So saying, he grasped his rudder tight, and clungmore firmly, fixing on the stars his eyes.Then waved the god above his brows a branchwet with the dews of Lethe and imbuedwith power of Stygian dark, until his eyeswavered and slowly sank. The slumberous snarehad scarce unbound his limbs, when, leaning o'er,the god upon the waters flung him forth,hands clutching still the helm and ship-rail torn,and calling on his comrades, but in vain.Then soared th' immortal into viewless air;and in swift course across the level seathe fleet sped safe, protected from all fearby Neptune's vow. Yet were they drawing nighthe sirens' island-steep, where oft are seenwhite, bleaching bones, and to the distant earthe rocks roar harshly in perpetual foam.Then of his drifting fleet and pilot goneAeneas was aware, and, taking helm,steered through the midnight waves, with many a sigh;and, by his comrade's pitiable deathsore-smitten, cried, “O, thou didst trust too farfair skies and seas, and liest without a grave,my Palinurus, in a land unknown!”

After such words and tears, he flung free reinTo the swift fleet, which sped along the waveTo old Euboean Cumae's sacred shore.They veer all prows to sea; the anchor flukeMakes each ship sure, and shading the long strandThe rounded sterns jut o'er. ImpetuouslyThe eager warriors leap forth to landUpon Hesperian soil. One strikes the flintTo find the seed-spark hidden in its veins;One breaks the thick-branched trees, and steals awayThe shelter where the woodland creatures bide;One leads his mates where living waters flow.Aeneas, servant of the gods, ascendsThe templed hill where lofty Phoebus reigns,And that far-off, inviolable shrineOf dread Sibylla, in stupendous cave,O'er whose deep soul the god of Delos breathesProphetic gifts, unfolding things to come.Here are pale Trivia's golden house and grove.

Here Daedalus, the ancient story tells,Escaping Minos' power, and having madeHazard of heaven on far-mounting wings,Floated to northward, a cold, trackless way,And lightly poised, at last, o'er Cumae's towers.Here first to earth come down, he gave to theeHis gear of wings, Apollo! and ordainedVast temples to thy name and altars fair.On huge bronze doors Androgeos' death was done;And Cecrops' children paid their debt of woe,Where, seven and seven,—0 pitiable sight!—The youths and maidens wait the annual doom,Drawn out by lot from yonder marble urn.Beyond, above a sea, lay carven Crete:—The bull was there; the passion, the strange guile;And Queen Pasiphae's brute-human son,The Minotaur—of monstrous loves the sign.Here was the toilsome, labyrinthine maze,Where, pitying love-lorn Ariadne's tears,The crafty Daedalus himself betrayedThe secret of his work; and gave the clueTo guide the path of Theseus through the gloom.0 Icarus, in such well-graven sceneHow proud thy place should be! but grief forbade:Twice in pure gold a father's fingers stroveTo shape thy fall, and twice they strove in vain.Aeneas long the various work would scan;But now Achates comes, and by his sideDeiphobe, the Sibyl, Glaucus' child.Thus to the prince she spoke :“Is this thine hourTo stand and wonder? Rather go obtainFrom young unbroken herd the bullocks seven,And seven yearling ewes, our wonted way.”Thus to Aeneas; his attendants hasteTo work her will; the priestess, calling loud,Gathers the Trojans to her mountain-shrine.

