Aeneid V.1-103

The Trojans arrive in Sicily and prepare to celebrate Anchises' death-day anniversary.

Meanwhile Aeneas with the fleet was holding a fixed course

now in the midst of the sea, cutting the waves, dark in a northerly

wind, looking back at the city walls that were glowing now with

unhappy Dido’s funeral flames.¹ The reason that such a fire had

been lit was unknown: but the cruel pain when a great love is

profaned, and the knowledge of what a frenzied woman might do,

drove the minds of the Trojans to sombre forebodings.

When the ships reached deep water and land was no longer

in sight, but everywhere was sea and sky was everywhere,

then a dark-blue rain cloud hung overhead, bringing

night and storm, and the waves bristled with shadows.

Palinurus the helmsman himself from the high stern cried:

“Ah! Why have such storm clouds shrouded the sky?

What do you intend, father Neptune?” So saying, next

he ordered them to shorten sail and bend to the heavy oars,

then tacked against the wind and spoke as follows:

“Brave Aeneas, I would not expect to make Italy

with this sky, though guardian Jupiter promised it.

The winds, rising from the darkened west, have shifted

and roar across our path, and the air thickens for a storm.

We cannot stand against it or labour enough to weather it.

Since Fortune overcomes us, let’s go with her,

and set our course wherever she calls. I think your brother Eryx’s²

friendly shores are not far off, and the harbours of Sicily,

if I only remember the stars I observed rightly.”

Then virtuous Aeneas replied: ‘For my part, I’ve seen for some time

that the winds required it, and you’re steering into them in vain.

Alter the course we sail. Is any land more welcome to me,

any to which I’d prefer to steer my weary fleet,

than that which protects my Trojan friend Acestes,

and holds the bones of my father Anchises to its breast?”

Having said this they searched out the port, and following winds

filled their sails; the ships sailed swiftly on the flood,

and they turned at last in delight towards known shores.

But Acestes, on a high hill in the distance, wondered at the arrival

of friendly vessels, and met them, armed with javelins,

in his Libyan she-bear’s pelt: he whom a Trojan

mother bore, conceived of the river-god Crinisius.

Not neglectful of his ancient lineage he rejoiced

at their return, entertained them gladly with his rural riches,

and comforted the weary with the assistance of a friend.

When, in the following Dawn, bright day had put the stars

to flight, Aeneas called his companions together

from the whole shore and spoke from a high mound:

“Noble Trojans, people of the high lineage of the gods,

the year’s cycle is complete to the very month

when we laid the bones, all that was left of my divine father,

in the earth, and dedicated the sad altars; and now

the day is here (that the gods willed) if I am not wrong,

which I will always hold as bitter, always honoured.

If I were keeping it, exiled in Gaetulian Syrtes,

or caught on the Argive seas, or in Mycenae’s city,

I’d still conduct the yearly rite and line of solemn

procession, and heap up the due offerings on the altar.

Now we even stand by the ashes and bones of my father

(not for my part, I think, without the will and power of the gods)

and carried to this place we have entered a friendly harbour.

So come and let us all celebrate the sacrifice with joy:

let us pray for a wind, and may he will me to offer these rites

each year when my city is founded, in temples that are his.

Acestes, a Trojan born, gives you two head of oxen

for every ship; invite the household gods to our feast,

our own and those whom Acestes our host worships.

Also, when the ninth Dawn raises high the kindly light

for mortal men and reveals the world in her rays,

I will declare a Trojan Games: first a race between the swift ships;

then those with ability in running, and those, daring in strength,

who step forward, who are superior with javelin and slight arrows,

or trust themselves to fight with rawhide gloves:

let everyone be there and hope for the prize of a well-deserved

palm branch. All be silent now, and wreathe your brows.”³

So saying he veiled his forehead with his mother’s myrtle.

Helymus⁴ did likewise, Acestes of mature years, the boy

Ascanius, and the rest of the people followed.

Then he went with many thousands from the gathering

to the grave-mound, in the midst of the vast accompanying throng.

Here with due offering he poured two bowls of pure wine

onto the ground, two of fresh milk, two of sacrificial blood,

and, scattering bright petals, he spoke as follows:

“Once more, hail, my sacred father: hail, spirit,

ghost, ashes of my father, whom I rescued in vain.

I was not allowed to search with you for Italy’s borders,

our destined fields, or Ausonia’s Tiber, wherever it might be.”

He had just finished speaking when a shining snake unwound

each of its seven coils from the base of the shrine,

in seven large loops, placidly encircling the mound and gliding

among the altars, its back mottled with blue-green markings

and its scales burning with a golden sheen, as a rainbow forms

a thousand varied colours in clouds opposite the sun.

Aeneas was stunned by the sight. Finally, with a long glide

among the bowls and polished drinking cups, the serpent

tasted the food, and, having fed, departed the altar,

retreating harmlessly again into the depths of the tomb.

Aeneas returned more eagerly to the tribute to his father,

uncertain whether to treat the snake as the guardian of the place,

or as his father’s attendant spirit; he killed two sheep as customary,

two pigs, and as many black-backed heifers,

and poured wine from the bowls, and called on the spirit

and shadow of great Anchises, released from Acheron.⁵

And his companions as well brought gifts gladly, of which

each had a store, piling high the altars, sacrificing bullocks;

others set out rows of cauldrons and, scattered among the grass,

placed live coals under the spits and roasted the meat.

