I sing of warfare and a man at war.
From the sea-coast of Troy in early days
He came to Italy by destiny,
To our Lavinian western shore,
A fugitive, this captain, buffeted
Cruelly on land as on the sea
By blows from powers of the air — behind them
Baleful Juno in her sleepless rage.
And cruel losses were his lot in war,
Till he could found a city and bring home
His gods to Latium, land of the Latin race,
The Alban lords, and the high walls of Rome.[Arma virumque canō, Trōiae quī prīmus ab ōrīs
Ītaliam, fātō profugus, Lāvīniaque vēnit
lītora, multum ille et terrīs iactātus et altō
vī superum saevae memorem Iūnōnis ob īram;
multa quoque et bellō passus, dum conderet urbem,
inferretque deōs Latiō, genus unde Latīnum,
Albānīque patrēs, atque altae moenia Rōmae.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 1ff (1.1-7) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,
And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.
Long labours, both by sea and land, he bore,
And in the doubtful war, before he won
The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;
His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,
And settled sure succession in his line,
From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
And the long glories of majestic Rome.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Arms I sing, and the hero, who first, exiled by fate, came from the coast of Troy to Italy, and by the Lavinian shore: much was he tossed both on sea and land, by the power of those above, on account of the unrelenting rage of cruel Juno: much too he suffered in war till he founded a city, and brought his gods into LatiumL from whence the Latin progeny, the Alban fathers, and the walls of lofty Rome.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Arms and the man I sing, who first,
By Fate of Ilian realm amerced,
To fair Italia onward bore,
And landed on Lavinium’s shore: --
Long tossing earth and ocean o’er,
By violence of heaven, to sate
Fell Juno’s unforgetting hate:
Much laboured too in battle-field,
Striving his city’s walls to build,
And give his Gods a home:
Thence come the hardy Latin brood,
The ancient sires of Alba’s blood,
And lofty-rampired Rome.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
I sing of arms, and of the man who first
Came from the coasts of Troy to Italy
And the Lavinian shores, exiled by fate.
Much was he tossed about upon the lands
And on the ocean by supernal powers,
Because of cruel Juno's sleepless wrath.
Many things also suffered he in war,
Until he built a city, and his gods
Brought into Latium, whence the Latin race,
The Alban sires, and walls of lofty Rome.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
I sing of arms and the man who of old from the coasts of Troy came, an exile of fate, to Italy and the shore of Lavinium; hard driven on land and on the deep by the violence of heaven, for cruel Juno's unforgetful anger, and hard bestead in war also, ere he might found a city and carry his gods into Latium; from whom is the Latin race, the lords of Alba, and the stately city Rome.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
I sing of arms, I sing of him, who from the Trojan land
Thrust forth by Fate, to Italy and that Lavinian strand
First came: all tost about was he on earth and on the deep
By heavenly might for Juno's wrath, that had no mind to sleep:
And plenteous war he underwent ere he his town might frame
And set his Gods in Latian earth, whence is the Latin name,
And father-folk of Alba-town, and walls of mighty Rome.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Of arms I sing, and of the man, whom Fate
First drove from Troy to the Lavinian shore.
Full many an evil, through the mindful hate
Of cruel Juno, from the gods he bore,
Much tost on earth and ocean, yea, and more
In war enduring, ere he built a home,
And his loved household-deities brought o'er
To Latium, whence the Latin people come,
Whence rose the Alban sires, and walls of lofty Rome.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 1]
Arms and the man I sing, who first made way,
predestined exile, from the Trojan shore
to Italy, the blest Lavinian strand.
Smitten of storms he was on land and sea
by violence of Heaven, to satisfy
stern Juno's sleepless wrath; and much in war
he suffered, seeking at the last to found
the city, and bring o'er his fathers' gods
to safe abode in Latium; whence arose
the Latin race, old Alba's reverend lords,
and from her hills wide-walled, imperial Rome.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Arms I sing and the man who first from the coasts of Troy, exiled by fate, came to Italy and Lavinian shores; much buffeted on sea and land by violence from above, through cruel Juno's unforgiving wrath, and much enduring in war also, till he should build a city and bring his gods ot Latium; whence came the Latin race, the lords of Alba, and the walls of lofty Rome.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Arms and the man I sing, the first who came,
Compelled by fate, an exile out of Troy,
To Italy and the Lavinian coast,
Much buffeted on land and on the deep
By violence of the gods, through that long rage,
That lasting hate, of Juno’s. And he suffered
Much, also, in war, till he should build his town
And bring his gods to Latium, whence, in time,
The Latin race, the Alban fathers, rose
And the great walls of everlasting Rome.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
I tell about war and the hero who first from Troy's frontier,
Displaced by destiny, came to the Lavinian shores,
To Italy -- a man much travailed on sea and land
By the powers above, because of the brooding anger of Juno,
Suffering much in war until he could found a city
And march his gods into Latium, whence rose the Latin race,
The royal line of Alba and the high walls of Rome.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
I sing of arms and of a man: his fate
had made him fugitive; he was the first
to journey from the coasts of Troy as far
as Italy and the Lavinian shores.
Across the lands and waters he was battered
beneath the violence of High Ones, for
the savage Juno's unforgetting anger;
and many sufferings were his in war
until he brought a city into being
and carried in his gods to Latium;
from this have come the Latin race, the lords
of Alba, and the ramparts of high Rome.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
I sing of arms and of the man, fated to be an exile, who long since left the land of Troy and came to Italy to the shores of Lavinium; and a great pounding he took by land and sea at the hands of the heavenly gods because of the fierce and unforgetting anger of Juno. Great too were his suffering in war before he could found his city and carry his gods into Latium. this was the beginning of the Latin race, the Alban fathers and the high walls of Rome.
[tr. West (1990)]
Arms I sing -- and a man,
The first to come from the shores
Of Troy, exiled by Fate, to Italy
And the Lavinian coast; a man battered
On land and sea by the powers above
In the face of Juno's relentless wrath;
A man who also suffered greatly in war
Until he could found his city and bring his gods
Into Latium, from which arose
The Latin people, our Alban forefathers,
And the high walls of everlasting Rome.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Wars and a man I sing -- an exile driven on by Fate,
he was the first to flee the coast of Troy,
destined to reach Lavinian shores and Italian soil,
yet many blows he took on land and sea from the gods above --
thanks to cruel Juno’s relentless rage -- and many losses
he bore in battle too, before he could found a city,
bring his gods to Latium, source of the Latin race,
the Alban lords and the high walls of Rome.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
My song is of war and a man: a refugee by fate,
the first from Troy to Italy's Lavinian shores,
battered much on land and sea by blows from gods
obliging brutal Juno's unforgetting rage;
he suffered much in war as well, all to plant
his town and gods in Latium. From here would rise
the Latin race, the Alban lords, and Rome's high walls.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Quotations by:
Virgil
Remember for me, Muse. Tell me the reasons. What pain,
what insult to her power, moved the queen of gods
to drive a man famous for piety through misery
on misery? Can such anger grip gods’ minds?[Mūsa, mihī causās memorā, quō nūmine laesō,
quidve dolēns, rēgīna deum tot volvere cāsūs
īnsīgnem pietāte virum, tot adīre labōrēs
impulerit. Tantaene animīs caelestibus īrae?]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 8ff (1.8-11) (29-19 BC) [tr. Bartsch (2021)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;
What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate;
For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began
To persecute so brave, so just a man;
Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares,
Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars!
Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show,
Or exercise their spite in human woe?
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Declare to me, O Muse! the causes, in what the deity being offended, by what the queen of heaven was provoked to drive a man of distinguished piety to struggle with so many calamities, to encounter so many hardships. Is there such resentment in heavenly minds?
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Say, Muse, for godhead how disdained,
Or wherefore wroth, Heaven’s queen constrained
That soul of piety so long
To turn the wheel, to cope with wrong.
Can heavenly natures nourish hate
So fierce, so blindly passionate?
[tr. Conington (1866)]
O Muse, the causes tell, for what affront,
And why incensed, the queen of gods compelled
A hero for his piety renowned
To undergo such sufferings and such toils.
Is there such anger in celestial minds?
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Muse, tell me why, for what attaint of her deity, or in what vexation, did the Queen of heaven drive one so excellent in goodness to circle through so many afflictions, to face so many toils? Is anger so fierce in celestial spirits?
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Say, Muse, what wound of godhead was whereby all this must come,
How grieving, she, the Queen of Gods, a man so pious drave
To win such toil, to welter on through such a troublous wave:
-- Can anger in immortal minds abide so fierce and fell?
[tr. Morris (1900)]
O Muse, assist me and inspire my song,
The various causes and the crimes relate,
For what affronted majesty, what wrong
To injured Godhead, what offence so great
Heaven's Queen resenting, with remorseless hate,
Could one renowned for piety compel
To brave such troubles, and endure the weight
Of toils so many and so huge. O tell
How can in heavenly minds such fierce resentment dwell?
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 2]
O Muse, the causes tell! What sacrilege,
or vengeful sorrow, moved the heavenly Queen
to thrust on dangers dark and endless toil
a man whose largest honor in men's eyes
was serving Heaven? Can gods such anger feel?
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Tell me, O Muse, the cause; wherein thwarted in will or wherefore angered, did the Queen of heaven drive a man, of goodness so wondrous, to traverse so many perils, to face so many toils. Can resentment so fierce dwell in heavenly breasts?
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Help me, O Muse, recall the reasons: why,
Why did the queen of heaven drive a man
So known for goodness, for devotion, through
So many toils and perils? Was there slight,
Affront, or outrage? Is vindictiveness
An attribute of the celestial mind?
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Where lay the cause of it all? How was her godhead injured?
What grievance made the queen of heaven so harry a man
Renowned for piety, through such toils, such a cycle of calamity?
Can a divine being be so persevering in anger?
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Tell me the reason, Muse: what was the wound
to her divinity, so hurting her
that she, the queen of gods, compelled a man
remarkable for his goodness to endure
so many crises, meet so many trials?
Can such resentment hold the minds of gods?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
Tell me the causes now, O Muse, how galled
In her divine pride, and how sore at heart
From her old wound, the queen of gods compelled him --
A man apart, devoted to his mission --
To undergo so many perilous days
And enter on so many trials. Can anger
Black as this prey on the minds of heaven?
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
Tell me, Muse, the causes of her anger. How did he violate the will of the Queen of the Gods? What was his offense? Why did she drive a man famous for his piety to such endless hardship and such suffering? Can there be so much anger in the hearts of the heavenly gods?
[tr. West (1990)]
Muse, tell me why the Queen of Heaven
Was so aggrieved, her godhead so offended,
That she forced a man of faultless devotion
To endure so much hardship. Can there be
Anger so great the hearts of gods on high?
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Tell me,
Muse, how it all began. Why was Juno outraged?
What could wound the Queen of the Gods with all her power?
Why did she force a man, so famous for his devotion,
to brave such rounds of hardship, bear such trials?
Can such rage inflame the immortals' hearts?
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Comrades, we’re well acquainted with evils, then and now.
Worse than this you have suffered. God will end all this too.[O socii — neque enim ignari sumus ante malorum —
O passi graviora, dabit deus his quoque finem.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 198ff (1.198-199) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose
To future good our past and present woes.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
O companions, who have sustained severer ills than these, (for we are not strangers to former days of adversity,) to these, too, God will grant a termination.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Comrades and friends! for ours is strength
Has brooked the test of woes;
O worse-scarred hearts! these wounds at length
The Gods will heal, like those.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
O friends, who greater sufferings still have borne,
(for not unknown to us are former griefs,)
And end also to these the deity
Will give.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 251ff]
O comrades, for not now nor aforetime are we ignorant of ill, O tried by heavier fortunes, unto this last likewise will God appoint an end.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
O fellows, we are used ere now by evil ways to wend;
O ye who erst bore heavier loads, this too the Gods shall end.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Comrades! of ills not ignorant; far more
Than these ye suffered, and to these as well
Will Jove give ending, as he gave before.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 27 / l. 235ff]
Companions mine, we have not failed to feel
calamity till now. O, ye have borne
far heavier sorrow: Jove will make an end
also of this.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
O comrades -- for ere this we have not been ignorant of evils -- O ye who have borne a heavier lot, to this, too, God will grant an end!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
O comrades, we have been through evil
Together before this; we have been through worse
[...] This, too, the god will end.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
O comrades -- surely we're not ignorant
of earlier disasters, we who have suffered
things heaver than this -- our god will give
an end to this as well.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 276ff]
Friends and companions,
Have we not known hard hours before this?
My men, who have endured still greater dangers,
God will grant us an end to these as well.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 270ff]
My friends, this is not the first trouble we have known. We have suffered worse before, and this too will pass. God will see to it.
[tr. West (1990)]
Trojans! This is not our first taste of trouble.v You have suffered worse than this, myfriends,
And God will grant an end to this also.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 234ff]
My comrades, hardly strangers to pain before now,
we all have weathered worse. Some god will grant us
an end to this as well.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
My friends: we're no strangers to misfortune. You've suffered worse; some god will end this too.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Lift up your hearts!
No more complaint and fear! It well may be
some happier hour will find this memory fair.[Revocate animos, maestumque timorem
mittite: forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 202ff (1.202-203) (29-19 BC) [tr. Williams (1910)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Resume your courage and dismiss your care.
An hour will come, with pleasure to relate
Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Resume then your courage, and dismiss your desponding fears; perhaps hereafter it may delight you to remember these sufferings.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Come, cheer your souls, your fears forget;
This suffering will yield us yet
A pleasant tale to tell.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Recall your courage ; banish gloomy fears.
Some day perhaps the memory even of these
Shall yield delight.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Recall your courage, put dull fear away. This too sometime we shall haply remember with delight.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Come, call aback your ancient hearts and put your fears away!
This too shall be for joy to you remembered on a day.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Fear not; take heart; hereafter, it may be
These too will yield a pleasant tale to tell.
[tr. Taylor (1907)]
Recall your courage and put away sad fear. Perchance even this distress it will some day be a joy to recall.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Call the nerve back; dismiss the fear, the sadness.
Some day, perhaps, remembering even this
Will be a pleasure.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Take heart again, oh, put your dismal fears away!
One day -- who knows? -- even these will be grand things to look back on.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Call back
your courage, send away your grieving fear.
Perhaps one day you will remember even
these our adversities with pleasure.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 281ff]
Now call back
Your courage, and have done with fear and sorrow.
Some day, perhaps, remembering even this
Will be a pleasure.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 275ff]
So summon up your courage once again. This is no time for gloom or fear. The day will come, perhaps, when it will give you pleasure to remember even this.
[tr. West (1990)]
Recall your courage
And put aside your fear and grief. Someday, perhaps,
It will help to remember these troubles as well.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 238ff]
Call up your courage again. Dismiss your grief and fear.
A joy it will be one day, perhaps, to remember even this.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Perhaps one day it will be a joy to remember also these things.
[tr. @sentantiq (2011)]
Summon your spirits back, and abandon your sad fear:
perhaps one day even these things will be a pleasing memory.
[tr. @sentantiq/Robinson (2015)]
Perhaps one day it will be a joy to remember even these things
[tr. @sentantiq (2016)]
One day we’re going to look back on even this and laugh (maybe).
[tr. Tortorelli (2017)]
Perhaps someday it will bring pleasure to recall these things.
[tr. @sentantiq (2020)]
Be brave, let go your fear and despair.
Perhaps someday even memory of this will bring you pleasure.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Commentary on this passage: A Hope for Better Days to Come – SENTENTIAE ANTIQUAE.
Your task is to endure and save yourselves for better days.
[Durate, et vosmet rebus servate secundis.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 207 (1.207) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. West (1990)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Endure the hardships of your present state;
Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Bear up, and live for happier days.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Be firm,
And keep your hearts in hope of brighter days.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 263ff]
Keep heart, and endure till prosperous fortune come.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Abide, endure, and keep yourselves for coming days of joy.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Bear up; reserve you for a happier day.
[tr. Taylor (1907), l. 238]
Have patience all!
And bide expectantly that golden day.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Endure, and keep yourselves for days of happiness.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Endure, and keep yourself for better days.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Hold on, and find salvation in the hope of better things!
