Authors: Virgil
Venus could listen to no more. She broke in on the tale of his
sufferings, saying: ‘Whoever you are I do not believe you are
hated by the gods: you live and breathe and have reached this
390 Tyrian city. Go on now from here to the queen’s door. I can tell
you that your comrades are restored and your fleet returned to
you. The winds have veered to the north and blown them safe
to shore. All this is true unless my parents have failed in their
efforts to teach me to interpret the flight of birds. Look at these
twelve swans flying joyfully in formation. The eagle of Jupiter
was swooping down on them from the heights of heaven and
scattering them over the open sky, but now look at them in
their long column. Some are reaching land. Some have already
reached it and are looking down on it. Just as they have come
to their home and their flock has circled the sky in play, singing
as they fly with whirring wings, so your ships and your warriors
400 are either already in port or crossing the bar in full sail. Go on
now, and follow where the road takes you.’
When she had finished speaking and was turning away, her
neck shone with a rosy light and her hair breathed the divine
odour of ambrosia. Her dress flowed free to her feet and as she
walked he knew she was truly a goddess. As she hastened away,
he recognized her as his mother and called after her: ‘Why do
you so often mock your own son by taking on these disguises?
You too are cruel. Why am I never allowed to take your hand
in mine, to hear your true voice and speak to you as you really are?’
410 With these reproaches he took the road that led to the city,
but Venus hedged them about with a thick mist as they walked.
The goddess spread a great veil of cloud over them so that no
one could see them or touch them or cause any delay or ask the
reason for their coming. She herself soared high into the sky and
departed for Paphos, returning happily to her beloved home
where she has her temple, and a hundred altars steam with the
incense of Sheba and breathe the fragrance of fresh-cut flowers.
Meanwhile Aeneas and Achates hurried on their way, following
420 the track, and they were soon climbing the great hill which
towered over the city and looked down upon the citadel opposite.
Aeneas was amazed by the size of it where recently there
had been nothing but shepherds’ huts, amazed too by the gates,
the paved streets and all the stir. The Tyrians were working with
a will: some of them were laying out the line of walls or rolling
up great stones for building the citadel; others were choosing
sites for building and marking them out with the plough; others
were drawing up laws and electing magistrates and a senate
whom they could revere; on one side they were excavating a
harbour; on the other laying deep foundations for a theatre and
quarrying huge columns from the rock to make a handsome
430 backdrop for the stage that was to be. They were like bees at
the beginning of summer, busy in the sunshine all through the
flowery meadows, bringing out the young of the race, just come
of age, or treading the oozing honey and swelling the cells with
sweet nectar, or taking the loads as they come in or mounting
guard to keep the herds of idle drones out of their farmstead.
The hive seethes with activity and the fragrance of honey
flavoured with thyme is everywhere. ‘How fortunate they are!’
cried Aeneas, now looking up at the high tops of the buildings.
‘
Their
walls are already rising!’ and he moved on through the
440 middle of the people, hedged about by the miraculous cloud,
and no one saw him.
There was a wooded grove which gave abundant shade in the
middle of the city. When first the Phoenicians had been driven
there by wind and wave, Juno, the Queen of the Gods, had led
them to this spot where they had dug up the head of a spirited
stallion. This was a sign that from generation to generation they
would be a race glorious in war and would have no difficulty in
finding fields to graze. Here Sidonian Dido was building for
Juno a huge temple rich with offerings and rich, too, with the
presence of the goddess. It was a raised temple, and at the top
of its steps the threshold was of bronze, the beams were jointed
with bronze and the bronze doors grated as they turned in their
450 sockets. Here in this grove Aeneas saw a strange sight which for
the first time allayed his fears. Here for the first time he dared
to hope, and despite all the calamities of the past to have
better confidence in the future. While waiting for the queen and
studying everything there was to see under the roof of this huge
temple, as he marvelled at the good fortune of the city, the skill
of the workmen and all the works of their hands, he suddenly
saw, laid out in order, depictions of the battles fought at Troy.
The Trojan War was already famous throughout the world. The
two sons of Atreus were there, and Priam, and Achilles who
hated both sides. Aeneas stopped, and wept, and said to Achates:
460 ‘Is there anywhere now on the face of this earth that is not
full of the knowledge of our misfortunes? Look at Priam. Here
too there is just reward for merit, there are tears for suffering
and men’s hearts are touched by what man has to bear. Forget
your fears. We are known here. This will give you some hope
for the future.’
As he spoke these words, he was feeding his spirit with the
empty images and groaning, and rivers of tears washed down
his cheeks as he gazed at the fighting round the walls of Troy.
On one side Greeks were in flight with Trojan warriors hard on
their heels; on the other Trojans were retreating and Achilles
470 with his crested helmet was pursuing them in his chariot. He
wept, too, when he recognized the white canvas of the tents of
Rhesus nearby. It was the first sleep of the night. The tents had
been betrayed, and were being torn down by Diomede, red with
the blood of all the men he had slaughtered. He stole the fiery
horses and took them back to the Greek camp before they could
crop the grass of Troy or drink the water of the Xanthus. In
another part of the picture poor Troilus, a mere boy and no
match for Achilles, had lost his armour and was in full flight.
