3. Vergil Aeneid 1.437-97

Translated by Robert Fitzgerald

(from Virgil: The Aeneid, New York: Random House, 1983)

A. Book 1 lines 437-97

Early in this epic poem about Rome’s founding hero, Aeneas has fled the destruction of Troy in the Trojan War, been shipwrecked and come to the Phoenician city of Carthage as a refugee. In this section, Aeneas with his comrade Achatës first marvels at the city and then sees some paintings depicting scenes from the legendary war he has recently escaped.

Aeneas said: "How fortunate these are

Whose city walls are rising here and now!"

He looked up at the roofs, for he had entered,

Swathed in cloud--strange to relate--among them,

Mingling with men, yet visible to none.

In mid-town stood a grove that cast sweet shade

Where the Phoenicians, shaken by wind and sea,

Had first dug up that symbol Juno showed them,

A proud warhorse’s head: this meant for Carthage

Prowess in war and ease of life through ages.

Here being built by the Sidonian queen

Was a great temple planned in Juno’s honor,

Rich in offerings and the godhead there.

Steps led up to a sill of bronze, with brazen

Lintel, and bronze doors on groaning pins.

Here in this grove new things that met his eyes

Calmed Aeneas’ fear for the first time.

Here for the first time he took heart to hope

For safety, and to trust his destiny more

Even in affliction. It was while he walked

From one to another wall of the great temple

And waited for the queen, staring amazed

At Carthaginian promise, at the handiwork

Of artificers and the toil they spent upon it:

He found before his eyes the Trojan battles

In the old war, now known throughout the world--

The great Atridae, Priam, and Achilles,

Fierce in his rage at both sides. Here Aeneas

Halted, and tears came.

"What spot on earth,"

He said, "what region of the earth, Achatës,"

Is not full of the story of our sorrow?

Look, here is Priam. Even so far away

Great valor has due honor; they weep here

For how the world goes, and our life that passes

Touches their hearts. Throw off your fear. This fame

Insures some kind of refuge."

He broke off

To feast his eyes and mind on a mere image,

Sighing often, cheeks grown wet with tears,

To see again how, fighting around Troy,

The Greeks broke here, and ran before the Trojans,

And there the Phrygians ran, as plumed Achilles

Harried them in his war-car. Nearby, then,

He recognized the snowy canvas tents

Of Rhesus, and more tears came: these, betrayed

In first sleep, Diomedes devastated,

Swording many, till he reeked with blood,

Then turned the mettlesome horses toward the beachhead

Before they tasted Trojan grass or drank

At Xanthus ford.

And on another panel

Troilus, without his armor, luckless boy,

No match for his antagonist, Achilles,

Appeared pulled onward by his team: he clung

To his war-car, though fallen backward, hanging

On to the reins still, head dragged on the ground,

His javelin scribbling S’s in the dust.

Meanwhile to hostile Pallas’ shrine

The Trojan women walked with hair unbound,

Bearing the robe of offering, in sorrow,

Entreating her, beating their breasts. But she,

Her face averted, would not raise her eyes.

And there was Hector, dragged around Troy walls

Three times, and there for gold Achilles sold him,

Bloodless and lifeless. Now indeed Aeneas

Heaved a mighty sigh from deep within him,

Seeing the spoils, the chariot, and the corpse

Of his great friend, and Priam, all unarmed,

Stretching his hands out.

He himself he saw

In combat with the first of the Achaeans,

And saw the ranks of Dawn, black Memnon’s arms;

Then, leading the battalion of Amazons

With half-moon shields, he saw Penthisilea

Fiery amidst her host, buckling a golden

Girdle beneath her bare and arrogant breast,

A girl who dared fight men, a warrior queen.

Now, while these wonders were being surveyed

By Aeneas of Dardania, while he stood

Enthralled, devouring all in one long gaze,

The queen paced toward the temple in her beauty,

Dido, with a throng of men behind.