HKB
he still persist, on death resolve, And in his ruin all his house involve!’ He still persists his reasons to maintain; Our pray’rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain.
“Urg’d by despair, again I go to try The fate of arms, resolv’d in fight to die: ‘What hope remains, but what my death must give? Can I, without so dear a father, live? You term it prudence, what I baseness call: Could such a word from such a parent fall? If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain, That nothing should of ruin’d Troy remain, And you conspire with Fortune to be slain, The way to death is wide, th’ approaches near: For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear, Reeking with Priam’s blood: the wretch who slew The son (inhuman) in the father’s view, And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew. O goddess mother, give me back to Fate; Your gift was undesir’d, and came too late! Did you, for this, unhappy me convey Thro’ foes and fires, to see my house a prey? Shall I my father, wife, and son behold, Welt’ring in blood, each other’s arms infold? Haste! gird my sword, tho’ spent and overcome: ’Tis the last summons to receive our doom. I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call! Not unreveng’d the foe shall see my fall. Restore me to the yet unfinish’d fight: My death is wanting to conclude the night.’ Arm’d once again, my glitt’ring sword I wield, While th’ other hand sustains my weighty shield, And forth I rush to seek th’ abandon’d field. I went; but sad Creusa stopp’d my way, And cross the threshold in my passage lay, Embrac’d my knees, and, when I would have gone, Shew’d me my feeble sire and tender son: ‘If death be your design, at least,’ said she, ‘Take us along to share your destiny. If any farther hopes in arms remain, This place, these pledges of your love, maintain. To whom do you expose your father’s life, Your son’s, and mine, your now forgotten wife!’ While thus she fills the house with clam’rous cries, Our hearing is diverted by our eyes: For, while I held my son, in the short space Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace; Strange to relate, from young Iulus’ head A lambent flame arose, which gently spread Around his brows, and on his temples fed. Amaz’d, with running water we prepare To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair; But old Anchises, vers’d in omens, rear’d His hands to heav’n, and this request preferr’d: ‘If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend Thy will; if piety can pray’rs commend, Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas’d to send.’ Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear A peal of rattling thunder roll in air: There shot a streaming lamp along the sky, Which on the winged lightning seem’d to fly; From o’er the roof the blaze began to move, And, trailing, vanish’d in th’ Idaean grove. It swept a path in heav’n, and shone a guide, Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died.
“The good old man with suppliant hands implor’d The gods’ protection, and their star ador’d. ‘Now, now,’ said he, ‘my son, no more delay! I yield, I follow where Heav’n shews the way. Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place, And guard this relic of the Trojan race, This tender child! These omens are your own, And you can yet restore the ruin’d town. At least accomplish what your signs foreshow: I stand resign’d, and am prepar’d to go.’