So father Anchises spoke, and while they marvelled, added:
“See how Claudius Marcellus, distinguished by the Supreme Prize,
comes forward and towers victorious over other men.
As a knight, he’ll support the Roman State, turbulent
with fierce confusion, strike the Cathaginians and rebellious Gauls,
and dedicate captured weapons, a third time, to father Quirinus.”1
And at this Aeneas said (since he saw a youth of outstanding
beauty with shining armour, walking with Marcellus,
but his face lacking in joy and his eyes downcast):
“Father, who is this who accompanies him on his way?
His son, or another of his long line of descendants?
What murmuring round them! What presence he has!
But dark night, with its sad shadows, hovers round his head.”
Then his father Anchises, with welling tears, replied:
‘O, do not ask about your people’s great sorrow, my son.
The Fates will only show him to the world, not allow him
to stay longer. The Roman people would seem
too powerful to you gods if this gift were lasting.
What mourning from mankind that Field of Mars2 will
deliver to the mighty city! And what funeral processions
you, Tiber, will see, as you glide past his new-made tomb!
No boy of the line of Ilius shall so exalt his Latin
ancestors by his show of promise, nor will Romulus’s
land ever take more pride in one of its sons.
Alas for virtue, alas for the honour of ancient times
and a hand invincible in war! No one might have attacked him
safely when armed, whether he met the enemy on foot
or dug his spurs into the flank of his foaming charger.
Ah, boy to be pitied, if only you may shatter harsh fate,
you’ll be Marcellus!3 Give me handfuls of white lilies,
let me scatter radiant flowers, let me load my scion’s spirit
with those gifts, at least, in discharging that poor duty.”
So they wander here and there through the whole region,
over the wide airy plain, and gaze at everything.
And when Anchises has led his son through each place
and inflamed his spirit with love of the glory that is to come,
he tells him then of the wars he must soon fight,
and teaches him about the Laurentine peoples
and the city of Latinus, and how to avoid or face each trial.
There are two gates of Sleep: one of which is said to be of horn,
through which an easy passage is given to true shades, the other
gleams with the whiteness of polished ivory, but through it
the Gods of the Dead send false dreams to the world above.4
After his words, Anchises accompanies his son there and
frees him, together with the Sibyl, through the ivory gate.5
Aeneas makes his way to the ships and rejoins his friends,
then coasts straight to Caieta’s harbour along the shore.
The anchors are thrown from the prows; on the shore the sterns rest.
Sic pater Anchises, atque haec mirantibus addit:
'aspice, ut insignis spoliis Marcellus opimis 855
ingreditur victorque viros supereminet omnis.
hic rem Romanam magno turbante tumultu
sistet eques, sternet Poenos Gallumque rebellem,
tertiaque arma patri suspendet capta Quirino.'
atque hic Aeneas (una namque ire videbat 860
egregium forma iuvenem et fulgentibus armis,
sed frons laeta parum et deiecto lumina vultu)
'quis, pater, ille, virum qui sic comitatur euntem?
filius, anne aliquis magna de stirpe nepotum?
qui strepitus circa comitum! quantum instar in ipso! 865
sed nox atra caput tristi circumvolat umbra.'
tum pater Anchises lacrimis ingressus obortis:
'o gnate, ingentem luctum ne quaere tuorum;
ostendent terris hunc tantum fata nec ultra
esse sinent. nimium vobis Romana propago 870
visa potens, superi, propria haec si dona fuissent.
quantos ille virum magnam Mauortis ad urbem
campus aget gemitus! vel quae, Tiberine, videbis
funera, cum tumulum praeterlabere recentem!
nec puer Iliaca quisquam de gente Latinos 875
in tantum spe tollet avos, nec Romula quondam
ullo se tantum tellus iactabit alumno.
heu pietas, heu prisca fides invictaque bello
dextera! non illi se quisquam impune tulisset
obvius armato, seu cum pedes iret in hostem 880
seu spumantis equi foderet calcaribus armos.
heu, miserande puer, si qua fata aspera rumpas,
tu Marcellus eris. manibus date lilia plenis
purpureos spargam flores animamque nepotis
his saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani 885
munere.' sic tota passim regione vagantur
aeris in campis latis atque omnia lustrant.
quae postquam Anchises natum per singula duxit
incenditque animum famae venientis amore,
exim bella viro memorat quae deinde gerenda, 890
Laurentisque docet populos urbemque Latini,
et quo quemque modo fugiatque feratque laborem.
Sunt geminae Somni portae, quarum altera fertur
cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris,
altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto, 895
sed falsa ad caelum mittunt insomnia Manes.
his ibi tum natum Anchises unaque Sibyllam
prosequitur dictis portaque emittit eburna,
ille viam secat ad navis sociosque revisit.
Tum se ad Caietae recto fert limite portum. 900
ancora de prora iacitur; stant litore puppes.
Find the glossary for Aeneid Daily here; subscribe to receive daily posts.
Marcus Claudius Marcellus the first. The Supreme Prize he won is the spolia optima mentioned in yesterday’s segment; he was the third Roman to ever win it. Quirinus is the name of deified Romulus.
A large public open space in Rome where, among other things, votes were conducted. A theater was built there in memorial to Marcellus.
That is, the second Marcus Claudius Marcellus, son of Augustus’s sister Octavia Minor. He had been considered a potential heir of Augustus, and his death devastated the emperor’s circle; legend has it that Octavia fainted hearing this segment of the poem read aloud.
A concept lifted from Odyssey 19:
Wise Penelope replied: ‘My friend, dreams are puzzling things whose meaning is obscure, and what is in them does not always happen to us mortals. There are two gates that open for shadowy dreams: one is made of horn, the other of ivory. Dreams that come through the gate of carved ivory deceive us with promises that are unfulfilled. But those that come through the gate of gleaming horn tell the dreamer of what will come to pass. I fear my strange dream did not come that way. If it had, how welcome it would be to me and my son!’
A lot of ink has been spilled on what it means that Aeneas returns to the Underworld through the gate of false dreams. My professor reads Aeneid 6 as bursting with warning signs alongside the blatant propaganda—not only the gate, but the fact that the bough Aeneas should be able to break off easily “clings.” In the “pessimistic” reading of the Aeneid, this is the moment Aeneas goes from an actual person—notable for kindness and mercy, no less—to an indoctrinated vessel for proto-Roman imperialism. “Aeneas is programmable in propagandian bullshit,” quoth my professor, “because he is severely traumatized.” Zombie Aeneas real? Think what you will.