Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare The Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war, The double bane of Carthage? Who can see Without esteem for virtuous poverty, Severe Fabricius, or can cease t' admire The plowman consul in his coarse attire?
Tir'd as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name, Ordain'd in war to save the sinking state, And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!
Let others better mold the running mass Of metals, and inform the breathing brass, And soften into flesh a marble face;Plead better at the bar; describe the skies, And when the stars descend, and when they rise.
But, Rome, 't is thine alone, with awful sway, To rule mankind, and make the world obey, Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way;To tame the proud, the fetter'd slave to free:
These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."He paus'd; and, while with wond'ring eyes they view'd The passing spirits, thus his speech renew'd:
"See great Marcellus! how, untir'd in toils, He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!
He, when his country, threaten'd with alarms, Requires his courage and his conqu'ring arms, Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;Then to the Capitol in triumph move, And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove."Aeneas here beheld, of form divine, A godlike youth in glitt'ring armor shine, With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.
He saw, and, wond'ring, ask'd his airy guide, What and of whence was he, who press'd the hero's side:
"His son, or one of his illustrious name?
How like the former, and almost the same!
Observe the crowds that compass him around;All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:
But hov'ring mists around his brows are spread, And night, with sable shades, involves his head.""Seek not to know," the ghost replied with tears, "The sorrows of thy sons in future years.
This youth (the blissful vision of a day)Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch'd away.
The gods too high had rais'd the Roman state, Were but their gifts as permanent as great.
What groans of men shall fill the Martian field!
How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!
What fun'ral pomp shall floating Tiber see, When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!
No youth shall equal hopes of glory give, No youth afford so great a cause to grieve;The Trojan honor, and the Roman boast, Admir'd when living, and ador'd when lost!
Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!
Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!
No foe, unpunish'd, in the fighting field Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield;Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force, When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.
Ah! couldst thou break thro' fate's severe decree, A new Marcellus shall arise in thee!
Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring;Let me with fun'ral flow'rs his body strow;This gift which parents to their children owe, This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!"Thus having said, he led the hero round The confines of the blest Elysian ground;Which when Anchises to his son had shown, And fir'd his mind to mount the promis'd throne, He tells the future wars, ordain'd by fate;The strength and customs of the Latian state;The prince, and people; and forearms his care With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.
Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;Of polish'd ivory this, that of transparent horn:
True visions thro' transparent horn arise;Thro' polish'd ivory pass deluding lies.
Of various things discoursing as he pass'd, Anchises hither bends his steps at last.
Then, thro' the gate of iv'ry, he dismiss'd His valiant offspring and divining guest.
Straight to the ships Aeneas his way, Embark'd his men, and skimm'd along the sea, Still coasting, till he gain'd Cajeta's bay.
At length on oozy ground his galleys moor;Their heads are turn'd to sea, their sterns to shore.