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Hold out, and save yourselves for kinder days.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
Be patient:
Save yourselves for more auspicious days.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 282-83]
Endure, and save yourselves for happier times.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Bear up.
Save your strength for better times to come.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Hold on.
Save your strength for better days to come.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Even furious Juno, now plaguing the land and sea and sky
with terror: she will mend her ways and hold dear with me
these Romans, lords of the earth, the race arrayed in togas.
This is my pleasure, my decree.[Quin aspera Iuno,
quae mare nunc terrasque metu caelumque fatigat,
consilia in melius referet, mecumque fovebit
Romanos rerum dominos gentemque togatam:
sic placitum.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 279ff (1.279-283) [Jupiter] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 335ff]
(Source)
Juno favored Carthage, thus her plotting against Aeneas. Jupiter, early on in the story, decrees to Venus (Aeneas' mother) that Juno will come around and love those wacky toga-wearers. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Ev'n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,
Earth, seas, and heav'n, and Jove himself turmoils;
At length aton'd, her friendly pow'r shall join,
To cherish and advance the Trojan line.
The subject world shall Rome's dominion own,
And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
And even sullen Juno, who now, through jealous fear, creates endless disturbance to sea, and earth, and heaven, shall change her counsels for the better, and join with me in befriending the Romans, lords of the world, and the nation of the gown. Such is my pleasure.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Nay Juno's self, whose wild alarms
Set ocean, earth, and heaven in arms,
Shall change for smiles her moody frown,
And vie with me in zeal to crown
Rome's sons, the nation of the gown.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Nay, harsh Juno, who disturbs
With fear the sea and land and shy, will change
Her counsels for the better, and with me
Cherish the Romans, masters of affairs.
The toga'd nation. Such is my decree.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Nay, harsh Juno, who in her fear now troubles earth and sea and sky, shall change to better counsels, and with me shall cherish the lords of the world, the gowned race of Rome. Thus is it willed.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Yea, Juno, hard of heart,
Who wearieth now with fear of her the heavens and earth and sea,
Shall gather better counsel yet, and cherish them with me;
The Roman folk, the togaed men, lords of all worldly ways.
Such is the doom.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Nay, Juno, too, who now, in mood malign,
Earth, sea and sky is harrying, shall incline
To better counsels, and unite with me
To cherish and uphold the imperial line,
The Romans, rulers of the land and sea,
Lords of the flowing gown. So standeth my decree.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 37, l. 328ff]
Yea, even my Queen,
Juno, who now chastiseth land and sea
with her dread frown, will find a wiser way,
and at my sovereign side protect and bless
the Romans, masters of the whole round world,
who, clad in peaceful toga, judge mankind.
Such my decree!
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Nay, harsh Juno, who now in her fear troubles sea and earth and sky, shall change to better counsels and with me cherish the Romans, lords of the world, and the nation of the gown. Thus is it decreed.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Even bitter Juno
Whose fear now harries earth and sea and heaven
Will change to better counsels, and will cherish
The race that wears the toga, Roman masters
Of all the world. It is decreed.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Even the spiteful Juno,
Who in her fear now troubles the earth, the sea and the sky,
Shall think better of this and join me in fostering
The cause of the Romans, the lords of creation, the togaed people.
Thus it is written.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Then even bitter Juno shall be changed;
for she, who now harasses lands and heavens
with terror, then shall hold the Romans dear
together with me, cherishing the masters
of all things, and the race that wears the toga.
This is what I decree.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 391ff]
Juno, indeed, whose bitterness now fills
With fear and torment sea and earth and sky,
Will mend her ways, and favor them as I do,
Lords of the world, the toga-bearing Romans.
Such is our pleasure.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 376ff]
Even angry Juno, who is now wearying sea and land and sky with her terrors, will come to better counsel and join with me in cherishing the people of Rome, the rulers of the world, the race that wears the toga. So it has been decreed.
[tr. West (1990)]
Even Juno, who in her site and fear
Now vexes earth, sea, and sky, shall adopt
A better view, wand with me cherish the Romans,
Lords of the world, the people of the toga.
That is my pleasure.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Even cruel Juno, terror of the land and sea and sky, will change her plans and (like me) favor Romans: people of the toga, rulers of the world. So I've decreed.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
At that,
as she turned away her neck shone with a rosy glow,
her mane of hair gave off an ambrosial fragrance,
her skirt flowed loose, rippling down to her feet
and her stride alone revealed her as a goddess.[Dixit et avertens rosea cervice refulsit,
Ambrosiaeque comae divinum vertice odorem
Spiravere; pedes vestis defluxit ad imos,
Et vera incessu patuit dea.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 402ff (1.402-405) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 487ff]
(Source)
Describing Venus. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear
Her neck refulgent, and dishevel'd hair,
Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground.
And widely spread ambrosial scents around:
In length of train descends her sweeping gown;
And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
She said, and turning away, shone radiant with her rosy neck, and from her head ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance: her robe hung flowing to the ground, and by her gait the goddess stood confessed.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
She turned, and flashed upon their view
Her stately neck's purpureal hue;
Ambrosial tresses round her head
A more than earthly fragrance shed:
Her falling robe her footprints swept,
And showed the goddess as she stept.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
She said; and turning, gleamed with rosy neck,
And from her head divinest odors breathed
In her ambrosial hair. Around her feet
Floated her flowing robe; and in her gait
All the true goddess was revealed.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 524ff]
Speaking she turned away, and her neck shone roseate, her immortal tresses breathed the fragrance of deity; her raiment fell flowing down to her feet, and the godhead was manifest in her tread.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
She spake, she turned, from rosy neck the light of heaven she cast,
And from her hair ambrosial the scent of Gods went past
Upon the wind, and o'er her feet her skirts fell shimmering down,
And very God she went her ways.
[tr. Morris (1900), l. 402ff]
So saying, she turned, and all refulgent showed
Her roseate neck, and heavenly fragrance sweet
Was breathed from her ambrosial hair. Down flowed
Her loosened raiment, streaming to her feet,
And by her walk the Goddess shone complete.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 53; l. 478ff]
She ceased and turned away. A roseate beam
from her bright shoulder glowed; th' ambrosial hair
breathed more than mortal sweetness, while her robes
fell rippling to her feet. Each step revealed
the veritable goddess.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
She spoke, and as she turned away, her roseate neck flashed bright. From her head her ambrosial tresses breathed celestial fragrance; down to her feet fell her raiment, and in her step she was revealed a very goddess.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
And as she turned, her shoulders
Shone with a radiant light; her hair shed fragrance,
Her robes slipped to her feet, and the true goddess
Walked in divinity.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
She spoke. She turned away; and as she turned, her neck
Glowed to a rose-flush, her crown of ambrosial hair breathed out
A heavenly fragrance, her robe flowed down, down to her feet,
And in gait she was all a goddess.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Those were the words of Venus. When she turned,
her neck was glittering with a rose brightness;
her hair anointed with ambrosia,
her head gave all a fragrance of the gods;
her gown was long and to the ground; even
her walk was sign enough she was a goddess.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 572ff]
On this she turned away. Rose-pink and fair
Her nape shone, her ambrosial hair exhaled
Divine perfume, her gown rippled full length,
And by her stride she showed herself a goddess.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 552ff]
When she was finished speaking and was turning way, her neck shone with a rosy light and her hair breathed the divine odor of ambrosia. Her dress flowed free to her feet and as she walked he knew she was truly a goddess.
[tr. West (1990)]
She spoke, and as she turned, her neck
Shone with roselight. An immortal fragrance
From her ambrosial locks perfumed the air,
Her robes flowed down to cover her feet,
And every step revealed her divinity.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
As she turned away, her neck gleamed rosily, her ambrosial hair gave off a divine scent and her robes grew longer, flowing to her feet. Her gait too revealed the goddess.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Even here
Worth wins her due, and there are tears to flow,
And human hearts to feel for human woe.[Sunt hic etiam sua praemia laudi,
Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 461ff (1.461-462) (29-19 BC) [tr. Taylor (1907), st. 61, l. 543ff]
(Source)
Aeneas, on seeing murals of the Trojan Wars in Carthage. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Ev'n the mute walls relate the warrior's fame,
And Trojan griefs the Tyrians' pity claim.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Even here praiseworthy deeds meet with due reward: here are tears for misfortunes, and the breasts are touched with human woes.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Aye, praise waits on worth
E'en in this corner of the earth;
E'en here the tear of pity springs,
And hearts are touched by human things.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Worthy deeds e'en here are praised.
And mortal sufferings move their thoughts and tears.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 601ff]
Here too is the meed of honour, here mortal estate touches the soul to tears.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
And even here belike deed hath its own reward.
Lo here are tears for piteous things that touch men's hearts anigh.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Virtue's wage is given --
O even here! Here also there be tears
for what men bear, and mortal creatures feel
each other's sorrow.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Here, too, virtue has its due rewards; here, too, there are tears for misfortune and mortal sorrows touch the heart.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Look! even here there are rewards for praise,
There are tears for things, and what men suffer touches
The human heart.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Here too we find virtue somehow rewarded.
Tears in the nature of things, hearts touched by human transience.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Here, too, the honorable finds its due
and there are tears for passing things; here, too,
things mortal touch the mind.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 654ff]
Even so far away
Great valor has due honor; they weep here
For how the world goes, and our life that passes
Touches their hearts.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 627ff]
Here too there is just reward for merit, there are tears for suffering and men's hearts are touched by what man has to bear.
[tr. West (1990)]
Here, too, honor matters;
Here are the tears of the ages, and minds touched
By human suffering.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Even here, merit will have its true reward ...
even here, the world is a world of tears
and the burdens of mortality touch the heart.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Here too, glory has its rewards; the world weeps, and mortal matters move the heart.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Perhaps, one day, remembering even these things will bring pleasure.
[Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 1, l. 203 (c. 29-19 BC)
Alt. trans.:
- "An hour will come, with pleasure to relate your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate." [John Dryden]
- "Perhaps it will even please us to remember these things someday."
Trust one who has gone through it.
[Experto crédite.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 1, l. 283 (c. 29-19 BC)
Often paraphrased as "experto crede".
Being not unacquainted with woe, I learn to help the unfortunate.
[Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 1, l. 630 (c. 29-19 BC)
Fortune favors the brave.
[Audentes fortuna iuvat]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 10, l. 284 (c. 29-19 BC)
Alt. trans. "Fortune assists the bold."
Fortune favors the brave.
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 10, l. 284 (c. 29-19 BC)
The gods thought otherwise.
[Dis áliter visum]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 2, l. 428 (c. 29-19 BC)
O tyrant love, to what do you not drive the hearts of men!
[Improbe Amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis!]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 4, l. 412 (c. 29-19 BC)
A woman is an ever fickle and changeable thing.
[Varium et mutabile semper femina.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 4, l. 569 (c. 29-19 BC)
Alt. trans.:
- "My lord, you know what Virgil sings -- Woman is various and most mutable." [Tennyson, Queen Mary, Act 3, sc. 6]
- "Donna è mobile." [Verdi, Rigoletto (1851)]
- "A woman is always changeable and capricious."
I have lived, and I have run the course which fortune allotted me; and now my shade shall descend illustrious to the grave.
[Vixi, et quem dederat cursum fortuna, peregi:
Et nunc magna mei sub terras currit imago.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 4, l. 653 (c. 29-19 BC)
Even virtue is fairer when it appears in a beautiful person.
[Gratior ac pulchro veniens in corpore virtus.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Aeneid, Book 5, l. 344 (c. 29-19 BC)
We can’t all do everything.
[Non omnia possumus omnes.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogue, Book 8, l. 63
Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to love.
[Ómnia vincit amor; et nos cedamus amori.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogues, Book 10, l. 69 (c. 42 BC)
It never troubles the wolf how many the sheep be.
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogues, Book 7 [Thyrsis] (c. 42 BC)
Quoted by Francis Bacon, "Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms and Estates": "Nay, number itself in armies importeth not much, where the people is of weak courage; for, as Virgil saith, 'It never troubles the wolf how many the sheep be.'"
Time bears away all things, even our minds.
[Omnia fert aetas, animum quoque.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogues, Book 9, l. 51 (c. 42 BC)
Let us go singing as far as we go: the road will be less tedious.
[Cantantes licet usque (minus via laedit) eamus.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogues, Book 9, l. 64 (c. 42 BC)
Practice and thought might gradually forge many an art.
[Ut varias usus meditando extunderet artis paulatim.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Georgics, Book 1, l. 133 (c. 37 BC)
Look with favor upon a bold beginning.
[Audacibus annue coeptis]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Georgics, Book 1, l. 40 (c. 37 BC)
"Annuit Coeptis" shows up in the Second Great Seal of the United States.
Death twitches my ear. “Live,” he says. “I am coming.”
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Minor Poems, “Copa,” l. 38
Hear now the treachery of the Greeks and from one learn the wickedness of all.
[Accipe nunc Danaum insidias, et crimine ab uno
Disce omnes.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 65ff (2.65-66) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fairclough (1916)]
(Source)
Regarding Sinon, who posed as a Greek refugee and persuaded the Trojans that the Trojan Horse was harmless. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis'd;
Behold a nation in a man compris'd.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Now learn the treachery of the Greeks, and from one crime take a specimen of the whole nation.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854), "Literally, 'from one of their tricks learn what they all are.'"]
Now listen while my tongue declares
The tale you ask of Danaan snares,
And gather from a single charge
Their catalogue of crimes at large.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Now
Hear what the treachery of the Grecians was,
And from one crime learn all.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 89ff]
Know now the treachery of the Grecians, and from a single crime learn all.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Lo now, behold the Danaan guile, and from one wrong they wrought
Learn ye what all are like to be.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Mark now the Danaans' cunning; from one wrong
Learn all.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 10, ll. 82-83]
Hear now what Greek deception is, and learn
from one dark wickedness the whole.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Listen, and learn Greek trickiness; learn all
Their crimes from one.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Now hear how the Greeks tricked us; learn from one case of their wickedness
What every Greek is like.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Now listen to the treachery of the Danaans
and learn from one the wickedness of all.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 92-93]
Be instructed now
In Greek deceptive arts: one barefaced deed
Can tell you of them all.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l.91ff]
Listen now to this story of Greek treachery, and from this one indictment, learn the ways of a whole people.
[tr. West (1990)]
Hear now
The treachery of the Greeks, and from one offense
Learn all their evil.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Now, hear the treachery of the Greeks and learn
from a single crime the nature of the beast.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Now hear how the Greeks baited their trap, and from one act of treachery, understand them all!
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
May the gods —
And surely there are powers that care for goodness,
Surely somewhere justice counts — may they
And your own consciousness of acting well
Reward you as they should!
[Di tibi, si qua pios respectant numina, si quid
Usquam iustitiae est et mens sibi conscia recti,
Praemia digna ferant.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 603ff (1.603-605) [Aeneas to Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 820ff]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin'd;
If acts of mercy touch their heav'nly mind,
And, more than all the gods, your gen'rous heart.
Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
The gods (if any powers divine regard the pious, if justice any where exists, and a mind conscious of its own virtue) shall yield thee a just recompense.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
May Heaven, if virtue claim its thought,
If justice yet avail for aught,
Heaven, and the sense of conscious right,
With worthier meed your acts requite!
[tr. Conington (1866)]
If anywhere
The gods regard the good; if anywhere
Be justice, and a mind within itself
Conscious of rectitude, -- the gods shall give
Deserved reward to thee.
[tr. Cranch (1872)] https://archive.org/details/aeneidvirgiltra00crangoog/page/n55/mode/2up?q=gyas#:~:text=If%20anywhere%20%C2%AB8,reward%20to%20thee.
