For here will I place thine oracles and the secrets of destiny uttered
to my people, and consecrate chosen men, O gracious one.
to my people, and consecrate chosen men, O gracious one.
Virgil - Aeneid
Nay, their eyes would scan
all the story in order, were not Achates already returned from his
errand, and with him the priestess of Phoebus and Trivia, Deiphobe
daughter of Glaucus, who thus accosts the king: 'Other than this are the
sights the time demands: now were it well to sacrifice seven unbroken
bullocks of the herd, as many fitly chosen sheep of two years old. ' Thus
speaks she to Aeneas; nor do they delay to do her sacred bidding; and
the priestess calls the Teucrians into the lofty shrine.
A vast cavern is scooped in the side of the Euboic cliff, whither lead
an hundred wide passages by an hundred gates, whence peal forth as
manifold the responses of the Sibyl. They had reached the threshold,
when the maiden cries: _It is time to enquire thy fate: the god, lo! the
god! _ And even as she spoke thus in the gateway, suddenly countenance
nor colour nor ranged tresses stayed the same; her wild heart heaves
madly in her panting bosom; and she expands to sight, and her voice is
more than mortal, now the god breathes on her in nearer deity.
'Lingerest thou to vow and pray,' she cries, 'Aeneas of Troy? lingerest
thou? for not till then will the vast portals of the spellbound house
swing open. ' So spoke she, and sank to silence. A cold shiver ran
through the Teucrians' iron frames, and the king pours heart-deep
supplication:
[56-89]'Phoebus, who hast ever pitied the sore travail of Troy, who
didst guide the Dardanian shaft from Paris' hand full on the son of
Aeacus, in thy leading have I pierced all these seas that skirt mighty
lands, the Massylian nations far withdrawn, and the fields the Syrtes
fringe; thus far let the fortune of Troy follow us. You too may now
unforbidden spare the nation of Pergama, gods and goddesses to
whomsoever Ilium and the great glory of Dardania did wrong. And thou, O
prophetess most holy, foreknower of the future, grant (for no unearned
realm does my destiny claim) a resting-place in Latium to the Teucrians,
to their wandering gods and the storm-tossed deities of Troy. Then will
I ordain to Phoebus and Trivia a temple of solid marble, and festal days
in Phoebus' name. Thee likewise a mighty sanctuary awaits in our realm.
For here will I place thine oracles and the secrets of destiny uttered
to my people, and consecrate chosen men, O gracious one. Only commit not
thou thy verses to leaves, lest they fly disordered, the sport of
rushing winds; thyself utter them, I beseech thee. ' His lips made an end
of utterance.
But the prophetess, not yet tame to Phoebus' hand, rages fiercely in the
cavern, so she may shake the mighty godhead from her breast; so much the
more does he tire her maddened mouth and subdue her wild breast and
shape her to his pressure. And now the hundred mighty portals of the
house open of their own accord, and bring through the air the answer of
the soothsayer:
'O past at length with the great perils of the sea! though heavier yet
by land await thee, the Dardanians shall come to the realm of Lavinium;
relieve thy heart of this care; but not so shall they have joy of their
coming. Wars, grim wars I discern, and Tiber afoam with streams of
blood. A Simois shall not fail thee, a Xanthus, a Dorian camp; another
Achilles is already found for Latium, he too [90-123]goddess-born; nor
shall Juno's presence ever leave the Teucrians; while thou in thy need,
to what nations or what towns of Italy shalt thou not sue! Again is an
alien bride the source of all that Teucrian woe, again a foreign
marriage-chamber. . . . Yield not thou to distresses, but all the bolder
go forth to meet them, as thy fortune shall allow thee way. The path of
rescue, little as thou deemest it, shall first open from a Grecian
town. '
In such words the Sibyl of Cumae chants from the shrine her perplexing
terrors, echoing through the cavern truth wrapped in obscurity: so does
Apollo clash the reins and ply the goad in her maddened breast. So soon
as the spasm ceased and the raving lips sank to silence, Aeneas the hero
begins: 'No shape of toil, O maiden, rises strange or sudden on my
sight; all this ere now have I guessed and inly rehearsed in spirit.
all the story in order, were not Achates already returned from his
errand, and with him the priestess of Phoebus and Trivia, Deiphobe
daughter of Glaucus, who thus accosts the king: 'Other than this are the
sights the time demands: now were it well to sacrifice seven unbroken
bullocks of the herd, as many fitly chosen sheep of two years old. ' Thus
speaks she to Aeneas; nor do they delay to do her sacred bidding; and
the priestess calls the Teucrians into the lofty shrine.
