Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 458

Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "The Aeneid," by Vergil.

Now Neptune sensed the sea’s chaos and clamor, 

the storm Aeolus sent. He felt the churning 

of the sluggish waters of the deep. Perplexed, 

he raised his peaceful face and scanned the sea. 

He saw Aeneas’ wave-tossed ships, the Trojans 

swamped by swells and the ruin of the sky. 

Juno’s angry treachery was clear to him. 

He called Eurus and Zephyrus,* and said to them: 

“Is it your noble birth that makes you bold? 

You winds now dare to mingle sky and earth 

and stir up waves without permission? Why, 

I should—But first I’ll soothe the wild sea. 

Then you’ll get what you deserve, and it won’t be in words! 

Get out of here, now, and tell your king: 

rule over the sea and savage trident’s mine by lot, not his. His kingdom is the cave 

where you live, Eurus. Let him strut in that court 

and rule there—once his winds are jailed.”

Romulus, clad in his foster 

mother’s tawny wolf-pelt, will gladly lead 

his people. With Mars’ help, he’ll build Rome’s 

walls and name the Romans for himself. 

On them I set no boundaries of time or space: 

I’ve granted empire without end.

Then Laocoön, a huge mob in his wake, 

runs down in a hurry from the city heights. 

Still far, he shouts: ‘Poor Trojans, are you mad? 

You think the enemy has sailed away? Are Greek 

gifts free of guile? Is that Ulysses’ nature? 

Either enemies are hidden in the wood, 

or else this thing was built to breach our walls, 

to watch our homes and city from above. 

Some trick lurks here. Citizens, don’t trust the horse— 

I fear Greeks, even bringing offerings.’

These tears won him life, and even pity. 

Priam himself had the chains that bound 

his hands and feet removed, and spoke kind words: 

‘Whoever you may be, forget the Greeks you’ve lost: 

you’ll be one of us. Just tell me the truth: 

Why did they build this giant horse? Who made it, 

and what for, an offering or a siege?’ 

Sinon, schooled in falsehood and Greek guile, 

raised his hands, now free of chains, up to the sky, 

and cried: ‘I call to witness the eternal flames 

and sacred powers, the altar and the cruel 

sword I fled, the holy bands I wore as victim! 

It’s right to break my sworn oath to the Greeks, 

it’s right to hate those men and bring to light 

all that they hide. No homeland, no laws hold me. 

Troy, if I speak truth, if I repay you richly, 

then keep your pledge, save me as I save you.

When Troy was burned, we took you as our leader; 

we crossed the swollen ocean in your fleet. 

We’ll raise your children to the stars and give 

an empire to your city. You must build great walls

for a great race and bear your long ordeal.

At last Dido confronted him: 

“Traitor! Were you hoping you could hide 

this outrage, and sail away without a word? 

Our love doesn’t hold you back, nor the pledge 

you made me, nor the painful death I’ll die?

A sudden voice spoke out from the deep grove: 

“Don’t wed your daughter to the Latins, son, 

don’t trust the marriage that’s already planned. 

Foreigners will come to be your sons-in-law. 

They’ll raise our name up to the stars by blood.

Their sons will see the world under their feet. 

They’ll rule as far as both the seas seen by the circling 

sun.”

Now Clausus of Cures, bold in his young strength, 

hurled a spear that hit Dryops in mid-sentence. 

It entered below the chin and tore his throat, 

stripping him of voice and life together. He retched 

thick blood and fell, his forehead thudding on the earth.

He spoke, 

and took the sword into his throat, knowing death. 

His life pumped out in bloody waves over his armor.

“Sister, fate has won. Stop delaying me. 

Let’s go where Jove and heartless Fortune call. 

I’m resolved to fight Aeneas, and ready 

for death, even if it’s bitter—no more disgrace. 

Just let me rage this final bout of rage.”