After these things, when first the friendly sea
looked safe and fair, and o'er its tranquil plain
light-whispering breezes bade us launch away,
my men drew down our galleys to the brine,
thronging the shore. Soon out of port we ran,
and watched the hills and cities fading far.
There is a sacred island in mid-seas,
to fruitful Doris and to Neptune dear,
which grateful Phoebus, wielder of the bow,
the while it drifted loose from land to land,
chained firmly where the crags of Gyaros
and Myconos uptower, and bade it rest
immovable, in scorn of wind and wave.
Thither I sped; by this my weary ships
found undisturbed retreat and haven fair.
To land we came and saw with reverent eyes
Apollo's citadel. King Anius,
his people's king, and priest at Phoebus' fane,
came forth to meet us, wearing on his brow
the fillets and a holy laurel crown.
Unto Anchises he gave greeting kind,
claimed old acquaintance, grasped us by the hand,
and bade us both his roof and welcome share.
Then, kneeling at the shrine of time-worn stone:
“Thou who at Thymbra on the Trojan shore
hast often blessed my prayer, O, give to me
a hearth and home, and to this war-worn band
defensive towers and offspring multiplied
in an abiding city; give to Troy
a second citadel, that shall survive
Achilles' wrath and all our Argive foe.
Whom shall we follow? Whither lies our way?
Where wilt thou grant us an abiding-place?
Send forth, O King, thy voice oracular,
and on our spirits move.” Scarce had I spoke
when sudden trembling through the laurels ran
and smote the holy portals; far and wide
the mighty ridges of the mountain shook,
and from the opening shrine the tripod moaned.
Prostrate to earth we fall, as on our ears
this utterance breaks: “O breed of iron men,
ye sons of Dardanus! the self-same land
where bloomed at first your far-descended stem
shall to its bounteous bosom draw ye home.
Seek out your ancient Mother! There at last
Aeneas' race shall reign on every shore,
and his sons' sons, and all their house to be.”
So Phoebus spoke; and mighty joy uprose
from all my thronging people, who would know
where Phoebus' city lay, and whitherward
the god ordained the wandering tribe's return.
Then spake my father, pondering olden days
and sacred memories of heroes gone:
“Hear, chiefs and princes, what your hopes shall be!
The Isle of Crete, abode of lofty Jove,
rests in the middle sea. Thence Ida soars;
there is the cradle of our race. It boasts
a hundred cities, seats of fruitful power.
Thence our chief sire, if duly I recall
the olden tale, King Teucer sprung, who first
touched on the Trojan shore, and chose his seat
of kingly power. There was no Ilium then
nor towered Pergama; in lowly vales
their dwelling; hence the ancient worship given
to the Protectress of Mount Cybele,
mother of Gods, what time in Ida's grove
the brazen Corybantic cymbals clang,
or sacred silence guards her mystery,
and lions yoked her royal chariot draw.
Up, then, and follow the behests divine!
Pour offering to the winds, and point your keels
unto that realm of Minos. It is near.
If Jove but bless, the third day's dawn should see
our ships at Cretan land.” So, having said,
he slew the victims for each altar's praise.
A bull to Neptune, and a bull to thee,
O beauteous Apollo! A black lamb
unto the clouds and storms; but fleece of snow
to the mild zephyrs was our offering.
The tale was told us that Idomeneus,
from his hereditary kindgom driven,
had left his Crete abandoned, that no foe
now harbored there, but all its dwellings lay
untenanted of man. So forth we sailed
out of the port of Delos, and sped far
along the main. The maenad-haunted hills
of Naxos came in view; the ridges green
of fair Donysa, with Olearos,
and Paros, gleaming white, and Cyclades
scattered among the waves, as close we ran
where thick-strewn islands vex the channelled seas
with rival shout the sailors cheerly called:
“On, comrades!
On, to Crete and to our sires!”
Freely behind us blew the friendly winds,
and gave smooth passage to that fabled shore,
the land of the Curetes, friends of Jove.
There eagerly I labored at the walls
of our long-prayed-for city; and its name
was Pergamea; to my Trojan band,
pleased with such name, I gave command to build
altar and hearth, and raise the lofty tower.
But scarce the ships were beached along the strand
(While o'er the isle my busy mariners
ploughed in new fields and took them wives once more, —
I giving homes and laws) when suddenly
a pestilence from some infectious sky
seized on man's flesh, and horribly exhaled
o'er trees and crops a fatal year of plague.
Some breathed their last, while others weak and worn
lived on; the dog-star parched the barren fields;
grass withered, and the sickly, mouldering corn
refused us life. My aged father then
bade us re-cross the waves and re-implore
Apollo's mercy at his island shrine;
if haply of our weariness and woe
he might vouchsafe the end, or bid us find
help for our task, or guidance o'er the sea.
'T was night, and sleep possessed all breathing things;
when, lo! the sacred effigies divine,
the Phrygian gods which through the flames I bore
from fallen Troy, seemed in a vision clear
to stand before me where I slumbering lay,
bathed in bright beams which from the moon at full
streamed through the latticed wall: and thus they spoke
to soothe my care away. “Apollo's word,
which in far Delos the god meant for thee,
is uttered here. Behold, he sends ourselves
to this thy house, before thy prayer is made.
We from Troy's ashes have companioned thee
in every fight; and we the swollen seas,
guided by thee, in thine own ships have crossed;
our power divine shall set among the stars
thy seed to be, and to thy city give
dominion evermore. For mighty men
go build its mighty walls! Seek not to shun
the hard, long labors of an exile's way.
Change this abode! Not thine this Cretan shore,
nor here would Delian Phoebus have thee bide.
There is a land the roving Greeks have named
Hesperia. It is a storied realm
made mighty by great wars and fruitful land.
Oenotrians had it, and their sons, 't is said,
have called it Italy, a chieftain's name
to a whole region given. That land alone
our true abode can be; for Dardanus
was cradled there, and old Iasius,
their blood the oldest of our ancient line.
Arise! go forth and cheer thy father gray
with the glad tidings! Bid him doubt no more!
Ausonia seek and Corythus; for Jove
denies this Cretan realm to thine and thee.”
I marvelled at the heavenly presences
so vocal and so bright, for 't was not sleep;
but face to face I deemed I could discern
each countenance august and holy brow,
each mantled head; and from my body ran
cold sweat of awe. From my low couch I sprang,
lifting to heaven my suppliant hands and prayer,
and o'er my hearth poured forth libations free.
After th' auspicious offering, I told
Anchises the whole tale in order due.
He owned our stock two-branched, of our great sires
the twofold line, and that his thought had strayed,
in new confusion mingling ancient names;
then spoke: “O son, in Ilium's doom severe
afflicted ever! To my ears alone
this dark vicissitude Cassandra sang.
I mind me now that her wild tongue foretold
such destiny. For oft she called aloud
‘Hesperia!’ oft ‘Italia's kingdom!’ called.
But who had faith that Teucer's sons should come
to far Hesperia? What mortal ear
gave heed to sad Cassandra's voice divine?
Now Phoebus speaks. Obedient let us be,
and, warned by him, our happier Iot pursue!”
He spoke: with heart of hope we all obeyed;
again we changed abode; and, leaving there
a feeble few, again with spreading sails
we coursed in hollow ship the spacious sea.
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