Rouse thy winds to fury, and
overwhelm
their sinking vessels, or
drive them asunder and strew ocean with their bodies.
drive them asunder and strew ocean with their bodies.
Virgil - Aeneid
Here was
her armour, here her chariot; even now, if fate permit, the goddess
strives to nurture it for queen of the nations. Nevertheless she had
heard a race was issuing of the blood of [20-53]Troy, which sometime
should overthrow her Tyrian citadel; from it should come a people, lord
of lands and tyrannous in war, the destroyer of Libya: so rolled the
destinies. Fearful of that, the daughter of Saturn, the old war in her
remembrance that she fought at Troy for her beloved Argos long ago,--nor
had the springs of her anger nor the bitterness of her vexation yet gone
out of mind: deep stored in her soul lies the judgment of Paris, the
insult of her slighted beauty, the hated race and the dignities of
ravished Ganymede; fired with this also, she tossed all over ocean the
Trojan remnant left of the Greek host and merciless Achilles, and held
them afar from Latium; and many a year were they wandering driven of
fate around all the seas. Such work was it to found the Roman people.
Hardly out of sight of the land of Sicily did they set their sails to
sea, and merrily upturned the salt foam with brazen prow, when Juno, the
undying wound still deep in her heart, thus broke out alone:
'Am I then to abandon my baffled purpose, powerless to keep the Teucrian
king from Italy? and because fate forbids me? Could Pallas lay the
Argive fleet in ashes, and sink the Argives in the sea, for one man's
guilt, mad Oilean Ajax? Her hand darted Jove's flying fire from the
clouds, scattered their ships, upturned the seas in tempest; him, his
pierced breast yet breathing forth the flame, she caught in a whirlwind
and impaled on a spike of rock. But I, who move queen among immortals, I
sister and wife of Jove, wage warfare all these years with a single
people; and is there any who still adores Juno's divinity, or will kneel
to lay sacrifice on her altars? '
Such thoughts inly revolving in her kindled bosom, the goddess reaches
Aeolia, the home of storm-clouds, the land laden with furious southern
gales. Here in a desolate cavern Aeolus keeps under royal dominion and
yokes in [54-85]dungeon fetters the struggling winds and loud storms.
They with mighty moan rage indignant round their mountain barriers. In
his lofty citadel Aeolus sits sceptred, assuages their temper and
soothes their rage; else would they carry with them seas and lands, and
the depth of heaven, and sweep them through space in their flying
course. But, fearful of this, the lord omnipotent hath hidden them in
caverned gloom, and laid a mountain mass high over them, and appointed
them a ruler, who should know by certain law to strain and slacken the
reins at command. To him now Juno spoke thus in suppliant accents:
'Aeolus--for to thee hath the father of gods and king of men given the
wind that lulls and that lifts the waves--a people mine enemy sails the
Tyrrhene sea, carrying into Italy the conquered gods of their Ilian
home.
Rouse thy winds to fury, and overwhelm their sinking vessels, or
drive them asunder and strew ocean with their bodies. Mine are twice
seven nymphs of passing loveliness; her who of them all is most
excellent in beauty, Deiopea, I will unite to thee in wedlock to be
thine for ever; that for this thy service she may fulfil all her years
at thy side, and make thee father of a beautiful race. '
Aeolus thus returned: 'Thine, O queen, the task to search whereto thou
hast desire; for me it is right to do thy bidding. From thee have I this
poor kingdom, from thee my sceptre and Jove's grace; thou dost grant me
to take my seat at the feasts of the gods, and makest me sovereign over
clouds and storms. '
Even with these words, turning his spear, he struck the side of the
hollow hill, and the winds, as in banded array, pour where passage is
given them, and cover earth with eddying blasts. East wind and west wind
together, and the gusty south-wester, falling prone on the sea, stir it
up [86-120]from its lowest chambers, and roll vast billows to the
shore. Behind rises shouting of men and whistling of cordage. In a
moment clouds blot sky and daylight from the Teucrians' eyes; black
night broods over the deep. Pole thunders to pole, and the air quivers
with incessant flashes; all menaces them with instant death. Straightway
Aeneas' frame grows unnerved and chill, and stretching either hand to
heaven, he cries thus aloud: 'Ah, thrice and four times happy they who
found their doom under high Troy town before their fathers' faces! Ah,
son of Tydeus, bravest of the Grecian race, that I could not have fallen
on the Ilian plains, and gasped out this my life beneath thine hand!
where under the spear of Aeacides lies fierce Hector, lies mighty
Sarpedon; where Simois so often bore beneath his whirling wave shields
and helmets and brave bodies of men. '
As the cry leaves his lips, a gust of the shrill north strikes full on
the sail and raises the waves up to heaven. The oars are snapped; the
prow swings away and gives her side to the waves; down in a heap comes a
broken mountain of water. These hang on the wave's ridge; to these the
yawning billow shows ground amid the surge, where the sea churns with
sand. Three ships the south wind catches and hurls on hidden rocks,
rocks amid the waves which Italians call the Altars, a vast reef banking
the sea.
