Now had the morning thrice renew'd the light, And thrice dispell'd the shadows of the night, When those who round the wasted fires remain, Perform the last sad office to the slain.

They rake the yet warm ashes from below; These, and the bones unburn'd, in earth bestow; These relics with their country rites they grace, And raise a mount of turf to mark the place.

But, in the palace of the king, appears A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears.

Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans; Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons.

All in that universal sorrow share, And curse the cause of this unhappy war: A broken league, a bride unjustly sought, A crown usurp'd, which with their blood is bought!

These are the crimes with which they load the name Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim: "Let him who lords it o'er th' Ausonian land Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand: His is the gain; our lot is but to serve; 'T is just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve."

This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite: "His foe expects, and dares him to the fight."

Nor Turnus wants a party, to support His cause and credit in the Latian court.

His former acts secure his present fame, And the queen shades him with her mighty name.

While thus their factious minds with fury burn, The legates from th' Aetolian prince return: Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost And care employ'd, their emba.s.sy is lost; That Diomedes refus'd his aid in war, Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to pray'r.

Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought, Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought.

Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late, A foreign son is pointed out by fate; And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed, The wrath of Heav'n is hov'ring o'er his head.

The G.o.ds, he saw, espous'd the juster side, When late their t.i.tles in the field were tried: Witness the fresh laments, and fun'ral tears undried.

Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all The Latian senate to the council hall.

The princes come, commanded by their head, And crowd the paths that to the palace lead.

Supreme in pow'r, and reverenc'd for his years, He takes the throne, and in the midst appears.

Majestically sad, he sits in state, And bids his envoys their success relate.

When Venulus began, the murmuring sound Was hush'd, and sacred silence reign'd around.

"We have," said he, "perform'd your high command, And pa.s.s'd with peril a long tract of land: We reach'd the place desir'd; with wonder fill'd, The Grecian tents and rising tow'rs beheld.

Great Diomede has compa.s.s'd round with walls The city, which Argyripa he calls, From his own Argos nam'd. We touch'd, with joy, The royal hand that raz'd unhappy Troy.

When introduc'd, our presents first we bring, Then crave an instant audience from the king.

His leave obtain'd, our native soil we name, And tell th' important cause for which we came.

Attentively he heard us, while we spoke; Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look, Made this return: 'Ausonian race, of old Renown'd for peace, and for an age of gold, What madness has your alter'd minds possess'd, To change for war hereditary rest, Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword, A needless ill your ancestors abhorr'd?

We- for myself I speak, and all the name Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came, Omitting those who were in battle slain, Or borne by rolling Simois to the main- Not one but suffer'd, and too dearly bought The prize of honor which in arms he sought; Some doom'd to death, and some in exile driv'n.

Outcasts, abandon'd by the care of Heav'n; So worn, so wretched, so despis'd a crew, As ev'n old Priam might with pity view.

Witness the vessels by Minerva toss'd In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast; Th' Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led Our armies to revenge his injur'd bed, In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops' den.

Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain Restor'd to scepters, and expell'd again?

Or young Achilles, by his rival slain?

Ev'n he, the King of Men, the foremost name Of all the Greeks, and most renown'd by fame, The proud revenger of another's wife, Yet by his own adult'ress lost his life; Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy The foul polluters of his bed enjoy.

The G.o.ds have envied me the sweets of life, My much lov'd country, and my more lov'd wife: Banish'd from both, I mourn; while in the sky, Transform'd to birds, my lost companions fly: Hov'ring about the coasts, they make their moan, And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own.

What squalid specters, in the dead of night, Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight!

I might have promis'd to myself those harms, Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms, Presum'd against immortal pow'rs to move, And violate with wounds the Queen of Love.

Such arms this hand shall never more employ; No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy.

I war not with its dust; nor am I glad To think of past events, or good or bad.

Your presents I return: whate'er you bring To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king.

We met in fight; I know him, to my cost: With what a whirling force his lance he toss'd!

Heav'ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw!

How high he held his shield, and rose at ev'ry blow!

Had Troy produc'd two more his match in might, They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight: Th' invasion of the Greeks had been return'd, Our empire wasted, and our cities burn'd.

The long defense the Trojan people made, The war protracted, and the siege delay'd, Were due to Hector's and this hero's hand: Both brave alike, and equal in command; Aeneas, not inferior in the field, In pious reverence to the G.o.ds excell'd.

Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care Th' impending dangers of a fatal war.'

He said no more; but, with this cold excuse, Refus'd th' alliance, and advis'd a truce."

Thus Venulus concluded his report.

A jarring murmur fill'd the factious court: As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force, And dashes o'er the stones that stop the course, The flood, constrain'd within a scanty s.p.a.ce, Roars horrible along th' uneasy race; White foam in gath'ring eddies floats around; The rocky sh.o.r.es rebellow to the sound.

The murmur ceas'd: then from his lofty throne The king invok'd the G.o.ds, and thus begun: "I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate Had been resolv'd before it was too late.

Much better had it been for you and me, Unforc'd by this our last necessity, To have been earlier wise, than now to call A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.

