Aeneid I.305-409

Aeneas talks to his mom! It's frustrating. We get a Dido loredrop.

But Aeneas, the virtuous, turning things over all night,

decides, as soon as kindly dawn appears, to go out

and explore the place, to find what shores he has reached

on the wind, who owns them (since he sees desert)

man or beast, and bring back the details to his friends.

He conceals the boats in over-hanging woods

under an arching cliff, enclosed by trees

and leafy shadows: accompanied only by Achates,

he goes, swinging two broad-bladed spears in his hand.

His mother met him herself, among the trees, with the face

and appearance of a virgin, and a virgin’s weapons,

a Spartan girl, or such as Harpalyce of Thrace,

who wearies horses, and outdoes winged Hebrus in flight.

For she’d slung her bow from her shoulders, at the ready,

like a huntress, and loosed her hair for the wind to scatter,

her knees bare, and her flowing tunic gathered up in a knot.

And she cried first: “Hello, you young men, tell me,

if you’ve seen my sister wandering here by any chance,

wearing a quiver, and the hide of a dappled lynx,

or shouting, hot on the track of a slavering boar?”

So Venus: and so Venus’s son began in answer:

“I’ve not seen or heard any of your sisters, O Virgin—

or how should I name you? Since your looks are not mortal

and your voice is more than human: oh, a goddess for certain!

Or Phoebus’s sister? Or one of the race of Nymphs?

Be kind, whoever you may be, and lighten our labour,

and tell us only what sky we’re under, and what shores

we’ve landed on: we’re adrift here, driven by wind and vast seas,

knowing nothing of the people or the country:

many a sacrifice to you will fall at the altars, under our hand.”

Then Venus said: “I don’t think myself worthy of such honours:

it’s the custom of Tyrian girls to carry a quiver,

and lace our calves high up, over red hunting boots.

You see the kingdom of Carthage, Tyrians, Agenor’s city:

but bordered by Libyans, a people formidable in war.

Dido rules this empire, having set out from Tyre,

fleeing her brother. It’s a long tale of wrong, with many

windings: but I’ll trace the main chapters of the story.

“Sychaeus was her husband, wealthiest, in land, of Phoenicians

and loved with a great love by the wretched girl,

whose father gave her as a virgin to him, and wed them

with great solemnity. But her brother Pygmalion, savage

in wickedness beyond all others, held the kingdom of Tyre.

Madness¹ came between them. The king, blinded by greed for gold,

killed the unwary Sychaeus, secretly, with a knife, impiously,

in front of the altars, indifferent to his sister’s affections.

He concealed his actions for a while, deceived the lovesick girl,

with empty hopes, and many evil pretences.

But the ghost of her unburied husband came to her in dream:

lifting his pale head in a strange manner, he laid bare the cruelty

at the altars, and his heart pierced by the knife,

and unveiled all the secret wickedness of that house.

Then he urged her to leave quickly and abandon her country,

and, to help her journey, revealed an ancient treasure

under the earth, an unknown weight of gold and silver.

“Shaken by all this, Dido prepared her flight and her friends.

Those who had fierce hatred of the tyrant or bitter fear

gathered together: they seized some ships that by chance

were ready, and loaded the gold: greedy Pygmalion’s riches

are carried overseas: a woman leads the enterprise.

The came to this place, and bought land, where you now see

the vast walls, and resurgent stronghold, of new Carthage,

as much as they could enclose with the strips of hide

from a single bull, and from that they called it Byrsa.

But who then are you? What shores do you come from?

What course do you take?” He sighed as she questioned him,

and drawing the words from deep in his heart he replied:

“O goddess, if I were to start my tale at the very beginning,

and you had time to hear the story of our misfortunes,

Vesper would have shut day away in the closed heavens.

A storm drove us at whim to Libya’s shores,

sailing the many seas from ancient Troy,

if by chance the name of Troy has come to your hearing.

I am that Aeneas, the virtuous, who carries my household gods²

in my ship with me, having snatched them from the enemy,

my name is known beyond the sky.

I seek my country Italy, and a people born of Jupiter on high.

I embarked on the Phrygian sea with twenty ships,

following my given fate, my mother, a goddess, showing the way:

barely seven are left, wrenched from the wind and waves.

I myself wander, destitute and unknown, in the Libyan desert,

driven from Europe and Asia.” Venus did not wait

for further complaint but broke in on his lament like this:

“Whoever you are, I don’t think you draw the breath of life

while hated by the gods, you who’ve reached a city of Tyre.

Only go on from here, and take yourself to the queen’s threshold,

since I bring you news that your friends are restored,

and your ships recalled, driven to safety by the shifting winds,

unless my parents taught me false prophecies in vain.

See, those twelve swans in exultant line, that an eagle,

Jupiter’s bird, swooping from the heavens,

was troubling in the clear sky: now, in a long file, they seem

to have settled, or be gazing down now at those who already have.

As, returning, their wings beat in play, and they circle the zenith

in a crowd, and give their cry, so your ships and your people

are in harbour, or near its entrance under full sail.

Only go on, turn your steps where the path takes you.”

She spoke, and turning away she reflected the light

from her rose-tinted neck, and breathed a divine perfume

from her ambrosial hair: her robes trailed down to her feet,

and, in her step, showed her a true goddess. He recognised

his mother, and as she vanished followed her with his voice:

“You too are cruel, why do you taunt your son with false

phantoms? Why am I not allowed to join hand

with hand, and speak and hear true words?”

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At pius Aeneas, per noctem plurima volvens,               305

ut primum lux alma data est, exire locosque

explorare novos, quas vento accesserit oras,

qui teneant, nam inculta videt, hominesne feraene,

quaerere constituit, sociisque exacta referre.

