The Aeneid by Virgil (best novel books to read TXT) đ
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Virgilâs epic poem begins with Aeneas fleeing the ruins of Troy with his father Anchises and his young son Ascanius, with a plan to make a home in Italy. Because of a prophecy foretelling that the descendants of Aeneas will one day destroy Carthage, Junoâs favorite city, Juno orders the god of the winds to unleash a terrible storm. The ships are thrown off course and arrive at an African port. As Aeneas makes his way towards his new home he encounters Dido, Carthageâs queen, and falls deeply in love.
Although Charles W. Elliot stated that âthe modern appreciation of the Iliad and the Odyssey has tended to carry with it a depreciation of the Aeneid,â this epic poem continues to inspire artists, writers, and musicians centuries after its first telling. John Drydenâs translation captures the musicality of the original Latin verses while avoiding the stumbling of an English translation forced into dactylic hexameter.
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- Author: Virgil
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High oâer the vale a steepy mountain stands,
Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands.
The top is level, an offensive seat
Of war; and from the war a safe retreat:
For, on the right and left, is room to press
The foes at hand, or from afar distress;
To drive âem headlong downward, and to pour
On their descending backs a stony showâr.
Thither young Turnus took the well-known way,
Possessâd the pass, and in blind ambush lay.
Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies,
Beheld thâ approaching war with hateful eyes,
And callâd the light-foot Opis to her aid,
Her most belovâd and ever-trusty maid;
Then with a sigh began: âCamilla goes
To meet her death amidst her fatal foes:
The nymphs I lovâd of all my mortal train,
Invested with Dianaâs arms, in vain.
Nor is my kindness for the virgin new:
âTwas born with her; and with her years it grew.
Her father Metabus, when forcâd away
From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway,
Snatchâd up, and savâd from his prevailing foes,
This tender babe, companion of his woes.
Casmilla was her mother; but he drownâd
One hissing letter in a softer sound,
And callâd Camilla. Throâ the woods he flies;
Wrappâd in his robe the royal infant lies.
His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace;
With shout and clamours they pursue the chase.
The banks of Amasene at length he gains:
The raging flood his farther flight restrains,
Raisâd oâer the borders with unusual rains.
Preparâd to plunge into the stream, he fears,
Not for himself, but for the charge he bears.
Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste;
Then, despârate in distress, resolves at last.
A knotty lance of well-boilâd oak he bore;
The middle part with cork he coverâd oâer:
He closâd the child within the hollow space;
With twigs of bending osier bound the case;
Then poisâd the spear, heavy with human weight,
And thus invokâd my favour for the freight:
âAccept, great goddess of the woods,â he said,
âSent by her sire, this dedicated maid!
Throâ air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine;
And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.â
He said; and with full force the spear he threw:
Above the sounding waves Camilla flew.
Then, pressâd by foes, he stemmâd the stormy tide,
And gainâd, by stress of arms, the farther side.
His fastenâd spear he pullâd from out the ground,
And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound;
Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose,
Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes;
But, rough, in open air he chose to lie;
Earth was his couch, his covâring was the sky.
On hills unshorn, or in a desert den,
He shunnâd the dire society of men.
A shepherdâs solitary life he led;
His daughter with the milk of mares he fed.
The dugs of bears, and evâry salvage beast,
He drew, and throâ her lips the liquor pressâd.
The little Amazon could scarcely go:
He loads her with a quiver and a bow;
And, that she might her staggâring steps command,
He with a slender javâlin fills her hand.
Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound;
Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground.
Instead of these, a tigerâs hide oâerspread
Her back and shoulders, fastenâd to her head.
The flying dart she first attempts to fling,
And round her tender temples tossâd the sling;
Then, as her strength with years increasâd, began
To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan,
And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane.
The Tuscan matrons with each other vied,
To bless their rival sons with such a bride;
But she disdains their love, to share with me
The sylvan shades and vowâd virginity.
And, O! I wish, contented with my cares
Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars!
Then had she been of my celestial train,
And shunnâd the fate that dooms her to be slain.
But since, opposing Heavânâs decree, she goes
To find her death among forbidden foes,
Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight.
Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight.
This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath,
This chosen arrow, to revenge her death:
By whateâer hand Camilla shall be slain,
Or of the Trojan or Italian train,
Let him not pass unpunishâd from the plain.
Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid
To bear the breathless body of my maid:
Unspoilâd shall be her arms, and unprofanâd
Her holy limbs with any human hand,
And in a marble tomb laid in her native land.â
She said. The faithful nymph descends from high
With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky:
Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly.
By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse,
Drawn up in squadrons, with united force,
Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound,
Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground.
Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far;
And the fields glitter with a waving war.
Opposâd to these, come on with furious force
Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse;
These in the body placâd, on either hand
Sustainâd and closâd by fair Camillaâs band.
Advancing in a line, they couch their spears;
And less and less the middle space appears.
Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen
The neighing coursers, and the shouting men.
In distance of their darts they stop their course;
Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse.
The face of heavân their flying javâlins hide,
And deaths unseen are dealt on either side.
Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear,
By mettled coursers borne in full career,
Meet first opposâd; and, with a mighty shock,
Their horsesâ heads against each other knock.
Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast,
As with an engineâs force, or lightningâs blast:
He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last.
The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright,
And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight
Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew;
Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue,
And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase;
Till, seizâd, with shame, they wheel about and face,
Receive their foes, and raise a threatâning cry.
The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly.
So swelling surges, with a thundâring roar,
Drivân on each otherâs backs, insult the shore,
Bound oâer the rocks, incroach upon the land,
And far upon the beach eject the sand;
Then backward, with a swing, they take their way,
Repulsâd from upper ground, and seek their mother sea;
With equal hurry quit thâ invaded shore,
And swallow back the sand and stones they spewâd before.
Twice were the Tuscans masters of the
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