 Book 7, Part 2 of the Aeneid, this is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Alan Brown. The Aeneid by Publius Virgilius Morrow, translated by John Dryden. Book 7, Juno Served by a Fury, Part 2 Amata's breast the fury thus invades, and fires with rage amid the silvan shades. Then, when she found her venom spread so far, the royal house embroiled in civil war. Raised on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies, and seeks the palace where young Ternus lies. This town, as fame reports, was built of old Bidani, pregnant with almighty gold, who fled her father's rage, and with a train of following argives, through the stormy main, driven by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign. It was Ardua once, now Ardea's name it bears, once a fair city, now consumed with years. Here, in his lofty palace, Ternus lay, betwixt the confines of the night and today. Secure in sleep, the fury laid aside her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried the foulness of the infernal form to hide. Propped on a staff, she takes a trembling mean. Her face is furrowed, and her front obscene. Dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws. Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws. Her hoary hair, with holy fillets bound. Her temples, with an olive wreath, are crowned. Old Calibi, who kept the sacred feign of Juno, now she seemed, and thus began, appearing in a dream to rouse the careless man. While Ternus then such endless toil sustain in fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain. Win for a Trojan head to wear the prize, usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories, the bride and scepter which thy blood has bought, the king transfers, and foreign heirs are sought. Go now, deluded man, and seek again new toils, new dangers on the dusty plain. Repel the Tuscan foes, their city sees. Protect the Lations in luxurious ease, this dream all-powerful Juno sins, I bear her mighty mandates, and her words you hear. Deceit, arm your Ardians, issue to the plain. With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train. Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships that lie in Tiber's mouth with fire and sword destroy. The Lation King, unless he shall submit, own his old promise, and his new forget. Let him, in arms, the power of Ternus prove, and learn to fear whom he disdains to love. For such is Heaven's command. The youthful Prince with scorn replied, and made this bold defense. You tell me, Mother, what I knew before. The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore. I neither fear nor will provoke the war. My fate is Juno's most peculiar care. But a time has made you doad, and vainly tell of arms, imagined in your lonely cell. Go, be the temple in the gods your care. Permit to men the thought of peace and war. These haughty words elect those rage provoke, and frightened Ternus trembled as she spoke. Her eyes grow stiffened, and with sulfur burn, her hideous looks and hellish form return. Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place, and open all the furies of her face. Then darting fire from her malignant eyes, she cast him backward as he strove to rise. And lingering sought to frame some new replies. High on her head she rears two twisted snakes. Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes. And churning bloody foam thus loudly speaks. Behold whom time has made to doad, and tell of arms imagined in her lonely cell. Behold the fate's infernal minister, war, death, destruction. In my hand I bear. Thus having said, her smoldering torch impressed with her full force, she plunged into his breast. Aghast he waked, in starting from his bed cold sweat in clammy drops, his limbs o'er spread. Arms, arms he cries, my sword and shield prepare. He breathes defiance, blood and mortal war. So when with crackling flames a cauldron fries, the bubbling waters from the bottom rise. Above the brims they force their fiery way. Black vapors climb aloft and cloud the day. The peace polluted thus, a chosen band he first commissions to the Lachan land, in threatening embassy. Then raised the rest, to meet in arms the intruding Trojan guest. To force the foes from the Lavinian shore, and Italy's endangered peace restore. Himself alone an equal match he boasts. They fight the Phrygian and Alsonian hosts. The gods invoked, the rutuli prepare their arms and warn each other to the war. His beauty these, in those his blooming age, the rest his house and his own fame engage. While Ternus urges thus his enterprise, the Stygian fury to the Trojans flies. Newfrods invents, and takes a steepy stand, which overlooks the veil with wide command. Where Feroscanius and his youthful train with horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain, and pitch their toils around the shady plain. The fury fires the pack. They snuff, they vent, and feed their hungry nostrils with the scent. To as of a well-grown stag whose antlers rise, high o'er his front his beams invade the skies. From this light cause the infernal maid prepares the country-churls to mischief, hate, and wars. The stately beast, the two Tyridii bred, snatched from his dams and the tame youngling fed. Their father Tyreus did his fodder bring, Tyreus, chief ranger to the Lacean king. Their sister Sylvia cherished with her care the little wanton, and did wreaths prepare to hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied his tender neck, and combed his silken hide, and bathed his body. Out of command in time he grew, and, growing used to hand, he waited at his master's board for food, then sought his salvage kindred in the wood. Where grazing all the day, at night he came to his known lodgings and his country-dame. This household beast, that used the woodland grounds, was viewed at first by the young hero's hounds, as down the stream he swam to seek retreat in the cool waters and to quench his heat. Ascanius, young and eager of his game, soon bit his bow, uncertain in his aim, but the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides, which pierced his bowels through his panting sides. The bleeding creature issues from the floods, possessed with fear, and seeks his known abodes, his old familiar hearth and household gods. He falls, he fills the house with heavy groans, implores their pity, and his pain bemoans. Young Sylvia beats her breast and cries aloud for succor from the clownish neighborhood. The churls assemble. For the fiend, who lay in the close woody cupboard, urged their way, one with a brand yet burning from the flame, armed with a naughty club another came. What air they catch or find, without their care, their fury makes an instrument of war. Tyreus, the foster father of the beast, then clinched a hatchet in his horny fist, but held his hand from the descending stroke, and left his wedge within the cloven oak. To whet their courage and their rage provoke. And now the goddess, exercised in ill, who watched an hour to work her impious will, ascends the roof into her crooked horn, such as was then by Lation's shepherds born, adds all her breath. The rocks and woods around, and mountains tremble at the infernal sound. The sacred lake of trivia from afar, the Veline fountains, and the Sulfurius gnar, shake at the baleful blast the signal of the war. Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possessed, and strain their helpless infants to their breast. Sounds a boisterous rude ungoverned crew with furious haste, to the loud summons flew. The powers of Troy, then issuing on the plain with fresh recruits, their youthful chief, sustain. Not there's a raw and unexperienced train, but a firm body of embattled men. At first, while fortune favored neither side, the fight with clubs and burning brands was tried. But now, both parties reinforced, the fields are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields. A shining harvest either host displays, and shoots against the sun with equal rays. Thus when a black-browed gust begins to rise, white foam at first on the curled ocean fries. Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies, till, by the fury of the storm, full blown, the muddy bottom or the clouds is thrown. First Olimon falls, old Tyreus, eldest care, pierced with an arrow from the distant war. Fixed in his throat, the flying weapon stood and stopped his breath, and drank his vital blood, huge heaps of slain around the body rise. Among the rest, the rich Galicia slides, a good old man, while peace he preached in vain amidst the madness of the unruly train. Five herds, five bleeding flocks, his pastures filled, his lands a hundred yoke of oxen tilled. Thus while in equal scales their fortune stood, the fury bathed them in each other's blood. Then having fixed the fight, exulting flies, and bears fulfilled her promise to the skies. To Juno, thus she speaks, be old, it is done. The blood already drawn, the war begun. The discord is complete, nor can they cease the dire debate, nor you command the peace. Now since the Lation and the Trojan brood have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood, speak and my power shall add this office more. The neighboring nations of the Alsonian shore shall hear the dreadful rumor from afar of armed invasion and embrace the war. Then Juno, thus. The grateful work is done, the seeds of discord sowed, the war begun. Frauds, fears, and fury have possessed the state and fixed the causes of a lasting hate. A bloody hymen shall the Alliance join, betwixt the Trojan and Alsonian line, but thou with speed to night and hell repair. For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear thy lawless wandering walks in upper air. Leave what remains to me, Saturnia said. The sullen fiend, her sounding wings displayed. Everything left the light and sought the nether shade. In midst of Italy, well known to fame, there lies a lake, Amsanctus is the name. Below the lofty mounts, on either side, thick forests, the forbidden entrance hide, full in the center of the sacred wood, an armor rises of the Stygian flood, which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound, quirls the black waves in rattling stones around, hear Pluto pants for breath from out his cell, and opens wide the grinning jaws of hell. To this infernal lake, the fury flies. Here hides her hated head and frees the laboring skies. Anjuno now, with double care, attends the fatal process of the war. The clowns returned from battle bear the slain, implore the gods, and to their king complain. The corpse of Alman and the rest are shown. Shrieks, clamors, murmurs fill the frighted town. His ternous in the press appears, and aggravating crimes augments their fears. Proclaims his private injuries aloud, a solemn promise made, and a disavowed. A foreign son is sought, and a mixed, mongrel brood. Then they, whose mothers frantic with their fear, in woods and wiles the flags of Bacchus bear, and lead his dances with disheveled hair, increase the clamor, and the war demand. Such was Amata's interest in the land. Against the public sanctions of the peace, against all omens of their ill success. With fates averse, the rout in arms resort, to force their monarch, and insult the court. But like a rock unmoved, a rock that braves the raging tempest, and the rising waves, propped on himself he stands. His solid sides wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides. So stood the pious prince, unmoved, and long sustained the madness of the noisy throng. But when he found that Juno's power prevailed, and all the methods of cool council failed, he calls the gods to witness their offense, disclaims the war, asserts his innocence. Hurried by fate, he cries, and born before a furious wind, we have the faithful shore. Oh, more than madmen, you yourself shall bear the guilt of blood in sacrilegious war. Thou, Ternous, shalt atone it by thy fate, and pray to heaven for peace. But pray too late. For me, my stormy voyage, at an end, I to the port of death securely tend. The funeral pump, which to your kings you pay, is all I want, and all you take away. He said no more, but, in his walls confined, shut out the woes, which he too well divined. Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive, but left the helm, and let the vessel drive. The solemn custom was observed of old, which Laishim held, and in now the Romans hold. Their standard, when in fighting fields they rear against the fierce Hercadians, or declare the Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war, or from the boasting Parthians would regain their eagles, lost in Carhigh's bloody plain. Two gates of steel, the name of Mars they bear, instill our worshiped with religious fear. Before his temple stand, the dire abode, and the feared issues of the furious god are fenced with brazen bolts. Without the gates the wary guardian Janus doubly waits. Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars, the Roman consul their decree declares, and in his robes the sounding gates unbars. The youth in military shouts arise, and the loud trumpets break the yielding skies. These rites, of old by sovereign princes used, were the king's office, but the king refused, deaf to their cries. Or would the gates unbar of sacred peace, or loose the imprisoned war? But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms, abhorred the wicked ministry of arms. Then Heaven's imperious queen shot down from high, at her approach the brazen hinges fly, the gates are forced in every falling bar, and, like a tempest, issues out the war. The peaceful cities of Thalsonian shore, lulled in their ease, and undisturbed before, are all on fire, and some with studious care their restive steeds in sandy plains prepare. Some their soft limbs in painful marches try, and war is all their wish and arms the general cry. Part scour the rusty shields with seam, and part new grind the blunted axe, and point the dart. With joy they view the waving insins fly, and hear the trumpets clanger pierce the sky. Five cities forge their arms, the Athenian powers, and Timni, Tiber with her lofty towers, Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town. All these of old were places of renown, some hammer helmets for the fighting field, some twine young salos to support the shield, the crosslet sum, and some the quiches mold, with silver plated and with ductile gold. The rustic honors of the scythe and the share give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war. But fountains are new tempered in the fires, the sounding trumpet every soul inspires. The word is given, with eager speed they lace the shining headpiece, and the shield embrace. The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied. The trusty weapon sits on every side. And now the mighty labor is begun, ye muses open all your helican. Bring you the chiefs that swayed the Athenian land, their arms and armies under their command. What warriors in our ancient clime were bred, what soldiers followed, and what heroes led. For well you know and can record alone what fame to future times conveys but darkly down. Byzantius first appeared upon the plain, scorn set upon his brows and soured disdain, defying earth and heaven. Etruria lost, he brings to Ternus aid his baffled host. The charming Lausis, full of youthful fire, rode in the rank and next his sullen sire, to Ternus only second in the grace of manly mean and features of the face. A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred, with fates averse, a thousand men he led. His sire unworthy of so brave a son, himself well worthy of a happier throne. Next Aventinus drives his chariot round the Lation Plains, with palms and laurels crowned. Proud of his steeds he smokes along the field. His father's hydra fills his ample shield. A hundred serpents hiss about the brims. The son of Hercules he justly seems, by his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs, of heavenly part and part of earthly blood. A mortal woman mixing with a god, for strong alcides after he had slain the triple gerion, drove from conquered Spain his captive herds, and thence in triumph led on Tuscan tibers flowery banks they fed. Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove, the priestess Rhea found and forced to love. For arms his men long piles in javelins bore, and poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore. Like Hercules himself his son appears, in salvage pump, a lion's head he wears. About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin. With teeth and gaping jaws severely grin. Thus, like the god his father, homely dressed, he strides into the hall, a horrid guest. Then two twin brothers from the fair Tiber came, which from their brother Tibbers took the name. Fierce Chorus and Catillus, void of fear, armed our guy of horse they led, and in the front appear. Like cloud-born centaurs from the mountains height with rapid course descending to the fight, they rush along, the rattling woods give way, the branches bend before their sweepy sway. Nor was Prynesti's founder wanting there, whom fame reports the son of Mulsaber, found in the fire and fostered in the plains, a shepherd and a king at once he reigns, and leads to Ternes' aid his country's swains. His own Prynesti sends a chosen band, with those who plow Saturnia's gabine land, besides the succor, which cold Aenian yields, the rocks of Hernicus and the dewy fields, Ananya fat, and father Amesini, a numerous route, but all of naked men, nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield, nor drive the chariot through the dusty field, but whirl from leather slings huge balls of lead, and spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head, their left foot naked when they march to fight, but in a bull's raw hide they sheath the right. This next, great Neptune was his sire, secure of steel and faded from the fire. In pomp appears and with his ardor warms a heartless train, unexercised in arms. The just Falescans, he to battle brings, and those who live where Lake Chimenea springs, and where Pheronias grove in temple stands, who till Feskinian are Flavinian lands. All these in order march, and marching sing the war-like actions of their seaborn king, like a long team of snowy swans on high, which clap their wings and cleave the liquid sky. When homeward from their watery pastures born, they sing, and Asia's lakes their notes return. Not one who heard their music from afar would think these troops an army trained to war, but flocks of fowl that, when the tempests roar, with their horse-gabbling seek the silent shore. Then Clauses came, who led a numerous band of troops embodied from the Sabine land, and in himself alone an army brought, twas he the noble Claudian race begot, the Claudian race ordained in times to come to share the greatness of Imperial Rome. He led the curies forth of old renown, mutuscans from their olive-bearing town, and all the Eritrean powers, besides a band that followed from Velineum's dewy land, and Amaternian troops of mighty fame and mountaineers that from Severus came, and from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica, and those where Yellow Tiber takes his way, and where Himela's wanton waters play, Caspiria sends her arms, and with those that lie by Faberis, and fruitful for Ruli. The warlike aids of Horta next appear, and the cold nurseians come to close the rear, mixed with the natives born of latein blood, whom Alia washes with her fatal flood. Not-thicker billows beat the Libyan main when pale Orion sets in wintry rain, nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise, nor Lysian feels when Phoebus burns the skies, then stand these troops. Their bucklers ring around, their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground. High in his chariot, then Hallease's came, a foe by birth to Troy's unhappy name, from Agamemnon born. The Turnus ate a thousand men the youthful hero-led, who tilled the massac soil for wine renowned, and fierce Aruncans from their hilly ground, and those who lived by Sidonitian shores, and wherewith Shoeley Ford's full Turnus roars. Cailie's in Oscar's old inhabitants, and rough Ceticulans enured to once, light dimmy lances from afar they throw, fastened with leathern thongs, to gall the foe, short crooked swords in closer fight they wear, and on their warding arm light bucklers bear. Nor Oibelis shelt thou be left unsung, from nymph Symethus and old Thelon sprung, who then in Teliboe and Capri reigned, but that short isle the ambitious youth disdained, and or Campania stretched his ample sway, where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrene Sea, or Batulum and where Oibela sees, from her high towers, the harvest of her trees, and these, as was the Teuton use of old, wheeled brazen swords and brazen bucklers hold, sling weighty stones, and from afar they fight, their casks are cork, a covering thickened light. Next these in rank the warlike Uphanes went, and led the mountain troops that Nursia sent, the rude Equicoli his rule obeyed, hunting their sport, and plundering was their trade. In arms they plowed, to battle still prepared, their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard. Umbro the priest, the proud Marubians led, by King Arquipus sent to Ternus's aid, and peaceful olives crowned his hoary head. His wand and holy words, the vipers rage, and venom wounds of serpents could assuage. He, when he pleased with powerful Jews to steep their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep. But vain were Marcian herbs, and magic are, to cure the wound given by the dart and dart. Yet his untimely fate, Vangetian woods, in size remurmered to the few sign floods. The son of famed Hippolytus was there. Famed is his sire, and, as his mother, fair, whom in Egerian groves Arisha bore, and nursed his youth along the Marci shore, where great Diana's peaceful altars flame, in fruitful fields, in Virbius was his name. Hippolytus, as old records have said, was by his step-dam sought to share her bed. But when no female arts his mind could move, she turned to furious hate, her impious love. Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore, another's crimes the unhappy hunter bore, glutting his father's eyes with guiltless gore. But chaste Diana, who his death deplored, with Esculapian herbs his life restored, then Jove, who saw from high with just disdain the dead inspired with vital breath again, struck to the center with his flaming dart, the unhappy founder of the godlike art. But trivia kept in secret shades alone her care, Hippolytus, to fate, unknown, and called him Virbius in the Egerian grove, where then he lived obscure but safe from Jove. For this, from trivia's temple and her wood, are coarsers driven, who shed their master's blood, affrighted by the monsters of the flood. His son, the second Virbius, yet retained his father's art and warrior's steeds he reigned. Amid the troops, and like the leading god, high o'er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode, a triple of plumes his crest adorned, on which, with belching flames, Chimaera burned. The more the kindled combat rises higher, the more with fury burns the blazing fire. Fair Io graced his shield. But Io now, with horns exalted, stands and seems to loathe. A noble charge, her keeper by her side, to watch her walks. His hundred eyes applied, and on the brims her sire, the watery god, rolled from a silver urn his crystal flood. A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields with swords, and pointed spears in clattering shields, of argives, and of old Sikhanian bands, and of those who plow the rich Rutulian lands, Alruncan youth, and of those Sikrena yields. And the proud labourkins with painted shields, and those who near new missions' streams reside, and those whom Tybers holy forests hide, or Cersei's hills from the mainland divide, where Uphane's glides along the lowly lands, or the black water of Pompynus stands. Last, from the Volcian's fair Camilla came, and led her warlike troops a warrior dame. Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskilled, she chose the nobler palace of the field. Mixed with the first, the fierce Virago fought, sustained the toils of arms, the danger sought. Outstripped the winds in speed upon the plain, flew o'er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain. She swept to the seas, and as she skimmed along, her flying feet unbathed, on billows hung. Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise, where ere she passes, fix their wondering eyes. Longing they look, and gaping at the sight, devour her ore and ore with vast delight. Her purple habit sits with such a grace, on her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face. Her head with ringlets of her hair is crowned, and in a golden call the curls are bound. She shakes her myrtle javelin, and behind her licent quiver dances in the wind. End of book seven, recording by Alan Brown, Houston, Texas. The Enid by Publius Virgilius Morrow, translated by John Dryden, book eight, Arkadian allies, part one. When Turnus had assembled all his powers, his standard planted on Lorenzium's towers, when now the springly trumpet from afar had given the signal of approaching war, had roused the neighing steeds to score the fields, while the fierce riders clattered on their shields. Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare to join the allies, and headlong rush to war. Fierce oofens and mesopus led the crowd, with bold mesentius who blasphemed aloud. These through the country took their wasteful cores, the fields to forage, and to gather force. Then venerless to Diomed they send, to beg his aid Asonia to defend. Declare the common danger and inform the Grecian leader of the growing storm, Aeneas landed on the Latian coast, with banished gods and with a baffled host. Yet now aspire to conquest of the state, and claim the title from the gods and fate. What numerous nations in his quarrel came, and how they spread his formidable name, what he designed, what mischief might arise, if fortune favoured his first enterprise, was left for him to weigh whose equal fears and common interest was involved in theirs. While Turnus and the allies thus urged the war, the Trojan floating in a flood of car, beholds the tempest which his foes prepare, this way, and that he turns his anxious mind, thinks and rejects the consuls he designed, explores himself in vain in every part, and gives no rest to his distracted heart. So when the sun by day or moon by night strike on the polished brass that trembling light, the glittering spaces here and there divide, and cast their dubious beams from side to side, now on the walls, now on the pavement play, and to the ceiling flash the glaring day. It was night and wary nature lulled asleep, the birds of air and fishes of the deep, and beasts and mortal men the Trojan chief was laid on Tiber's bank, oppressed with grief, and found in silent slumber late relief, then through the shadows of the poplar wood arose the father of the Roman flood, an arse-robe was over his body spread, a wreath of shady raids adorned his head, thus manifesto sight that God appeared, and with these pleasing words his sorrow cheered, and doubted offspring of a theral race, O long expected in this promised place, who through the foes has borne thy banished gods, restore them to their hearth, and old abodes, this is thy happy home, the climb where fate ordains thee to restore the Trojan state. Fear not, the war shall end in lasting peace, and all the rage of haughty dunes sees, and that this nightly vision may not seem, the effect of fancy or an idle dream, as so beneath an oak shall lie along, all white herself, and whiter thirty young. When thirty rolling years have run the race, thy son, Ascarnius, on this empty space shall build a royal town of lasting fame, which from this omen shall receive the name. Time shall approve the truth, for what remains, and how with sure success to crown thy paints. With patience next attend a banished band, driven with a vander from the Arcadian land, have planted here and placed on high their walls, their town the founder Palantium calls. To read from Palas his great grand sire's name, but the fierce Latian's old possession claim, with war infesting the new colony, these make thy friends, and on their aid rely. To thy free passage I submit my streams, wake some of Venus from thy pleasing dreams, and when the setting stars are lost in day, to Junus' power thy just devotion pay, with sacrifice the wrathful queen appease, her pride at length shall fall her furious seas. When thou returnst victorious from the war, perform thy vows to me with grateful care, the God am I whose gel of water flows, around his fields it fattens as it goes, tibre my name among the rolling floods, renowned on earth esteemed among the gods. This is my certain seat in times to come, my waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome. He said and plunged below, while yet he spoke. His dream Aeneas and his sleep foresoaked. He rose and looking up beheld the skies, with purple blushing, and the day arise. The water in his hollow palm he took, from tibre's flood, and thus the powers bespoke. Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed, and farther tibre in thy sacred bed. Receive Aeneas, and from danger keep, whatever found, whatever wholly deep, conceals thy watery stores, wherever they rise, and bubbling from below salute the skies. Thou king of horned floods, whose plentious urn, suffices fatness to the fruitful corn. For this thy kind compassion of our woes, shall share my morning song and evening woes, but, O, be present to thy people's aid, and firm the gracious promise thou hast made. Thus, having said to Gallis from his stores, with care he chews his mans and fits with oars. Now on the shore the fatal swine is found, wondrous to tell she lay along the ground. Her well-fed offspring at her other's hung. She white herself, and white her thirty young. Aeneas takes the mother and her brood, and all on Junus altar are bestowed. The following night, and the succeeding day, propitious tibre smoothed his watery way. He rolled his river back, and poised his stud, a gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood. The Troians mount their ships, they put from shore, born on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar. Shouts from the land give omen to their cores, and the pitched vessels glide with easy force. The woods and waters wonder at the gleam, of shields and painted ships that stem the stream. One summer's night, and one whole day, they pass. Bid wicks the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass. The fiery sun had finished half its rays, looked back and doubted in the middle space. When they from far beheld the rising towers, the tops of sheds and shepherds lowly bars, thin as they stood, which then on homely clay, now rise in marble from the Romans way. These cuts, Evander's kingdom mean and poor, the Troians saw, and turned his ships to shore. Did was a solemn day, the Arkadian states, the king and prince without the city gates, then paid their offsprings in a sacred groove, to Hercules, the warrior son of Jo. Thick clouds of rolling smoke involved the skies, and fat oventrails on his altar fries. But when they saw the ship that stemmed the flood, and glittered through the covet of the wood, they rose with fear, and left the unfinished feast, till dauntless palace reassured the rest. To pay the rites himself without delay, a javelin ceased, and singly took his way, then gained a rising ground, and called from far. Resolve me, strangers, whence and what you are, your business here, and bring you peace, or war? High on the stern and near, he stand, and held a branch of olive in his hand. While thus he spoke, the fragrance arms you see, expelled from Troy provoked in Italy, by Lazian foes, with war unjustly made, at first a finest, then at last betrayed. This message bear, the Troyans and their chief bring holy peace, and beg the king's relief. Struck with so great a name, and all on fire, the youth replies, whatever you require. Your fame exacts upon our shores descend, a welcome guest, and what you wish a friend. He said, and downward hasting to the strand, embraced the stranger prince, and joined his hand. Conducted to the groove, Aeneas spoke. The silence first, and thus the king bespoke. Best of the Greeks to whom, by fate's command, I bear these peaceful branches in my hand. Undaunted I approach you, thou I know, your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe. From Arthras, though your ancient lineage came, and boast the brother-kings your kindred claim. Yet myself, conscious worth, your high renown, your virtue through neither neighboring nations blown. Our father's mingled blood, Apollo's voice, have led me hither, lest my need than choice. Our founder, Dardanus, as fame has sung, and Greeks a knowledge from Electrasprang. Electra from the loins of Atlas came, Atlas whose head sustains the starry frame. Your sire is Mercury, whom long before, on cold Cullinus' top fair Maya bore, Maya the fair, on fame, if we rely, was Atlas' daughter who sustains the sky. Thus from one common source our streams divide, ours is the Trojan, yours the Aregion side. Raised by these hopes, I sent no news before, nor asked your leave, nor did your faith implore. But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador, the same Retulians, who with arms pursue, the Trojan race are equal foes to you. Our host expelled, what father force can stay, the victor troops from universal sway. Then will they stretch their power at worth the land, and either see from side to side command. Receive our offered faith, and give us thine. Ours is a generous and experienced line. We want no hearts nor bodies for the war, in console cautious and in fields we dare. He said, and while spoke with piercing eyes, Evander viewed the man with vast surprise, pleased with his action, ravished with his face, then answered briefly with a royal grace. O valiant leader of the Trojan line, in whom the features of thy father shine, how I recall Anchesis, how I see his motions mean and all my friend in thee. Long though it be, it's