The gods grant thee worthy reward, if their deity turn any regard on goodness, if aught avails justice and conscious purity of soul.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
But if somewhere a godhead is the righteous man to heed,
If justice is, or any soul to note the right it wrought,
May the Gods give thee due reward.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
The gods, if gods the good and just regard,
And thy own conscience, that approves the right,
Grant thee due guerdon and a fit reward.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 80, l. 712ff]
May gods on high (if influence divine
bless faithful lives, or recompense be found
in justice and thy self-approving mind)
give thee thy due reward.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
May the gods, if any divine powers have regard for the good, if justice has any weight anywhere -- may the gods and the consciousness of right bring thee worthy rewards!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
If there is justice anywhere, if goodness
Means anything to any power, if gods
At all regard good people, may they give
The great rewards you merit.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
If angels there be who look after the good, if indeed just dealing
And minds informed with the right mean anything to heaven,
May God, reward you as you deserve!
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
May gods confer on you your due rewards,
if deities regard the good, if justice
and mind aware of right count anywhere.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 847ff]
May the gods bring you the reward you deserve, if there are any gods who have regard for goodness, if there is any justice in the world, if their minds have any sense of right.
[tr. West (1990)]
May the gods --
If any powers above look down on the pious,
If there is any justice anywhere -- may the gods
And your good conscience reward you
As you deserve.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
But may the gods,
if there are Powers who still respect the good and true,
if justice still exists on the face of the earth,
may they and their own sense of right and wrong
bring you your just rewards.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 720ff]
May the gods -- if they honor pious men, if there's justice anywhere, and conscience -- reward you in kind.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
So come, young soldiers, welcome to our house.
My destiny, harrying me with trials hard as yours,
led me as well, at last, to anchor in this land.
Schooled in suffering, now I learn to comfort
those who suffer too.[Quare agite, O tectis, iuvenes, succedite nostris.
Me quoque per multos similis fortuna labores
iactatam hac demum voluit consistere terra.
Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 1, l. 627ff (1.627-630) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 748ff]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find,
If not a costly welcome, yet a kind:
For I myself, like you, have been distress'd,
Till Heav'n afforded me this place of rest;
Like you, an alien in a land unknown,
I learn to pity woes so like my own.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Then enter, chiefs, these friendly doors;
I too have had my fate, like yours,
Which, many a suffering overpast,
Has willed to fix me here at last.
Myself not ignorant of woe,
Compassion I have learned to show.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Come then, O warriors, enter our abodes!
I also from calamities like yours
Have suffered much, till here I set my feet.
Not ignorant of trouble, I have learned
To succor the distressed
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 817ff]
Come therefore, O men, and enter our house. Me too hath a like fortune driven through many a woe, and willed at last to find my rest in this land. Not ignorant of ill do I learn to succour the afflicted.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
So hasten now to enter in 'neath roofs of me and mine.
Me too a fortune such as yours, me tossed by many a toil,
Hath pleased to give abiding-place at last upon this soil,
Learned in illhaps full wise am I unhappy men to aid.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Welcome, then, heroes! Me hath Fortune willed
Long tost, like you, through sufferings, here to rest
And find at length a refuge. Not unskilled
In woe, I learn to succour the distrest.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 83, l. 739ff]
Therefore, behold, our portals are swung wide
for all your company. I also bore
hard fate like thine. I too was driven of storms
and after long toil was allowed at last
to call this land my home. O, I am wise
in sorrow, and I help all suffering souls!
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Come therefore, sirs, and pass within our halls. Me, too, has a like fortune driven through many toils, and willed that at last I should find rest in this land. Not ignorant of ill do I learn to befriend the unhappy.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Enter my house. I, too, am fortune-driven
Through many sufferings; this land at last
Has brought me rest. Not ignorant of evil,
I know one thing, at least, -- to help the wretched.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
So, gentlemen, do not hesitate to come under my roof.
I too have gone through much; like you, have been roughly handled
By fortune; but now at last it has willed me to settle here.
Being acquainted with grief, I am learning to help the unlucky.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Thus, young men, you are welcome to our halls.
My destiny, like yours, has willed that I,
a veteran of hardships, halt at last
in this country. Not ignorant of trials,
I now can learn to help the miserable.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 878ff]
Come, then, soldiers, be our guests. My life
Was one of hardship and forced wandering
Like your own, till in this land at length
Fortune would have me rest. Through pain I've learned
To comfort suffering men.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
This is why I now invite your warriors to come into my house. I, too, have known ill fortune like yours and been tossed from one wretchedness to another until at last I have been allowed to settle in this land. Through my own suffering, I am learning to help those who suffer.
[tr. West (1990)]
And so, young men, come under my roof.
My fortune too has long been adverse
But at last has allowed me to rest in this land.
My own acquaintance with suffering
Has taught me to aid others in need.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 767]
So come, young men, enter my home. Fortune once harassed me with hardship like your own. At last, the fates let me settle in this land. Knowing pain, I can learn to help the pain of others.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Heartbreaking things I saw with my own eyes
And was myself a part of.[Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi
et quorum pars magna fui.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 5ff (2.5-6) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
(Source)
Recounting the fall of Troy. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
All that I saw, and part of which I was.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
The woes I saw with these sad eyne,
The deeds whereof large part was mine
[tr. Conington (1866)]
The afflicting scenes that I myself
Beheld, and a great part of which I was.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
I myself saw these things in all their horror, and I bore great part in them.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Which thing myself unhappy did behold,
Yea, and was no small part thereof
[tr. Morris (1900)]
The woes I saw, thrice piteous to behold,
And largely shared.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 1, ll. 6-7]
Which woeful scene I saw,
and bore great part in each event I tell.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
The sights most piteous that I myself saw and whereof I was no small part.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Sorrowful things I saw myself, wherein
I had my share and more.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Most piteous events I saw with my own eyes
And played no minor part in.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
I saw these terrible things,
and took great part in them.
[tr. Mantinband (1964)]
For I myself
saw these sad things; I took large part in them.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
And all the horrors I have seen, and in which I played a large part.
[tr. West (1990)]
I saw these horrors myself
And played no small part in them.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
What horrors I saw,
a tragedy where I played a leading role myself.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
I saw the piteous events myself -- I played no minor part.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
All of which misery I saw,
and a great part of which I was.
Or fraud lurks somewhere to destroy:
Mistrust, mistrust it, men of Troy!
Whate’er it be, a Greek I fear,
Though presents in his hand he bear.[Aliquis latet error; equo ne credite, Teucri.
Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 48ff (2.48-49) [Laocoön] (29-19 BC) [tr. Conington (1866)]
(Source)
Warning of the Trojan Horse; the origin of the phrase, "Beware Greeks bearing gifts." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Somewhat is sure designed, by fraud or force;
Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Some mischievous design lurks beneath it. Trojans, put no faith in this horse. Whatever it be, I dread the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Some other guile
Is lurking. Trojans, do not trust this horse.
Whatever it may be, I fear the Greeks,
Even when they bring us gifts.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Some delusion lurks there: Trust not the horse, O Trojans. Be it what it may, I fear the Grecians even when they offer gifts.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Some guile at least therein abides: Teucrians, trust not the horse!
Whatso it is, the Danaan folk, yea gift-bearing I fear.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Some mischief lies behind.
Trust not the horse, ye Teucrians. Whatso'er
This means, I fear the Greeks, for all the gifts they bear.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 7; l. 61ff]
'T is a snare.
Trust not this horse, O Troy, whate'er it bode!
I fear the Greeks, though gift on gift they bear.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Some trickery lurks therein. Trust not the horse, ye Trojans. Whatever it be, I fear the Greeks, even when bringing gifts.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Tricky business
Is hiding in it. Do not trust it, Trojans,
Do not believe this horse. Whatever it may be,
I fear the Greeks, even when bringing presents.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Sure, some trick
Is there. No, you must never feel safe with the horse, Trojans.
Whatever it is, I distrust the Greeks, even when they are generous.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Some trickery is here. Trojans, do not
trust in the horse. Whatever it may be,
I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 68ff]
Some crookedness
Is in this thing. Have no faith in the horse!
Whatever it is, even when Greeks bring gifts
I fear them, gifts and all.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 67ff]
There is some other trick we cannot see. Do not trust the horse, Trojans. Whatever it is, I am afraid of Greeks, particularly when they bring gifts.
[tr. West (1990)]
Some other evil lurks inside. Do not trust the Horse, Trojans! Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Some other deception’s lurking deep inside it.
Trojans, never trust that horse. Whatever it is,
I fear the Greeks, especially bearing gifts.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 60ff]
Some trick lurks here. Citizens, don't trust the horse; fear Greeks, even bringing offerings.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
I shudder as I recall.
[Horresco réferens]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 204ff (2.204) (29-19 BC) [tr. Mackail (1885)]
(Source)
Referring to the death of the Trojan priest Laocoön and his sons. (Source (Latin)).
It was the time when sleep first comes to weary mortals, creeping over us, the sweetest gift of gods.
[Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris
incipit et dono divum gratissima serpit.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 268ff (2.268-269) (29-19 BC) [tr. Bartsch (2021)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
'T was in the dead of night, when sleep repairs
Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
It was the time when the first sleep invades languid mortals, and steals upon them, by the gift of the gods, most sweet.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
It was the hour when Heaven gives rest
To weary man, the first and best.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
It was the hour when first their sleep begins
For wretched mortals, and most gratefully
Creeps over them, by bounty of the gods.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 271ff]
It was the time when by the gift of God rest comes stealing first and sweetest on unhappy men.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
It was the time when that first peace of sick men hath begun,
By very gift of God o'er all in sweetest wise to creep.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
'Twas now the time, when on tired mortals crept
First slumber, sweetest that celestials pour.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 36, l. 316ff]
That hour it was when heaven's first gift of sleep
on weary hearts of men most sweetly steals.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
It was the hour when for weary mortals their first rest begins, and by grace of the gods steals over them most sweet.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
It was the time when the first sleep begins
For weary mortals, heaven’s most welcome gift.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
It was the hour when worn-out men begin to get
Some rest, and by god's grace genial sleep steals over them.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
It was the hour when for troubled mortals
rest -- sweetest gift of gods that glides to men --
has just begun.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 371ff]
That time of night it was when the first sleep,
Gift of the gods, begins for ill mankind,
Arriving gradually, delicious rest.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 360ff]
It was the time when rest, the most grateful gift of the gods, was first beginning to creep over suffering mortals.
[tr. West (1990)]
At that late hour, when sleep begins to drift
Upon fretful humanity as grace from the gods ....
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 319ff]
This was the hour when rest, that gift of the gods
most heaven-sent, first comes to beleaguered mortals,
creeping over us now.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 339ff]
But let us die, go plunging into the thick of battle.
One hope saves the defeated: they know they can’t be saved![Moriamur et in media arma ruamus.
Una salus victis, nullam sperare salutem.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 353ff (2.353-354) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 443ff]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:
Despair of life the means of living shows.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Let us meet death, and rush into the thickest of our armed foes. The only safety for the vanquished is to throw away all hopes of safety.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Come -- rush we on our fate.
No safety may the vanquished find
Till hope of safety be resigned.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Let us die,
And plunge into the middle of the fight.
The only safety of the vanquished is
To hope for none.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Let us die, and rush on their encircling weapons. The conquered have one safety, to hope for none.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Fall on a very midst the fire and die in press of war!
One hope there is for vanquished men, to cherish hope no more.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Forward, then,
To die and mingle in the tumult's blare.
Sole hope to vanquished men of safety is despair.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 47, l. 421ff]
Let us fight
unto the death! To arms, my men, to arms!
The single hope and stay of desperate men
is their despair.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Let us die, and rush into the midst of arms. One safety the vanquished have, to hope for none!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
So let us die,
Rush into arms. One safety for the vanquished
Is to have hope of none.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Let us die, let us charge into the battle's heart!
Losers have one salvation -- to give up all hope of salvation.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Then let
us rush to arms and die. The lost have only
this one deliverance: to hope for none.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 477ff]
Come, let us die,
We'll make a rush into the thick of it.
The conquered have one safety: hope for none.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 470ff]
Let us die. Let us rush into the thick of the fighting. The one safety for the defeated is to have no hope of safety.
[tr. West (1990)]
All that is left for us
Is to rush onto swords and die. The only chance
For the conquered is to hope for none.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Let us die even as we rush into the thick of the fight. The only safe course for the defeated is to expect no safety.
[Routledge (2005)]
Let's die by plunging into war. Our only refuge is to have no hope of refuge.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Everywhere, wrenching grief, everywhere, terror
and a thousand shapes of death.[Crudelis ubique
Luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima mortis imago.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 368ff (2.368-369) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), ll. 461-462]
(Source)
On the fighting in the streets of Troy. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears;
And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Every where is cruel sorrow, every where terror and death in thousand shapes.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Dire agonies, wild terrors swarm,
And Death glares grim in many a form.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
And everywhere are sounds of bitter grief,
And terror everywhere, and shapes of death.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 506-507]
Everywhere is cruel agony, everywhere terror, and the sight of death at every turn.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Grim grief on every side,
And fear on every side there is, and many-faced is death.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
All around
Wailings, and wild affright and shapes of death abound.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 49, l. 440-41]
Anguish and woe
were everywhere; pale terrors ranged abroad,
and multitudinous death met every eye.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Everywhere sorrow,
Everywhere panic, everywhere the image
Of death, made manifold.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
All over the town you saw
Heart-rending agony, panic, and every shape of death.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
And everywhere
are fear, harsh grief, and many shapes of slaughter.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 497-98]
Grief everywhere,
Everywhere terror, and all shapes of death.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
Bitter grief was everywhere. Everywhere there was fear, and death in many forms.
[tr. West (1990)]
Raw fear
Was everywhere, grief was everywhere,
Everywhere the many masks of death.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
All around were bitter grief and fear, and different scenes of death.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Alas! in naught may one trust the gods against their will!
[Heu nihil invitis fas quemquam fidere divis!]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 402 (2.402) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fairclough (1916)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
But, ah! what use of valour can be made,
When heav'n's propitious pow'rs refuse their aid!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Alas! it is right for one to trust to nothing when the gods are adverse.
[tr. Anthon (1843)]
Alas! on nothing ought man to presume, while the gods are against him!
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Alas! a mortal may not lean
On Heaven, when Heaven averts its mien.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Alas, one ought
To trust in nothing, when the gods oppose.
[tr. Cranch (1872), ll. 549-550]
Alas that none may trust at all to estranged gods!
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Alas! what skills it man to trust in Gods compelled to good?
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Ah! vain to boast, if Heaven refuse to aid!
[tr. Taylor (1907)]
But woe is me! If gods their help withhold,
't is impious to be brave.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Alas! it is not well for anyone to be confident when the gods are adverse.
[Source (1922)]
It is not for men to trust unwilling gods.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Ah, well, there's no trusting the gods for anything, once they're against you!
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
But oh, it is not right for anyone
to trust reluctant gods!
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 540-541]
When gods are contrary
They stand by no one.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 532-533]
But no man can trust in gods who are opposed to him.
[tr. West (1990)]
Never rely on the gods for anything
Against their will.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), ll. 466-467]
But, oh
how wrong to rely on gods dead set against you!
[tr. Fagles (2006), ll. 501-502]
How wrong it is to trust the gods against their will!
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Ripheus fell, a man
Most just of all the Trojans, most fair-minded.
The gods thought otherwise.[Cadit et Rhipeus, iustissimus unus
qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus aequi:
dis aliter visum.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 426ff (2.426) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Humphries (1951)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Then Ripheus follow'd, in th' unequal fight;
Just of his word, observant of the right:
Heav'n thought not so.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Ripheus too falls, the most just among the Trojans, and of the strictest integrity; but to the gods it seemed otherwise.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Then Rhipeus dies: no purer son
Troy ever bred, more jealous none
Of sacred right: Heaven's will be done.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Next
Rhipeus, of all Trojans most upright
And just : -- such was the pleasure of the gods!
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 580ff]
Rhipeus falls, the one man who was most righteous and steadfast in justice among the Teucrians: the gods' ways are not as ours.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Fell Rhipeus there, the heedfullest of right
Of all among the Teucrian folk, the justest man of men;
The Gods deemed otherwise.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Next, Rhipeus dies, the justest, but in vain,
The noblest soul of all the Trojan train.