---

Interea medium Aeneas iam classe tenebat

certus iter fluctusque atros Aquilone secabat

moenia respiciens, quae iam infelicis Elissae

conlucent flammis. quae tantum accenderit ignem

causa latet; duri magno sed amore dolores               5

polluto, notumque furens quid femina possit,

triste per augurium Teucrorum pectora ducunt.

ut pelagus tenuere rates nec iam amplius ulla

occurrit tellus, maria undique et undique caelum,

olli caeruleus supra caput astitit imber               10

noctem hiememque ferens et inhorruit unda tenebris.

ipse gubernator puppi Palinurus ab alta:

'heu quianam tanti cinxerunt aethera nimbi?

quidve, pater Neptune, paras?' sic deinde locutus

colligere arma iubet validisque incumbere remis,               15

obliquatque sinus in ventum ac talia fatur:

'magnanime Aenea, non, si mihi Iuppiter auctor

spondeat, hoc sperem Italiam contingere caelo.

mutati transversa fremunt et vespere ab atro

consurgunt venti, atque in nubem cogitur aer.               20

nec nos obniti contra nec tendere tantum

sufficimus. superat quoniam Fortuna, sequamur,

quoque vocat vertamus iter. nec litora longe

fida reor fraterna Erycis portusque Sicanos,

si modo rite memor servata remetior astra.'               25

tum pius Aeneas: 'equidem sic poscere ventos

iamdudum et frustra cerno te tendere contra.

flecte viam velis. an sit mihi gratior ulla,

quove magis fessas optem dimittere navis,

quam quae Dardanium tellus mihi servat Acesten               30

et patris Anchisae gremio complectitur ossa?'

haec ubi dicta, petunt portus et vela secundi

intendunt Zephyri; fertur cita gurgite classis,

et tandem laeti notae advertuntur harenae.

At procul ex celso miratus vertice montis               35

adventum sociasque rates occurrit Acestes,

horridus in iaculis et pelle Libystidis ursae,

Troia Criniso conceptum flumine mater

quem genuit. veterum non immemor ille parentum

gratatur reduces et gaza laetus agresti               40

excipit, ac fessos opibus solatur amicis.

Postera cum primo stellas Oriente fugarat

clara dies, socios in coetum litore ab omni

advocat Aeneas tumulique ex aggere fatur:

'Dardanidae magni, genus alto a sanguine divum,               45

annuus exactis completur mensibus orbis,

ex quo reliquias divinique ossa parentis

condidimus terra maestasque sacravimus aras;

iamque dies, nisi fallor, adest, quem semper acerbum,

semper honoratum (sic di voluistis) habebo.               50

hunc ego Gaetulis agerem si Syrtibus exsul,

Argolicove mari deprensus et urbe Mycenae,

annua vota tamen sollemnisque ordine pompas

exsequerer strueremque suis altaria donis.

nunc ultro ad cineres ipsius et ossa parentis               55

haud equidem sine mente, reor, sine numine divum

adsumus et portus delati intramus amicos.

ergo agite et laetum cuncti celebremus honorem:

poscamus ventos, atque haec me sacra quotannis

urbe velit posita templis sibi ferre dicatis.               60

bina boum vobis Troia generatus Acestes

dat numero capita in navis; adhibete penatis

et patrios epulis et quos colit hospes Acestes.

praeterea, si nona diem mortalibus almum

Aurora extulerit radiisque retexerit orbem,               65

prima citae Teucris ponam certamina classis;

quique pedum cursu valet, et qui viribus audax

aut iaculo incedit melior levibusque sagittis,

seu crudo fidit pugnam committere caestu,

cuncti adsint meritaeque exspectent praemia palmae.               70

ore favete omnes et cingite tempora ramis.'

Sic fatus velat materna tempora myrto.

hoc Helymus facit, hoc aevi maturus Acestes,

hoc puer Ascanius, sequitur quos cetera pubes.

ille e concilio multis cum milibus ibat               75

ad tumulum magna medius comitante caterva.

hic duo rite mero libans carchesia Baccho

fundit humi, duo lacte novo, duo sanguine sacro,

purpureosque iacit flores ac talia fatur:

'salve, sancte parens, iterum; salvete, recepti               80

nequiquam cineres animaeque umbraeque paternae.

non licuit finis Italos fataliaque arva

nec tecum Ausonium, quicumque est, quaerere Thybrim.'

dixerat haec, adytis cum lubricus anguis ab imis

septem ingens gyros, septena volumina traxit               85

amplexus placide tumulum lapsusque per aras,

caeruleae cui terga notae maculosus et auro

squamam incendebat fulgor, ceu nubibus arcus

mille iacit varios adverso sole colores.

obstipuit visu Aeneas. ille agmine longo               90

tandem inter pateras et levia pocula serpens

libavitque dapes rursusque innoxius imo

successit tumulo et depasta altaria liquit.

hoc magis inceptos genitori instaurat honores,

incertus geniumne loci famulumne parentis               95

esse putet; caedit binas de more bidentis

totque sues, totidem nigrantis terga iuvencos,

vinaque fundebat pateris animamque vocabat

Anchisae magni manisque Acheronte remissos.

nec non et socii, quae cuique est copia, laeti               100

dona ferunt, onerant aras mactantque iuvencos;

ordine aena locant alii fusique per herbam

subiciunt veribus prunas et viscera torrent.

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

1. My professor described Dido’s funeral pyre as “jumping books.” She will continue to haunt the narrative >:)

2. Aeneas’s half-brother, who had a city and a mountain named after him in Sicily.

3. The funeral games parallel the similar funeral games in Iliad 23, after the death of Patroclus. The Iliad’s chariot race is replaced by a boat race here, reflecting the “dominant vehicle of each poem” (quote from my professor again).

4. A Trojan. Why Vergil singles out this particular Trojan is something we can only guess at.

5. A river of the underworld, often used as metonymy for the entire underworld.