My javelin Venus’ hand profaned.
Then ask me not to tempt anew
The fight whose memory yet I rue:
Since Ilium tumbled from its base,
I war not with the Teucrian race;
Nor joy nor memory have I
Of sufferings vanished and gone by.
The presents that your country sends
May make you yet Æneas’ friends.
Myself have faced him on the field
And tried the combat’s chance;
I know the arms his hand can wield,
The thunder of his lifted shield,
The lightning of his lance.
Two chiefs beside in strength as great
Had Ida’s region borne,
Troy’s sons had knocked at Argos’ gate
Unbidden, and reverse of fate
Had made Achaia mourn.
Count up the weary months we spent
’Neath Ilium’s stubborn battlement,
’Twas Hector’s and Æneas’ power
Delayed so long the conquering hour,
Till in the tenth slow year it came
At last, with halting feet and lame.
Brave warriors both alike; but he,
Æneas, first in piety.
Join hands in peace, if so ye may,
But meet not arms with arms in fray.”
Thus spoke, my lord, the monarch sage,
And thus he judged the war we wage.’
Loud murmurs through the council run,
Of multiform intent;
So, checked by rocks, the rapid flood
Chafes wildly, loth to be withstood,
And struggles for a vent,
While bank and riverside around
Remurmur to the impatient sound.
Soon as the hum of tongues was stayed
And the wild storm in quiet laid,
Due preface to the Gods addressed,
The king enthroned his mind expressed.
At earlier time had claimed debate,
Nor I been driven a court to call
With foemen clustering round our wall.
A fearful war, my friends, is ours,
Waged with a race of godlike powers:
No wounds their energy can tame:
Win they or lose, they fight the same:
Who thought on Diomed to rely
Must lay that hope for ever by:
Each from himself his hope must seek;
But hopes like ours, alas! are weak.
How low has fallen our common weal
Your eyes can see, your senses feel,
I censure none; each gallant man
Has done the most that valour can:
The forces of a nation’s life
Have all been lavished on the strife.
Now hearken while I show the scheme
My doubting thoughts the wisest deem.
Where Tiber irrigates the plain,
A tract there lies, my own domain,
Stretching beyond the bounds possessed
By old Sicanians, far a-west;
The Rutules and Auruncans till
Its mingled range of dale and hill,
Scar the rude mountain with their ploughs,
And bid their herds the thickets browse.
That tract, that slope of mountain pine,
To Troy I purpose to resign:
Let peace an equal rule ordain
And make them partners in our reign:
There let the wanderers sit them down,
If such their wish, and build their town;
But should they other lands desire
And from our soil may yet retire,
Twice ten good vessels let us build
Or more, if more may well be filled;
Good store e’en now of seasoned wood
Is hewn and lying by the flood;
Fix they the rate and number; we
Give fittings, brass, and labour free,
Let too ambassadors be sent
Whose pleading may the peace cement,
A hundred men, of noblest race,
Boughs in their hands, to sue for grace,
With gifts of ivory and of gold,
A talent each by measure told,
And these the emblems of our reign,
The throne, the robe of purple grain.
Give counsel for the general need,
And stanch the wounds that newly bleed.’
Still kindled into jealous flame,
Lavish, and dowered with wordy skill,
In battle spiritless and chill,
At council-board a name of weight,
Powerful in faction and debate,
His mother’s house to kings allied,
Inglorious on his father’s side,
Stands up, and thus with artful phrase
Fans smouldering passion into blaze:
‘Too plain the answer that you seek,
Good king, nor needs my voice to speak:
The state’s true interest none dispute,
But muttering terror holds them mute.
Let him the while free speech allow,
And calm the thunder of his brow,
Whose ill-starred fate, whose unblest pride,
Sent for our sins the war to guide—
Ay, though with arms and death he threat
My safety, he shall hear me yet—
Have quenched the life of many a chief,
And plunged a city deep in grief,
While, trusting to retreat, he tries
Troy’s camp, and menaces the skies.
Send one gift more, great prince, besides
The rest your care for Troy provides,
One more; nor let tempestuous frown
Or bluster bear your purpose down,
But give your child a fitting lord,
And bind two realms in firm accord.
Nay, if such craven fear we feel,
Let Latium to her master kneel,
Pray him of grace his claim to waive
And yield what king and country crave.
Why drive to death your nation still,
O guilty cause of all this ill?
No hope from war: for peace we sue,
For peace, and peace’s sanction true.
See, I, the man you feign your foe
(Nor care I though in truth ’twere so),
First of the train the suit begin:
Have mercy on your wretched kin,
Allay your pride, confess defeat,
And routed from the strife retreat!
Suffice it us, those heaps of killed,
Those fields unpeopled and untilled.
Or, if ambition yet has charms,
If courage thus your bosom warms,
If spousal kingdoms seem so sweet,
Be bold, your rival’s arm to meet.
Forsooth, that an imperial bride
May gratify our Turnus’ pride,
We, worthless souls, must needs be swept
To death,
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