Heaven deemed him otherwise.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 57, l. 508ff]
Then Rhipeus fell;
we deemed him of all Trojans the most just,
most scrupulously righteous; but the gods
gave judgment otherwise.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Ripheus, too, falls, foremost in justice among the Trojans, and most zealous for the right -- Heaven's will was otherwise.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Then Rhipeus fell, he who of all the Trojans
Was most fair-minded, the one who was most regardful of justice:
God's ways are inscrutable.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Then Ripheus, too, has fallen -- he was first
among the Teucrians for justice and
observing right; the gods thought otherwise.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
And Ripheus fell,
A man uniquely just among the Trojans,
The soul of equity; but the gods would have it
Differently.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 560ff]
Rhipeus also fell. Of all the Trojans he was the most righteous, the greatest lover of justice. But the gods made their own judgments.
[tr. West (1990)]
Then Rhipeus,
Of all Teucrians the most righteous (but the gods
Saw otherwise) went down.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 493ff]
Rhipeus falls too, the most righteous man in Troy,
the most devoted to justice, true, but the gods
had other plans.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Terror,
Terror and silence were all I found.[Horror ubique animo, simul ipsa silentia terrent.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 755 (2.755) (29-19 BC) [tr. Humphries (1951)]
(Source)
Aeneas recounting searching fallen Troy for his lost wife. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
All things were full of horror and affright,
And dreadful even the silence of the night.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Horror on all sides, and at the same time the very silence affrights my soul.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
A shuddering on my spirit falls,
And e'en the silence' self appals.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Everywhere horror fills my soul, and even
The silence terrifies.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Everywhere my spirit shudders, dismayed at the very silence.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
While on the heart lies weight of fear, and e'en the hush brings dread.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Horror waits
Around; the very silence breeds affright.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 102, ll. 912-13]
On all sides round
horror spread wide; the very silence breathed
a terror on my soul.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Everywhere dread fills my heart; the very silence, too, dismays.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Everywhere
Dread and the sheer silence reduced my courage to nothing.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
My spirit is held by horror everywhere;
even the very silence terrifies.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 1017-18]
And everywhere my heart misgave me: even
Stillness had its terror.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 983-84]
Horror was everywhere and the very silence chilled the blood.
[tr. West (1990)]
Everywhere there was fear. The very silence
Was terrifying.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), ll. 890-91]
With terror at every turn, the very silence makes me cringe.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 937]
Horror filled me everywhere, the very silence scared me.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Aghast, astonish’d, and struck dumb with fear,
I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen’d hair.[Obstupui, steteruntque comae, et vox faucibus haesit.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 774ff (2.774) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Dryden (1697)]
(Source)
Confronting his wife's ghost. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
I stood aghast! my hair rose on end, and my voice clung to my jaws.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
I stood appall'd, my hair erect,
And fear my tongue-tied utterance checked.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Aghast I stood, with hair
Erect: my voice clung to my throat.
[tr. Cranch (1872), ll. 1041-42]
I was motionless; my hair stood up, and the accents faltered on my tongue.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
I stood amazed, my hair rose up, nor from my jaws would pass
My frozen voice.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Aghast I stood, tongue-tied, with stiffening hair.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 104, l. 935]
I quailed, my hair rose, and I gasped for fear.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
I was appalled, my hair stood up, and the voice clave to my throat.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
I was appalled: my hair stood on end, and my voice struck
In my throat.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
I was dismayed;
my hair stood stiff, my voice held fast within
my jaws.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 1043-45]
Chilled to the marrow, could feel the hair
On my head rise, the voice clot in my throat.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 1004-5]
I was paralyzed. My hair stood on end. My voice stuck in my throat.
[tr. West (1990)]
I was transfixed,
My hair stood on end, and my voice choked.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), ll. 913-14]
I froze. My hackles bristled, voice choked in my throat.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 960]
I was aghast. My hair stood up, my voice stuck in my throat.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Fell lust of gold! abhorred, accurst!
What will not men to slake such thirst?[Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
Auri sacra fames?]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 3, l. 56ff (3.56-57) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Conington (1866)]
(Source)
Regarding the murder of Polydorus. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
O sacred hunger of pernicious gold!
What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Cursed thirst of gold, to what dost thou not drive the hearts of men?
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Cursèd thirst for gold,
What crimes dost thou not prompt in mortal breasts!
[tr. Cranch (1872), ll. 70-71]
Accursed thirst for gold! what dost thou not compel mortals to do?
[Source (1882)]
O accursed hunger of gold, to what dost thou not compel human hearts!
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
O thou gold-hunger cursed, and whither driv'st thou not
The hearts of men?
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Curst greed of gold, what crimes thy tyrant power attest!
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 8, l. 72]
O, whither at thy will,
curst greed of gold, may mortal hearts be driven?
[tr. Williams (1910)]
To what crime do you not drive the hearts of men, O accursed hunger for gold?
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
There is nothing
To which men are not driven by that hunger.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
What lengths is the heart of man driven to
By this cursed craving for gold!
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
To what, accursed lust for gold, do you
not drive the hearts of men?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 73-74]
To what extremes
Will you not drive the hearts of men, accurst
Hunger for gold!
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 79-81]
Greed for gold is a curse. There is nothing to which it does not drive the minds of men.
[tr. West (1990)]
To what extremes won't you compel our hearts,
you accursed lust for gold?
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Unholy lust for gold! Is there nothing men won't do for you?
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
To heav’n aloft on ridgy waves we ride,
Then down to hell descend, when they divide.[Tollimur in caelum curvato gurgite, et idem
subducta ad Manis imos desedimus unda.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 3, l. 564ff (3.564-565) [Aeneus] (29-19 BC) [tr. Dryden (1697)]
(Source)
As the ship passes Charybdis. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
We mount up to heaven on the arched gulf, and down again we settle to the shades below, the wave having retired.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Now to the sky mounts up the ship,
Now to the very shades we dip.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
The curving wave one moment lifts us up
Skyward, then sinks us down as in the shades
Of death.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
We are lifted skyward on the crescent wave, and again sunk deep into the nether world as the water is sucked away.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Upheaved upon the tossing whirl we fare unto the sky,
Then down unto the nether Gods we sink upon the wave.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Now curls the wave, and lifts us to the sky,
Now sinks and, plunging in the gulf we lie.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 72, ll. 643-44]
We shot to skyward on the arching surge,
then, as she sank, dropped deeper than the grave.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
We mount up to heaven on the arched billow and again, with the receding wave, sink down to the depths of hell.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
One moment
We were in the clouds, the next in the gulf of Hell.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
We were tossed up high on an arching surge, then down we went
In the trough as the wave fell away, down to the very Pit.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
We rise to heaven on the bending wave
and, as the surge slips back, we sink again
down to the deepest Shades.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 734ff]
On every rolling sea
We rose to heaven, and in the abysmal trough
Sank down into the world of shades.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 749ff]
A great arching wave came and lifted us to the sky and a moment later as the wave was sucked down we plunged into the abyss of hell.
[tr. West (1990)]
Up to the sky an immense billow hoists us, then at once,
as the wave sank down, down we plunge to the pit of hell.
[tr. Fagles (2006), ll. 658-59]
A curved wave thrust us to the sky, then sank. As we fell, we plunged down to the depths of Hades.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
But the Queen, long sick with love,
Nurses her heart’s deep wound
With her pounding blood, and dark flames
Lick at her soul. Thoughts of Aeneas —
The man’s heroic lineage, his noble character —
Flood her mind, his face and words transfix
Her heart, and her desire gives her no rest.[At regina gravi iamdudum saucia cura
volnus alit venis, et caeco carpitur igni.
Multa viri virtus animo, multusque recursat
gentis honos: haerent infixi pectore voltus
verbaque, nec placidam membris dat cura quietem.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 1ff (4.1-5) (29-19 BC) [tr. Lombardo (2005)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
But anxious cares already seiz'd the queen:
She fed within her veins a flame unseen.
The hero's valor, acts, and birth inspire
Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire.
His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart,
Improve the passion, and increase the smart.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
But the the queen, long since pierced with painful care, feeds the wound in her veins, and is consumed by unseen flames. The many virtues of the hero, the many honors of his race, recur to her thoughts: hjis looks and words dwell fixed in her soul: nor does care allow calm rest to her limbs.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Not so the queen: a deep wound drains
The healthful current of her veins:
Long since the unsuspected flame
Has fastened on her fevered frame:
Much dwells she on the chief divine,
Much on the glories of his line:
Each look is pictured in her breast,
Each word: nor passion lets her rest.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
But pierced with grievous pangs long since, the queen
Feeds in her veins the wound, by secret fire
Consumed. The hero's many virtues oft
Recur to her mind, and glories of his race.
Within her heart his looks, his words are fixed;
Her troubled soul allows her limbs no rest.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
But the Queen, long ere now pierced with sore distress, feeds the wound with her life-blood, and catches the fire unseen. Again and again his own valiance and his line's renown flood back upon her spirit; look and accent cling fast in her bosom, and the pain allows not rest or calm to her limbs.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Meanwhile the Queen, long smitten sore with sting of all desire,
With very heart's blood feeds the wound and wastes with hidden fire.
And still there runneth in her mind the hero's valiancy,
And glorious stock; his words, his face, fast in her heart they lie:
Nor may she give her body peace amid that restless pain.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Long since a prey to passion's torturing pains,
The Queen was wasting with the secret flame,
The cruel wound was feeding on her veins.
Back to the fancy of the lovelorn dame
Came the chief's valour and his country's fame.
His looks, his words still lingered in her breast,
Deep-fixt.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 1]
Now felt the Queen the sharp, slow-gathering pangs
of love; and out of every pulsing vein
nourished the wound and fed its viewless fire.
Her hero's virtues and his lordly line
keep calling to her soul; his words, his glance,
cling to her heart like lingering, barbed steel,
and rest and peace from her vexed body fly.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
But the queen, long since smitten with a grievous love-pang, feeds the wound with her life-blood, and is wasted with fire unseen. Oft to her heart rushes back the chief's valour, oft his glorious stock; his looks and words cling fast within her bosom, and the pang withholds calm rest from her limbs.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
But the queen finds no rest. Deep in her veins
The wound is fed; she burns with hidden fire.
His manhood, and the glory of his race
Are an obsession with her, like his voice,
Gesture and countenance.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
But now for some while the queen had been growing more grievously love-sick,
Feeding the wound with her life-blood, the fire biting within her.
Much did she mue on the hero's nobility and much
On his family's fame. His look, his words had gone to her heart
And lodged there: she could get no peace from love's disquiet.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Too late. The queen is caught between love's pain
and press. She feeds the wound within her veins;
she is eaten by a secret flame. Aeneas'
high name, all he has done, again, again
come like a flood. His face, his words hold fast
her breath. Care strips her limbs of calm and rest.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
The queen, for her part, all that evening ached
With longing that her heart's blood fed, a wound
Or inward fire eating her away.
The manhood of the man, his pride of birth,
Came home to her time and again; his looks,
His words remained with her to haunt her mind,
And desire for him gave her no rest.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
But the queen had long since been suffering from love's deadly wound, feeding it with her blood and being consumed by its hidden fire. Again and again there rushed into her mind thoughts of the great valour of the man and the high glories of his line. His features and the words he had spoken had pierced her heart and love gave her body no peace or rest.
[tr. West (1990)]
But the queen -- too long she has suffered the pain of love,
hour by hour nursing the wound with her lifeblood,
consumed by the fire buried in her heart.
The man’s courage, the sheer pride of his line,
they all come pressing home to her, over and over.
His looks, his words, they pierce her heart and cling --
no peace, no rest for her body, love will give her none.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
But love's pain had already pierced the queen.
She fed it with her life-blood; the hidden flame consumed her.
Aeneas' courage and his noble birth haunted her thoughts.
His face and words lodged in her heart.
Love let her find no rest in sleep.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
‘Tis fear that proves souls base-born.
[Degeneres animos timor arguit.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 13 (4.13) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fairclough (1916)]
(Source)
Of the bravery shown in Aeneas' tale demonstrating what a great, if not even divine, man he is. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Fear ever argues a degenerate kind.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Fear argues a degenerate mind.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Fear proves a base-born soul.
[tr. Connington (1866)]
Fear shows degenerate souls.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Fear proves the vulgar spirit.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
For fear it is shows base-born souls.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Fear argues souls degenerate and base.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 2, l. 14]
'Tis cowardice
betrays the base-born soul.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Fear proves a bastard spirit.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Mean souls convict themselves by cowardice.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
For in the face of fear
the mean must fall.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
Tell-tale fear
Betrays inferior souls.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 19-20]
If there is any baseness in a man, it shows as cowardice.
[tr. West (1990)]
Fear
Always gives away men of inferior birth.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Fear exposes the lowborn man at once.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 16]
Fear shows up lesser men.v
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
But I’d sooner have the depths of earth gape open,
and almighty Father hurl me down to Hades
with his bolt, to the pallid shades and inky night,
before I disobey my conscience or its laws.[Sed mihi vel tellus optem prius ima dehiscat
Vel pater omnipotens adigat me fulmine ad umbras,
Pallentis umbras Erebo noctemque profundam,
Ante, pudor, quam te violo aut tua iura resolvo.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 24ff (4.24-29) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Bartsch (2021)]
(Source)
Dido, regarding her loyalty to her dead husband even as she falls in love with Aeneas. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
But first let yawning earth a passage rend,
And let me thro' the dark abyss descend;
First let avenging Jove, with flames from high,
Drive down this body to the nether sky,
Condemn'd with ghosts in endless night to lie,
Before I break the plighted faith I gave!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
But sooner may earth from her lowest depths yawn for me, or the almighty Sire hurl me by his thunder to the shades, the pale shades of Erebus and deep night, than I violate thee, modesty, or break they laws.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
But first for me may Earth unseal
The horrors of her womb,
Or Jove with awful thunderpeal
Dismiss me into gloom,
The gloom of Orcus' dim twilight,
Or deeper still, primeval night,
Ere wound I thee, my woman's fame,
Or disallow thy sacred claim.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
But I would rather that the steadfast earth
Should yawn beneath me, from its lowest depths,
Or the Omnipotent Father hurl me down
With thunder to the shades, the pallid shades
Of Erebus, and night profound, ere thee,
O sacred shame, I violate, or break
Thy laws.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
But rather, I pray, may earth first yawn deep for me, or the Lord omnipotent hurl me with his thunderbolt into gloom, the pallid gloom and profound night of Erebus, ere I soil thee, mine honour, or unloose thy laws.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
And yet I pray the deeps of earth beneath my feet may yawn,
I pray the Father send me down bolt-smitten to the shades,
The pallid shades of Erebus, the night that never fades,
Before, O Shame, I shame thy face, or loose what thou hast tied!
[tr. Morris (1900)]
But O! gape Earth, or may the Sire of might
Hurl me with lightning to the Shades amain,
Pale shades of Erebus and abysmal Night,
Ere, wifely modesty, thy name I stain,
Or dare thy sacred precepts to profane.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 4, l. 28ff]
But may the earth gape open where I tread,
and may almighty Jove with thunder-scourge
hurl me to Erebus' abysmal shade,
to pallid ghosts and midnight fathomless,
before, O Chastity! I shall offend
thy holy power, or cast thy bonds away!
[tr. Williams (1910)]
But rather, I would pray, may earth yawn for me to its depths, or may the Almighty Father hurl me with his bolt to the shades -- the pale shades and abysmal night of Erebus -- before, O Shame, I violate thee or break thy laws!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
But I pray, rather,
That earth engulf me, lightning strike me down
To the pale shades and everlasting night
Before I break the laws of decency.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
But no, I would rather the earth should open and swallow me
Or the Father of heaven strike me with lightning down to the shades --
The pale shades and deep night of the Underworld -- before
I violate or deny pure widowhood's claim upon me.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
But I should call upon the earth to gape
and close above me, or on the almighty
Father to take his thunderbolt, to hurl
me down to the shades, the pallid shadows
and deepest night of Erebus, before
I'd violate you, Shame, or break your laws!
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
But O chaste life, before I break your laws,
I pray that Earth may open, gape for me
Down to its depth, or the omnipotent
With one stroke blast me to the shades, pale shades
Of Erebus and the deep world of night!
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
But I would pray that the earth open to its depths and swallow me or that the All-powerful Father of the Gods blast me with his thunderbolt and hurl me down to the pale shades of Erebus and its bottomless night before I go against my conscience and rescind its laws.
