Authors: Virgil
680 But that did not cause the fire and flame to abate their
unquenchable fury. The pitch was still smouldering beneath the
wet timbers, oozing slow smoke, and a consuming heat was
creeping along the hulls. The canker was sinking deep into the
bodies of the ships and all the exertions of men and the pouring
on of water were achieving nothing. This was when the devout
Aeneas tore the cloak off his shoulders and called upon the gods
for help, stretching out his hands and praying: ‘All-powerful
Jupiter, if you do not yet abhor the whole race of Trojans, if
your loving-kindness still looks as of old on the labours of men,
690
grant now, O Father, that our fleet escape the flames. Save from
destruction what little remains to the Trojans, or else with your
own angry thunder cast the remnants of us down to death and,
if that is what I deserve, overwhelm us here with your own right
hand.’ Scarcely had he spoken, when a black deluge of torrential
rain came lashing down, mountain peak and plain trembled at
the thunder and from the whole sky streamed the wild tempest
of rain, dark with the cloud-bearing winds of the south. It
poured down and filled the ships and soaked the charred timbers
till all the fire was quenched and, except for four that were lost,
all the ships were saved from destruction.
700 But this was a bitter blow for Aeneas, and his heart was heavy
as he turned his thoughts this way and that, wondering whether
he should forget about his destiny and settle in the fields of
Sicily, or whether he ought to make for the shores of Italy. Then
spoke old Nautes. He was the one man Tritonian Pallas had
chosen to instruct and make pre-eminent in his art, providing
him with responses to explain what the great anger of the gods
portended and what the settled order of the Fates demanded.
These were the words of comfort he now began to address to
Aeneas: ‘Son of the goddess, let us follow the Fates, whether
710 they lead us on or lead us back. Whatever fortune may be ours,
we must at all times rise above it by enduring it. Acestes is by
your side and he is a Trojan, offspring of the gods. Take him
into your counsels. Be one with him. He is willing. Hand over
into his care the people from the ships that are lost and those who
are heart-weary of your great enterprise and destiny. Choose the
old men, the women who are worn out by the sea, all of your
company who are frail and have no stomach for danger, and
weary as they are, here in this land let them have their city.
Acestes will give them his name and they will call it Acesta.’
720 Aeneas was fired by these words from his old friend, but his
heart was divided between all his cares as never before. Dark
night had risen in her chariot to command the vault of heaven,
when suddenly there appeared the form of his father Anchises
gliding down from the sky and these were the words that came
pouring from him: ‘O my son, dearer to me than life itself in the
days when life remained to me, O my son, who has been tested
by the Fates of Troy, I come here in fulfilment of the command
of Jupiter. He it was who drove the fire from your ships and has
at last looked down from the sky and pitied you. Follow now
this most wise advice which old Nautes is giving you and choose
warriors from your people, the bravest hearts among them, to
730 take to Italy. There in Latium is a wild and hardy people whom
you have to overcome in war. But first you must come to the
home of Dis in the underworld and go through the depths of
hell to seek a meeting with me. I am not confined in the grim
shades of impious Tartarus but live in Elysium in the radiant
councils of the just. A chaste Sibyl will lead you to this place,
shedding the blood of many black cattle in sacrifice. Then you
will learn about all the descendants who will come after you
and the city walls you are to be given. But now farewell. The
dewy night is turning her chariot in mid-course. The cruel sun
is beginning to rise in the east and I have felt the breath of his
740 panting horses.’ As he finished speaking he fled into thin air like
smoke dissolving. ‘Where are you going in such haste? Who are
you escaping from? Who is there to keep you from my arms?’
So cried Aeneas, and he stirred the smouldering ashes of the fire
to worship the Lar of Pergamum and the shrine of white-haired
Vesta with a ritual offering of coarse meal and incense from a
full censer.
Immediately then he called his allies, Acestes first of all, and
explained the command of Jupiter, the instructions of his own
dear father and the resolve now firm in his own mind. There
was no time lost in words and no dissent from Acestes. They
750 transferred the mothers to the city and put ashore those who
wished it, those spirits that felt no need for glory, while they
themselves repaired the rowing benches, replaced the charred
timbers and fitted out the ships with oars and ropes. They were
a small band but their hearts were high for war. Meanwhile,
Aeneas was ploughing the city bounds and allotting homes to
his people. This was to be Ilium, and this was to be Troy. Trojan
Acestes was delighting in his kingdom, choosing a site for his
forum, summoning a senate and laying down a code of laws.
760 Then they founded a temple to Venus of Ida, soaring to the stars
on the peak of Mount Eryx, and appointed a priest to tend the
tomb of Anchises, consecrating to his name a great grove all
around it.
And now the whole people had feasted for nine days and
performed their rites at the altars. A gentle breeze had calmed
the waves and the breath of a steady south wind was calling
them again to sea. Loud was the weeping along the curved shore
of the bay as they lingered for a night and a day in their
last embraces. Even the women, even the men who had been
shuddering at the sight of the sea and unable to face its god,
were now eager to sail and endure to the end the whole agony
770 of exile, but good Aeneas comforted them with words of love
and wept as he entrusted them to their kinsman Acestes. At last
came the command to sacrifice three calves to Eryx and a lamb
to the Storms and to cast off their moorings in due order. There
stood Aeneas alone on the prow, his head bound with a wreath
of trimmed olive leaves and holding a goblet in his hands as he
scattered the sacrificial entrails and poured the streaming wine
into the salt sea. His men vied with one another to strike the
waves, sweeping them with their oars as a freshening wind from
astern helped them on their way.