her armour, here her chariot; even now, if fate permit, the goddess
strives to nurture it for queen of the nations. Nevertheless she had
heard a race was issuing of the blood of [20-53]Troy, which sometime
should overthrow her Tyrian citadel; from it should come a people, lord
of lands and tyrannous in war, the destroyer of Libya: so rolled the
destinies. Fearful of that, the daughter of Saturn, the old war in her
remembrance that she fought at Troy for her beloved Argos long ago,--nor
had the springs of her anger nor the bitterness of her vexation yet gone
out of mind: deep stored in her soul lies the judgment of Paris, the
insult of her slighted beauty, the hated race and the dignities of
ravished Ganymede; fired with this also, she tossed all over ocean the
Trojan remnant left of the Greek host and merciless Achilles, and held
them afar from Latium; and many a year were they wandering driven of
fate around all the seas. Such work was it to found the Roman people.
Hardly out of sight of the land of Sicily did they set their sails to
sea, and merrily upturned the salt foam with brazen prow, when Juno, the
undying wound still deep in her heart, thus broke out alone:
'Am I then to abandon my baffled purpose, powerless to keep the Teucrian
king from Italy? and because fate forbids me? Could Pallas lay the
Argive fleet in ashes, and sink the Argives in the sea, for one man's
guilt, mad Oilean Ajax? Her hand darted Jove's flying fire from the
clouds, scattered their ships, upturned the seas in tempest; him, his
pierced breast yet breathing forth the flame, she caught in a whirlwind
and impaled on a spike of rock. But I, who move queen among immortals, I
sister and wife of Jove, wage warfare all these years with a single
people; and is there any who still adores Juno's divinity, or will kneel
to lay sacrifice on her altars? '
Such thoughts inly revolving in her kindled bosom, the goddess reaches
Aeolia, the home of storm-clouds, the land laden with furious southern
gales. Here in a desolate cavern Aeolus keeps under royal dominion and
yokes in [54-85]dungeon fetters the struggling winds and loud storms.
They with mighty moan rage indignant round their mountain barriers. In
his lofty citadel Aeolus sits sceptred, assuages their temper and
soothes their rage; else would they carry with them seas and lands, and
the depth of heaven, and sweep them through space in their flying
course. But, fearful of this, the lord omnipotent hath hidden them in
caverned gloom, and laid a mountain mass high over them, and appointed
them a ruler, who should know by certain law to strain and slacken the
reins at command. To him now Juno spoke thus in suppliant accents:
'Aeolus--for to thee hath the father of gods and king of men given the
wind that lulls and that lifts the waves--a people mine enemy sails the
Tyrrhene sea, carrying into Italy the conquered gods of their Ilian
home.
Rouse thy winds to fury, and overwhelm their sinking vessels, or
drive them asunder and strew ocean with their bodies. Mine are twice
seven nymphs of passing loveliness; her who of them all is most
excellent in beauty, Deiopea, I will unite to thee in wedlock to be
thine for ever; that for this thy service she may fulfil all her years
at thy side, and make thee father of a beautiful race. '
Aeolus thus returned: 'Thine, O queen, the task to search whereto thou
hast desire; for me it is right to do thy bidding. From thee have I this
poor kingdom, from thee my sceptre and Jove's grace; thou dost grant me
to take my seat at the feasts of the gods, and makest me sovereign over
clouds and storms. '
Even with these words, turning his spear, he struck the side of the
hollow hill, and the winds, as in banded array, pour where passage is
given them, and cover earth with eddying blasts. East wind and west wind
together, and the gusty south-wester, falling prone on the sea, stir it
up [86-120]from its lowest chambers, and roll vast billows to the
shore. Behind rises shouting of men and whistling of cordage. In a
moment clouds blot sky and daylight from the Teucrians' eyes; black
night broods over the deep. Pole thunders to pole, and the air quivers
with incessant flashes; all menaces them with instant death. Straightway
Aeneas' frame grows unnerved and chill, and stretching either hand to
heaven, he cries thus aloud: 'Ah, thrice and four times happy they who
found their doom under high Troy town before their fathers' faces! Ah,
son of Tydeus, bravest of the Grecian race, that I could not have fallen
on the Ilian plains, and gasped out this my life beneath thine hand!
where under the spear of Aeacides lies fierce Hector, lies mighty
Sarpedon; where Simois so often bore beneath his whirling wave shields
and helmets and brave bodies of men. '
As the cry leaves his lips, a gust of the shrill north strikes full on
the sail and raises the waves up to heaven. The oars are snapped; the
prow swings away and gives her side to the waves; down in a heap comes a
broken mountain of water. These hang on the wave's ridge; to these the
yawning billow shows ground amid the surge, where the sea churns with
sand. Three ships the south wind catches and hurls on hidden rocks,
rocks amid the waves which Italians call the Altars, a vast reef banking
the sea.