fresh within my mind, when pre-arm to his sister's court is signed. A welcome visit with a friendly stay, and through the Arkadian kingdom took his way, and then past a boy the callow down began, to shade my chin and call me first a man. I saw the shining train with vast delight, and pre-arm's goodly person pleased my sight. But great Anchesis far above the rest, with awful wonder, fired my youthful breast. I longed to join in friendship's holy bands. Our mutual hearts implied our mutual hands. I first accosted him, I sued, I sought, and with a loving force to Phineus brought. He gave me, when at length constrained to go, Elysian quiver and Agnossian bow, a vest embroider glorious to behold, and two rich bridles with their bits of gold. Which my son's courses in obedience hold, the league you ask I offer as you write. And when tomorrow's sun reveals the light, with swift supplies you shall be sent away. Now celebrate with us this solemn day, whose holy rites admit no long delay. Honor our annual feast, and take your seat with friendly welcome at a homely treat. Thus having said, the bowls removed for fear, the use replaced and soon restored the cheer. On sods of turf he set the soldiers round, a maple throne raised higher from the ground, received the Trojan chief, and over the bed, a lion's shaggy hide for ornament they spread. The loaves were served in canisters, the wine in bowls, their priests renewed the rites divine, broiled and trails other flood, and beaves continued shine. But when the rage of hunger was repressed, thus spoke Abander to his royal guest. These rites, these altars, and this feast, O King, from no vain fears of superstition spring, or blind devotion, or from blinder chance, or heeded seal, or brutal ignorance. But say it from danger, with a grateful sense, the labours of a God we recompense. See from afar, young rock that mates the sky, about whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie, such indigested ruin, bleak and bare, how desert now it stands exposed in air. It was once a robber's den, enclosed around, with living stone and deep beneath the ground, the monster cacus more than half a beast, this hold impervious to the sun possessed. The pavement ever fowl with human gall, heads and their mangled members hung the door. Vulcan displayed begot and like his sire, black clouds he belched and flakes of livid fire. Time long expected eased us of our load, and brought the needful presence of a God. The avenging force of Hercules from Spain arrived in triumph from Gaeron's lane. Thrice livid the giant, and Thrice livid in vain, his price the lowing herds alquid as true, near Tiber's bank to grace the shady groove. Allured with hope of plunder and intent, by force to rob by fraud to circumvent, the brutal cacus as by chance they strayed for oxen thence and for fair kind conveyed. Unless the printed footsteps might be seen, he dragged them backwards to his rocky den. The tracks averse a lying notice cave, and led the searcher backward from the cave. Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place to find fresh pasture and untrodden grass. The beasts who missed their mates filled all around, with bellowing and the rocks restored the sound. One hyfer who had heard her love complain roared from the cave and made the project vain. Alquid has found the fraud with rage he shook, and tossed about his head his knotted oak. Swiffed as the winds or skeetion arrows flight, he clung with eager haste the aerial height. Then first we saw the monster mend his pace, fear his eyes, and paleness in his face. Confessed the gods approach, trembling his springs, as terror had increased his feet with wings. Nor stayed for stairs, but down the depth he threw, his body on his back the door he drew. The door a rib of living rock with pains, his father ewed it out and bound it with iron chains. He broke the heavy links, the mountains closed, and bars and levers through his foe opposed. The wretch had hardly made his dungeons fast. The fierce avenger came with bounding haste, so weighed the mouth of the forbidden hold, and here and there his raging eyes he rolled. He gnashed his teeth, and thrice he compassed round, with wingspeed the circuit of the ground. Thrice at the cavern's mouth he pulled in vain, and panting thrice desisted from his pain. A pointed flinted rock, all bare and black, grew gibbons from behind the mountains back. Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night, here built their nests, and hither winged their flight. The leaning head hung, threatening over the flood, and nodded to the left the hair of stud. Adverse with planted feet and from the right, tagged at the solid stone with all his might. Thus heaved the fixed foundation of the rock, gave way heaven echoed at the rattling shock. Tumbling it choked the flood on either side. The banks leap backward and the streams divide. The sky shrunk upward with unusual dreed, and trembling tiber divide beneath his bed. The court of Carcostans revealed to sight. The cavern glares with new admitted light, so the pent vapours with rumbling sound he from below and rend the hollow ground, as sounding floor succeeds, and from unhigh the gods with hate beheld the nether sky. The ghost repine at violated night, and cursed the invading sun and sicken at the sight. The graceless monster caught in open day, enclosed and in despair to fly away. Owls horrible from underneath and fills his hall of palace with unmanly gels. The hero stands above and from afar, plies him with darts and stones and distant war. He from his nostrils huge mouth expires. Black clouds of smoke amidst his father's fires, gathering with each repeated blast the night, to make uncertain aim and erring sight. The wrathful god then plunges from above, and where in thickest waves the sparkles throw. Their lights and wades through fumes and grooves his way, half singed, half stifled, till he grasps his prey. The monster spewing fruitless flames he found, he squeezed his throat, he ridd his neck around, and in a knot his crippled members bound. Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes, rolled on a heap the breathless robber lies. The doors unbarred receive the rushing day, and thorough lights disclose the ravished prey. The balls redeemed breathe open air again, next by the feet that drag him from his den. The wandering neighborhood with glad surprise behold his shagged breeze to his giant size. His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguished eyes, from that auspicious day with rites divine, we worship at the hero's holy shrine. Potitios first ordained these annual vows, as priests we added the Pinarian House, who raised this altar in the sacred shade, where honors ever due, forever shall be paid. For these deserts and this high virtue shown, we warlike youth your heads with garlands crown. Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood, and with deep drafts invoke our common God. This said a double wreath abundant wind, and populous black and white his tempos bind, then brings his ample bowl with like design. The rest invoke the gods with sprinkled wine. Meantime the sun descended from the skies, and the bright evening star began to rise. And now the priests, potitios at their head, in skins of beasts involved the long procession lead, held high the flaming tapers in their hands, as custom had prescribed their holy bands. Then with the second course the table slowed, and with full chargers offered to the God. The sally sing and sense his altars round, with sabon smoke their heads with poplar bound. One choir of old, another of the young, to dance and bear the burden of the song. The lay records the labours and the praise, and all the mortal acts of Hercules. First how the mighty babe, when swathed in bands, the serpent strangled with his infant hands. Then as in years and matchless force he grew, the Eucalian walls and Troyan over through. The besides a thousand hazards they relate, procured by Juni and Eurystus' hate. Thy hands uncunkered hero could subdue, the cloud-born kentars and their monstrous crew. Nor thy resistless arms the bull withstood, nor the roaring terror of the wood. The triple porter of the Stygian seat, with lolling tongue lay fawning at thy feet, and ceased with fear for goddess mangled me, the infernal waters tremble at thy sight. The God, no face of danger could affright, no huge tuffus nor the unnumbered snake increased with hazing heads in Lerna's lake. Hail, Joe's undoubted son, an added grace to heaven and the great author of thy race. Receive the