O citizens, we wage unequal war, With men not only Heav'n's peculiar care, But Heav'n's own race; unconquer'd in the field, Or, conquer'd, yet unknowing how to yield.

What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down: Our hopes must center on ourselves alone.

Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain, You see too well; nor need my words explain.

Vanquish'd without resource; laid flat by fate; Factions within, a foe without the gate!

Not but I grant that all perform'd their parts With manly force, and with undaunted hearts: With our united strength the war we wag'd; With equal numbers, equal arms, engag'd.

You see th' event.- Now hear what I propose, To save our friends, and satisfy our foes.

A tract of land the Latins have possess'd Along the Tiber, stretching to the west, Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till, And their mix'd cattle graze the fruitful hill.

Those mountains fill'd with firs, that lower land, If you consent, the Trojan shall command, Call'd into part of what is ours; and there, On terms agreed, the common country share.

There let'em build and settle, if they please; Unless they choose once more to cross the seas, In search of seats remote from Italy, And from unwelcome inmates set us free.

Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed, Or twice as many more, if more they need.

Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood Runs equal with the margin of the flood: Let them the number and the form a.s.sign; The care and cost of all the stores be mine.

To treat the peace, a hundred senators Shall be commission'd hence with ample pow'rs, With olive the presents they shall bear, A purple robe, a royal iv'ry chair, And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear, And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate This great affair, and save the sinking state."

Then Drances took the word, who grudg'd, long since, The rising glories of the Daunian prince.

Factious and rich, bold at the council board, But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword; A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord.

n.o.ble his mother was, and near the throne; But, what his father's parentage, unknown.

He rose, and took th' advantage of the times, To load young Turnus with invidious crimes.

"Such truths, O king," said he, "your words contain, As strike the sense, and all replies are vain; Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek What common needs require, but fear to speak.

Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man, Whose pride this unauspicious war began; For whose ambition (let me dare to say, Fear set apart, tho' death is in my way) The plains of Latium run with blood around.

So many valiant heroes bite the ground; Dejected grief in ev'ry face appears; A town in mourning, and a land in tears; While he, th' undoubted author of our harms, The man who menaces the G.o.ds with arms, Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight, And sought his safety in ign.o.ble flight.

Now, best of kings, since you propose to send Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend; Add yet a greater at our joint request, One which he values more than all the rest: Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride; With that alliance let the league be tied, And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide.

Let insolence no longer awe the throne; But, with a father's right, bestow your own.

For this maligner of the general good, If still we fear his force, he must be woo'd; His haughty G.o.dhead we with pray'rs implore, Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore.

O cursed cause of all our ills, must we Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee!

What right hast thou to rule the Latian state, And send us out to meet our certain fate?

'T is a destructive war: from Turnus' hand Our peace and public safety we demand.

Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain; If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain.

Turnus, I know you think me not your friend, Nor will I much with your belief contend: I beg your greatness not to give the law In others' realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.

Pity your own, or pity our estate; Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate.

Your interest is, the war should never cease; But we have felt enough to wish the peace: A land exhausted to the last remains, Depopulated towns, and driven plains.

Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow'r, A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow'r, So fire your mind, in arms a.s.sert your right, And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight.

Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone; We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne: A base ign.o.ble crowd, without a name, Unwept, unworthy, of the fun'ral flame, By duty bound to forfeit each his life, That Turnus may possess a royal wife.

Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew Should share such triumphs, and detain from you The post of honor, your undoubted due.

Rather alone your matchless force employ, To merit what alone you must enjoy."

These words, so full of malice mix'd with art, Inflam'd with rage the youthful hero's heart.

Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast, He heav'd for wind, and thus his wrath express'd: "You, Drances, never want a stream of words, Then, when the public need requires our swords.

First in the council hall to steer the state, And ever foremost in a tongue-debate, While our strong walls secure us from the foe, Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow: But let the potent orator declaim, And with the brand of coward blot my name; Free leave is giv'n him, when his fatal hand Has cover'd with more corps the sanguine strand, And high as mine his tow'ring trophies stand.

If any doubt remains, who dares the most, Let us decide it at the Trojan's cost, And issue both abreast, where honor calls- Foes are not far to seek without the walls- Unless his noisy tongue can only fight, And feet were giv'n him but to speed his flight.

I beaten from the field? I forc'd away?

Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say?

Had he but ev'n beheld the fight, his eyes Had witness'd for me what his tongue denies: What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain, And how the b.l.o.o.d.y Tiber swell'd the main.

All saw, but he, th' Arcadian troops retire In scatter'd squadrons, and their prince expire.

The giant brothers, in their camp, have found, I was not forc'd with ease to quit my ground.

Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos'd, I singly their united arms oppos'd: First forc'd an entrance thro' their thick array; Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way.

'T is a destructive war? So let it be, But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee!

Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears With false reports, their minds with panic fears: Extol the strength of a twice-conquer'd race; Our foes encourage, and our friends debase.

Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o'erthrown; Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies, And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies.