. Shaped in their hands was a thunderbolt, in part already polished, such as the Father of Heaven hurls down on earth in multitudes, part yet unfinished. Three coils of frozen rain, three of watery mist they had enwrought in it, three of ruddy fire and winged south wind; now they were mingling in their work the awful splendours, the sound and terror, and the angry pursuing flames. Elsewhere they hurried on a chariot for Mars with flying wheels, wherewith he stirs up men and cities; and burnished the golden serpent-scales of the awful aegis, the armour of wrathful Pallas, and the entwined snakes on the breast of the goddess, the Gorgon head with severed neck and rolling eyes. 'Away with all!' he cries: 'stop your tasks unfinished, Cyclopes of Aetna, and attend to this; a warrior's armour must be made. Now must strength, now quickness of hand be tried, now all our art lend her guidance. Fling off delay.' He spoke no more; but they all bent rapidly to the work, allotting their labours equally. Brass and ore of gold flow in streams, and wounding steel is molten in the vast furnace. They shape a mighty shield, to receive singly all the weapons of the Latins, and weld it sevenfold, circle on circle. Some fill and empty the windy bellows of their blast, some dip the hissing brass in the trough. They raise their arms mightily in responsive time, and turn the mass of metal about in the grasp of their tongs.

Then, halfway through the waning night, sleep had given rest and passed. At such an hour, a woman who earns her living with her distaff and delicate weaving stirs the ashes of her sleeping fire. Though it is still night, she sets her maids to a long spell of spinning by firelight. She works so that she may keep her husband's bed pure and feed her little children. Just as promptly, the Lord of Fire rises from his soft bed to work at his forge. An island rises beside Sicily and Aeolian Lipare, with steep, smoking cliffs. Beneath it lie the vaulted, thundering caverns of Aetna, hollowed out for the Cyclopes' forges. Powerful blows on the anvils echo like groans, steel ore hisses in the vaults, and the fires roar in the furnaces. This is Vulcan's home, and the land is called Vulcania. Now the Lord of Fire descends there from the heights of heaven. In the vast cavern, the Cyclopes Brontes, Steropes, and Pyracmon were forging iron, their limbs bare. They were shaping a thunderbolt of the kind the Father of Heaven hurls down on earth in great numbers. Part of it was already polished, and part remained unfinished. They had woven into it three coils of frozen rain, three of watery mist, three of red fire, and three of the swift south wind. Now they were mixing into their work terrible brightness, noise and terror, and angry, pursuing flames. Elsewhere, they were hurrying to finish a chariot for Mars, with swift wheels. In it, he stirs up men and cities. They were also polishing the golden serpent scales of the terrible aegis, the armor of wrathful Pallas. On the goddess's breast were entwined snakes and the severed head of the Gorgon, its eyes rolling. 'Put it all aside!' he cries. 'Stop your unfinished work, Cyclopes of Aetna, and attend to this. A warrior needs armor. Now we must test our strength and the speed of our hands. Now we must call on all our skill. Waste no time.' He said no more. They all quickly set to work, sharing the labor equally. Bronze and gold ore flow in streams, and deadly steel melts in the vast furnace. They shape a mighty shield to withstand all the weapons of the Latins by itself. They weld it seven layers thick, circle upon circle. Some pump the bellows, filling and emptying them. Others dip the hissing bronze in the trough. They raise their arms in powerful, alternating strokes and turn the mass of metal with their tongs.

While the lord of Lemnos is busied thus in the borders of Aeolia, Evander is roused from his low dwelling by the gracious daylight and the matin songs of birds from the eaves. The old man arises, and draws on his body raiment, and ties the Tyrrhene shoe latchets about his feet; then buckles to his side and shoulder his Tegeaean sword, and swathes himself in a panther skin that droops upon his left. Therewithal two watch-dogs go before him from the high threshold, and accompany their master's steps. The hero sought his guest Aeneas in the privacy of his dwelling, mindful of their talk and his promised bounty. Nor did Aeneas fail to be astir with the dawn. With the one went his son Pallas, with the other Achates. They meet and clasp hands, and, sitting down within the house, at length enjoy unchecked converse. The King begins thus: . . .

