A new Achilles shall in arms appear, And he, too, goddess-born.Fierce Juno's hate, Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.
To what strange nations shalt not thou resort, Driv'n to solicit aid at ev'ry court!
The cause the same which Ilium once oppress'd;A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.
But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes, The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose.
The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town."Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke, And the resisting air the thunder broke;The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook.
Th' ambiguous god, who rul'd her lab'ring breast, In these mysterious words his mind express'd;Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest.
At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas'd, And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas'd.
Then thus the chief: "No terror to my view, No frightful face of danger can be new.
Inur'd to suffer, and resolv'd to dare, The Fates, without my pow'r, shall be without my care.
This let me crave, since near your grove the road To hell lies open, and the dark abode Which Acheron surrounds, th' innavigable flood;Conduct me thro' the regions void of light, And lead me longing to my father's sight.
For him, a thousand dangers I have sought, And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought, Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought.
He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried, And wrath of Heav'n, my still auspicious guide, And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied.
Oft, since he breath'd his last, in dead of night His reverend image stood before my sight;Enjoin'd to seek, below, his holy shade;
Conducted there by your unerring aid.
But you, if pious minds by pray'rs are won, Oblige the father, and protect the son.
Yours is the pow'r; nor Proserpine in vain Has made you priestess of her nightly reign.
If Orpheus, arm'd with his enchanting lyre, The ruthless king with pity could inspire, And from the shades below redeem his wife;If Pollux, off'ring his alternate life, Could free his brother, and can daily go By turns aloft, by turns descend below-Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend, Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend?
Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came;My mother greater, my descent the same."
So pray'd the Trojan prince, and, while he pray'd, His hand upon the holy altar laid.
Then thus replied the prophetess divine:
"O goddess-born of great Anchises' line, The gates of hell are open night and day;Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.
To few great Jupiter imparts this grace, And those of shining worth and heav'nly race.
Betwixt those regions and our upper light, Deep forests and impenetrable night Possess the middle space: th' infernal bounds Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds.
But if so dire a love your soul invades, As twice below to view the trembling shades;If you so hard a toil will undertake, As twice to pass th' innavigable lake;Receive my counsel.In the neighb'ring grove There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night Conceal the happy plant from human sight.
One bough it bears; but (wondrous to behold!)The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold:
This from the vulgar branches must be torn, And to fair Proserpine the present borne, Ere leave be giv'n to tempt the nether skies.
The first thus rent a second will arise, And the same metal the same room supplies.
Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see The lurking gold upon the fatal tree:
Then rend it off, as holy rites command;
The willing metal will obey thy hand, Following with ease, if favor'd by thy fate, Thou art foredoom'd to view the Stygian state:
If not, no labor can the tree constrain;
And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain.
Besides, you know not, while you here attend, Th' unworthy fate of your unhappy friend:
Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost, Depriv'd of fun'ral rites, pollutes your host.
Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead, Two sable sheep around his hearse be led;Then, living turfs upon his body lay:
This done, securely take the destin'd way, To find the regions destitute of day."She said, and held her peace.Aeneas went Sad from the cave, and full of discontent, Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant.
Achates, the companion of his breast, Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress'd.
Walking, they talk'd, and fruitlessly divin'd What friend the priestess by those words design'd.
But soon they found an object to deplore:
Misenus lay extended the shore;
Son of the God of Winds: none so renown'd The warrior trumpet in the field to sound;With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms, And rouse to dare their fate in honorable arms.
He serv'd great Hector, and was ever near, Not with his trumpet only, but his spear.
But by Pelides' arms when Hector fell, He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well.
Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more, He now provokes the sea gods from the shore;With envy Triton heard the martial sound, And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown'd;Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand:
The gazing crowd around the body stand.
All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate, And hastens to perform the funeral state.
In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear;
The basis broad below, and top advanc'd in air.
An ancient wood, fit for the work design'd, (The shady covert of the salvage kind,)The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied;Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow'ring pride Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak.
Huge trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down.
Arm'd like the rest the Trojan prince appears, And by his pious labor urges theirs.