[tr. West (1990)]
But may the earth gape open and swallow me,
May the Father Almighty blast me
Down to the shades of Erebus below
And Night profound, before I violate you,
O Modesty, and break your vows.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
I pray that the earth gape deep enough to take me down
or the almighty Father blast me with one bolt to the shades,
the pale, glimmering shades in hell, the pit of night,
before I dishonor you, my conscience, break your laws.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 30ff]
But, oh, how little they know, the omniscient seers.
What good are prayers and shrines to a person mad with love?
The flame keeps gnawing into her tender marrow hour by hour
and deep in her heart the silent wound lives on.
Dido burns with love — the tragic queen.[Heu vatum ignarae mentes! quid vota furentem,
quid delubra iuvant? Est mollis flamma medullas
interea, et tacitum vivit sub pectore volnus.
Uritur infelix Dido ….]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 65ff (4.65-68) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 82ff]
(Source)
Of lovesick Dido. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
What priestly rites, alas! what pious art,
What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart!
A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,
Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Alas, how ignorant the minds of seers! what can prayers, what can temples, avail a raging lover? The gentle flame preys all the while upon her vitals and the secret wound rankles in her breast. Unhappy dido burns ....
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Alas! but seers are blind to day:
Can vows, can sacrifice allay
A frantic lover's smart?
The very marrow of her frame
Is turning all the while to flame,
The wound is at her heart.
Unhappy Dido! all ablaze ....
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Alas, the ignorance
Of all prophetic lore! What vows, what shrines
Can help her raging love? The soft flame burns,
Meanwhile, the marrow of her life; the wound
Lives silently, and rankles 'neath her breast.
The unhappy Dido [...] with burning bosom ....
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 85ff]
Ah, witless souls of soothsayers! how may vows or shrines help her madness? all the while the subtle flame consumes her inly, and deep in her breast the wound is silent and alive.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Woe's me! the idle mind of priests! what prayer, what shrine avails
The wild with love!—and all the while the smooth flame never fails
To eat her heart: the silent wound lives on within her breast:
Unhappy Dido burneth up ....
[tr. Morris (1900), l. 65ff]
Blind seers, alas! what art
To calm her frenzy, now hath vow or shrine?
Deep in her marrow feeds the tender smart,
Unseen, the silent wound is festering in her heart.
Poor Dido burns ....
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 9-10; l. 71ff]
How blind the hearts of prophets be! Alas!
Of what avail be temples and fond prayers
to change a frenzied mind? Devouring ever,
love's fire burns inward to her bones; she feels
quick in her breast the viewless, voiceless wound.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Ah, blind souls of seers! Of what avail are vows or shrines to one wild with love? All the while the flame devours her tender heart-strings, and deep in her breast lives the silent wound. Unhappy Dido burns ....
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Alas, poor blind interpreters! What woman
In love is helped by offerings or altars?
Soft fire consumes the marrow-bones, the silent
Wound grows, deep in the heart.
Unhappy Dido burns ....
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Ah, little the soothsayers know! What value have vows or shrines
For a woman wild with passion, the while love's flame eats into
Her gentle flesh and love's wound works silently in her breast?
So burns the ill-starred Dido ....
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
But oh the ignorance of the augurs! How
can vows and altars help one wild with love?
Meanwhile the supple flame devours her marrow;
within her breast the silent wound lives on.
Unhappy Dido burns ....
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 86ff]
Alas, what darkened minds have soothsayers!
What good are shrines and vows to maddened lovers?
The inward fire eats the soft marrow away,
And the internal wound bleeds on in silence.
Unlucky Dido, burning ...
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 91ff]
But priests, as we know, are ignorant. What use are prayers and shrines to a passionate woman? The flame was eating the soft marrow of her bones and the wound lived quietly under her breast. Dido was on fire with love ....
[tr. West (1990)]
But what do prophets know? How much can vows,
Or shrines, help a raging heart? Meanwhile the flame
Eats her soft marrow, and the wound lives,
Silent beneath her breast. Dido is burning.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
But what can prophets known? What use are vows and shrines to the obsessed? The flame devoured her soft marrow; the silent wound throbbed in her heart. Unhappy Dido burned.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
“Both Dido and the Trojan chief will reach
their shelter in the same cave. I shall be there.
And if I can rely on your goodwill,
I shall unite the two in certain marriage
And seal her as Aeneas’ very own;
and this shall be their wedding.” Cytherea
said nothing to oppose the plan; she granted
what Juno wanted, smiling at its cunning.[“Speluncam Dido dux et Troianus eandem
devenient; adero, et, tua si mihi certa voluntas,
conubio iungam stabili propriamque dicabo,
hic hymenaeus erit.” — Non adversata petenti
adnuit, atque dolis risit Cytherea repertis.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 124ff (4.124-128) [Juno] (29-19 BC) [tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 164ff]
(Source)
Juno, planning stratagems to isolate then marry Aeneas and Dido, and Venus consenting to the shenanigans. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
"One cave a grateful shelter shall afford
To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.
I will myself the bridal bed prepare,
If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there:
So shall their loves be crown'd with due delights,
And Hymen shall be present at the rites."
The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles
At her vain project, and discover'd wiles.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Dido and the Trojan prince shall repair to the same cave: there will I be present, and, if I hav eyour firm consent, I will join them in the lasting bonds of wedlock, and consecrate her to be his for ever. The god of marriage will be there. Venus, without any opposition, agreed to her proposal, and smiled at the fraud she discovered.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
While Dido and the Trojan king
Chance to the self-same cave shall bring:
And there myself, your will once known,
Will make her his, and his alone.
Thus shall they wed.' Love's queen assents:
Smiles at the fraud, but not prevents.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
"Dido and the Trojan prince
To the same cave for shelter will repair.
I will be there, and, if thy will be mine,
Will join them in firm wedlock, and declare
Their union. There the nuptial rites shall be."
Not adverse, Cytherea nods assent
To her request, and smiles at the open fraud.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 163ff]
"Dido and the Trojan captain shall take refuge in the same cavern. I will be there, and if thy goodwill is assured me, I will unite them in wedlock, and make her wholly his; here shall Hymen be present." The Cytherean gave ready assent to her request, and laughed at the wily invention.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
"Then Dido and the Trojan lord on one same cave shall hap;
I will be there, and if to me thy heart be stable grown,
In wedlock will I join the two and deem her all his own:
And there shall be their bridal God." Then Venus nought gainsaid,
But, nodding yea, she smiled upon the snare before her laid.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
"One cave shall screen both lovers in that hour.
There will I be, if thou approve, meanwhile
And make her his in wedlock. Hymen's power
Shall seal the rite." -- Not adverse, with a smile
Sweet Venus nods assent, and gladdens at the guile.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 16, l. 140ff]
"... While Dido and her hero out of Troy
to the same cavern fly. My auspices
I will declare -- if thou alike wilt bless;
and yield her in true wedlock for his bride.
Such shall their spousal be!" To Juno's will
Cythera's Queen inclined assenting brow,
and laughed such guile to see.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
"To the same cave shall come Dido and the Trojan chief. I will be there and, if certain of thy goodwill, will link them in sure wedlock, sealing her for his own ; this shall be their bridal!" Yielding to her suit, the Cytherean gave assent and smiled at the guile discovered.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
"And Dido and the Trojan come for shelter
To the same cave. I will be there and join them
In lasting wedlock; she will be his own,
His bride, forever; this will be their marriage."
Venus assented, smiling, not ungracious --
The trick was in the open.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
But Dido and lord Aeneas, finding their way to the same cave,
Shall meet. I'll be there: and if I may rely on your goodwill,
There I shall join them in lasting marriage, and seal her his,
With Hymen present in person. Venus made no opposition
To Juno's request, though she smiled at the ingenuity of it.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
"As Dido and the Trojan captain come
To one same cavern, I shall be on hand,
and if I can be certain you are willing,
There I shall marry them and call her his.
A wedding, this will be." Then Cytherea,
Not disinclined, nodded to Juno's plea,
And smiled at the stratagem now given away.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 173ff]
"Dido and the leader of the Trojans will both take refuge in the same cave. I shall be there, and if your settled will is with me in this, I shall join them in lasting marriage and make her his. This will be their wedding." This was what Juno asked, and Venus of Cythera did not refuse her but nodded in assent. She saw through the deception and laughed.
[tr. West (1990)]
"And Dido and Troy’s commander will make their way
to the same cave for shelter. And I’ll be there,
if I can count on your own good will in this --
I’ll bind them in lasting marriage, make them one.
Their wedding it will be!” So Juno appealed
and Venus did not oppose her, nodding in assent
and smiling at all the guile she saw through ...
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
"But Dido and the Trojan prince will come to the same cave. I'll be there, and if you're sure you want this, I'll join them in a stable marriage; she'll be his. This will be their wedding." Venus, smiling at the trick's transparency, agreed to this request.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Then Dido and the Trojan lord meet in the self-same cave;
Then Earth, first-born of everything, and wedding Juno gave
The token; then the wildfires flashed, and air beheld them wed,
And o’er their bridal wailed the nymphs in hill-tops overhead.That day began the tide of death; that day the evil came;
No more she heedeth eyes of men; no more she heedeth fame;
No more hath Dido any thought a stolen love to win,
But calls it wedlock: yea, e’en so she weaveth up the sin.[Speluncam Dido dux et Troianus eandem
deveniunt: prima et Tellus et pronuba Iuno
dant signum; fulsere ignes et conscius aether
conubiis, summoque ulularunt vertice nymphae.
Ille dies primus leti primusque malorum
causa fuit; neque enim specie famave movetur,
nec iam furtivum Dido meditatur amorem:
coniugium vocat; hoc praetexit nomine culpam.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 165ff (4.165-172) (29-19 BC) [tr. Morris (1900), l. 164ff]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides,
One common cavern in her bosom hides.
Then first the trembling earth the signal gave,
And flashing fires enlighten all the cave;
Hell from below, and Juno from above,
And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love.
From this ill-omen'd hour in time arose
Debate and death, and all succeeding woes.
The queen, whom sense of honor could not move,
No longer made a secret of her love,
But call'd it marriage, by that specious name
To veil the crime and sanctify the shame.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Dido and the Trojan prince repair to the same cave. Then first the Earth, and Juno who presides over marriage, gave the signal: lightnings flashed, the sky was a witness to the alliance, and the nymphs were heard to shriek on the mountain tops. That day first proved the source fo death, the source of woes: for now Dido is neither influenced by appearance nor character, nor is she now studious to carry on clandestine live: she calls it marriage: she veils her guilt under that name.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Driven haply to the same retreat
The Dardan chief and Dido meet.
Then Earth, the venerable dame,
And Juno give the sign:
Heaven lightens with attesting flame,
And bids its torches shine,
And from the summit of the peak
The nymphs shrill out the nuptial shriek.
That day she first began to die:
That day first taught her to defy
The public tongue, the public eye.
No secret love is Dido's aim:
She calls it marriage now; such name
She chooses to conceal her shame.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Dido and the Trojan prince
In the same cave find refuge. Tellus then,
And Juno, goddess of the nuptial ties.
Give signal. Lightnings flash around. The sky
Is witness of the hymeneal rites;
And from the mountain summits shriek the nymphs.
That day first proved the source of death; that first
The origin of woes. For neither now
By seeming or good fame is Dido moved;
Nor does she meditate clandestine love.
She calls it marriage ; and beneath this name
Conceals her fault.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 213ff]
Dido and the Trojan captain take refuge in the same cavern. Primeval Earth and Juno the bridesmaid give the sign; fires flash out high in air, witnessing the union, and Nymphs cry aloud on the mountain-top. That day opened the gate of death and the springs of ill. For now Dido recks not of eye or tongue, nor sets her heart on love in secret: she calls it marriage, and with this name veils her fall.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
One cave protects the pair. Earth gives the sign,
With Juno, mistress of the nuptial chain.
And heaven bears witness, and the lightnings shine,
And from the crags above shriek out the Nymphs divine.
Dark day of fate, and dismal hour of sin!
Then first disaster did the gods ordain,
And death and woe were destined to begin.
Nor shame nor scandal now the Queen restrain,
No more she meditates to hide the stain,
No longer chooses to conceal her flame.
Marriage she calls it, but the fraud is plain,
And pretexts weaves, and with a specious name
Attempts to veil her guilt, and sanctify her shame.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 21-2, l. 179ff]
In that same hour
Queen Dido and her hero out of Troy
to the same cavern fly. Old Mother-Earth
and wedlock-keeping Juno gave the sign;
the flash of lightnings on the conscious air
were torches to the bridal; from the hills
the wailing wood-nymphs sobbed a wedding song.
Such was that day of death, the source and spring
of many a woe. For Dido took no heed
of honor and good-name; nor did she mean
her loves to hide; but called the lawlessness
a marriage, and with phrases veiled her shame.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
To the same cave come Dido and the Trojan chief. Primal Earth and nuptial Juno give the sign; fires flashed in Heaven, the witness to their bridal, and on the mountain-top screamed the Nymphs. That day was the first day of death, that first the cause of woe. For no more is Dido swayed by fair show or fair fame, no more does she dream of a secret love: she calls it marriage and with that name veils her sin!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
To the same cave go Dido and Aeneas,
Where Juno, as a bridesmaid, gives the signal,
And mountain nymphs wail high their incantations,
First day of death, first cause of evil. Dido
Is unconcerned with fame, with reputation,
With how it seems to others. This is marriage
For her, not hole-and-corner guilt; she covers
Her folly with this name.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Now Dido and the prince Aeneas found themselves
In the same cave. Primordial Earth and presiding Juno
Gave the signal. The firmament flickered with fire, a witness
Of wedding. Somewhere above, the Nymphs cried out in pleasure.
That day was doom's first birthday and that first day was the cause of
Evils. Dido recked nothing for appearance or reputation:
The love she brooded on now was a secret love no longer;
Marriage, she called it, drawing the word to veil her sin.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Dido and the trojan
chieftain have reached the same cave. Primal Earth
and Juno, queen of marriages, together
now give the signal: lightning fires flash,
the upper air is witness to their mating,
and from the highest hilltops shout the nymphs.
That day was her first day of death and ruin.
For neither how things seem nor how they are deemed
moves Dido now, and she no longer thinks
of furtive love. For Dido calls it marriage
and with this name she covers up her fault.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 218ff]
Now to the self-same cave
Came Dido and the captain of the trojans.
Primal Earth herself and Nuptial Juno
Opened the ritual, torches of lighting blazed,
High Heaven became witness to the marriage,
And nymphs cried out wild hymns from a mountain top.
That day wa the first cause of death, and first
Of sorrow. Dido had no further qualms
As to impressions given and set abroad;
She thought no longer of a secret love
But called it marriage. Thus under that name,
She hid her fault.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 227ff]
Dido and the leader of the Trojans took refuge together in the same cave. The sign was first given by Earth and by Juno as matron of honour. Fires flashed and the heavens were witness to the marriage while nymphs wailed on the mountain tops. This day was the beginning of her death, the first cause of all her sufferings From now on dido gave no thought to appearance or her own good name and no longer kept her love as a secret in her own heart, but called it marriage, using the word to cover her guilt.
[tr. West (1990)]
And Dido and the Trojan leader make their way
To the same cave. Earth herself and bridal Juno
Give the signal. Fires flash in the Sky,
Witness to their nuptials, and the Nymphs
Wail high on the mountaintop. That day
Was the first cause 0of calamity and of death
To come. For no longer is Dido swayed
By appearances or her good name. No more
Does she contemplate a secret love. She calls it
Marriage, and with that word she cloaks her sin.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Dido and Troy’s commander
make their way to the same cave for shelter now.
Primordial Earth and Juno, Queen of Marriage,
give the signal and lightning torches flare
and the high sky bears witness to the wedding,
nymphs on the mountaintops wail out the wedding hymn.
This was the first day of her death, the first of grief,
the cause of it all. From now on, Dido cares no more
for appearances, nor for her reputation, either.
She no longer thinks to keep the affair a secret,
no, she calls it a marriage,
using the word to cloak her sense of guilt.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 207ff]
Dido and the Trojan leader come to the same cave.