While the lord of Lemnos is busy in the lands of Aeolia, Evander wakes in his humble home. Gentle daylight and the morning songs of birds on the eaves rouse him. The old man gets up, dresses, and fastens his Tyrrhene shoes. Then he straps his Tegeaean sword to his side and shoulder. He wraps himself in a panther skin that hangs down on his left. Two watchdogs go ahead of him from the high doorway and follow their master as he walks. Remembering their conversation and the gift he had promised, the hero goes to visit his guest Aeneas in his quarters. Aeneas, too, is already up at dawn. Evander is accompanied by his son Pallas, and Aeneas by Achates. They meet and clasp hands. Then they sit down inside the house and at last talk freely. The King begins: . . .

'Princely chief of the Teucrians, in whose lifetime I will never allow the state or realm of Troy vanquished, our strength is scant to succour in war for so great a name. On this side the Tuscan river shuts us in; on that the Rutulian drives us hard, and thunders in arms about our walls. But I purpose to unite to thee mighty peoples and the camp of a wealthy realm; an unforeseen chance offers this for thy salvation. Fate summons thy approach. Not far from here stands fast Agylla city, an ancient pile of stone, where of old the Lydian race, eminent in war, settled on the Etruscan ridges. For many years it flourished, till King Mezentius ruled it with insolent sway and armed terror. Why should I relate the horrible murders, the savage deeds of the monarch? May the gods keep them in store for himself and his line! Nay, he would even link dead bodies to living, fitting hand to hand and face to face (the torture!), and in the oozy foulness and corruption of the dreadful embrace so slay them by a lingering death. But at last his citizens, outwearied by his mad excesses, surround him and his house in arms, cut down his comrades, and hurl fire on his roof. Amid the massacre he escaped to the refuge of Rutulian land and the armed defence of Turnus' friendship. So all Etruria hath risen in righteous fury, and in immediate battle claim their king for punishment. Over these thousands will I make thee chief, O Aeneas; for their noisy ships crowd all the shore, and they bid the standards advance, while the aged diviner stays them with prophecies: "O chosen men of Maeonia, flower and strength of them, of old time, whom righteous anger urges on the enemy, and Mezentius inflames with deserved wrath, to no Italian is it permitted to hold this great nation in control: choose foreigners to lead you." At that, terrified by the divine warning, the Etruscan lines have encamped on the plain; Tarchon himself hath sent ambassadors to me with the crown and sceptre of the kingdom, and offers the royal attire will I but enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene realm. But old age, frozen to dulness, and exhausted with length of life, denies me the load of empire, and my prowess is past its day. I would urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother make this half his native land. Thou, to whose years and race alike the fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a leader supreme in bravery over Teucrians and Italians. Mine own Pallas likewise, our hope and comfort, I will send with thee; let him grow used to endure warfare and the stern work of battle under thy teaching, to regard thine actions, and from his earliest years look up to thee. To him will I give two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the choice of our warlike strength, and Pallas as many more to thee in his own name.'

‘Noble leader of the Teucrians, as long as you live, I will never allow the state or kingdom of Troy to be defeated. Yet our forces are too few to give a name as great as yours the help it needs in war. On one side, the Tuscan river hems us in. On the other, the Rutulian presses us hard, his armed troops thundering around our walls. But I intend to join you with mighty peoples and the army of a wealthy kingdom. An unexpected opportunity offers you this salvation. Fate calls you to come. Not far from here stands the city of Agylla, an ancient stronghold of stone. Long ago, the Lydian race, famous in war, settled there on the Etruscan ridges. The city flourished for many years, until King Mezentius ruled it with arrogance and armed terror. Why should I recount the king’s horrible murders and savage deeds? May the gods reserve such things for him and his descendants! He even tied dead bodies to living people, hand to hand and face to face. What torture! In the wet filth and decay of that dreadful embrace, he left them to die a lingering death. At last, worn out by his mad excesses, the citizens took up arms and surrounded him and his house. They cut down his companions and threw fire onto his roof. Amid the slaughter, he escaped to the safety of Rutulian land and the armed protection of his friend Turnus. Now all Etruria has risen in righteous fury. They demand immediate battle and their king’s punishment. I will make you the leader of these thousands, Aeneas. Their noisy ships crowd the whole shore, and they call for the standards to advance. But an aged diviner holds them back with this prophecy: “Chosen men of Maeonia, its finest and strongest men from ancient times, righteous anger drives you against the enemy. Mezentius has stirred your well-deserved wrath. But no Italian is permitted to rule this great nation. Choose foreigners to lead you.” Terrified by this divine warning, the Etruscan forces have camped on the plain. Tarchon himself has sent ambassadors to me with the crown and sceptre of the kingdom. He offers me the royal robes if only I will enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene kingdom. But old age has numbed me, and my long life has exhausted me. I cannot bear the burden of rule, and my strength is past its prime. I would urge my son to take it, but his Sabellian mother’s blood makes this land half his homeland. Fate favors you because of both your age and your race, and fortune calls you. Go, then, and become a leader of unmatched bravery over Teucrians and Italians. I will also send my own Pallas with you, our hope and comfort. Under your guidance, let him learn to endure war and the harsh work of battle. Let him watch what you do and look up to you from his earliest years. I will give him two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the finest of our fighting men. Pallas will give you as many more in his own name.’

Scarce had he ended; Aeneas, son of Anchises, and trusty Achates gazed with steadfast face, and, sad at heart, were revolving inly many a labour, had not the Cytherean sent a sign from the clear sky. For suddenly a flash and peal comes quivering from heaven, and all seemed in a moment to totter, and the Tyrrhene trumpet-blast to roar along the sky. They look up; again and yet again the heavy crash re-echoes. They see in the serene space of sky armour gleam red through a cloud in the clear air, and ring clashing out. The others stood in amaze; but the Trojan hero knew the sound for the promise of his goddess mother; then he speaks: 'Ask not, O friend, ask not in any wise what fortune this presage announces; it is I who am summoned of heaven. This sign the goddess who bore me foretold she would send if war assailed, and would bring through the air to my succour armour from Vulcan's hands. . . . Ah, what slaughter awaits the wretched Laurentines! what a price, O Turnus, wilt thou pay me! how many shields and helmets and brave bodies of men shalt thou, Lord Tiber, roll under thy waves! Let them call for armed array and break the league!'

He had hardly finished speaking when Aeneas, son of Anchises, and faithful Achates stood gazing steadily ahead. They were sad at heart and would have gone on thinking about their many hardships, but the Cytherean sent a sign from the clear sky. Suddenly lightning flashed and thunder shook the heavens. Everything seemed to totter at once, and a Tyrrhene trumpet blast seemed to roar across the sky. They looked up as the heavy crash echoed again and again. High in the clear sky, they saw armor glowing red through a cloud, ringing and clashing. The others stood amazed, but the Trojan hero recognized the sound as the sign his goddess mother had promised. Then he said: 'Do not ask, my friend, what fate this sign announces. Heaven is calling me. My mother, the goddess, said she would send this sign if war came. She also promised to bring me armor made by Vulcan, carrying it through the air to help me. . . . Ah, what slaughter awaits the wretched Laurentines! What a price you will pay me, Turnus! How many shields, helmets, and brave bodies of men you will roll beneath your waves, Lord Tiber! Let them call their armies to battle and break the treaty!'

These words uttered, he rises from the high seat, and first wakes with fresh fire the slumbering altars of Hercules, and gladly draws nigh his tutelar god of yesternight and the small deities of the household. Alike Evander, and alike the men of Troy, offer up, as is right, choice sheep of two years old. Thereafter he goes to the ships and revisits his crew, of whose company he chooses the foremost in valour to attend him to war; the rest glide down the water and float idly with the descending stream, to come with news to Ascanius of his father's state. They give horses to the Teucrians who seek the fields of Tyrrhenia; a chosen one is brought for Aeneas, housed in a tawny lion skin that glitters with claws of gold. Rumour flies suddenly, spreading over the little town, that they ride in haste to the courts of the Tyrrhene king. Mothers redouble their prayers in terror, as fear treads closer on peril and the likeness of the War God looms larger in sight. Then Evander, clasping the hand of his departing son, clings to him weeping inconsolably, and speaks thus:

After speaking, he rises from his high seat and rekindles the sleeping altars of Hercules. He gladly approaches the god who protected him the night before and the small household gods. Evander and the men of Troy each offer choice two-year-old sheep, as custom requires. Then he goes to the ships and visits his crew again. He chooses the bravest among them to accompany him to war. The rest drift down with the current to bring Ascanius news of his father. Horses are given to the Teucrians who are heading for the fields of Tyrrhenia. A specially chosen horse is brought for Aeneas, covered with a tawny lion skin glittering with golden claws. Rumor suddenly spreads through the little town that they are riding in haste to the court of the Tyrrhene king. Mothers pray all the harder in terror, as danger draws nearer and the War God looms larger before them. Then Evander clasps his departing son's hand and clings to him, weeping inconsolably. He speaks:

'Oh, if Jupiter would restore me the years that are past, as I was when, close under Praeneste, I cut down their foremost ranks and burned the piled shields of the conquered! Then this right hand sent King Erulus down to hell, though to him at his birth his mother Feronia (awful to tell) had given three lives and triple arms to wield; thrice must he be laid low in death; yet then this hand took all his lives and as often stripped him of his arms. Never should I now, O son, be severed from thy dear embrace; never had the insolent sword of Mezentius on my borders dealt so many cruel deaths, widowed the city of so many citizens. But you, O heavenly powers, and thou, Jupiter, Lord and Governor of Heaven, have compassion, I pray, on the Arcadian king, and hear a father's prayers. If your deity and decrees keep my Pallas safe for me, if I live that I may see him and meet him yet, I pray for life; any toil soever I have patience to endure. But if, O Fortune, thou threatenest some dread calamity, now, ah now, may I break off a cruel life, while anxiety still wavers and expectation is in doubt, while thou, dear boy, my one last delight, art yet clasped in my embrace; let no bitterer message wound mine ear.' These words the father poured forth at the final parting; his servants bore him swooning within.

'Oh, if only Jupiter would give me back my lost years! I wish I were as I was near Praeneste, when I cut down the enemy's front ranks. I burned the piled shields of those I had defeated. With this right hand, I sent King Erulus down to hell. At his birth, his mother Feronia had given him three lives and three sets of weapons. It is terrible to tell. He had to be killed three times. Yet this hand took all his lives and stripped him of his weapons each time. Then, my son, I would never have to part from your dear embrace. Nor would Mezentius have killed so many people with his insolent sword on my borders. He would not have robbed the city of so many citizens. But you, heavenly powers, and you, Jupiter, Lord and Governor of Heaven, have pity on the Arcadian king. Please hear a father's prayers. If your divine power and decrees keep my Pallas safe for me, I pray for life. If I am to live to see him and meet him again, I can patiently endure any hardship. But if you, Fortune, threaten some dreadful disaster, let me end this cruel life now, oh, now. Let me die while my fears are still uncertain and I still have some hope. Let me die while you, dear boy, my one last delight, are still in my embrace. Let no more bitter news reach my ears.' The father spoke these words as they parted for the last time. His servants carried him inside in a faint.

And now the cavalry had issued from the open gates, Aeneas and trusty Achates among the foremost, then other of the Trojan princes, Pallas conspicuous amid the column in scarf and inlaid armour; like the Morning Star, when, newly washed in the ocean wave, he shews his holy face in heaven, and melts the darkness away. Fearful mothers stand on the walls and follow with their eyes the cloud of dust and the squadrons gleaming in brass. They, where the goal of their way lies nearest, bear through the brushwood in armed array. Forming in column, they advance noisily, and the horse hoof shakes the crumbling plain with four-footed trampling. There is a high grove by the cold river of Caere, widely revered in ancestral awe; sheltering hills shut it in all about and girdle the woodland with their dark firs. Rumour is that the old Pelasgians, who once long ago held the Latin borders, consecrated the grove and its festal day to Silvanus, god of the tilth and flock. Not far from it Tarchon and his Tyrrhenians were encamped in a protected place; and now from the hill-top the tents of all their army might be seen outspread on the fields. Lord Aeneas and his chosen warriors draw hither and refresh their weary horses and limbs.

The cavalry now rode out through the open gates. Aeneas and faithful Achates were among the leaders, followed by other Trojan princes. Pallas stood out in the column, wearing a scarf and inlaid armor. He was like the Morning Star, newly washed in the ocean waves, showing his holy face in heaven and driving away the darkness. Fearful mothers stood on the walls, watching the cloud of dust and the squadrons gleaming in bronze. The riders made their way through the brushwood in armed ranks, taking the shortest route to their goal. They formed a column and advanced noisily. The horses’ fourfold hoofbeats shook the crumbling plain. A tall grove stood beside the cold river of Caere. For generations, people had revered it with awe. Sheltering hills enclosed the grove on every side, surrounding the woodland with dark firs. According to legend, the ancient Pelasgians had once held the Latin borders. Long ago, they had dedicated the grove and its festival day to Silvanus, god of fields and flocks. Not far from the grove, Tarchon and his Tyrrhenians were camped in a sheltered place. From the hilltop, the tents of their entire army could now be seen spread across the fields. Lord Aeneas and his chosen warriors came there to rest their weary bodies and horses.

But Venus the white goddess drew nigh, bearing her gifts through the clouds of heaven; and when she saw her son withdrawn far apart in the valley's recess by the cold river, cast herself in his way, and addressed him thus: 'Behold perfected the presents of my husband's promised craftsmanship: so shalt thou not shun, O my child, soon to challenge the haughty Laurentines or fiery Turnus to battle.' The Cytherean spoke, and sought her son's embrace, and laid the armour glittering under an oak over against him. He, rejoicing in the magnificence of the goddess' gift, cannot have his fill of turning his eyes over it piece by piece, and admires and handles between his arms the helmet, dread with plumes and spouting flame, as when a blue cloud takes fire in the sunbeams and gleams afar; then the smooth greaves of electrum and refined gold, the spear, and the shield's ineffable design. There the Lord of Fire had fashioned the story of Italy and the triumphs of the Romans, not witless of prophecy or ignorant of the age to be; there all the race of Ascanius' future seed, and their wars fought one by one. Likewise had he fashioned the she-wolf couched after the birth in the green cave of Mars; round her teats the twin boys hung playing, and fearlessly mouthed their foster-mother; she, with round neck bent back, stroked them by turns and shaped their bodies with her tongue. Thereto not far from this he had set Rome and the lawless rape of the Sabines in the concourse of the theatre when the great Circensian games were celebrated, and a fresh war suddenly arising between the people of Romulus and aged Tatius and austere Cures. Next these same kings laid down their mutual strife and stood armed before Jove's altar with cup in hand, and joined treaty over a slain sow. Not far from there four-horse chariots driven apart had torn Mettus asunder (but thou, O Alban, shouldst have kept by thy words!), and Tullus tore the flesh of the liar through the forest, his splashed blood dripping from the briars. Therewithal Porsena commanded to admit the exiled Tarquin, and held the city in the grasp of a strong blockade; the Aeneadae rushed on the sword for liberty. Him thou couldst espy like one who chafes and like one who threatens, because Cocles dared to tear down the bridge, and Cloelia broke her bonds and swam the river. Highest of all Manlius, warder of the Tarpeian fortress, stood with the temple behind him and held the high Capitoline; and the thatch of Romulus' palace stood rough and fresh. And here the silver goose, fluttering in the gilded colonnades, cried that the Gauls were there on the threshold. The Gauls were there among the brushwood, hard on the fortress, secure in the