Authors: Virgil
This is what was happening in Latium. The Trojan hero,
descendant of Laomedon, saw it all and great tides of grief
20 flowed in his heart. His thoughts moved swiftly, now here, now
there, darting in every possible direction and turning to every
possible event, like light flickering from water in bronze vessels
as it is reflected from the sun or its image the moon, now flying
far and wide in all directions, now rising to strike the high
coffers of a ceiling.
It was night, and over the whole earth the weary animals, all
manner of birds and all manner of flocks, were already deep in
sleep before Father Aeneas, on the bank of the river, under the
30
cold vault of the sky, heart sick at the sadness of war, lay down
at last and gave rest to his body. There on that lovely river he
saw in his sleep the god of the place, old Tiber himself, rising
among the leaves of the poplars. He was veiled in a blue-green
cloak of fine-spun flax and dark reeds shaded his hair. He then
spoke to Aeneas and lightened his sadness with these words: ‘O
you who are born of the race of the gods, who are bringing back
to us the city of Troy saved from its enemies, who are preserving
its citadel Pergamum for all time, long have we waited for you
in the land of the Laurentines and the fields of Latium. This is
the home that is decreed for you. This is the home decreed for
40 the gods of your household. Do not give it up. Do not be
intimidated by the threat of war. All the angry passions of the
gods are now spent. But come now, so that you may not think
what you are seeing is an empty dream, I tell you that you will
find a great sow with a litter of thirty piglets lying beneath ilex
trees on a shore. There she will lie all white on the ground and
the young around her udders will be white. This will be a sign
that after three times ten years revolve, Ascanius will found the
city of Alba, white in name and bright in glory. What I prophesy
50 will surely come to pass. Attend now and I shall teach you in
few words how you may triumphantly resolve the difficulties
that lie before you.
‘The Arcadians are a race descended from Pallas. They came
to these shores following the standards of their king Evander,
chose a site here and established in these hills a city called
Pallanteum after their founder Pallas. This people wages continual
war with the Latin race. Welcome them into your camp as
your allies. Make a treaty with them. I will take you to them
straight up my river between these banks and you will be able
to row upstream into the current. Up with you then, son of the
60 goddess, for the first stars are beginning to set. Offer due prayers
to Juno and overcome her angry threats with vows and supplications.
To me you will give honour and make repayment when
you are victorious. I am that full river whom you see scouring
these banks and cutting through the rich farmland. I am the
river Thybris, blue as the sky and favoured of heaven. Here is
my great home. My head waters rise among lofty cities.’
So spoke the river-god and plunged to the bottom of a deep
pool. The night was over and so was Aeneas’ sleep. As he rose
he looked up to the light of the sun rising in the sky, took up
70 water from the river in cupped hands and poured out these
words of prayer to the heavens: ‘O you Laurentine nymphs,
nymphs who are the mothers of rivers, and you, Father Thybris
with your holy stream, receive Aeneas, and now after all his
suffering keep him safe from peril. In whichever of your pools
you may be, at whichever of your sources, you who pity our
misfortunes, in whatever land you emerge in all your splendour,
I will always pay you honour and always make offerings to you,
O horneèd river, king of all the waters of Hesperia, only be with
me and by your presence confirm your divine will.’ So speaking
80 he picked out two biremes from the fleet, manned them with
rowers and at the same time put some of his comrades on board
in full armour.
Now suddenly before his astonished eyes there appeared a
portent. There through the trees he caught sight of a white sow
with offspring of the same colour, lying on the green shore. This
sow devout Aeneas offered to you as a sacrifice, even to you, O
greatest Juno, leading her to your altar with all her young. And
all that long night the Thybris calmed his flood, reversing his
current, and was as still and silent as a peaceful lake or quiet
marsh. There were no ripples on the surface of his waters, and
90 no toiling for the oar. Thus they began their journey and made
good speed, raising a cheerful noise as the caulked hulls glided
over the water. The waves were amazed and the woods were
full of wonder at the unaccustomed sight of far-glinting shields
of warriors and painted prows floating on the river. So did they
wear out the night and the day with rowing and mastered all
the long windings of the river, moving under the shade of all
manner of trees and cleaving green woods in smooth water. The
fiery sun had climbed to the middle of the vault of heaven when
they saw in the distance walls and a citadel and the roofs of
100 scattered houses. What Roman power has now raised to the
heights of the sky, in those days was a poor land ruled by
Evander. Quickly they turned their prows to the bank and
steered for the city.