Deep in the face of that Euboean cragA cavern vast is hollowed out amain,With hundred openings, a hundred mouths,Whence voices flow, the Sibyl's answering songs.While at the door they paused, the virgin cried :“Ask now thy doom!—the god! the god is nigh!”So saying, from her face its color flew,Her twisted locks flowed free, the heaving breastSwelled with her heart's wild blood; her stature seemedVaster, her accent more than mortal man,As all th' oncoming god around her breathed :“On with thy vows and prayers, 0 Trojan, on!For only unto prayer this haunted caveMay its vast lips unclose.” She spake no more.An icy shudder through the marrow ranOf the bold Trojans; while their sacred KingPoured from his inmost soul this plaint and prayer :“Phoebus, who ever for the woes of Troy Hadst pitying eyes! who gavest deadly aimTo Paris when his Dardan shaft he hurledOn great Achilles! Thou hast guided meThrough many an unknown water, where the seasBreak upon kingdoms vast, and to the tribesOf the remote Massyli, whose wild landTo Syrtes spreads. But now; because at lastI touch Hesperia's ever-fleeting bound,May Troy's ill fate forsake me from this day!0 gods and goddesses, beneath whose wrathDardania's glory and great Ilium stood,Spare, for ye may, the remnant of my race!And thou, most holy prophetess, whose soulForeknows events to come, grant to my prayer(Which asks no kingdom save what Fate decrees)That I may stablish in the Latin landMy Trojans, my far-wandering household-gods,And storm-tossed deities of fallen Troy.Then unto Phoebus and his sister paleA temple all of marble shall be given,And festal days to Phoebus evermore.Thee also in my realms a spacious shrineShall honor; thy dark books and holy songsI there will keep, to be my people's law;And thee, benignant Sibyl for all timeA company of chosen priests shall serve.O, not on leaves, light leaves, inscribe thy songs!Lest, playthings of each breeze, they fly afarIn swift confusion! Sing thyself, I pray.”So ceased his voice;the virgin through the cave,Scarce bridled yet by Phoebus' hand divine,Ecstatic swept along, and vainly stoveTo fing its potent master from her breast;But he more strongly plied his rein and curbUpon her frenzied lips, and soon subduedHer spirit fierce, and swayed her at his will.Free and self-moved the cavern's hundred adoorsSwung open wide, and uttered to the airThe oracles the virgin-priestess sung :“Thy long sea-perils thou hast safely passed;But heavier woes await thee on the land.Truly thy Trojans to Lavinian shoreShall come—vex not thyself thereon—but, oh!Shall rue their coming thither! war, red war!And Tiber stained with bloody foam I see.Simois, Xanthus, and the Dorian hordeThou shalt behold; a new Achilles nowIn Latium breathes,—he, too, of goddess born;And Juno, burden of the sons of Troy,Will vex them ever; while thyself shalt sueIn dire distress to many a town and tribeThrough Italy; the cause of so much illAgain shall be a hostess-queen, againA marriage-chamber for an alien bride.Oh! yield not to thy woe, but front it ever,And follow boldly whither Fortune calls.Thy way of safety, as thou least couldst dream,Lies through a city of the Greeks, thy foes.”

Thus from her shrine Cumaea's prophetessChanted the dark decrees; the dreadful soundReverberated through the bellowing cave,Commingling truth with ecstasies obscure.Apollo, as she raged, flung loosened rein,And thrust beneath her heart a quickening spur.When first her madness ceased, and her wild lipsWere still at last, the hero thus began :“No tribulations new, 0 Sibyl blest,Can now confront me; every future painI have foretasted; my prophetic soulEndured each stroke of fate before it fell.One boon I ask. If of th' infernal KingThis be the portal where the murky waveOf swollen Acheron o'erflows its bound,Here let me enter and behold the faceOf my loved sire. Thy hand may point the way;Thy word will open wide yon holy doors.My father through the flames and falling spears,Straight through the centre of our foes, I boreUpon these shoulders. My long flight he sharedFrom sea to sea, and suffered at my sideThe anger of rude waters and dark skies,—Though weak—0 task too great for old and gray!Thus as a suppliant at thy door to stand,Was his behest and prayer. On son and sire,0 gracious one, have pity,—for thy ruleIs over all; no vain authorityHadst thou from Trivia o'er th' Avernian groves.If Orpheus could call back his loved one's shade,Emboldened by the lyre's melodious string :If Pollux by the interchange of deathRedeemed his twin, and oft repassed the way :If Theseus—but why name him? why recallAlcides' task? I, too, am sprung from Jove.”