darkness and the dower of shadowy night. Their clustering locks are of gold, and of gold their attire; their striped cloaks glitter, and their milk-white necks are entwined with gold. Two Alpine pikes sparkle in the hand of each, and long shields guard their bodies. Here he had embossed the dancing Salii and the naked Luperci, the crests wreathed in wool, and the sacred shields that fell from heaven; in cushioned cars the virtuous matrons led on their rites through the city. Far hence he adds the habitations of hell also, the high gates of Dis and the dooms of guilt; and thee, O Catiline, clinging on the beetling rock, and shuddering at the faces of the Furies; and far apart the good, and Cato delivering them statutes. Amidst it all flows wide the likeness of the swelling sea, wrought in gold, though the foam surged gray upon blue water; and round about dolphins, in shining silver, swept the seas with their tails in circle as they cleft the tide. In the centre were visible the brazen war-fleets of Actium; thou mightest see all Leucate swarm in embattled array, and the waves gleam with gold. Here Caesar Augustus, leading Italy to battle with Fathers and People, with gods of household and of state, stands on the lofty stern; prosperous flames jet round his brow, and his ancestral star dawns overhead. Elsewhere Agrippa, with favouring winds and gods, proudly leads on his column; on his brows glitters the prow-girt naval crown, the haughty emblazonment of the war. Here Antonius with barbarian aid and motley arms, from the conquered nations of the Dawn and the shore of the southern sea, carries with him Egypt and the Eastern forces of utmost Bactra, and the shameful Egyptian woman goes as his consort. All at once rush on, and the whole ocean is torn into foam by straining oars and triple-pointed prows. They steer to sea; one might think that the Cyclades were uptorn and floated on the main, or that lofty mountains clashed with mountains, so mightily do their crews urge on the turreted ships. Flaming tow and the winged steel of darts shower thickly from their hands; the fields of ocean redden with fresh slaughter. Midmost the Queen calls on her squadron with the timbrel of her country, nor yet casts back a glance on the twin snakes behind her. Howling Anubis, and gods monstrous and multitudinous, level their arms against Neptune and Venus and against Minerva; Mars rages amid the havoc, graven in iron, and the Fatal Sisters hang aloft, and Discord strides rejoicing with garment rent, and Bellona attends her with blood-stained scourge. Looking thereon, Actian Apollo above drew his bow; with the terror of it all Egypt and India, every Arab and Sabaean, turned back in flight. The Queen herself seemed to call the winds and spread her sails, and even now let her sheets run slack. Her the Lord of Fire had fashioned amid the carnage, wan with the shadow of death, borne along by the waves and the north-west wind; and over against her the vast bulk of mourning Nile, opening out his folds and calling with all his raiment the conquered people into his blue lap and the coverture of his streams. But Caesar rode into the city of Rome in triple triumph, and dedicated his vowed offering to the gods to stand for ever, three hundred stately shrines all about the city. The streets were loud with gladness and games and shouting. In all the temples was a band of matrons, in all were altars, and before the altars slain steers strewed the ground. Himself he sits on the snowy threshold of Phoebus the bright, reviews the gifts of the nations and ranges them on the haughty doors. The conquered tribes move in long line, diverse as in tongue, so in fashion of dress and armour. Here Mulciber had designed the Nomad race and the ungirt Africans, here the Leleges and Carians and archer Gelonians. Euphrates went by now with smoother waves, and the Morini utmost of men, and the hornèd Rhine, the untamed Dahae, and Araxes chafing under his bridge.

