HKB
from the clouds are sent, Which, hissing thro’ the planks, the flames prevent, And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone.
But doubtful thoughts the hero’s heart divide; If he should still in Sicily reside, Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main, In hope the promis’d Italy to gain. Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone The will of Heav’n by Pallas was foreshown; Vers’d in portents, experienc’d, and inspir’d To tell events, and what the fates requir’d; Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin’d, With cheerful words reliev’d his lab’ring mind: “O goddess-born, resign’d in ev’ry state, With patience bear, with prudence push your fate. By suff’ring well, our Fortune we subdue; Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue. Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind; To him disclose the secrets of your mind: Trust in his hands your old and useless train; Too num’rous for the ships which yet remain: The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease, The dames who dread the dangers of the seas, With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand The shock of battle with your foes by land. Here you may build a common town for all, And, from Acestes’ name, Acesta call.” The reasons, with his friend’s experience join’d, Encourag’d much, but more disturb’d his mind.
’Twas dead of night; when to his slumb’ring eyes His father’s shade descended from the skies, And thus he spoke: “O more than vital breath, Lov’d while I liv’d, and dear ev’n after death; O son, in various toils and troubles toss’d, The King of Heav’n employs my careful ghost On his commands: the god, who sav’d from fire Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire. The wholesome counsel of your friend receive, And here the coward train and woman leave: The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare, Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war. The stern Italians will their courage try; Rough are their manners, and their minds are high. But first to Pluto’s palace you shall go, And seek my shade among the blest below: For not with impious ghosts my soul remains, Nor suffers with the damn’d perpetual pains, But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains. The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey, And blood of offer’d victims free the way. There shall you know what realms the gods assign, And learn the fates and fortunes of your line. But now, farewell! I vanish with the night, And feel the blast of heav’n’s approaching light.” He said, and mix’d with shades, and took his airy flight. “Whither so fast?” the filial duty cried; “And why, ah why, the wish’d embrace denied?”