grateful offerings which we pay, and smile propitious on thy solemn day. In numbers thus they sung about the rest, the den and death of Carcus crown the feast. The woods to hollow veils convey the sound, the veils to hills and hills the notes rebound. The rites performed, the cheerful train retire. Between St. John Paulus and his aged sire, the Trojan pass the city to survey, and pleasing talk beguiled the tedious way. The stranger cast around his curious eyes, new objects viewing still with new surprise, with greedy joy inquires of various things, and acts and monuments of ancient kings. Then thus the founder of the Roman towers, these woods were first the seat of Sylvan powers, of nymphs and fawns and salvage men who took their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak, nor laws they knew, nor manners nor the care, of laboring oxen or the shining share, nor arts of gain nor what they gained to spare. Their exercise, the chase, the running float, supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food. Then Satan came who fled the power of Joe, robbed of his realms and banished from above. The men dispersed on hills to towns he brought, and lords ordained and civil customs taught, and last whom called the land were safe he lay, from his undutious son and his usurping sway. With his mild empire peace and plenty came, and hence the golden times to read their name. A more degenerate and discoloured age succeeded this with avarice and rage. The Asonians then, and bold Sicanians came, and Satan's empire often changed the name. Then kings, gigantic Tubers and the rest, with arbitrary sway the land oppressed, for Tubers' flood was Albula before, till from the tyrant's fate his name it bore. I last arrived driving from my native home, by fortune's power and fate's resistless doom, long tossed on seas I sought this happy land, worn by my mother nymph and called by heaven's command. End of Book 8, Part 1. Read by Lars Rolander. Book 8, Part 2 of the N.E.D. This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Lars Rolander. The N.E.D. by Publius Virgilius Maro, translated by John Dryden. Book 8, Arkadian Allies, Part 2. Thus walking on, he spoke and shooed the gate, since called Carmental by the Roman state, where stood an altar sacred to the name of old Carmental, the prophetic name, who to her son foretold the Aenean race, sublime in fame and Rome's imperial place. Then shoest the forest, which in aftertimes fears romulus for perpetrated crimes, a sacred refuge made with this the shrine, where pan below the rock had writhes divine. Then tells of Arger's death his murdered guest, whose grave and tomb his innocence attest. Thence to steep tarpe and rocky leads, now roofed with gold, then thatched with homely reeds. A reverent fear, such superstition reigns among the rude, even then possess the swains. Some god they knew, what god they could not tell, did there amidst the sacred horror dwell. The Arkadian thought him job, and said they so, the mighty thunderer with majestic ave, who took his shield and dealt his bolts around, and scattered tempests on the teeming ground. Then saw two heaps of ruins, once they stood to stately towns on either side the flood. Saturnias and Jan Nicholas remains, and either place the founder's name retains. Discoursing thus together they resort, where poor Evander kept his country caught. They viewed the ground of Rome's litigious hall, once oxen load, where now the lawyer's ball. Then stooping through the narrow gate they pressed, when thus the king bespoke his Troyan guest. Mean as it is this palace and this door, received Alchydus then a conqueror. Dare to be poor except our homely food, which feasted him and emulate a god. Then underneath a lowly roof he led, the weary prince and laid him on a bed. Then stuffing leaves with hides of bears overspread. Now night had shed her silver dew surround, and with her sable wings embraced the ground. When love's fair goddess anxious for her son, new tumult's racing and new wars begun. Couched with her husband in his golden bed, with these alluring words invokes his aid, and that her pleasing speech his mind may move, inspires each accent with its charms of love. While cruel fate conspired with Grecian powers, to level with the ground the Troyan towers, I'd ask not aid the unhappy to restore, nor did the sucker of thy skill implore, nor urge the labours of my lord in vain, a sinking empire longer to sustain. Though much I owed to Priam's house and more, the dangers of Aeneas did deplore. But now, by Jove's command and fate's decree, his race is doomed to reign in Italy. With humble suit I beg thy needful art, o still propitious power that rules my heart. A mother kneels a supplient for her son, by Tietis and Aurora, thou at one, to forge impenetrable shields and grace, with fated arms a less illustrious race. Behold what haughty nations are combined against the relics of the free young kind, with fire and sword my people to destroy, and conquer Venus twice in conquering Troy. She said and straight her arms of snowy you, about her unresolving husband through. Her soft embrace is soon infused desire, his bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire, and all that Godhead feels, the wanted fire, not half so swift the rattling thunder flies, or forky lightning flash along the skies. The Goddess proud of her successful wiles, and conscious of her form in secret smiles, then thus the power obnoxious to her charms, panting and half dissolving in her arms. Why seek your reasons for a cause so just, or your own beauties or my love detrust? Long since had you required my helpful hand, the artificer and art you might command, to labor arms for Troy, nor jove nor fate, confined their empire to so short a date, and if you now desire new wars to wage, my skill I promise, and my pains engage. Whatever melting metals can inspire, or breathing bellows, or the forming fire, is freely yours, your anxious fears remove, and think no task is difficult to love. Trembling his spoke, and eager over charms, he snatched the willing goddess to his arms, till in her lap infused he lay possessed of full desire and sunk to pleasing rest. Now, when the night her middle race had rode, and his first slumber had refreshed the God, the time when early housewives leave the bed, when living embers on the earth they spread, supply the lamp and call the maids to rise, with yawning mouths and with half-opened eyes, apply the distuff by the winking light, and to their daily labor add their night. Thus frugally they earn their children's bread, and uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed. Not less concerned, nor at a later hour, rose from his downy couch the forging power. Sacred to Vulcan's name, an isle there lay, betwixt Cecilia's coast and Lipare, raised high on smoking rocks and deep below, in hollow caves the fires of Etna glow. The kicklops hear their heavy hammer-steel, loud strokes and hissings of tormented steel, are heard around the boiling water's roar, and smoky flames through fuming tunnels soar. Hither the father of the fire by night, through the brown air precipitates his flight, on their eternal anvil's hear he found, the brethren beating and the blows go round. A load of pointless thunder now there lies, before their hands to ripen for their skies. These starch for angry joe they daily cast, consumed on mortals with prodigious waste. Through rays of rhythm rain of fire three more, a winged southern winds and cloudy store, as many parts the dreadful mixture frame, and fears are added and avenging flame. Inferior ministers for Mars' repair, his broken axle-trees and blunted war, and send him forth again with furbished arms, to wake the lazy war with trumpet's loud alarms. The rest refresh the scaly snake that fold, the shield of Pallas and renew their gold. Full on the crest of Gorgon's head they place, with eyes that roll in death and with distorted face. My sons, said Vulcan, set your task aside. Your strength and master skill must now be tried. Arms for a hero forge, arms that require, your force, your speed, and all your forming fire. He said they set their former work aside, and their new tolls with eager haste divide. A flood of molten silver, brass and gold, and deadly steel in the large furnace road. Of this their artful hands a shield prepare, alone sufficient to sustain the war. Seven orbs within a spacious round they close. One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows. The hissing steel is in the smithy drowned, the grot with beaten annuals groans