But Venus, the white goddess, came near, carrying her gifts through the clouds of heaven. She saw her son alone in a remote valley by the cold river. She stepped into his path and said: 'Look, my husband's promised work is finished. With these gifts, my child, you need not hesitate to challenge the proud Laurentines or fiery Turnus to battle soon.' The Cytherean spoke, embraced her son, and laid the glittering armor beneath an oak before him. Delighted by the splendor of the goddess's gift, he could not stop looking over each piece. He admired the helmet and held it in his arms. Its plumes were fearsome, and it spouted flame, like a blue cloud catching fire in the sun and gleaming from afar. Then he examined the smooth greaves of electrum and refined gold, the spear, and the shield's indescribable design. On the shield, the Lord of Fire had fashioned the story of Italy and the triumphs of the Romans. He knew the prophecies and the age to come. He showed all the future descendants of Ascanius and their wars, one by one. He had also fashioned the she-wolf lying in the green cave of Mars after giving birth. The twin boys played at her teats and fearlessly suckled their foster mother. She bent her rounded neck back and licked them in turn, shaping their bodies with her tongue. Not far away he had set Rome and the lawless rape of the Sabines. It took place among the crowd at the theater during the great Circensian games. Then a new war suddenly broke out. It set the people of Romulus against aged Tatius and austere Cures. Next, these same kings ended their quarrel. Armed and holding cups, they stood before Jove's altar and made a treaty over a slain sow. Not far from there, four-horse chariots had been driven apart, tearing Mettus to pieces. But you, Alban, should have kept your word! Tullus dragged the liar's flesh through the forest, and his blood splashed and dripped from the briars. There too, Porsena demanded the return of the exiled Tarquin and held the city under a strong blockade. The Aeneadae rushed against the sword for liberty. You could see Porsena raging and threatening. For Cocles had dared to tear down the bridge, and Cloelia had broken her bonds and swum the river. Highest of all stood Manlius, guardian of the Tarpeian fortress. With the temple behind him, he held the heights of the Capitoline. The thatch of Romulus' palace stood rough and fresh. Here a silver goose fluttered in the gilded colonnades, crying out that the Gauls were at the threshold. The Gauls were there among the brushwood, close to the fortress. They were safe in the darkness and the shelter of shadowy night. Their clustered locks and their clothing were gold. Their striped cloaks glittered, and gold encircled their milk-white necks. Each held two gleaming Alpine pikes, and long shields guarded their bodies. Here he had embossed the dancing Salii, the naked Luperci, the caps wreathed in wool, and the sacred shields that fell from heaven. In cushioned cars, the virtuous matrons led their rites through the city. Far from these scenes, he also added the dwellings of hell, the high gates of Dis, and the punishments for guilt. There too were you, Catiline, clinging to an overhanging rock and shuddering at the faces of the Furies. Far apart were the good, with Cato giving them laws. Around all this spread the image of the swelling sea, worked in gold. Yet the foam surged gray on blue water. All around, dolphins of shining silver swept their tails in circles, cleaving the sea. At the center stood the bronze war fleets of Actium. You could see all Leucate crowded with forces drawn up for battle, and the waves gleaming with gold. Here Caesar Augustus stood on a lofty stern, leading Italy to battle with the Fathers and People. The gods of household and state were with him. Favorable flames streamed around his brow, and his ancestral star rose overhead. Elsewhere Agrippa proudly led his column, favored by winds and gods. On his brow glittered the naval crown, ringed with ships' prows, a proud emblem of the war. Here Antonius brought barbarian allies and weapons of many kinds from conquered nations. They came from the Dawn and the shore of the southern sea. He brought Egypt and the Eastern forces of distant Bactra with him. The shameful Egyptian woman went with him as his consort. All rushed forward at once. Straining oars and triple-pointed prows churned the whole sea to foam. They headed out to sea. You might have thought the Cyclades had been uprooted and set afloat, or that high mountains were crashing together. So powerfully did the crews drive their towered ships. Flaming tow and winged darts of steel rained thickly from their hands. The fields of the sea turned red with fresh slaughter. In the midst of battle, the Queen called to her fleet with the timbrel of her country. She did not yet look back at the twin snakes behind her. Howling Anubis and a multitude of monstrous gods aimed their weapons at Neptune, Venus, and Minerva. Mars, engraved in iron, raged amid the destruction. The Fatal Sisters hovered overhead, and Discord strode rejoicing, her garment torn. Bellona followed her with a bloodstained whip. Looking down on the battle, Actian Apollo drew his bow. At the sight, all Egypt and India, every Arab and Sabaean, turned and fled in terror. The Queen herself seemed to call on the winds and spread her sails. Even now she was letting her sheets run loose. The Lord of Fire had fashioned her amid the slaughter, pale under the shadow of death. The waves and the north-west wind carried her away. Opposite her stood the vast, mourning Nile. He opened his folds and called the conquered people into his blue lap and the shelter of his streams. But Caesar rode into Rome in a triple triumph. He dedicated the offering he had promised the gods, three hundred stately shrines throughout the city, to stand forever. The streets rang with rejoicing, games, and shouts. In every temple stood a band of matrons and altars. Slain steers lay scattered on the ground before the altars. Caesar himself sat on the white threshold of bright Phoebus. He inspected the gifts of the nations and arranged them on the proud doors. The conquered tribes passed in a long line. Their clothing and armor varied as much as their languages. Here Mulciber had portrayed the Nomad race and the ungirt Africans. Here too were the Leleges, Carians, and archer Gelonians. Euphrates passed by with calmer waves, along with the Morini, the most distant of peoples, the horned Rhine, the untamed Dahae, and Araxes raging beneath his bridge.

These things he admires on the shield of Vulcan, his mother's gift, and rejoicing in the portraiture of unknown history, lifts on his shoulder the destined glories of his children.

He admires these images on Vulcan's shield, his mother's gift. Rejoicing in the pictures of a history he does not know, he lifts onto his shoulder the future glory of his children.