HKB
man, while peace he preach’d in vain, Amidst the madness of th’ unruly train: Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill’d; His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till’d.
Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood The Fury bath’d them in each other’s blood; Then, having fix’d the fight, exulting flies, And bears fulfill’d her promise to the skies. To Juno thus she speaks: “Behold! It is done, The blood already drawn, the war begun; The discord is complete; nor can they cease The dire debate, nor you command the peace. Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood; Speak, and my pow’r shall add this office more: The neighbr’ing nations of th’ Ausonian shore Shall hear the dreadful rumour, from afar, Of arm’d invasion, and embrace the war.” Then Juno thus: “The grateful work is done, The seeds of discord sow’d, the war begun; Frauds, fears, and fury have possess’d the state, And fix’d the causes of a lasting hate. A bloody Hymen shall th’ alliance join Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line: But thou with speed to night and hell repair; For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear Thy lawless wand’ring walks in upper air. Leave what remains to me.” Saturnia said: The sullen fiend her sounding wings display’d, Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade.
In midst of Italy, well known to fame, There lies a lake, Amsanctus is the name, Below the lofty mounts: on either side Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide. Full in the centre of the sacred wood An arm arises of the Stygian flood, Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound, Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around. Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell, And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell. To this infernal lake the Fury flies; Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab’ring skies.
Saturnian Juno now, with double care, Attends the fatal process of the war. The clowns, return’d, from battle bear the slain, Implore the gods, and to their king complain. The corps of Almon and the rest are shown; Shrieks, clamours, murmurs, fill the frighted town. Ambitious Turnus in the press appears, And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears; Proclaims his private injuries aloud, A solemn promise made, and disavow’d; A foreign son is sought, and a mix’d mungril brood. Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear, In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear, And lead his dances with dishevel’d hair, Increase the clamour, and the war demand, (Such was Amata’s int’rest in the land,) Against the public sanctions of the peace, Against all omens of their ill success. With fates averse, the rout in arms resort, To force their monarch, and insult the court. But, like a rock unmov’d, a rock that braves The raging tempest and the rising waves, Propp’d on himself he stands; his solid sides Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides: So stood the pious prince, unmov’d, and long Sustain’d the madness of the noisy throng. But, when he found that Juno’s pow’r prevail’d, And all the methods of cool counsel fail’d, He calls the gods to witness their offence, Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence. “Hurried by fate,” he cries, “and borne before A furious wind, we have the faithful shore. O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war: Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate, And pray to Heav’n for peace, but pray too late. For me, my stormy voyage at an end, I to the port of death securely tend. The fun’ral pomp which to your kings you pay, Is all I want, and all you take away.” He said no more, but, in his walls confin’d, Shut out the woes which he too well divin’d Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive, But left the helm, and let the vessel drive.
A solemn custom was observ’d of old, Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold, Their standard when in fighting fields they rear Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war; Or from the boasting Parthians would regain Their eagles, lost in Carrhae’s bloody plain. Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear, And still are worship’d with religious fear) Before his temple stand: the dire abode, And the fear’d issues of the furious god, Are fenc’d with brazen bolts; without the gates, The wary guardian Janus doubly waits. Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars, The Roman consul their decree declares, And in his robes the sounding gates unbars. The youth in military shouts arise, And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies. These rites, of old by sov’reign princes us’d, Were the king’s office; but the king refus’d, Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar Of sacred peace, or loose th’ imprison’d war; But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms, Abhorr’d the wicked ministry of arms. Then heav’n’s imperious queen shot down from high: At her approach the brazen hinges fly; The gates are forc’d, and ev’ry falling bar; And, like a tempest, issues out the war.
The peaceful cities of th’ Ausonian shore, Lull’d in their ease, and undisturb’d before, Are all on fire; and some, with studious care, Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare; Some their soft limbs in painful marches try, And war is all their wish, and arms the gen’ral cry.