I would
urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother
make this half his native land.
urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother
make this half his native land.
Virgil - Aeneid
On this side the Tuscan river
shuts us in; on that the Rutulian drives us hard, and thunders in arms
about our walls. But I purpose to unite to thee mighty peoples and the
camp of a wealthy realm; an unforeseen chance offers this for thy
salvation. Fate summons thy approach. Not far from here stands fast
Agylla city, an ancient pile of stone, where of old the Lydian race,
eminent in war, settled on the Etruscan ridges. For many years it
flourished, till King Mezentius ruled it with insolent sway and armed
terror. Why should I relate the horrible murders, the savage deeds of
the monarch? May the gods keep them in store for himself and his line!
Nay, he would even link dead bodies to living, fitting hand to hand and
face to face (the torture! ), and in the oozy foulness and corruption of
the dreadful embrace so slay them by a lingering death. But at last his
citizens, outwearied by his mad excesses, surround him and his house in
arms, cut down his comrades, and hurl fire on his roof. Amid the
massacre he escaped to the refuge of Rutulian land and the armed defence
of Turnus' friendship. So all Etruria hath risen in righteous fury, and
in immediate battle claim their king for punishment. Over these
thousands will I make thee chief, O Aeneas; for their noisy ships crowd
all the shore, and they bid the standards advance, while the aged
diviner stays them with prophecies: "O chosen men of Maeonia, flower and
strength of them, of old time, whom righteous anger urges on the enemy,
and Mezentius inflames with deserved wrath, to no Italian is it
permitted to hold this great nation in control: choose foreigners to
lead you. " At that, terrified by the divine warning, the Etruscan lines
have encamped on the plain; Tarchon himself hath sent ambassadors to me
with the crown [506-539]and sceptre of the kingdom, and offers the
royal attire will I but enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene realm.
But old age, frozen to dulness, and exhausted with length of life,
denies me the load of empire, and my prowess is past its day.
I would
urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother
make this half his native land. Thou, to whose years and race alike the
fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a
leader supreme in bravery over Teucrians and Italians. Mine own Pallas
likewise, our hope and comfort, I will send with thee; let him grow used
to endure warfare and the stern work of battle under thy teaching, to
regard thine actions, and from his earliest years look up to thee. To
him will I give two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the choice of our warlike
strength, and Pallas as many more to thee in his own name. '
Scarce had he ended; Aeneas, son of Anchises, and trusty Achates gazed
with steadfast face, and, sad at heart, were revolving inly many a
labour, had not the Cytherean sent a sign from the clear sky. For
suddenly a flash and peal comes quivering from heaven, and all seemed in
a moment to totter, and the Tyrrhene trumpet-blast to roar along the
sky. They look up; again and yet again the heavy crash re-echoes. They
see in the serene space of sky armour gleam red through a cloud in the
clear air, and ring clashing out. The others stood in amaze; but the
Trojan hero knew the sound for the promise of his goddess mother; then
he speaks: 'Ask not, O friend, ask not in any wise what fortune this
presage announces; it is I who am summoned of heaven. This sign the
goddess who bore me foretold she would send if war assailed, and would
bring through the air to my succour armour from Vulcan's hands. . . .
Ah, what slaughter awaits the wretched Laurentines! what a price, O
Turnus, wilt thou pay me! how many shields and helmets and brave bodies
of men shalt thou, [540-573]Lord Tiber, roll under thy waves!
shuts us in; on that the Rutulian drives us hard, and thunders in arms
about our walls. But I purpose to unite to thee mighty peoples and the
camp of a wealthy realm; an unforeseen chance offers this for thy
salvation. Fate summons thy approach. Not far from here stands fast
Agylla city, an ancient pile of stone, where of old the Lydian race,
eminent in war, settled on the Etruscan ridges. For many years it
flourished, till King Mezentius ruled it with insolent sway and armed
terror. Why should I relate the horrible murders, the savage deeds of
the monarch? May the gods keep them in store for himself and his line!
Nay, he would even link dead bodies to living, fitting hand to hand and
face to face (the torture! ), and in the oozy foulness and corruption of
the dreadful embrace so slay them by a lingering death. But at last his
citizens, outwearied by his mad excesses, surround him and his house in
arms, cut down his comrades, and hurl fire on his roof. Amid the
massacre he escaped to the refuge of Rutulian land and the armed defence
of Turnus' friendship. So all Etruria hath risen in righteous fury, and
in immediate battle claim their king for punishment. Over these
thousands will I make thee chief, O Aeneas; for their noisy ships crowd
all the shore, and they bid the standards advance, while the aged
diviner stays them with prophecies: "O chosen men of Maeonia, flower and
strength of them, of old time, whom righteous anger urges on the enemy,
and Mezentius inflames with deserved wrath, to no Italian is it
permitted to hold this great nation in control: choose foreigners to
lead you. " At that, terrified by the divine warning, the Etruscan lines
have encamped on the plain; Tarchon himself hath sent ambassadors to me
with the crown [506-539]and sceptre of the kingdom, and offers the
royal attire will I but enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene realm.
But old age, frozen to dulness, and exhausted with length of life,
denies me the load of empire, and my prowess is past its day.
I would
urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother
make this half his native land. Thou, to whose years and race alike the
fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a
leader supreme in bravery over Teucrians and Italians. Mine own Pallas
likewise, our hope and comfort, I will send with thee; let him grow used
to endure warfare and the stern work of battle under thy teaching, to
regard thine actions, and from his earliest years look up to thee. To
him will I give two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the choice of our warlike
strength, and Pallas as many more to thee in his own name. '
Scarce had he ended; Aeneas, son of Anchises, and trusty Achates gazed
with steadfast face, and, sad at heart, were revolving inly many a
labour, had not the Cytherean sent a sign from the clear sky. For
suddenly a flash and peal comes quivering from heaven, and all seemed in
a moment to totter, and the Tyrrhene trumpet-blast to roar along the
sky. They look up; again and yet again the heavy crash re-echoes. They
see in the serene space of sky armour gleam red through a cloud in the
clear air, and ring clashing out. The others stood in amaze; but the
Trojan hero knew the sound for the promise of his goddess mother; then
he speaks: 'Ask not, O friend, ask not in any wise what fortune this
presage announces; it is I who am summoned of heaven. This sign the
goddess who bore me foretold she would send if war assailed, and would
bring through the air to my succour armour from Vulcan's hands. . . .
Ah, what slaughter awaits the wretched Laurentines! what a price, O
Turnus, wilt thou pay me! how many shields and helmets and brave bodies
of men shalt thou, [540-573]Lord Tiber, roll under thy waves!
