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The Aeneid-Part20_Virgil(70-19BC)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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They run; they snatch; they rush into the main.

With headlong haste they leave the desert shores,



And brush the liquid seas with lab'ring oars.

Aurora now had left her saffron bed,



And beams of early light the heav'ns o'erspread,

When, from a tow'r, the queen, with wakeful eyes,



Saw day point upward from the rosy skies.

She look'd to seaward; but the sea was void,



And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried.

Stung with despite, and furious with despair,



She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair.

"And shall th' ungratefultraitor go," she said,



"My land forsaken, and my love betray'd?

Shall we not arm? not rush from ev'ry street,



To follow, sink, and burn his perjur'd fleet?

Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe!



Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row!

What have I said? where am I? Fury turns



My brain; and my distemper'd bosom burns.

Then, when I gave my person and my throne,



This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown.

See now the promis'd faith, the vaunted name,



The pious man, who, rushing thro' the flame,

Preserv'd his gods, and to the Phrygian shore



The burthen of his feeble father bore!

I should have torn him piecemeal; strow'd in floods



His scatter'd limbs, or left expos'd in woods;

Destroy'd his friends and son; and, from the fire,



Have set the reeking boy before the sire.

Events are doubtful, which on battles wait:



Yet where's the doubt, to souls secure of fate?

My Tyrians, at their injur'd queen's command,



Had toss'd their fires amid the Trojan band;

At once extinguish'd all the faithless name;



And I myself, in vengeance of my shame,

Had fall'n upon the pile, to mend the fun'ral flame.



Thou Sun, who view'st at once the world below;

Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow;



Thou Hecate hearken from thy dark abodes!

Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods,



All pow'rs invok'd with Dido's dying breath,

Attend her curses and avenge her death!



If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands,

Th' ungratefulwretch should find the Latian lands,



Yet let a race untam'd, and haughty foes,

His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose:



Oppress'd with numbers in th' unequal field,

His men discourag'd, and himself expell'd,



Let him for succor sue from place to place,

Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace.



First, let him see his friends in battle slain,

And their untimely fate lament in vain;



And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease,

On hard conditions may he buy his peace:



Nor let him then enjoy supreme command;

But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand,



And lie unburied on the barren sand!

These are my pray'rs, and this my dying will;



And you, my Tyrians, ev'ry curse fulfil.

Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim,



Against the prince, the people, and the name.

These grateful off'rings on my grave bestow;



Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know!

Now, and from hence, in ev'ry future age,



When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage

Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood,



With fire and sword pursue the perjur'd brood;

Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos'd to theirs;



And the same hate descend on all our heirs!"

This said, within her anxious mind she weighs



The means of cutting short her odious days.

Then to Sichaeus' nurse she briefly said



(For, when she left her country, hers was dead):




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