Ancient Earth and Juno, marriage goddess, give the signal.
Lightning flashes, nymphs howl from the hills,
the sky is witness to the wedding.
This was the first day of death, the first cause of ruin.
She's unmoved by rumor or appearance
and no longer plans to hide her love: she says they're wed.
With this word she masks her fault.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Rumor! What evil can surpass her speed?
In movement she grows mighty, and achieves
strength and dominion as she swifter flies.
small first, because afraid, she soon exalts
her stature skyward, stalking through the lands
and mantling in the clouds her baleful brow.[Fama, malum qua non aliud velocius ullum;
Mobilitate viget, virisque adquirit eundo;
Parva metu primo; mox sese attollit in auras,
Ingrediturque solo, et caput inter nubila condit.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 174ff (4.174-177) (29-19 BC) [tr. Williams (1910)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows:
Swift from the first; and ev'ry moment brings
New vigor to her flights, new pinions to her wings.
Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;
Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Fame, than whom no pest is more swift, by exerting her agility grows more active, and acquires strength on her way : small at first through fear; soon she shoots up into the skies, and stalks along the ground, while she hides her head among the clouds.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Fame than who never plague that runs
Its way more swiftly wins:
Her very motion lends her power:
She flies and waxes every hour.
At first she shrinks, and cowers for dread:
Ere long she soars on high:
Upon the ground she plants her tread,
Her forehead in the sky.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Rumor, than whom no evil is more swift.
She grows by motion, gathers strength by flight.
Small at the first, through fear, soon to the skies
She lifts herself. She walks upon the ground.
And hides her head in clouds.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Rumour, than whom none other is more swift to mischief; she thrives on restlessness and gains strength by going: at first small and timorous; soon she lifts herself on high and paces the ground with head hidden among the clouds.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Rumour, of whom nought swifter is of any evil thing:
She gathereth strength by going on, and bloometh shifting oft!
A little thing, afraid at first, she springeth soon aloft;
Her feet are on the worldly soil, her head the clouds o'erlay.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Fame, far the swiftest of all mischiefs bred;
Speed gives her force; she strengthens as she flies.
Small first through fear, she lifts a loftier head,
Her forehead in the clouds, on earth her tread.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 23, ll. 200-204]
Rumour of all evils the most swift. Speed lends her strength, and she wins vigour as she goes; small at first through fear, soon she mounts up to heaven, and walks the ground with head hidden in the clouds.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Rumor
Than whom no other evil was ever swifter.
She thrives on motion and her own momentum;
Tiny at first in fear, she swells, colossal
In no time, walks on earth, but her head is hidden
Among the clouds.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Rumour, the swiftest traveller of all the ills on earth,
Thriving on movement, gathering strength as it goes; at the start
A small and cowardly thing, it soon puffs itself up,
And walking upon the ground, buries its head in the cloud-base.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Rumor,
whose life is speed, whose going gives her force.
Timid and small at first, she soon lifts up
her body in the air. She stalks the ground;
her head is hidden in the clouds.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 230ff]
Rumor
Thrives on motion, stronger for the running,
Lowly at first through fear, then rearing high,
She treads the land and hides her head in cloud.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 241ff]
Of all the ills there are, Rumour is the swiftest. She thrives on movement and gathers strength as she goes. From small and timorous beginnings she soon lifts herself up into the air, her feet still on the ground and her head hidden in the clouds.
[tr. West (1990)]
Rumor, the swiftest of evils. She thrives on speed
And gains power as she goes. Small and timid at first,
She grows quickly, and though her feet touch the ground
Her head is hidden in the clouds.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 199ff]
Rumor, swiftest of all the evils in the world.
She thrives on speed, stronger for every stride,
slight with fear at first, soon soaring into the air
she treads the ground and hides her head in the clouds.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 220ff]
Rumor, no other evil can move more quickly:
She grows with speed and acquires strength in motion,
At first, she is small from fear, but soon she raises herself to the sky
and walks onto the land hiding her head among the clouds.
[tr. @sentantiq (2015)]
Rumor, swiftest of all evil; she thrives on speed and gains strength as she goes. At first she's small and scared, but soon she rears to the skies, her feet still on the ground, her head hidden in the clouds.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Rumor, quicksilver afoot
and swift on the wing, a monster, horrific, huge
and under every feather on her body — what a marvel —
an eye that never sleeps and as many tongues as eyes
and as many raucous mouths and ears pricked up for news.
By night she flies aloft, between the earth and sky,
whirring across the dark, never closing her lids
in soothing sleep. By day she keeps her watch,
crouched on a peaked roof or palace turret,
terrorizing the great cities, clinging as fast
to her twisted lies as she clings to words of truth.[… [P]edibus celerem et pernicibus alis,
monstrum horrendum, ingens, cui, quot sunt corpore plumae
tot vigiles oculi subter, mirabile dictu,
tot linguae, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures.
Nocte volat caeli medio terraeque per umbram,
stridens, nec dulci declinat lumina somno;
luce sedet custos aut summi culmine tecti,
turribus aut altis, et magnas territat urbes;
tam ficti pravique tenax, quam nuntia veri.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 180ff (4.180-188) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 226ff]
(Source)
The personification of "Rumor" (Fame, or Fama). (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste:
A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.
As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,
So many piercing eyes enlarge her sight;
Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong,
And ev'ry mouth is furnish'd with a tongue,
And round with list'ning ears the flying plague is hung.
She fills the peaceful universe with cries;
No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes;
By day, from lofty tow'rs her head she shews,
And spreads thro' trembling crowds disastrous news;
With court informers haunts, and royal spies;
Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with lies.
Talk is her business, and her chief delight
To tell of prodigies and cause affright.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Swift to move with feet and persevering wings: a monster hideous, immense; who (wondrous to relate!) for as many plumes as are in her body, numbers so many wakeful eyes beneath, so many tongues, so many babblingmouths, pricks up so many listening ears. By night, through the mid regions of the sky, and through the shades of earth, she flies buzzing, nor inclines her eyes to balmy rest. Watchful by day, she perches either on some high house-top, or on lofty turrets, and fills mighty cities with dismay; as obstinately bent on falsehood and iniquity as on reporting truth.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
... With feet and rapid wings for flight.
Huge, terrible, gigantic Fame!
For every plume that clothes her frame
An eye beneath the feather peeps,
A tongue rings loud, an ear upleaps.
Hurtling 'twixt earth and heaven she flies
By night, nor bows to sleep her eyes:
Perched on a roof or tower by day
She fills great cities with dismay;
How oft soe'er the truth she tell,
She loves a falsehood all too well.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
With nimble feet, and swift persistent wings,
A monster huge and terrible is she.
As many feathers as her body bears,
So many watchful eyes beneath them lurk,
So many tongues and mouths, and ears erect.
By night 'twixt heaven and earth she flies, through shades,
With rushing wings, nor shuts her eyes in sleep.
By day she watches from the roofs or towers;
And the great cities fills with haunting fears;
As prone to crime and falsehood as to truth ...
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 236ff]
Fleet-footed and swift of wing, ominous, awful, vast; for every feather on her body is a waking eye beneath, wonderful to tell, and a tongue, and as many loud lips and straining ears. By night she flits between sky and land, shrilling through the dusk, and droops not her lids in sweet slumber; in daylight she sits on guard upon tall towers or the ridge of the house-roof, and makes great cities afraid; obstinate in perverseness and forgery no less than messenger of truth.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Swift are her wings to cleave the air, swift-foot she treads the earth:
A monster dread and huge, on whom so many as there lie
The feathers, under each there lurks, O strange! a watchful eye;
And there wag tongues, and babble mouths, and hearkening ears upstand
As many: all a-dusk by night she flies 'twixt sky and land
Loud clattering, never shutting eye in rest of slumber sweet.
By day she keepeth watch high-set on houses of the street,
Or on the towers aloft she sits for mighty cities' fear!
And lies and ill she loves no less than sooth which she must bear.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Swift-winged, swift-footed, of enormous girth,
Huge, horrible, deformed, a giantess from birth.
As many feathers as her form surround,
Strange sight! peep forth so many watchful eyes,
So many mouths and tattling tongues resound,
So many ears among the plumes uprise.
By night with shrieks 'twixt heaven and earth she flies,
Nor suffers sleep her eyelids to subdue;
By day, the terror of great towns, she spies
From towers and housetops, perched aloft in view,
Fond of the false and foul, yet herald of the true.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 23-24, l. 206ff]
Feet swift to run and pinions like the wind
the dreadful monster wears; her carcase huge
is feathered, and at root of every plume
a peering eye abides; and, strange to tell,
an equal number of vociferous tongues,
foul, whispering lips, and ears, that catch at all.
At night she spreads midway 'twixt earth and heaven
her pinions in the darkness, hissing loud,
nor e'er to happy slumber gives her eyes:
but with the morn she takes her watchful throne
high on the housetops or on lofty towers,
to terrify the nations. She can cling
to vile invention and malignant wrong,
or mingle with her word some tidings true.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Swift of foot and fleet of wing, a monster awful and huge, who for the many feathers in her body has as many watchful eyes below -- wondrous to tell -- as many tongues, as many sounding mouths, as many pricked-up ears. By night, midway between heaven and earth, she flies through the gloom, screeching, nor droops her eyes in sweet sleep; by day she sits on guard on high roof-top or lofty turrets, and affrights great cities, clinging to the false and wrong, yet heralding truth.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Swift of foot,
Deadly of wing, a huge and terrible monster,
With an eye below each feather in her body,
A tongue, a mouth, for every eye, and ears
Double that number; in the night she flies
Above the earth, below the sky, in shadow
Noisy and shrill; her eyes are never closed
In slumber; and by day she perches, watching
From tower or battlement, frightening great cities.
She heralds truth, and clings to lies and falsehood,
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
A swift-footed creature, a winged angel of ruin,
A terrible, grotesque monster, each feather upon whose body --
Incredible though it sounds -- has a sleepless eye beneath it,
And for every eye she has also a tongue, a voice and a pricked ear.
At night she flits midway between earth and sky, through the gloom
Screeching, and never closes her eyelids in sweet slumber:
By day she is perched like a look-out either upon a roof-top
Or some high turret; so she terrorises whole cities,
Loud-speaker of truth, hoarder of mischievous falsehood, equally.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Fast-footed
and lithe of wing, she is a terrifying
enormous monster with as many feathers
as she has sleepless eyes beneath each feather
(amazingly), as many sounding tongues
and mouths, and raises up as many ears.
Between the earth and skies she flies by night,
screeching across the darkness, and she never
closes her eyes in gentle sleep. By day
She sits as sentinel on some steep roof
or on high towers, frightening vast cities;
for she holds fast to falsehood and distortion
as often as to messages of truth.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 237ff]
... [G]iving her speed on foot and on the wing:
Monstrous, deformed, titanic. Pinioned, with
An eye beneath for every body feather,
And, strange to say, as many tongues and buzzing
Mouths as eyes, as many pricked-up ears,
By night she flies between the earth and heaven
Shrieking through darkness, and she never turns
Her eye-lids down to sleep. by day she broods,
On the alert, on rooftops or on towers,
Bringing great cities fear, harping on lies
And slander evenhandedly with truth.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 248ff]
Rumour is quick of foot and swift on the wing, a huge and terrible monster, and under every feather of her body, strange to tell, there lies an eye that never sleeps, a mouth and a tongue that are never silent, and an ear always pricked. by night she flies between earth and sky, squawking through the darkness, and never lowers her eyelids in sweet sleep. By day she keeps watch perched on the tops of gables or on high towers and causes fear in great cities, holding fast to her lies and distortions as often as she tells the truth.
[tr. West (1990)]
Fast on her feet, her beating wings a blur,
She is a dread, looming monster. Under every feather
On her body she has -- strange to say -- a watchful eye,
A tongue, a shouting mouth, and pricked-up ears.
By night she wheels through the dark skies, screeching,
And never closes her shining eyes in sleep.
By day she perches on rooftops or towers,
Watching, and she throws whole cities into panic,
As much a hardened liar as a herald of truth.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 205ff]
Her feet are swift and her wings are hateful,
A dread creation whose huge body bristles with feathers.
And beneath them all are watchful eyes, chilling to describe
And as many tongues within whispering mouths and between attentive ears.
At night she flights mid-sky and over the shadowed earth,
Hissing, refusing to rest her eyes in sweet sleep.
At day she stands guard at the highest roof-peak
Or on looming towers as she brings the cities terror.
She sticks at times to base lies and other times to truth.
[tr. @sentantiq (2015)]
She's fast of foot and fleet of wing, a huge horrific monster. Under all her feathers lurk (amazingly) as many watching eyes and tongues, as many talking mouths and pricked-up ears. She flies by night, between the sky and earth, screeching through the dark. Her eyes don't close in welcome sleep. By day she perches as a lookout on high roofs or towers and alarms great cities. She's as fond of fiction and perversity as truth.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
You’re running away — from me? Oh, I pray you
by these tears, by the faith in your right hand —
what else have I left myself in all my pain? —
by our wedding vows, the marriage we began,
if I deserve some decency from you now,
if anything mine has ever won your heart,
pity a great house about to fall, I pray you,
if prayers have any place — reject this scheme of yours![Mene fugis? Per ego has lacrimas dextramque tuam te
(Quando aliud mihi jam miserae nihil ipsa reliqui)
Per connubia nostra, per inceptos Hymenaeos;
Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam
Dulce meum, miserere domus labentis, et istam,
Oro, si quis adhuc precibus locus, exue mentem.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 314ff (3.314-319) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 390ff]
(Source)
Dido begging Aeneas not to desert her. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
See whom you fly! am I the foe you shun?
Now, by those holy vows, so late begun,
By this right hand, (since I have nothing more
To challenge, but the faith you gave before;)
I beg you by these tears too truly shed,
By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed;
If ever Dido, when you most were kind,
Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch'd your mind;
By these my pray'rs, if pray'rs may yet have place,
Pity the fortunes of a falling race.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Wilt thou fly from me? By these tears, by that right hand, (since I have left nothing else to myself now, a wretch forlorn,) by our nuptial rights, by our conjugal loves begun; if I have deserved any thanks at they hand, or if ever you saw any charms in me, take pity, I implore thee, on a falling race, and, if yet there is any room for prayers, lay aside your resolution.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
From me you fly! Ah! let me crave,
By these poor tears, that hand you gave --
Since, parting with my woman's pride,
My madness leaves me nought beside --
By that our wedlock, by the rite
Which, but begun, could yet unite,
If e'er my kindness held you bound,
If e'er in me your joy you found,
Look on this falling house, and still,
If prayer can touch you, change your will.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Fly'st thou from me?
Ah, by these tears, and by this hand of thine
(Since to me, wretched, nothing else is left).
By our marriage tie, our nuptial rites begun.
If any favor I deserved of thee,
Or if in anything I have been sweet
And dear to thee, pity this falling house!
I do beseech thee, if there yet be room
For entreaty, change, ah, change that fixed intent!
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 406ff]
Fliest thou from me? me who by these tears and thine own hand beseech thee, since naught else, alas! have I kept mine own—by our union and the marriage rites preparing; if I have done thee any grace, or aught of mine hath once been sweet in thy sight,—pity our sinking house, and if there yet be room for prayers, put off this purpose of thine.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Yea, me thou fleest. O by these tears, by that right hand of thine,
Since I myself have left myself unhappy nought but this,
And by our bridal of that day and early wedding bliss,
If ever I were worthy thanks, if sweet in aught I were,
Pity a falling house! If yet be left a space for prayer,
O then I pray thee put away this mind of evil things!
[tr. Morris (1900)]
"Me dost thou fly? O, by these tears, thy hand
Late pledged, since madness leaves me naught beside,
By lovers' vows and wedlock's sacred band,
Scarce knit and now too soon to be untied;
If aught were pleasing in a new-won bride,
If sweet the memory of our marriage day,
O by these prayers -- if place for prayer abide --
In mercy put that cruel mind away.
