One
youthful
line goes rejoicingly behind
little Priam, renewer of his grandsire's name, thy renowned seed, O
Polites, and destined to people Italy; he rides a Thracian horse dappled
with spots of white, showing white on his pacing pasterns and white on
his high forehead.
little Priam, renewer of his grandsire's name, thy renowned seed, O
Polites, and destined to people Italy; he rides a Thracian horse dappled
with spots of white, showing white on his pacing pasterns and white on
his high forehead.
Virgil - Aeneid
hit the
bird herself with his steel, but cut the knotted hempen bands that tied
her foot as she hung from the masthead; she winged her flight into the
dark windy clouds. Then Eurytion, who ere now held the arrow ready on
his bended bow, swiftly called in prayer to his brother, marked the
pigeon as she now went down the empty sky exultant on clapping wings;
and as she passed under a dark cloud, [517-553]struck her: she fell
breathless, and, leaving her life in the aery firmament, slid down
carrying the arrow that pierced her. Acestes alone was over, and the
prize lost; yet he sped his arrow up into the air, to display his lordly
skill and resounding bow. At this a sudden sign meets their eyes, mighty
in augural presage, as the high event taught thereafter, and in late
days boding seers prophesied of the omen. For the flying reed blazed out
amid the swimming clouds, traced its path in flame, and burned away on
the light winds; even as often stars shooting from their sphere draw a
train athwart the sky. Trinacrians and Trojans hung in astonishment,
praying to the heavenly powers; neither did great Aeneas reject the
omen, but embraces glad Acestes and loads him with lavish gifts,
speaking thus: 'Take, my lord: for the high King of heaven by these
signs hath willed thee to draw the lot of peculiar honour. This gift
shalt thou have as from aged Anchises' own hand, a bowl embossed with
figures, that once Cisseus of Thrace gave my father Anchises to bear, in
high token and guerdon of affection. ' So speaking, he twines green bay
about his brows, and proclaims Acestes conqueror first before them all.
Nor did gentle Eurytion, though he alone struck the bird down from the
lofty sky, grudge him to be preferred in honour. Next comes for his
prize he who cut the cord; he last, who pierced the mast with his winged
reed.
But lord Aeneas, ere yet the contest is sped, calls to him Epytides,
guardian and attendant of ungrown Iulus, and thus speaks into his
faithful ear: 'Up and away, and tell Ascanius, if he now holds his band
of boys ready, and their horses arrayed for the charge, to defile his
squadrons to his grandsire's honour in bravery of arms. ' So says he, and
himself bids all the crowding throng withdraw from the long racecourse
and leave the lists free. The boys move in before their parents' faces,
glittering in rank on their [554-590]bitted horses; as they go all the
people of Troy and Trinacria murmur and admire. On the hair of them all
rests a garland fitly trimmed; each carries two cornel spear-shafts
tipped with steel; some have polished quivers on their shoulders; above
their breast and round their neck goes a flexible circlet of twisted
gold. Three in number are the troops of riders, and three captains
gallop up and down; following each in equal command rides a glittering
division of twelve boys.
One youthful line goes rejoicingly behind
little Priam, renewer of his grandsire's name, thy renowned seed, O
Polites, and destined to people Italy; he rides a Thracian horse dappled
with spots of white, showing white on his pacing pasterns and white on
his high forehead. Second is Atys, from whom the Latin Atii draw their
line, little Atys, boy beloved of the boy Iulus. Last and excellent in
beauty before them all, Iulus rode in on a Sidonian horse that Dido the
bright had given him for token and pledge of love. The rest of them are
mounted on old Acestes' Sicilian horses. . . . The Dardanians greet
their shy entrance with applause, and rejoice at the view, and recognise
the features of their parents of old. When they have ridden merrily
round all the concourse of their gazing friends, Epytides shouts from
afar the signal they await, and sounds his whip. They gallop apart in
equal numbers, and open their files three and three in deploying bands,
and again at the call wheel about and bear down with levelled arms. Next
they start on other charges and other retreats in corresponsive spaces,
and interlink circle with circle, and wage the armed phantom of battle.