It so happened that on that day the Arcadian king Evander
was performing yearly rites in honour of the mighty Hercules,
son of Amphitryon, and was sacrificing to the gods in a grove
outside the city. His son Pallas was with him, and with him also
were all the leading warriors and the senators, poor men as they
were. They were offering incense and warm blood was smoking
on the altars. When they saw the tall ships and saw them gliding
through the dense grove with men bending to the oars in silence,
110 they were seized with sudden fright and rose in a body, abandoning
the sacred tables. Not so Pallas. Boldly he told them not
to disturb their holy feast, and seizing a weapon he rushed off
to face the strangers by himself. ‘What is it, warriors, that has
driven you to try these new paths?’ he called out from the top
of a mound while he was still at a distance. ‘Where are you
going? What race are you? Where is your home? Is it peace you
are bringing us or war?’ Then Father Aeneas replied from the
high poop of his ship, holding out in his hand the olive branch
of peace: ‘We are of the Trojan race. These weapons you see are
for use against our enemies the Latins. It is they who have driven
us here, exiles as we are, with all the insolence of war. We are
looking for Evander. Tell him of this. Say to him that the chosen
120 leaders of the race of Dardanus have come to ask him to be their
ally in battle.’ At this great name Pallas was dumbfounded.
‘Whoever you may be,’ he cried, ‘leave your ship and come and
speak with my father face to face. Come as a guest into our
house.’ With these words he took Aeneas by the right hand in a
long clasp, and they moved forward into the grove, leaving the
river behind them.
Then Aeneas addressed the king with words of friendship: ‘O
noblest of the race of the Greeks, Fortune has willed that I
should come to you as a suppliant with an olive branch draped
with wool. I was not alarmed at the thought that you are a
130 leader of Greeks, an Arcadian and joined by blood to the two
sons of Atreus, for I am joined to you by my courage and by the
holy oracles of the gods, by our fathers who were kinsmen and
by your fame which is known throughout the world. All these
have driven me here by the command of the Fates, and I have
willingly obeyed. Dardanus, the first founder and father of the
city of Troy, sailed to our Teucrian land. According to the
Greeks he was the son of Electra, and that same Electra was the
daughter of Atlas, the mighty Atlas who carries the circle of
140 the heavens on his shoulder. On your side you are the son
of Mercury and he was the son of Maia, conceived and born on
the snow-clad top of Mount Cyllene. But the father of Maia, if
we put any trust in what we hear, was Atlas, that same Atlas
who supports the stars of the sky. And so we are of one blood,
two branches of the same family. Trusting in this, I have not
sent emissaries or made trial of you in advance by any form of
subterfuge, but have come in person as a suppliant to your door,
and laid my life before you. The same race harries us both in
bitter war, the Rutulians of king Daunus, and they are persuaded
that if they were to drive us away, nothing would prevent them
from putting all the heartlands of Italy under their yoke and
150 becoming masters of the Tyrrhenian sea to the south and the
Adriatic to the north. Take the right hand of friendship I offer
and give me yours. Our hearts are strong in war. Our spirits are
high. Our fighting men are tried and proved.’
So spoke Aeneas. All the time he was speaking, Evander had
been gazing at his face and his eyes and his whole body. He then
replied in these few words: ‘Bravest of the Trojans, I welcome
you with great joy, and with great joy I recognize who you are.
Oh how well do I recall the words of your father, the very voice
and features of the great Anchises! For I remember that when
Priam, son of Laomedon, was on a visit to his sister Hesione in
the kingdom of Salamis, he came on to visit us in the cold lands
160 of Arcadia. In those days the first bloom of youth was still
covering my cheeks, and I was full of admiration for the leaders
of Troy. Priam himself, too, I admired, but taller than them all
walked Anchises. With all a young man’s ardour, I longed to
speak with him and put my right hand in his, so I approached
him and led him with full heart to the walls of Pheneus. When
he was leaving he gave me a wonderful quiver filled with Lycian
arrows, a soldier’s cloak interwoven with gold thread and a pair
of golden bridles which now belong to my son Pallas. So then,
the right hand of friendship for which you ask has already been
170 given in solemn pledge, and as soon as tomorrow’s sun returns
to the earth, I shall send you on your way and you will not be
disappointed with the reinforcements and supplies I shall give
you. Meanwhile, since you are here as friends, come favour
these annual rites of ours which it would be sinful to postpone,
by celebrating them with us. It is time you began to feel at home
at the tables of your allies.’
The food and drink had been cleared away, but as soon as he
was finished speaking, he ordered them to be replaced, and the
king himself showed the Trojans to seats on the grass, but took
Aeneas apart to a couch of maple wood and seated him on a
rough lion skin for a cushion. Then the priest of the altar and
180 some chosen warriors served with great good will the roast flesh
of bulls, loaded into baskets the grain which is the gift of Ceres
worked by the hand of man, and poured out the juice of Bacchus.
Aeneas and the warriors of Troy then feasted together on the
whole chine and entrails of the sacrificial ox.
After their hunger was relieved and their appetite satisfied,
king Evander spoke as follows: ‘This annual rite, this set feast
and this altar to a great divinity have not been imposed upon us
by any vain superstition working in ignorance of our ancient
gods. It is because we have been saved from desperate dangers,
my Trojan friend, that we perform this worship and renew it
yearly in honour of one who has well deserved it.