Pity a falling house, now hastening to decay.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 40, l. 352ff]
Is it from me
thou takest flight? O, by these flowing tears,
by thine own plighted word (for nothing more
my weakness left to miserable me),
by our poor marriage of imperfect vow,
if aught to me thou owest, if aught in me
ever have pleased thee -- O, be merciful
to my low-fallen fortunes! I implore,
if place be left for prayer, thy purpose change!
[tr. Williams (1910)]
From me dost thou flee? By these tears and thy right hand, I pray thee -- since naught else, alas! have I left myself -- by our marriage, by the wedlock begun, if ever I deserved well of thee, or if aught of mine has been sweet in thy sight, pity a falling house, and if yet there be any room for prayers, put away this purpose of thine.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
I am the one you flee from: true? I beg you
By my own tears, and your right hand -- (I have nothing
Else left my wretchedness) -- by the beginnings
Of marriage, wedlock, what we had, if ever
I served you well, if anything of mine
Was ever sweet to you, I beg you, pity
A falling house; if there is room for pleading
As late as this, I plead, put off that purpose.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Am I your reason for going? By these tears, by the hand you gave me --
They are all I have left, today, in my misery -- I implore you,
And by our union of hearts, by our marriage hardly begun,
If I have ever helped you at all, if anything
About me pleased you, be sad for our broken home, forgo
Your purpose, I beg you, unless it's too late for prayers of mine!
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Do you flee me? By tears, by your right hand --
This sorry self is left with nothing else --
by wedding, by the marriage we began,
if I did anything deserving of you
or anything of mine was sweet to you,
take pity on a fallen house, put off
your plan, I pray -- if there is still place for prayers.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 422ff]
Do you go to get away from me? I beg you,
By these tears, by your own right hand, since I
Have left my wretched self nothing but that --
Yes, by the marriage that we entered on,
If ever I did well and you were grateful
Or found some sweetness in a gift from me,
Have pity now on a declining house!
Put this plan by, I beg you, if a prayer
Is not yet out of place.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 429ff]
Is it me you are running away from? I beg you, by these tears, by the pledge you gave me with your own right hand -- I hav enothing else left me now in my misery -- I beg you by our union, by the marriage we have begun -- if I have deserved any kindness from you, if you have ever loved anything about me, pity my house that is falling around me, and I implore you, if it is not too late for prayers, give up this plan of yours.
[tr. West (1990)]
Is it me you are fleeing?
By these tears, I beg you, by your right hand,
Which is all I have left, by your wedding vows,
Still so fresh -- if I have ever done anything
To deserve your thanks, if there is anything in me
That you found sweet, pity a house destined to fall,
And if there is still room for prayers, I beg you,
Please change your mind.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Is it me you run from? Byu my tears and your promise (nothing else is left me in my grief), by our wedding, by the marriage we've begun, if I deserve anything from you, if you found me at all pleasing, pity my poor home, I beg, if there's still time to beg.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
No trust is safe.
[Nusquam tuta fides.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 373 (4.373) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Bartsch (2021)]
(Source)
Dido chiding Aeneas (and the gods) for Aeneas' desertion. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!
Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Firm faith no where subsists.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
No faith on earth, in heaven no trust.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Faith lives no more.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Nowhere is trust safe.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
All faith is gone!
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Faithless is earth, and false is Heaven above.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 48, l. 426]
No trusting heart is safe
in all this world.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Nowhere is faith secure.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Faith has no haven anywhere in the world.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Nowhere is it safe to be trustful.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Nowhere is certain trust.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 509]
Faith can never be secure.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 514]
Is there nothing we can trust in this life?
[tr. West (1990)]
Good faith is found nowhere.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
There’s no faith left on earth!
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Love, you tyrant!
To what extremes won’t you compel our hearts?[Improbe Amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis!]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 412 (4.412) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), ll. 518-19]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
All-pow'rful Love! what changes canst thou cause
In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Unrelenting love, how irresistible is they sway over the minds of mortals!
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Curst love! what lengths of tyrant scorn
Wreak'st not on those of woman born?
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Accursèd power of love, what mortal hearts
Dost thou not force to obey thee!
[tr. Cranch (1872), ll. 544-45]
Injurious Love, to what dost thou not compel mortal hearts!
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
O evil Love, where wilt thou not drive on a mortal breast?
[tr. Morris (1900)]
O tyrant love, so potent to subdue!
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 53, l. 473]
Relentless Love,
to what mad courses may not mortal hearts
by thee be driven?
[tr. Williams (1910), l. 409ff]
O tyrant Love, to what dost thou not drive the hearts of men!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
There is nothing to which the hearts of men and women
Cannot be driven by love.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Excess of love, to what lengths you drive our human hearts!
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]
Voracious Love, to what do you not drive
the hearts of men?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 566-67]
Unconscionable Love,
To what extremes will you not drive our hearts!
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 571-72]
Love is a cruel master. There are no lengths to which it does not force the human heart.
[tr. West (1990)]
Cruel Love, what do you not force human hearts to bear?
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Cursed love, you make us stoop to anything.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
And you, my Tyrians,
harry with hatred all his line, his race to come:
make that offering to my ashes, send it down below.
No love between our peoples, ever, no pacts of peace!
Come rising up from my bones, you avenger still unknown,
to stalk those Trojan settlers, hunt with fire and iron,
now or in time to come, whenever the power is yours.
Shore clash with shore, sea against sea, and sword
against sword — this is my curse — war between all
our peoples, all their children, endless war![Tum vos, o Tyrii, stirpem et genus omne futurum
exercete odiis, cinerique haec mittite nostro
munera. Nullus amor populis, nec foedera sunto.
Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor,
qui face Dardanios ferroque sequare colonos,
nunc, olim, quocumque dabunt se tempore vires.
Litora litoribus contraria, fluctibus undas
imprecor, arma armis; pugnent ipsique nepotesque.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 622ff (4.622-629) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 775ff]
(Source)
Dido's deathbed curse, foretelling the Punic Wars between her Carthage and Aeneas' descendents in Rome. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
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!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
And, Tyrians, you through time to come
His seed with deathless hatred chase:
Be that your gift to Dido's tomb:
No love, no league 'twixt race and race.
Rise from my ashes, scourge of crime,
Born to pursue the Dardan horde
To-day, to-morrow, through all time,
Oft as our hands can wield the sword:
Fight shore with shore, fight sea with sea,
Fight all that are or e'er shall be!
[tr. Conington (1866)]
And ye, O Tyrians, follow with your hate
His seed, and all his future race! Be this
Your offering on my tomb! No love, no league
Between you ! Oh, may some avenger rise
From out my ashes, who with fire and sword
Shall chase these Dardan settlers, now, and in
The coming time, wherever strength is given;
Shores with shores fighting, waves with waves, and
arms With arms, -- they and their last posterity
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
And you, O Tyrians, hunt his seed with your hatred for all ages to come; send this guerdon to our ashes. Let no kindness nor truce be between the nations. Arise out of our dust, O unnamed avenger, to pursue the Dardanian settlement with firebrand and steel. Now, then, whensoever strength shall be given, I invoke the enmity of shore to shore, wave to water, sword to sword; let their battles go down to their children's children.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
And ye, O Tyrians, 'gainst his race that is, and is to be,
Feed full your hate! When I am dead send down this gift to me:
No love betwixt the peoples twain, no troth for anything!
And thou, Avenger of my wrongs, from my dead bones outspring,
To bear the fire and the sword o'er Dardan-peopled earth
Now or hereafter; whensoe'er the day brings might to birth.
I pray the shore against the shore, the sea against the sea,
The sword 'gainst sword -- fight ye that are, and ye that are to be!
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Them and their children's children evermore
Ye Tyrians, with immortal hate outwear.
This gift -- 'twill please me best -- for Dido's shade prepare.
This heritage be yours; no truce nor trust
'Twixt theirs and ours, no union or accord
Arise, unknown Avenger from our dust;
With fire and steel upon the Dardan horde
Mete out the measure of their crimes' reward.
To-day, to-morrow, for eternity
Fight, oft as ye are able -- sword with sword,
Shore with opposing shore, and sea with sea;
Fight, Tyrians, all that are, and all that e'er shall be!
[tr. Taylor (1907)], st. 81-82, l. 720ff]
And -- O ye Tyrians! I
sting with your hatred all his seed and tribe
forevermore. This is the offering
my ashes ask. Betwixt our nations twain,
No love! No truce or amity! Arise,
Out of my dust, unknown Avenger, rise!
To harry and lay waste with sword and flame
those Dardan settlers, and to vex them sore,
to-day, to-morrow, and as long as power
is thine to use! My dying curse arrays
shore against shore and the opposing seas
in shock of arms with arms. May living foes
pass down from sire to son insatiate war
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Then do ye, O Tyrians, pursue with hate his whole stock and the race to come, and to my dust offer this tribute! Let no love nor league be between the nations. Arise from my ashes, unknown avenger! to chase with fire and sword the Dardan settlers, to-day, hereafter, whenever strength be given! May shore with shore clash, I pray, waters with waters, arms with arms; may they have war, they and their children's children!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
And you, O Tyrians, hate, and hate forever
The Trojan stock. Offer my dust this homage.
No love, no peace, between these nations, ever!
Rise from my bones, O great unknown avenger,
Hunt them with fire and sword, the Dardan settlers,
Now, then, here, there, wherever strength is given.
Shore against shore, wave against wave, and war,
War after war, for all the generations.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Let you, my Tyrians, sharpen your hatred upon his children
And all their seed for ever: send this as a present to
My ghost. Between my people and his, no love, no alliance!
Rise up from my dead bones, avenger! Rise up, one
To hound the Trojan settlers with fire and steel remorselessly,
Now, some day, whenever the strength for it shall be granted!
Shore to shore, sea to sea, weapon to weapon opposed --
I call down a feud between them and us to the last generation!
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Then, Tyrians, hunt down
with hatred all his sons and race to come;
send this as offering unto my ashes.
Do not let love or treaty tie our peoples.
May an avenger rise up from my bones,
one who will track with firebrand and sword
the Dardan settlers, now and in the future,
at any time that ways present themselves.
I call your shores to war against their shores,
your waves against their waves, arms with their arms.
Let them and their sons' sons learn what is war.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
Then, O my Tyrians, besiege with hate
His progeny and all his race to come:
Make this your offering to my dust. No love,
No pact must be between our peoples; No,
But rise up from my bones, avenging spirit!
Harry with fire and sword the Dardan countrymen
Now, or hereafter, at whatever time
The strength will be afforded. Coast with coast
In conflict, I implore, and sea with sea,
And arms with arms: may they contend in war,
Themselves and all the children of their children!
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 865ff]
As for you, my Tyrians, you must pursue with hatred the whole line of his descendants in time to come. Make that your offering to my shade. Let there be no love between our peoples and no treaties. Arise from my dead bones, O my unknown avenger, and harry the race of Dardanus with fire and sword wherever they may settle, now and in the future, whenever our strength allows it. I pray that we may stand opposed, shore against shore, sea against sea, and sword against sword. Let there be war between the nations and between their sons forever.
[tr. West (1990)]
And you, my Tyrians, must persecute his line
Throughout the generations -- this your tribute
To Dido's ashes. May treaties never unite
These nations, may no love ever be lost between them
And from my bones may some avenger rise up
To harry the Trojans with fire and sword,
Now and whenever we have the power.
May coast oppose coast, waves batter waves,
Arms clash with arms, may they be ever at war,
They themselves and their children forever.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Tyrians, you must torment his sons and all his future race. Make this offering to my ashes. Let there be no love or treaties between us. Rise from my bones, unknown avenger, hunt the Dardan colonists with flames and swords, now or any times there's strength to strike! My curse is this: our lands, our seas, our swords will clash. The Trojans will fight wars for generations.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
I have lived a life. I’ve journeyed through
the course that Fortune charted for me. And now
I pass to the world below, my ghost in all its glory.[Vixi, et, quem dederat cursum Fortuna, peregi;
Et nunc magna mei sub terras ibit Imago.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 653ff (4.653-654) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
My fatal course is finish'd; and I go,
A glorious name, among the ghosts below.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
I have lived, and finished the race which fortune gave me. And now my ghost shall descent illustrious to the shades below.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
My life is lived, and I have played
The part that Fortune gave,
And now I pass, a queenly shade,
Majestic to the grave.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
I have lived,
And have achieved the course that fortune gave.
And now of me the queenly shade shall pass
Beneath the earth.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 855ff]
I have lived and fulfilled Fortune's allotted course; and now shall I go a queenly phantom under the earth.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
I, I have lived, and down the way fate showed to me have passed;
And now a mighty shade of me shall go beneath the earth!
[tr. Morris (1900)]
My life is lived; behold, the course assigned
By Fortune now is finished, and I go,
A shade majestic, to the world below.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 86, l 768ff]
My life is done.
I have accomplished what my lot allowed;
and now my spirit to the world of death
in royal honor goes.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
My life is done and I have finished the course that Fortune gave; and now in majesty my shade shall pass beneath the earth.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
I have lived, I have run the course that fortune gave me,
And now my shade, a great one, will be going
Below the earth.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
I have lived, I have run to finish the course which fortune gave me:
And now, a queenly shade, I shall pass to the world below.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
I have lived
and journeyed through the course assigned by fortune.
And now my Shade will pass, illustrious,
beneath the earth.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 900ff]
I have lived my life out to the very end
And passed the stages Fortune had appointed.
Now my tall shade goes to the under world.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 907ff]
I have lived my life and completed the course that Fortune has set before me, and now my great spirit will go beneath the earth.
[tr. West (1990)]
I have lived, and I have completed the course
Assigned by Fortune. Now my mighty ghost
Goes beneath the earth.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
I'm done with life; I've run the course Fate gave me. Now my noble ghost goes to the Underworld.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Oft to the town he turns his eyes,
Whence Dido’s fires already rise.
What cause has lit so fierce a flame
They know not: but the pangs of shame
From great love wronged, and what despair
Can make a baffled woman dare —
All this they know, and knowing tread
The paths of presage, vague and dread.[… moenia respiciens, quae iam infelicis Elissae
conlucent flammis. Quae tantum accenderit ignem,
causa latet; duri magno sed amore dolores
polluto, notumque, furens quid femina possit,
triste per augurium Teucrorum pectora ducunt.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 5, l. 4ff (5.4-8) (29-19 BC) [tr. Conington (1866)]
(Source)
Elissa is an alternate name for Dido. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze,
Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze.
The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind
The fate of Dido from the fire divin'd;
He knew the stormy souls of womankind,
What secret springs their eager passions move,
How capable of death for injur'd love.
Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw;
Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
... looking back at the walls which now glare with the flames of unfortunate Elisa. What cause may have kindled such a blaze is unknown; but the thought of those cruel agonies that arise from violent love when injured, and the knowledge of what frantic woman can do, led the minds of the Trojans through dismal forebodings.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
He saw the city glaring with the flames
Of the unhappy Dido. What had lit
This fire, they knew not; but the cruel pangs
From outraged love, and what a woman's rage
Could do, they know; and through the Trojans' thoughts
Pass sad forebodings of the truth.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
... looking back on the city that even now gleams with hapless Elissa's funeral flame. Why the broad blaze is lit lies unknown; but the bitter pain of a great love trampled, and the knowledge of what woman can do in madness, draw the Teucrians' hearts to gloomy guesses.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
... Still looking back upon the walls now litten by the flame
Of hapless Dido: though indeed whence so great burning came
They knew not; but the thought of grief that comes of love defiled
How great it is, what deed may come of woman waxen wild,
Through woeful boding of the sooth the Teucrians' bosoms bore.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
... And backward on the city bent his gaze,
Bright with the flames of Dido. Whence the blaze
Arose, they knew not; but the pangs they knew
When love is passionate, and man betrays,
And what a frantic woman scorned can do,
And many a sad surmise their boding thoughts pursue
[tr. Taylor (1907)]
... but when his eyes
looked back on Carthage, they beheld the glare
of hapless Dido's fire. Not yet was known
what kindled the wild flames; but that the pang
of outraged love is cruel, and what the heart
of desperate woman dares, they knew too well,
and sad foreboding shook each Trojan soul.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
... looking back on the city walls which now gleam with unhappy Elissa's funeral flames. What cause kindled so great a flame is unknown; but the cruel pangs when deep love is profaned, and knowledge of what a woman can do in frenzy, lead the hearts of the Trojans amid sad forebodings.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
His gaze went back
To the walls of Carthage, glowing in the flame
Of Dido’s funeral pyre. What cause had kindled
So high a blaze, they did not know, but anguish
When love is wounded deep, and the way of a woman
With frenzy in her heart, they knew too well,
And dwelt on with foreboding.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
He looked back at Carthage's walls; they were lit up now by the death-fires
Of tragic Dido. Why so big a fire should be burning
Was a mystery: but knowing what a woman is capable of
When insane with the grief of having her love cruelly dishonoured
Started a train of uneasy conjecture in the Trojans' minds.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
... gazing
back -- watching where the walls of Carthage glowed
with sad Elissa's flames. They cannot know
what caused so vast a blaze, and yet the Trojans
know well the pain when passion is profaned
and how a woman driven wild can act;
their hearts are drawn through dark presentiments.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
But he kept his eyes
Upon the city far astern, now bright
With poor Elissa's pyre. What caused that blaze
Remained unknown to watchers out at sea,
But what they knew of a great love profaned
In anguish, and a desperate woman's nerve,
Led every Trojan heart into foreboding.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
... looking back at the walls of Carthage, glowing now in the flames of poor Dido's pyre. No one understood what had lit such a blaze, but since they all knew what bitter suffering is caused when a great love is desecrated and what a woman is capable when driven to madness, the minds of the Trojans were filled with dark foreboding.