But Venus, never resting all this time from her cares, went to
780 Neptune and poured out to him these words of complaint from
her heart: ‘It is the deadly anger of Juno, her implacable fury,
that forces me to use every prayer I can. No man’s piety can
soften her, nor does the long passage of time. Her will is not
broken by the Fates nor by the command of Jupiter and she
knows no rest. In black hatred she has eaten the city of the
Phrygians out of the heart of their race and dragged the Trojans
who survive through every form of suffering, but she is still not
satisfied. She is still persecuting the dead bones and ashes of the
city she has destroyed. She alone can understand her reasons for
790 this terrible rage. You yourself, I know, were a witness of the
turmoil she has just created in the waves of the Libyan ocean,
stirring up sea and sky to no avail with the help of Aeolus’
winds. To think she took all this upon herself in your kingdom!
And now this! Look how she has driven the mothers of the
Trojans to wrong-doing. It is her cruelty that has burned out
their ships, lost them their fleet and forced them to abandon
their own dear ones in a strange land. As for what is to come, if
what I am asking is readily conceded, if the Fates are giving
them a city in that land, I beg of you to allow them a safe
crossing and let them reach the Laurentine Thybris.’
Then Neptune, son of Saturn and master of the ocean depths,
800 answered in these words: ‘O Venus of Cythera, it is wholly right
that you should put your trust in the sea, which is my kingdom,
for you are born from it. I also have deserved your trust, for I
have often checked the wild fury of the sea and sky and my care
for your Aeneas has been no less on land – I call the rivers
Xanthus and Simois to testify to this. During Achilles’ pursuit
of the broken army of Troy, when he was driving them against
their own walls and killing them in their thousands, when the
rivers were choked and groaning with corpses and Xanthus
could find no way to roll down to the sea, there was Aeneas
standing against the might of Achilles, his strength not equal to
810 it and the gods opposed, and it was I who caught him up in a
hollow cloud, although my own desire was to take these walls
that I had built with my own hands for the treacherous Trojans
and turn them over from top to bottom. As my mind was then,
so is it even now. Put away your fears. He will arrive safely
where you wish, at the harbour of Avernus. One only will be
lost. One only will you look for in vain upon the sea, and that
one life will be given for many.’ When these words had soothed
and gladdened the heart of the goddess, Father Neptune put a
golden yoke on the necks of his horses and bits between their
wild and foaming jaws and gave them full rein. As his blue-green
820 chariot skimmed the surface of the sea, the waves were stilled,
the swell subsided beneath his thundering axle and the rain
clouds fled from the vast vault of heaven. Then all his retinue
appeared, the huge sea beasts, Glaucus and his band of ageing
dancers, Palaemon, son of Ino, the swift Tritons and all the
ranks of Phorcys’ army, while there on the left was Thetis with
Melite and the maiden Panopaea, Nisaee and Spio, Thalia and
Cymodoce.
Now all indecision was past and it was the turn of glad joy to
830 capture the heart of Aeneas. Instantly he ordered all masts to be
put up and canvas stretched from the yard-arms. As one man
they all set their sails, letting them out in time, first to port and
then to starboard. As one man they swung round the high ends
of the yard-arms and swung them round again as fair winds
carried the fleet on its way. They were sailing close, in line ahead
with Palinurus in the lead, and their orders were to make all
speed and take their course from him.
The dank night was near the mid-point of the sky. The sailors
were taking their rest in peace and quiet, stretched out under
their oars along the hard benches, when the God of Sleep,
parting the dark and misty air, came gliding lightly down from
840 the stars of heaven. He was coming to you, Palinurus, bringing
deadly dreams you did not deserve. The god took the shape of
Phorbas and sat on the high poop pouring these soft words into
the ears of Palinurus: ‘Son of Iasius, the sea is carrying the ships
along itself. The breeze is gentle and steady. This is an hour for
sleep. Put down your head and steal a little time from your
labours to rest your tired eyes. I’ll take over a short watch for
you myself.’
Scarcely lifting his eyes, Palinurus replied: ‘Are you asking me
to forget what I know about the calm face of the sea and quiet
waters? There is a strange power in the sea and I would never
850 rely on it. Winds are liars and, believe me, I would never trust
them with Aeneas, I who have so often been betrayed by a clear
sky.’ This was his answer, and he stood by the tiller, gripping it
with no intention of letting it go or taking his eyes off the stars.
But look! The god takes a branch dripping with the water of
Lethe for forgetfulness and the water of Styx for sleep. He shakes
it over Palinurus, first one temple, then the other, and for all his
struggles it closes his swimming eyes. As soon as this sudden
sleep came upon him and his limbs began to relax, the god
leaned over him, broke off a part of the poop, tiller and all, and
860 threw him with it into the waves of the sea. Down fell Palinurus,
calling again and again on his comrades, but they did not hear.
The god then rose on his wings and flew off into the airy breezes,
while the ships sped on their way none the worse, sailing safely
on in accordance with the promises of Father Neptune.