And now they bare their backs in flight, now turn their lances to the
charge, now plight peace and ride on side by side. As once of old, they
say, the labyrinth in high Crete had a tangled path between blind walls,
and a thousand ways of doubling treachery, where tokens to follow failed
in the [591-625]maze unmastered and irrecoverable: even in such a track
do the children of Troy entangle their footsteps and weave the game of
flight and battle; like dolphins who, swimming through the wet seas, cut
Carpathian or Libyan. . . .
bird herself with his steel, but cut the knotted hempen bands that tied
her foot as she hung from the masthead; she winged her flight into the
dark windy clouds. Then Eurytion, who ere now held the arrow ready on
his bended bow, swiftly called in prayer to his brother, marked the
pigeon as she now went down the empty sky exultant on clapping wings;
and as she passed under a dark cloud, [517-553]struck her: she fell
breathless, and, leaving her life in the aery firmament, slid down
carrying the arrow that pierced her. Acestes alone was over, and the
prize lost; yet he sped his arrow up into the air, to display his lordly
skill and resounding bow. At this a sudden sign meets their eyes, mighty
in augural presage, as the high event taught thereafter, and in late
days boding seers prophesied of the omen. For the flying reed blazed out
amid the swimming clouds, traced its path in flame, and burned away on
the light winds; even as often stars shooting from their sphere draw a
train athwart the sky. Trinacrians and Trojans hung in astonishment,
praying to the heavenly powers; neither did great Aeneas reject the
omen, but embraces glad Acestes and loads him with lavish gifts,
speaking thus: 'Take, my lord: for the high King of heaven by these
signs hath willed thee to draw the lot of peculiar honour. This gift
shalt thou have as from aged Anchises' own hand, a bowl embossed with
figures, that once Cisseus of Thrace gave my father Anchises to bear, in
high token and guerdon of affection. ' So speaking, he twines green bay
about his brows, and proclaims Acestes conqueror first before them all.
Nor did gentle Eurytion, though he alone struck the bird down from the
lofty sky, grudge him to be preferred in honour. Next comes for his
prize he who cut the cord; he last, who pierced the mast with his winged
reed.
But lord Aeneas, ere yet the contest is sped, calls to him Epytides,
guardian and attendant of ungrown Iulus, and thus speaks into his
faithful ear: 'Up and away, and tell Ascanius, if he now holds his band
of boys ready, and their horses arrayed for the charge, to defile his
squadrons to his grandsire's honour in bravery of arms. ' So says he, and
himself bids all the crowding throng withdraw from the long racecourse
and leave the lists free. The boys move in before their parents' faces,
glittering in rank on their [554-590]bitted horses; as they go all the
people of Troy and Trinacria murmur and admire. On the hair of them all
rests a garland fitly trimmed; each carries two cornel spear-shafts
tipped with steel; some have polished quivers on their shoulders; above
their breast and round their neck goes a flexible circlet of twisted
gold. Three in number are the troops of riders, and three captains
gallop up and down; following each in equal command rides a glittering
division of twelve boys.
One youthful line goes rejoicingly behind
little Priam, renewer of his grandsire's name, thy renowned seed, O
Polites, and destined to people Italy; he rides a Thracian horse dappled
with spots of white, showing white on his pacing pasterns and white on
his high forehead. Second is Atys, from whom the Latin Atii draw their
line, little Atys, boy beloved of the boy Iulus. Last and excellent in
beauty before them all, Iulus rode in on a Sidonian horse that Dido the
bright had given him for token and pledge of love. The rest of them are
mounted on old Acestes' Sicilian horses. . . . The Dardanians greet
their shy entrance with applause, and rejoice at the view, and recognise
the features of their parents of old. When they have ridden merrily
round all the concourse of their gazing friends, Epytides shouts from
afar the signal they await, and sounds his whip. They gallop apart in
equal numbers, and open their files three and three in deploying bands,
and again at the call wheel about and bear down with levelled arms. Next
they start on other charges and other retreats in corresponsive spaces,
and interlink circle with circle, and wage the armed phantom of battle.
And now they bare their backs in flight, now turn their lances to the
charge, now plight peace and ride on side by side. As once of old, they
say, the labyrinth in high Crete had a tangled path between blind walls,
and a thousand ways of doubling treachery, where tokens to follow failed
in the [591-625]maze unmastered and irrecoverable: even in such a track
do the children of Troy entangle their footsteps and weave the game of
flight and battle; like dolphins who, swimming through the wet seas, cut
Carpathian or Libyan. . . .