Classem in convexo nemorum sub rupe cavata               310

arboribus clausam circum atque horrentibus umbris

occulit; ipse uno graditur comitatus Achate,

bina manu lato crispans hastilia ferro.

Cui mater media sese tulit obvia silva,

virginis os habitumque gerens, et virginis arma               315

Spartanae, vel qualis equos Threissa fatigat

Harpalyce, volucremque fuga praevertitur Hebrum.

Namque umeris de more habilem suspenderat arcum

venatrix, dederatque comam diffundere ventis,

nuda genu, nodoque sinus collecta fluentis.               320

Ac prior, 'Heus' inquit 'iuvenes, monstrate mearum

vidistis si quam hic errantem forte sororum,

succinctam pharetra et maculosae tegmine lyncis,

aut spumantis apri cursum clamore prementem.'

Sic Venus; et Veneris contra sic filius orsus:               325

'Nulla tuarum audita mihi neque visa sororum—

O quam te memorem, virgo? Namque haud tibi voltus

mortalis, nec vox hominem sonat: O, dea certe—

an Phoebi soror? an nympharum sanguinis una?—

sis felix, nostrumque leves, quaecumque, laborem,               330

et, quo sub caelo tandem, quibus orbis in oris

iactemur, doceas. Ignari hominumque locorumque

erramus, vento huc vastis et fluctibus acti:

multa tibi ante aras nostra cadet hostia dextra.'

Tum Venus: 'Haud equidem tali me dignor honore;               335

virginibus Tyriis mos est gestare pharetram,

purpureoque alte suras vincire cothurno.

Punica regna vides, Tyrios et Agenoris urbem;

sed fines Libyci, genus intractabile bello.

Imperium Dido Tyria regit urbe profecta,               340

germanum fugiens. Longa est iniuria, longae

ambages; sed summa sequar fastigia rerum.

'Huic coniunx Sychaeus erat, ditissimus agri

Phoenicum, et magno miserae dilectus amore,

cui pater intactam dederat, primisque iugarat               345

ominibus. Sed regna Tyri germanus habebat

Pygmalion, scelere ante alios immanior omnes.

Quos inter medius venit furor. Ille Sychaeum

impius ante aras, atque auri caecus amore,

clam ferro incautum superat, securus amorum               350

germanae; factumque diu celavit, et aegram,

multa malus simulans, vana spe lusit amantem.

Ipsa sed in somnis inhumati venit imago

coniugis, ora modis attollens pallida miris,

crudeles aras traiectaque pectora ferro               355

nudavit, caecumque domus scelus omne retexit.

Tum celerare fugam patriaque excedere suadet,

auxiliumque viae veteres tellure recludit

thesauros, ignotum argenti pondus et auri.

His commota fugam Dido sociosque parabat:               360

conveniunt, quibus aut odium crudele tyranni

aut metus acer erat; navis, quae forte paratae,

corripiunt, onerantque auro: portantur avari

Pygmalionis opes pelago; dux femina facti.

Devenere locos, ubi nunc ingentia cernis               365

moenia surgentemque novae Karthaginis arcem,

mercatique solum, facti de nomine Byrsam,

taurino quantum possent circumdare tergo.

Sed vos qui tandem, quibus aut venistis ab oris,

quove tenetis iter?' Quaerenti talibus ille               370

suspirans, imoque trahens a pectore vocem:

'O dea, si prima repetens ab origine pergam,

et vacet annalis nostrorum audire laborum,

ante diem clauso componat Vesper Olympo.

Nos Troia antiqua, si vestras forte per auris               375

Troiae nomen iit, diversa per aequora vectos

forte sua Libycis tempestas adpulit oris.

Sum pius Aeneas, raptos qui ex hoste Penates

classe veho mecum, fama super aethera notus.

Italiam quaero patriam et genus ab Iove summo.               380

Bis denis Phrygium conscendi navibus aequor,

matre dea monstrante viam, data fata secutus;

vix septem convolsae undis Euroque supersunt.

Ipse ignotus, egens, Libyae deserta peragro,

Europa atque Asia pulsus.' Nec plura querentem               385

passa Venus medio sic interfata dolore est:

'Quisquis es, haud, credo, invisus caelestibus auras

vitalis carpis, Tyriam qui adveneris urbem.

Perge modo, atque hinc te reginae ad limina perfer,

Namque tibi reduces socios classemque relatam               390

nuntio, et in tutum versis aquilonibus actam,

ni frustra augurium vani docuere parentes.

Aspice bis senos laetantis agmine cycnos,

aetheria quos lapsa plaga Iovis ales aperto

turbabat caelo; nunc terras ordine longo               395

aut capere, aut captas iam despectare videntur:

ut reduces illi ludunt stridentibus alis,

et coetu cinxere polum, cantusque dedere,

haud aliter puppesque tuae pubesque tuorum

aut portum tenet aut pleno subit ostia velo.               400

Perge modo, et, qua te ducit via, dirige gressum.'

Dixit, et avertens rosea cervice refulsit,

ambrosiaeque comae divinum vertice odorem

spiravere, pedes vestis defluxit ad imos,

et vera incessu patuit dea. Ille ubi matrem               405

adgnovit, tali fugientem est voce secutus:

'Quid natum totiens, crudelis tu quoque, falsis

ludis imaginibus? Cur dextrae iungere dextram

non datur, ac veras audire et reddere voces?’

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Find the glossary for Aeneid Daily here; subscribe to receive daily posts.

1. In Latin, “furor, furoris",” meaning madness, rage, fury, passion. The poem frequently sets furor and pius in contrast or in parallel.

2. The Penates are Roman gods of the household/family; Aeneas has carried Troy’s with him on his quest.