necks. Three troops of horsemen, and three leaders range over the plain: twelve striplings follow each, shine in a separate body, and with commanders equally matched. One bard of youths young Priam, bearing his grandsire's name, leads triumphant; thy illustrious offspring, O Politus, who shall one day do honour to the Italians, whom a Thracian courser bears, dappled with grey spots; the fetlocks of his foremost feet are white, and, tossing his head high, he displays a starry front. The second is Atys, from whom the Attii of Rome have derived their origin: little Atys, a boy beloved by the boy Iülus. Iülus the last, and in beauty distinguished from all the rest, rode on a Sidonian steed which fair Dido had given him as a monument and pledge of her love. The rest of the youths ride on Trinacrian horses of aged Acestes. The Trojans with shouts of applause receive them anxious for honour, and are well pleased with the sight, and trace the features of the aged sires in the children. Now when the joyous youths had paraded on horseback round the whole ring, and fullin their parent's view, Epytus' son, from afar, gave them the signal with a shout, as they stood ready, and clanked with the lash. They broke away in pairs, and the three leaders divided their troops into separate bands: and again, upon summons given, they wheeled about, and bore their hostile spears on one another. Then they again advance, and again retreat in their opposite grounds, and alternately form intricate orbs within orbs, and exhibit the representation of a fight in arms. And now flying they expose their defenceless backs; now in hostile manner turn their darts on each other: now peace being made up, they ride on together. As of old in lofty Crete was a labyrinth famed for having had a winding alley formed by dark intricate walls, and a puzzling maze perplexed by a thousand avenues, whereby the steps should still be lost in wandering and inextricable error; in just such mazy course the sons of the Trojans involve their motions, and frame promiscuous fighting and flying 600 Delphinum similes, qui per maria humida nando Conspicit ingentem concursum, et litora lustrat, 605 610 615 620 625 1 in sport; like dolphins, that swimming through the watery abyss cut the Carpathian or Libyan sea, and gambol amid the waves. This manner of tilting, and those mock fights, Ascanius first renewed, and taught the ancient Latins to celebrate, when he was inclosing Alba Longa with walls: as the boy himself, as the Trojan youth with him had practised them, so the Albans taught their posterity: hence, in after-times, imperial Rome received them, and preserved the same in honour of her ancestors: and at this day it is called the game of Troy, and the boys that perform it, the Trojan band. Thus far the trials of skill were exhibited by Æneas in honour of his venerable sire. Here shifting Fortune first became treacherous and unkind. While they are celebrating the anniversary at the tomb with various games, Saturnian Juno dispatched Iris from heaven to the Trojan fleet, and with the fanning winds speeds her way, forming many mischievous plots, and her old revenge not yet glutted. The virgin goddess accelerating her way, seen by none, amidst the bow with a thousand colours, shoots down the path with nimble easy motion. She descries the vast concourse at the games; then, surveying the shore, sees the port deserted, and the fleet left defenceless. But at a distance the Trojan dames apart were mourning the loss of Anchises on the desolate shore, and all of them with tears in their eyes viewed the deep ocean: Ah! that so many perils and such a length of sea should still remain for us after all our toils! was the sole complaint of all. They pray for some city, are sick of enduring the hardships of the main. Therefore she, not unpractised in mischief, throws herself into the midst of them, and lays aside the mien and habit of a goddess. She assumes the figure of Beroe, the aged wife of Thracian Doryclus, who was nobly born, and once had renown, and an illustrious offspring. And thus she joins in discourse with the Trojan matrons: Ah! how hard is the lot of us, who were not dragged forth to die in the war by the Grecian host under our native walls! Ill-fated race! for what miserable doom are you reserved by Septima post Troja excidium jam vertitur æstas; At matres, primò ancipites, oculisque malignis 630 635 640 645 650 655 fortune? The seventh summer from the destruction of Troy is already rolled away, while we, having measured all lands and seas, visited so many inhospitable rocks and barbarous climes, are driven about; while along the wide ocean we pursue Italy that flies before us, and are tossed on the waves. Here are the realms of his brother Eryx, and his friend Acestes: what prevents him from founding walls, and giving his subjects here a city? Ah my country, and our gods in vain saved from the enemy! shall a city never more arise to be named from Troy? Shall I never see the Hectorean rivers, Xanthus and Simois? Nay, rather come, and burn with me our cursed ships. For in my sleep I saw the ghost of the prophetess Cassandra present me with flaming brands: Here, says she, seek for Troy, here is your fixed residence. Now is the time for action. Nor let us delay after such awful signs from heaven. Lo, here are four altars to Neptune: the god himself spirits us to the enterprize, and supplies us with firebrands to put it in execution. With these words she violently snatches the destroying fire, and, lifting up her right hand with exerted force, first waves at a distance, then throws it. Roused are the minds, and stunned the hearts of the Trojan matrons. Then one of the number, Pyrgo, the most advanced in years, the royal nurse to Priam's numerous sons, said, Matrons, this is not Beroe whom you see, it is not she from the Rheteum, the wife of Doryclus: mark here the characters of divine beauty, eyes bright and sparkling; what fragrance in her breath, what majesty in her looks; or mark the accents of her voice, or her gait as she moves. Myself lately, as I came hither, left Beroe sick, in great anguish that she alone was cut off from such a solemnity, and was not to pay the honours due to Anchises. She said. But the matrons first began to view the ships with malignant eyes, dubious and wavering between their wretched fondness for the present land, and the realms to which they were by fate invited; when on equal poised wings the goddess mounted into the sky, and, in her flight, cut the spacious bow beneath the clouds. |