His horses had run away with the chariot and he was being
dragged along helpless on his back behind it, still holding on to
the reins. His neck and hair were trailing along the ground and
the end of his spear was scoring the dust behind him. The women
of Troy, meanwhile, were going in supplication to the temple
480 of Pallas Athene, but the goddess was hostile to them. Their hair
was unbound, and they were carrying a robe to offer her, beating
their breasts in grief, but her head was turned from them and
her eyes were fixed upon the ground. There too was Achilles.
He had dragged Hector three times round the walls of Troy,
and now was selling his dead body for gold. Aeneas groaned
from the depths of his heart to see the armour stripped off him,
the chariot, the corpse of his dear friend and Priam stretching
out his feeble hands. Aeneas even recognized himself in the
confusion of battle, with the leaders of the Greeks all around
490 him. There were the warriors of the East, the armour of Memnon
and his dark skin. The Amazons were there in their thousands
with crescent shields and their leader Penthesilea in the middle
of her army, ablaze with passion for war. There, showing her
naked breast supported by a band of gold, was the warrior
maiden, daring to clash with men in battle.
While Trojan Aeneas stood gazing, rooted to the spot and
lost in amazement at what he saw, queen Dido in all her beauty
arrived at the temple with a great crowd of warriors around her.
She was like Diana leading the dance on the banks of the Eurotas
or along the ridges of Mount Cynthus with a thousand mountain
500 nymphs thronging behind her on either side. She carries her
quiver on her shoulder, and as she walks, she is the tallest of all
the goddesses. Her mother Latona does not speak, but a great
joy stirs her heart at the sight of her. Dido was like Diana, and
like Diana she bore herself joyfully among her people, urging
on their work for the kingdom that was to be. Then in the
doorway of the goddess, under the middle of the vault of the
temple, she took her seat with her armed guards about her.
There, as she was giving laws and rules of conduct to her people,
and dividing the work that had to be done in equal parts or
allocating it by lot, Aeneas suddenly saw a great throng approaching,
510 Antheus, Sergestus, brave Cloanthus and the other
Trojans who had been scattered over the sea by the dark storm
and swept away to distant shores. He was astounded, and
Achates, too, was stunned with joy and fear. They burned with
longing to clasp the hands of their comrades, but were at a
loss because they did not understand what they saw. They did
nothing, but stayed hidden in their cloak of cloud, waiting to
learn how Fortune had dealt with their comrades. On what
shore had they left their fleet? Why were they here? For these
were picked men coming from each of the ships to plead their
case, and they were now walking to the temple with shouting
all about them.
520 They came in and were allowed to address the queen. Ilioneus,
the oldest of them, made this appeal: ‘You are a queen whom
Jupiter has allowed to found a new city and curb proud peoples
with your justice; we are the unhappy men of Troy, blown by
the winds over all the oceans of the world, and we come to you
as suppliants. Save our ships from the impious threat of fire. We
are god-fearing men. Take pity on us. Look more closely at us
– we have not come to Libya to pillage your homes and their
gods, to take plunder and drive it down to the shore. Such
violence and arrogance are not to be found in the hearts of the
defeated.
530 ‘There is a place which Greeks know by the name Hesperia.
It is an ancient land, strong in war and rich in the fertility of its
soil. It was once tilled by Oenotrians, but now we believe
their descendants have called themselves Italians after their king
Italus. This is where we were steering when suddenly Orion rose
in cloud and tempest and drove us on to hidden shallows, the
sea overwhelmed us and fierce southerly squalls scattered us far
and wide among breakers and uncharted rocks. A few of us
drifted ashore here to your land. What manner of men are these?
540 Is this a country of barbarians that allows its people to act in
this way? Sailors have a right to the shore and we are refused it.
They make war on us and will not let us set foot on land. You
may be no respecters of men. You may fear no men’s arms, but
think of the gods, who see right and wrong and do not forget.
Our king was Aeneas. He had no equal for his piety and his care
for justice, and no equal in the field of battle. If the Fates still
protect him, if he still breathes the air of heaven, if he is not
even now laid low among the merciless shades, you would have
nothing to fear or to regret by taking the lead in a contest of
550 kindness. In the land of Sicily we have arms and cities and the
great Acestes, sprung from Trojan blood. Allow us to draw up
our storm-battered ships, to hew timbers in your woods and
shape new oars, so that we can make for Italy and Latium with
joy in our hearts, if indeed we go to Italy with our comrades
and our king; but if they are lost, if you, great Father of the
Trojans, are drowned in the sea off Libya, and there are no
hopes left in Iulus, then we can at least go back to where we
came from across the Sicilian sea, to the place that is prepared
560 for us, and return to king Acestes.’ So spoke Ilioneus and all the
Trojans to a man murmured in agreement.