A vast cavern is scooped in the side of the Euboic cliff, whither lead
an hundred wide passages by an hundred gates, whence peal forth as
manifold the responses of the Sibyl. They had reached the threshold,
when the maiden cries: _It is time to enquire thy fate: the god, lo! the
god! _ And even as she spoke thus in the gateway, suddenly countenance
nor colour nor ranged tresses stayed the same; her wild heart heaves
madly in her panting bosom; and she expands to sight, and her voice is
more than mortal, now the god breathes on her in nearer deity.
'Lingerest thou to vow and pray,' she cries, 'Aeneas of Troy? lingerest
thou? for not till then will the vast portals of the spellbound house
swing open. ' So spoke she, and sank to silence. A cold shiver ran
through the Teucrians' iron frames, and the king pours heart-deep
supplication:
[56-89]'Phoebus, who hast ever pitied the sore travail of Troy, who
didst guide the Dardanian shaft from Paris' hand full on the son of
Aeacus, in thy leading have I pierced all these seas that skirt mighty
lands, the Massylian nations far withdrawn, and the fields the Syrtes
fringe; thus far let the fortune of Troy follow us. You too may now
unforbidden spare the nation of Pergama, gods and goddesses to
whomsoever Ilium and the great glory of Dardania did wrong. And thou, O
prophetess most holy, foreknower of the future, grant (for no unearned
realm does my destiny claim) a resting-place in Latium to the Teucrians,
to their wandering gods and the storm-tossed deities of Troy. Then will
I ordain to Phoebus and Trivia a temple of solid marble, and festal days
in Phoebus' name. Thee likewise a mighty sanctuary awaits in our realm.
For here will I place thine oracles and the secrets of destiny uttered
to my people, and consecrate chosen men, O gracious one. Only commit not
thou thy verses to leaves, lest they fly disordered, the sport of
rushing winds; thyself utter them, I beseech thee. ' His lips made an end
of utterance.
But the prophetess, not yet tame to Phoebus' hand, rages fiercely in the
cavern, so she may shake the mighty godhead from her breast; so much the
more does he tire her maddened mouth and subdue her wild breast and
shape her to his pressure. And now the hundred mighty portals of the
house open of their own accord, and bring through the air the answer of
the soothsayer:
'O past at length with the great perils of the sea! though heavier yet
by land await thee, the Dardanians shall come to the realm of Lavinium;
relieve thy heart of this care; but not so shall they have joy of their
coming. Wars, grim wars I discern, and Tiber afoam with streams of
blood. A Simois shall not fail thee, a Xanthus, a Dorian camp; another
Achilles is already found for Latium, he too [90-123]goddess-born; nor
shall Juno's presence ever leave the Teucrians; while thou in thy need,
to what nations or what towns of Italy shalt thou not sue! Again is an
alien bride the source of all that Teucrian woe, again a foreign
marriage-chamber. . . . Yield not thou to distresses, but all the bolder
go forth to meet them, as thy fortune shall allow thee way. The path of
rescue, little as thou deemest it, shall first open from a Grecian
town. '
In such words the Sibyl of Cumae chants from the shrine her perplexing
terrors, echoing through the cavern truth wrapped in obscurity: so does
Apollo clash the reins and ply the goad in her maddened breast. So soon
as the spasm ceased and the raving lips sank to silence, Aeneas the hero
begins: 'No shape of toil, O maiden, rises strange or sudden on my
sight; all this ere now have I guessed and inly rehearsed in spirit.
