Then she thus
addressed
me, and with this speech allayed
my distresses: "What help is there in this mad passion of grief, sweet
my husband?
my distresses: "What help is there in this mad passion of grief, sweet
my husband?
Virgil - Aeneid
First of all
I regain the walls and the dim gateway whence my steps had issued; I
scan and follow back my footprints with searching gaze in the night.
Everywhere my spirit shudders, dismayed at the very silence. Thence I
pass on home, if haply her feet (if haply! ) had led her thither. The
Grecians had poured in, and filled the palace. The devouring fire goes
rolling before the wind high as the roof; the flames tower over it, and
the heat surges up into the air. I move on, and revisit the citadel and
Priam's dwelling; where now in the spacious porticoes of Juno's
sanctuary, Phoenix and accursed Ulysses, chosen sentries, were guarding
the spoil. Hither from all quarters is flung in masses the treasure of
Troy torn from burning shrines, [765-798]tables of the gods, bowls of
solid gold, and raiment of the captives. Boys and cowering mothers in
long file stand round. . . . Yes, and I dared to cry abroad through the
darkness; I filled the streets with calling, and again and yet again
with vain reiterance cried piteously on Creusa. As I stormed and sought
her endlessly among the houses of the town, there rose before mine eyes
a melancholy phantom, the ghost of very Creusa, in likeness larger than
her wont. I was motionless; my hair stood up, and the accents faltered
on my tongue.
Then she thus addressed me, and with this speech allayed
my distresses: "What help is there in this mad passion of grief, sweet
my husband? not without divine influence does this come to pass: nor may
it be, nor does the high lord of Olympus allow, that thou shouldest
carry Creusa hence in thy company. Long shall be thine exile, and weary
spaces of sea must thou furrow through; and thou shalt come to the land
Hesperia, where Lydian Tiber flows with soft current through rich and
populous fields. There prosperity awaits thee, and a kingdom, and a
king's daughter for thy wife. Dispel these tears for thy beloved Creusa.
Never will I look on the proud homes of the Myrmidons or Dolopians, or
go to be the slave of Greek matrons, I a daughter of Dardania, a
daughter-in-law of Venus the goddess. . . . But the mighty mother of the
gods keeps me in these her borders. And now farewell, and still love thy
child and mine. " This speech uttered, while I wept and would have said
many a thing, she left me and retreated into thin air. Thrice there was
I fain to lay mine arms round her neck; thrice the vision I vainly
clasped fled out of my hands, even as the light breezes, or most like to
fluttering sleep. So at last, when night is spent, I revisit my
comrades.
'And here I find a marvellous great company, newly flocked in, mothers
and men, a people gathered for exile, [799-804]a pitiable crowd. From
all quarters they are assembled, ready in heart and fortune, to
whatsoever land I will conduct them overseas.
I regain the walls and the dim gateway whence my steps had issued; I
scan and follow back my footprints with searching gaze in the night.
Everywhere my spirit shudders, dismayed at the very silence. Thence I
pass on home, if haply her feet (if haply! ) had led her thither. The
Grecians had poured in, and filled the palace. The devouring fire goes
rolling before the wind high as the roof; the flames tower over it, and
the heat surges up into the air. I move on, and revisit the citadel and
Priam's dwelling; where now in the spacious porticoes of Juno's
sanctuary, Phoenix and accursed Ulysses, chosen sentries, were guarding
the spoil. Hither from all quarters is flung in masses the treasure of
Troy torn from burning shrines, [765-798]tables of the gods, bowls of
solid gold, and raiment of the captives. Boys and cowering mothers in
long file stand round. . . . Yes, and I dared to cry abroad through the
darkness; I filled the streets with calling, and again and yet again
with vain reiterance cried piteously on Creusa. As I stormed and sought
her endlessly among the houses of the town, there rose before mine eyes
a melancholy phantom, the ghost of very Creusa, in likeness larger than
her wont. I was motionless; my hair stood up, and the accents faltered
on my tongue.
Then she thus addressed me, and with this speech allayed
my distresses: "What help is there in this mad passion of grief, sweet
my husband? not without divine influence does this come to pass: nor may
it be, nor does the high lord of Olympus allow, that thou shouldest
carry Creusa hence in thy company. Long shall be thine exile, and weary
spaces of sea must thou furrow through; and thou shalt come to the land
Hesperia, where Lydian Tiber flows with soft current through rich and
populous fields. There prosperity awaits thee, and a kingdom, and a
king's daughter for thy wife. Dispel these tears for thy beloved Creusa.
Never will I look on the proud homes of the Myrmidons or Dolopians, or
go to be the slave of Greek matrons, I a daughter of Dardania, a
daughter-in-law of Venus the goddess. . . . But the mighty mother of the
gods keeps me in these her borders. And now farewell, and still love thy
child and mine. " This speech uttered, while I wept and would have said
many a thing, she left me and retreated into thin air. Thrice there was
I fain to lay mine arms round her neck; thrice the vision I vainly
clasped fled out of my hands, even as the light breezes, or most like to
fluttering sleep. So at last, when night is spent, I revisit my
comrades.
'And here I find a marvellous great company, newly flocked in, mothers
and men, a people gathered for exile, [799-804]a pitiable crowd. From
all quarters they are assembled, ready in heart and fortune, to
whatsoever land I will conduct them overseas.