[tr. West (1990)]
... looking back at the city walls that were glowing now with
unhappy Dido’s funeral flames. The reason that such a fire had
been lit was unknown: but the cruel pain when a great love is
profaned, and the knowledge of what a frenzied woman might do,
drove the minds of the Trojans to sombre forebodings.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
... he glanced back at the walls of Carthage
set aglow by the fires of tragic Dido’s pyre.
What could light such a conflagration? A mystery --
but the Trojans know the pains of a great love
defiled, and the lengths a woman driven mad can go,
and it leads their hearts down ways of grim foreboding.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
... gazing back at city walls lit up by the flames -- poor Dido's pyre. No one knew what caused the blaze, but they knew the great grief of a love betrayed and what a woman's passion could unleash. Their hearts were somber with foreboding.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Those blush to lose a conquering game,
And fain would peril life for fame:
These bring success their zeal to fan;
They can because they think they can.[Hi proprium decus et partum indignantur honorem
ni teneant, vitamque volunt pro laude pacisci;
hos successus alit: possunt, quia posse videntur.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 5, l. 229ff (5.229-231) (29-19 BC) [tr. Conington (1866)]
(Source)
Of the crews of the two remaining ships racing at the funeral games of Anchises: Cloanthus' Scylla which is closing on the finish line; Mnestheus' Pristis which has come up from last place and may yet take the lead. (Cloanthus wins the race by offering a sacrifice to the sea gods.)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Resolv'd to hold their own, they mend their pace,
All obstinate to die, or gain the race.
Rais'd with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran;
For they can conquer, who believe they can.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
These are fired with indignation, lest they should lose their possession of glory and honor they have won; and they are willing to barter life for renown. Those success cherishes; they are able because they seem to be able.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
These scorn to lose the honour that is their own, the glory in their grasp, and would sell life for renown; to these success lends life; power comes with belief in it.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
These, thinking shame of letting fall their hardly-gotten gain
Of glory's meed, to buy the praise with very life are fain;
Those, fed on good-hap, all things may, because they deem they may
[tr. Morris (1900), l. 228ff]
These scorn to lose their vantage, stung with shame,
And life is wagered willingly for fame.
Success inspires the hindmost; as they dare,
They do; the thought of winning wins the game.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 31, l. 274ff]
The leaders now with eager souls would scorn
to lose their glory, and faint-hearted fail
to grasp a prize half-won, but fain would buy
honor with life itself; the followers too
are flushed with proud success, and feel them strong
because their strength is proven.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
These think it shame not to keep the honour that is theirs, the glory they have won, and would barter life for fame: those success heartens; strong are they, for strong they deem themselves.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
On the Scylla
They would give their lives to hold their place, they have won it,
The glory and honor are theirs already, almost;
And Mnestheus’ men take courage from their nearness;
They can because they think they can.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
One crew was compelled by the shame of losing a prize they had all but
Gained for their own, and would give their lives for its glory; the other
Was fired by success -- they could do it because they believed they could do it.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Cloanthus' crewmen
now think it a disgrace to fail to keep
the fame and honor they themselves have won,
and they would give their very lives for glory;
but Menestheus' men are strengthened by success,
they have the power because they feel they have it.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 301ff]
One crew fought off the shame of losing honor
Theirs already, glory won; they'd give
Their lives for fame; but luck empowered the others
Who felt that they could do it, and so could.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 294ff]
Cloanthus and his men on the Scylla saw the honour as theirs by right. They had already won the victory and had no intention of giving it up. They would rather have lost their lives than lose the glory. Mnestheus and his men on the Pristis were feeding on success. They could win because they thought they could.
[tr. West (1990)]
The former crew are unhappy lest they fail to keep
the honour that is theirs and the glory already
in their possession, and would sell their lives for fame.
the latter feed on success: they can because they think they can.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
One crew, stung by the shame of losing victory now
with glory won, would trade their lives for fame.
But Mnestheus and his crew, fired by their success,
can just about win the day because they think they can.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 256ff]
One crew would hate to lose the glory of an honor all but one. They'd traide their lives for victory. The others were encouraged by success. Belief in victory spurred them on.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Goddess-born, wherever
Fate pulls or hauls us, there we have to follow;
Whatever happens, fortune can be beaten
By nothing but endurance.[Nate dea, quo fata trahunt retrahuntque, sequamur;
Quidquid erit, superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 5, l. 709ff (5.709-710) [Nautes] (29-19 BC) [tr. Humphries (1951)]
(Source)
Nautes encouraging Achilles after fire destroys some of the ships. Sometimes paraphrased in two separate phrases:
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
- Quocunque trahunt fata sequamur. -- Wherever the Fates direct us, let us follow.
- Superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est. -- Every misfortune is to be subdued by patience.
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.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Goddess-born, let us follow the Fates, whether they invite us backward or forward: come what will, every fortune is to be surmounted by patience.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
My chief, let Fate cry on or back,
'Tis ours to follow, nothing slack:
Whate'er betide, he only cures
The stroke of fortune who endures.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Wherever Fate may lead us, whether on
Or backward, let us follow. Whatsoe'er
Betides, all fortune must be overcome
By endurance.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 840ff]
Goddess-born, follow we fate's ebb and flow, whatsoever it shall be; fortune must be borne to be overcome.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
O Goddess-born, Fate's ebb and flow still let us follow on,
Whate'er shall be, by bearing all must Fortune's fight be won.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
O Goddess-born, where Fate directs the way,
'Tis ours to follow. Who the best can bear,
Best conquers Fortune, be the doom what may.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 97, l. 865ff]
O goddess-born, we follow here or there,
as Fate compels or stays. But come what may,
he triumphs over Fortune, who can bear
whate'er she brings.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Goddess-born, whither the Fates, in their ebb and flow, draw us, let us follow ; whatever befall, all fortune is to be o'ercome by bearing.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Goddess-born, let us follow our destiny, ebb or flow.
Whatever may happen, we master fortune by fully accepting it.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
O goddess-born, there where the fates would have us
go forward or withdraw, there let us follow;
whatever comes, all fortune must be won
by our endurance.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 934ff]
Sir, born of an immortal, let us follow
Where our fates may lead, or lead us back.
Whatever comes,
All Fortune can be mastered by endurance.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
Son of the goddess, let us follow the Fates, whether they lead us on or lead us back. Whatever fortune may be ours, we must at all times rise above it by enduring it.
[tr. West (1990)]
Son of the Goddess, let us follow wherever fate ebbs or flows,
whatever comes, every fortune may be conquered by endurance.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Son of Venus, whether the Fates will draw us on
or draw us back, let’s follow where they lead.
Whatever Fortune sends, we master it all
by bearing it all, we must!
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Goddess-born, let's follow where fate draws us, even if we backtrack. Come what may, we'll win out by endurance.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Wars, horrendous wars,
and the Tiber foaming with tides of blood, I see it all![Bella, horrida bella,
Et Thybrim multo spumantem sanguine cerno.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 86ff (6.86-87) [The Sybil] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Wars, horrid wars, I view -- a field of blood,
And Tiber rolling with a purple flood.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Wars, horrid wars, I foresee, and Tiber foaming with a deluge of blood.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
War, dreadful war, and Tiber flood
I see incarnadined with blood.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Dreadful war,
And Tiber frothed with blood, I see from far.
[tr. Cranch (1872), ll. 111-12]
Wars, grim wars I discern, and Tiber afoam with streams of blood.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Lo, war, war, dreadful war!
And Tiber bearing plenteous blood upon his foaming back.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Woes in store,
Wars, savage wars, I see, and Tiber foam with gore.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 13, ll. 116-17]
War, red war!
And Tiber stained with bloody foam I see.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Wars, grim wars I see, and Tiber foaming with streams of blood.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
War, I see,
Terrible war, and the river Tiber foaming
With streams of blood.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Wars, dreadful wars
I see, and Tiber foaming with torrents of human blood.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
I see wars, horrid wars, the Tiber foaming
with much blood.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 122-23]
Wars, vicious wars
I see ahead, and Tiber foaming blood.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 132-33]
I see wars, deadly wars, I see the Thybris foaming with torrents of blood.
[tr. West (1990)]
War, fierce war,
I see: and the Tiber foaming with much blood.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
War, I see horrible war, and the Tiber
Foaming with blood.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
I see brutal wars and bloody torrents frothing in the Tiber.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Yield not to evils, but the bolder thou
Persist, defiant of misfortune’s frown,
And take the path thy Destinies allow.[Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito
Quam tua te fortuna sinet.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 95ff (6.95-96) [The Sybil] (29-19 BC) [tr. Taylor (1907), st. 15, ll. 12]
(Source)
Stoic maxim. There is argument as to whether it should be quam or qua, leading to some variations in translating the second half of the quotation. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes,
The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Yield not under your sufferings, but encounter them with greater boldness than your fortune shall permit.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Yet still despond not, but proceed
Along the path where Fate may lead.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Yet yield not thou, but go more boldly on,
Where Fortune leads, till victory be won.
[tr. Cranch (1872), ll. 121-122]
Yield not thou to distresses, but all the bolder go forth to meet them, as thy fortune shall allow thee way.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
But thou, yield not to any ill, but set thy face, and wend
The bolder where thy fortune leads.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Oh! yield not to thy woe, but front it ever,
And follow boldly whither Fortune calls.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Yield not thou to ills, but go forth to face them more boldly than thy Fortune shall allow thee!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Do not yield to evil,
Attack, attack, more boldly even than fortune
Seems to permit.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
But never give way to those evils: face them all the more boldly,
Using what methods your luck allows you.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Do not relent before distress, but be
far bolder than your fortune would permit.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 132-33]
Never shrink from blows.
Boldly, more boldly where your luck allows,
Go forward, face them.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 143-45]
You must not give way to these adversities but must face them all the more boldly wherever your fortune allows it.
[tr. West (1990)]
Do not give way to misfortunes, meet them more bravely,
as your destiny allows.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Do not yield, but oppose your troubles
All the more boldly, as far as your fate
And fortune allow.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
But never bow to suffering, go and face it,
all the bolder, wherever Fortune clears the way.
[tr. Fagles (2006), ll. 113-14]
Don’t yield to evils, but go boldly forward
Where your fortune bids you.
[tr. @sentantiq (2018)]
Don't give up at these misfortunes. Be as brave as Fortune lets you.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
The gates of hell are open night and day;
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,
In this the task and mighty labor lies.[Facilis descensus Averno:
Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis;
Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,
Hoc opus, hic labor est.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 126ff (6.126-129) [The Sybil] (29-19 BC) [tr. Dryden (1697)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Easy is the path that leads down to hell; grim Pluto's gate stands open night and day: but to retrace one's steps, and escape to the upper regions, this is a work, this is a task.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
The journey down to the abyss
Is prosperous and light:
The palace-gates of gloomy Dis
Stand open day and night:
But upward to retrace the way
And pass into the light of day,
There comes the stress of labour; this
May task a hero's might.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Easy the way
Down to Avernus; night and day the gates
Of Dis stand open. But to retrace thy steps
And reach the upper air, -- here lies the task,
The difficulty here.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Easy is the descent into hell; all night and day the gate of dark Dis stands open; but to recall thy steps and issue to upper air, this is the task and burden.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Avernus' road is easy faring down;
All day and night is open wide the door of Dis the black;
But thence to gain the upper air, and win the footsteps back,
This is the deed, this is the toil.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Down to Avernus the descent is light,
The gate of Dis stands open day and night.
But upward thence thy journey to retrace,
There lies the labour; 'tis a task of might.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 19, l. 166ff]
The downward path to death
Is easy; all the livelong night and day
Dark Pluto's door stands open for a guest.
But O! remounting to the world of light,
This is a task indeed, a strife supreme.
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Easy is the descent to Avernus: night and day the door of gloomy Dis stands open; but to recall thy steps and pass out to the upper air, this is the task, this the toil!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
By night, by day, the portals of dark Dis
Stand open: it is easy, the descending
Down to Avernus. But to climb again,
To trace the footsteps back to the air above,
There lies the task, the toil.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
The way to Avernus is easy;
Night and day lie open the gates of death's dark kingdom:
But to retrace your steps, to find the way back to daylight --
That is the task, the hard thing.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Easy
the way that leads into Avernus: day
and night the door to darkest Dis is open.
But to recall your steps, to rise again
into the upper air; that is the labor;
that is the task.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 175ff]
The way downward is easy from Avernus.
Black Dis's door stands open night and day.
But to retrace your steps to heaven's air,
There is the trouble, there is the toil.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
It is easy to go down to the underworld. The door of black Dis stands open night and day. But to retrace your steps and escape to the upper air, that is the task, that is the labor.
[tr. West (1990)]
The path to hell is easy:
black Dis’s door is open night and day:
but to retrace your steps, and go out to the air above,
that is work, that is the task.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
The road down
To Avernus is easy. Day and night
The door to black Dis stands open.
But to retrace your steps and come out
To the upper air, this is the task,
The labor.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
The descent to the Underworld is easy.
Night and day the gates of shadowy Death stand open wide,
but to retrace your steps, to climb back to the upper air --
there the struggle, there the labor lies.
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 149ff]
It's easy to descend into Avernus
Night and day the door of dusky Dis lies open.
To trace your steps and see the light again:
here's the toil and effort.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
It is easy to go down into Hell;
Night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide;
But to climb back again, to retrace one's steps to the upper air --
There's the rub, the task.
[Source]
No longer dream that human prayer
The will of Fate can overbear.[Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando.]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 6, l. 176ff (6.176) [The Sybil] (29-19 BC) [tr. Conington (1866)]
(Source)
Speaking to dead Palinurus. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Cease to hope that the decrees of the gods are to be altered by prayers.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Cease to hope
By prayers to bend the destinies divine.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Cease to hope prayers may bend the decrees of heaven.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Hope not the Fates of very God to change by any prayer.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Hope not by prayer to bend the Fates' decree.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 51, l. 454]
Hope not by prayer to change the laws of Heaven!
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Cease to dream that heaven's decrees may be turned aside by prayer.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]
Give up the hope
That fate is changed by praying.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Give up this hope that the course of fate can be swerved by prayer.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Leave any hope that prayer can turn aside
the gods' decrees.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), ll. 495-96]
Abandon hope by prayer to make the gods
Change their decrees.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), ll. 506-7]
You must cease to hope that the Fates of the gods can be altered by prayers.
[tr. West (1990)]
Cease to hope that divine fate can be tempered by prayer.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Stop hoping that the gods' decrees
Can be bent with prayer.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Hope no more
the gods’ decrees can be brushed aside by prayer,
[tr. Fagles (2006), l. 428-29]
As if the gods' fates could be bent by prayer.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]