around. By turns their arms advance in equal time. By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime. They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs. The fiery work proceeds with rustic songs. While at the Limnian god's command they urge, their labours thus imply the Aeolian forge. The cheerful mourn salutes Evander's eyes, and songs of chirping birds invite to rise. He leaves his lowly bed, his baskin's meat, above his ankle sandals sheath his feet. He sets his trusty sword upon his side, and over his shoulder throws a panther's hide. To menial dogs before the master pressed, thus clad and guarded thus he seeks his kingly guest. Mindful of promised aid he mends his pace, but meets a nears in the middle space. Jankpalas did his father's steps attend, and true acartus waited on his friend. They join their hands, a secret seat they choose. The Arcadian first their former talk renews. Undaunted prince, I never can believe the Trojan Empire lost while you survive. Command the assistance of a faithful friend, but feeble are the suckers I can send. Our narrow kingdom hear the Tiber bounce, that other side the Lathsian state surrounds. Insults are walls, and wastes are fruitful grounds, but mighty nations I prepare to take. Their arms with yours, and aid your justice sign. You come as by your better genius sent, and fortune seems to favor your intent. Not far from hence there stands a hilly town of ancient buildings, and of high renown, torn from the tuskens by the Lydian race, who gave the name of Cary to the place. Once Agilina called, it flourished long. In pride a wealth and war like people strong. Till cursed, misentious in a fatal hour, assumed the crown with arbitrary power. What words can paint those execrable times, the subject's sufferings, and the tyrant's crimes, that blood, those murders, O ye gods, replace, on his own head, and on his empire's race. The living and the dead at his command, were couple face to face, and hand to hand. Till choked with stench, in loast embraces tied, the lingering wretches pined away, and died. Thus plunged in ills, and meditating more, the people's patience tied no longer bore. The raging monster, but with arms beset, his house and vengeance, and destruction threat. They fire his place, while the flame ascends. They force his guards, and execute his friends. He cleaves the crowd, and favored by the night, to turn us friendly court, directs his flight. By just revenge the tuskens set on fire, with arms their king to punishment require. Their numerous troops now mustered on the strand. My council shall submit to your command. Their navy swarms upon the coasts, they cry, to hoist their anchors, but the gods deny it. An ancient auger, skilled in future fate, with these foreboding words restrains their hate. He brave in arms ye legion blood, the flower of tusk and youth, and choice of all their power, whom just revenge against misentious arms, to seek your tyrant's death by lawful arms. Know this, no native of our land may lead. This powerful people seek a foreign head. Out with these words encamps they still abide, and wait when longing looks their promised guide. Tarkon, the tuskens' chief, to Miha-sen, their crowned and every regal ornament. The people join their own with his desire, and all my conduct, as their king require. But the chill blood that creeps within my veins, and age and listless limbs unfit for pains, and a soul conscious of its own decay, have forced me to refuse imperial sway. My palace were more fit to mount the throne, and should, but he is a sub-in-mother's son, and half a native, but in you combine a manly vigor and a foreign line, where fate and smiling fortune shoo the way, pursue the ready path to sovereign sway. The staff of my declining days, my son, shall make your good or ill success his own. In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare, and serve the hard apprenticeship of war. Your matchless courage, and your conduct view, and earlier shall begin to admire and copy you. Besides two hundred horse he shall command, though few a warlock and well-chosen band. These in my name are listed, and my son, as many more has added in his own. Scarce had he said, a cartus and his guest, with downcast eyes their silent grief expressed, who short of suckers and in deep despair shook at the dismal prospect of the war. But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud, to cheer her issue thundered thrice allowed. Thrice-forky lightning flashed along the sky, and to rain a trumpet's thrice were heard on high. Then gazing up, repeated peals they hear, and in, a heaven's serene, refulgent arms appear, reddening the skies and glittering all around. The tempered metals clash and yield a silver sound. The rest stood trembling, struck with avid divine, a neus only conscious to the sign. Presaged the event and joyful view above the accomplished promise of the queen of love, then to the Arcadian king this prodigy dismiss your fear belongs alone to me. Heaven calls me to the wall, the expected sign is given of promised aid and arms divine. My goddess mother, whose indulgent care foresaw the dangers of the growing wire. This omen gave when bright Volcanian arms fated from force of steel by Stygian chance, suspended shone on high, she then foreshowed, approaching fights and fields to float in blood. Turners shall dearly pay for faith foresworn, and corpse and swords and shields on Tiberborn. Shall choke his flood, now sound the loud alarms, and Latian troops prepare your perjured arms. He said, and rising from his homely throne, the solemn rites of Hercules begun, and on his altars waked the sleeping fires, then cheerful to his household gods retires, their offer's chosen sheep, the Arcadian king, and Troian youth the same oblation spring. Next of his men and ships he makes review, draws out the best and ablest of the crew. Down with the falling stream the refuse run, to race for joyful use his strooping sun. Steeds are prepared to mount the Troian band, who wait their leader to the terrain a land. As brightly coarser fairer than the rest, the king himself presents his royal guest. Alliance hide his back and limbs in fold, precious with studded work and paws of gold. Fame through the little city spreads aloud, the intended march amid the fearful crowd. The matrons beat their breasts to solve in tears, and double their devotion in their fears. The war at hand appears with more of fright, and rises every moment to the sight. Then old Evander, with a close embrace, strained his departing friend, and tears overflow his face. Would heaven, said he, my strength and youth recall, such as I was beneath Prenestas Wall. Then when I made the foremost foes retire, and set whole heaps of concrete shields on fire, when hierilus in single fight I slew, whom with three lives Feroña did endure, and thrice I sent into the Stygian shore, till the last ebbing soul returned no more. Such if I stood renewed, not these alarms, nor death should rend me from my palaces arms, nor proud mercentious thus unpunished boast, his rapes and murders on the Tuscan coast. Ye gods and mighty Jov, in pity bring relief and hear a father and a king. If fate and ye reserve these eyes to see, my son return with peace and victory. If the loved boy shall bless his father's sight, if we shall meet again with more delight, then draw my life in length, let me sustain, in hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain. But if your heart decrees, which, oh, I dread, have doomed to death his undeserving head, this, oh, this very moment, let me die, while hopes and fears in equal balance lie. While yet possessed of all his youthful charms, I strain him close within these aged arms, before that fatal news my soul shall wound, he said and swooning sunk upon the ground. His servants bore him off and softly laid, his languished limbs upon his homely bed. The horsemen march, the gates are open wide, a nears at their head, a cartus by his side, next these the Trojan leaders rode along, last follows in the rear the Akkadian's throne. Jangpala shone conspicuous over the rest, jilded his arms, embroidered was his vest, so from the seas exerged his radiant head, the star by whom the lights of heaven are led. Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly juice, dispels the darkness and the day renews. The trembling wives, the walls and turrets crowd and follow with their eyes the dusty cloud, which winds disperse by fits and shoe from far, the blaze of arms and shields and shining war. The troops drawn up in beautifully array over herty plains pursue the ready way. Repeated peals of shouts are heard around, the neighing choruses answer to their sound and shake with horny hooves the solid ground. A greenswood shade for long religion known stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town, encompassed round with gloomy hills above, which add a holy horror to the grow. The first inhabitants of Grecian blood, that sacred forest to Sylvanus wout, the guardian of their flocks and fields, and pay their due a devotions on his annual day. Not far from hence along the riverside, intense secure the Tuscan troops abide. By Tarkon lead, now from a rising ground, Enneas cast his wandering eyes around, and all the terrain army had in sight, stretched on the spacious plain from left to right. Thethere his warlock trained the Troyan lead, refreshed his men and wearied horses fed. Meantime the mother goddess, crowned with charms, breaks through the clouds and brings the faded arms. Within a winding veil she finds her son, on the cool rivers banks retired alone. She shoes her heavenly form without disguise and gives herself to his desiring eyes. Behold, she said, performed in every part my promise-made and Vulcan's labored art. Now seek, secure, the L'Acian enemy, and the haughty turners to the fields defy. She said, and having first a son, embraced the radiant arms beneath an oak she placed, proud of the gift he rolled his greedy sight around the work engaged with vast delight. He lifts, he turns, he poises and admires, the crested hen that vomit radiant fires. His hands the fatal sword and coarslet hold, one keen with tempered steel, one stiff with gold. Both ample flaming both, and beamy bright, so shines a cloud when edged with adverse light. He shakes the pointed spear and longs to try, the plaited cushes on his manly thigh. But most admires the shield's mysterious mould and Roman triumphs rising on the gold. For these embossed the heavenly smith had wrought, not in the rolls of future fate untaught. The wars in order and the race divine, of warriors issuing from the Julian line. The cave of Mars was dressed with mossy greens, there by the wolf were laid the marshal twins, in trepid on her swelling dugs they hung. The foster dam lulled out her fawning tongue, they sucked secure while bending back her head. She licked their tender limbs and formed them as they fed. Not far from thence new Rome appears with games, projected for the rape of Sabin Danes. The pit resounds with streaks a war succeeds, for breach of public faith and unexampled deeds. Here for revenge the Sabin troops contend, the Romans there with arms the prey defend. Wear it with tedious war at length they seize, and both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace. The friendly chiefs before Joe's altar stand, both armed with each a charger in his hand. A fatted sow for sacrifices led, with imprecations on the perjured head. Near this the traitor Mithius stretched between, for fiery steeds is dragged along the green. By Tollo's doom the brambles drink his blood, and his thorn limbs are left the vultures food. There Porcina to Rome crowd, Tarquin brings, and wood by force restore the banished kings. One tyrant for his fellow tyrant fights, the Roman youth assert their native rights, before the town the Tuscan army lies, to win by famine or by fraud surprise. Their king half threatening, half disdaining stood, while cockles broke the bridge, and stemmed the flood. The captive maids there tempt the raging tide, scraped from their chains with cluelia for their guide. High on a rock heroic Manlio stood, to guard the temple and the temple's god. Then Rome was poor, and there you might behold the palace thatched with straw, now roofed with gold. The silver goose before the shining gate, there flew, and by her cackles saved the state. She told the galls approach, the approaching galls, obscure in night ascend, and seize the walls. The gold assembled well their jello hair, and golden chains on their white necks they wear. Gold are their vests, long alpine spears they'd weed, and their left arm sustains a length of sheet. Hard by the leaping salian priests advance, and naked through the streets the mad lupersidans. In caps of wool the targets dropped from heaven, her modest matrons in soft-litters driven. To pay their wows in solemn pomp appear, and odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear. Far hence removed the stygian seats are seen. Pains of the damned and punished Cataline hang on a rock the traitor and around, the furious hissing from the nether ground. Apart from these the happy souls he draws, and cart as holy goes dispensing laws. Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea, but foaming surges there in silver play. The dancing dolphins with their tails divide, the glittering waves and cut the precious tide. Amid the main two mighty fleets engage, their brazen beaks are posed with equal rage. Axiom surveys the well-disputed prize. Levcarta's watery plain with foamy billows fries. Dung Caesar, on the stern in armor bright, here leads the Roman and their gods to fight. His beamy temples shoot their flames afar, and over his head is hung the Julian star. Agrippa seconds him with prosperous gales, and with propitious gods his foes assails. A naval crown that binds his manly bros, the happy fortune of the fight foreshows. Ranged on the liner posed Antonio Springs, barbarian aides and troops of eastern kings, the Arabian near and Bactrians from afar, of Tangs discordant and a mingle war. And rich in gaudy robes and mist the strife, his ill fate follows him, the Egyptian wife. Moving they fight with oars and forgy prowls, the froth is gathered and the water glows. It seems as if the Cicladas again were rooted up and justled in the main, or floating mountains, floating mountains meet, such is the fierce encounter of the fleet. Fireballs are thrown and pointed javelins fly, the fields of Neptune take the purple dye. The queen herself amidst the loud alarms, with the symbols tossed her fainting soldiers' warns, full as she was, who had not yet divined her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind. Her country gods, the monsters of the sky, great Neptune, Palas, and love's queen defy. The dog anubis barks, but barks in vain, nor longer dares oppose the aetherial train. Mars in the middle of the shining shield is graved and strides along the liquid field. The deer herself from heaven was swift descend, and discord died in blood with garment strength. Divides the priests her steps below nut-reads, and shakes her iron rod above their heads. This scene Apollo from his axion height, pours down his arrows at whose winged flight, the trembling Indians and Egyptians gild, and soft sabane squid the water field, the fatal mistress hoists her silk and sails, and shrinking from the fight invokes the gales. Agastia looks and heaves her breast for breath, panting and pale with fear of future death. The god had figured her as striving along, by winds and waves and scutting through the throng. Just opposite, sad Neelus opens wide his arms and ample bush unto the tide, and spreads his mantle over the winding coast, in which he wraps his queen and hides the flying host. The victor to the gods his thanks expressed, and Rome triumphant with his presence blessed, three hundred temples in the town he placed, with spoils and altars every temple graced. Three shining nights and three succeeding days, the fields resound which shouts the streets with praise, the domes with songs, the theatres with plays, all altars flame before each altar lies, drenched in his core the destined sacrifice. Great Caesar sits sublime upon his throne, before Apollo's porch of Parian stone, accepts the presence vowed for victory, and hangs the monumental crowns on high, vast crowds of vanquished nations march along, various in arms, in habit, and in tongue. Here Malciber assigns the proper place for Caryans and the unguarded Numidian race, then ranks the Trarchans in the second row, with Skeetians expert in the dart and bow, and here the tamed Euphrates humbly glides, and there the Rhine submits her swelling tides, and proud Araxes, who no bridge could bind, the Danes unconquered offspring march behind, and Morini the last of humankind. These figures on the shield divinely wrought, by Vulcan laboured and by Venus brought, with joy and wonder fill the hearer's thought, unknown the names he yet admires the grace, and bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race. End of book 8. Read by Lars Rolander