Meanwhile Aeneas, now well launched away,
steered forth with all the fleet to open sea,
on his unswerving course, and ploughed the waves,
sped by a driving gale; but when his eyes
looked back on Carthage, they beheld the glare
of hapless Dido's fire. Not yet was known
what kindled the wild flames; but that the pang
of outraged love is cruel, and what the heart
of desperate woman dares, they knew too well,
and sad foreboding shook each Trojan soul.
Soon in mid-sea, beyond all chart of shore,
when only seas and skies were round their way,
full in the zenith loomed a purple cloud,
storm-laden, dark as night, and every wave
grew black and angry; from his Iofty seat
the helmsman Palinurus cried, “Alas!
What means this host of storms encircling heaven?
What, Neptune, wilt thou now?” He, having said,
bade reef and tighten, bend to stronger stroke,
and slant sail to the wind; then spake again:
“High-souled Aeneas, not if Jove the King
gave happy omen, would I have good hope
of making Italy through yonder sky.
Athwart our course from clouded evening-star
rebellious winds run shifting, and the air
into a cloud-wrack rolls.
Against such foes
too weak our strife and strain! Since now the hand
of Fortune triumphs, let us where she calls
obedient go. For near us, I believe,
lies Eryx' faithful and fraternal shore:
here are Sicilian havens, if my mind
of yon familiar stars have knowledge true.”
Then good Aeneas: “For a friendly wind
long have I sued, and watched thee vainly strive.
Shift sail! What happier land for me and mine,
or for our storm-beat ships what safer shore,
than where Dardanian Acestes reigns;
the land whose faithful bosom cherishes
Anchises' ashes?” Heedful of his word,
they landward steer, while favoring zephyrs fill
the spreading sail. On currents swift and strong
the fleet is wafted, and with thankful soul
they moor on Sicily's familiar strand.
From a far hill-top having seen with joy
the entering ships, and knowing them for friends,
good King Acestes ran to bid them hail.
Garbed in rough pelt of Libyan bear was he,
and javelins he bore, in sylvan guise:
for him the river-god Crimisus sired
of Trojan wife. Remembering in his heart
his ancient blood, he greeted with glad words
the wanderers returned; bade welcome to
his rude abundance, and with friendly gifts
their weariness consoled.
The morrow morn,
soon as the new beams of a golden day
had banished every star, Aeneas called
a council of his followers on the shore,
and from a fair green hillock gave this word:
“Proud sons of Dardanus, whose lofty line
none but the gods began! This day fulfils
the annual cycle of revolving time,
since the dear relics of my god-like sire
to earth we gave, and with dark offerings due
built altars sorrowful. If now I err not,
this is my day—ye gods have willed it so! —
for mourning and for praise. Should it befall
me exiled in Gaetulia's wilderness,
or sailing some Greek sea, or at the walls
of dire Mycenae, still would I renew
unfailing vows, and make solemnity
with thankful rites, and worshipful array,
at altars rich with gifts. But, lo, we come,
beyond all hope, where lie the very bones
of my great sire. Nor did it come to pass
without divine intent and heavenly power,
that on these hospitable shores we stand.
Up, then! For we will make a festal day,
imploring lucky winds! O, may his spirit
grant me to build my city, where his shrines
forever shall receive perpetual vows
made in his name! This prince of Trojan line,
Acestes, upon every ship bestows
a pair of oxen.
To our offerings call
the powers that bless the altars and the fires
of our ancestral hearth; and join with these
the gods of good Acestes. Presently,
when the ninth dawn shall bring its beam benign
to mortal men, and show the radiant world,
or all my Teucrian people I ordain
a holiday of games; the flying ships
shall first contend; then swiftest runners try
a foot-race; after that the champions bold
who step forth for a cast of javelins,
or boast the soaring arrow; or fear not
the boxing-bout, with gauntlet of thick thongs.
This summons is for all; let all have hope
to earn some noble palm! And from this hour
speak but well-boding words, and bind your brows
with garlands green.” So saying, he twined a wreath
of his own mother's myrtle-tree, to shade
his sacred brow; the hero Helymus,
and King Acestes for his tresses gray,
like coronals took on; Ascanius
and all the warrior youth like emblems wore.
Then in th' attendant throng conspicuous,
with thousands at his side, the hero moved
from place of council to his father's tomb.
There on the ground he poured libation due,
two beakers of good wine, of sweet milk two,
two of the victim's blood—and scattered flowers
of saddest purple stain, while thus he prayed:
“Hail, hallowed sire!
And hail, ye ashes dear
of him I vainly saved! O soul and shade
of my blest father! Heaven to us denied
to find together that predestined land
of Italy, or our Ausonian stream
of Tiber—ah! but where?” He scarce had said,
when from the central shrine a gliding snake,
coiled seven-fold in seven spirals wide,
twined round the tomb and trailed innocuous o'er
the very altars; his smooth back was flecked
with green and azure, and his changeful scales
gleamed golden, as the cloud-born rainbow flings
its thousand colors from th' opposing sun.
Aeneas breathless watched the serpent wind
among the bowls and cups of polished rim,
tasting the sacred feast; where, having fed,
back to the tomb all harmless it withdrew.
Then with new zeal his sacrifice he brings
in honor of his sire; for he must deem
that serpent the kind genius of the place,
or of his very father's present shade
some creature ministrant. Two lambs he slew,
the wonted way, two swine, and, sable-hued,
the yoke of bulls; from shallow bowl he poured
libation of the grape, and called aloud
on great Anchises' spirit, and his shade,
from Acheron set free. Then all the throng,
each from his separate store, heap up the shrines
with victims slain; some range in order fair
the brazen cauldrons; or along the grass,
scattered at ease, hold o'er the embers bright
the spitted flesh and roast it in the flames.
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