and heard thee murmur tales of iron wars

Then to Phoebus and Trivia will I set up a temple of solid marble, and festal days in Phoebus’ name. And you, most holy prophetess, who foreknow the future, grant – I ask no realm unpledged by my fate – that the Teucrians may rest in Latium, with the wandering gods and storm-tossed powers of Troy. A chill shudder ran through the Teucrians’ sturdy frames, and their king pours forth prayers from his inmost heart: “Phoebus, who never failed to pity Troy’s sore agony, who guided the Dardan shaft and hand of Paris against the body of Aeacus’ son, under your guidance did I enter so many seas, skirting mighty lands, the far remote Massylian tribes, and fields the Syrtes fringe now at last is Italy’s ever receding shore within our grasp thus far only may Troy’s fortune have followed us! You, too, many now fitly spare the race of Pergamus, you gods and goddesses all, to whom Troy and Dardania’s great glory were an offence. “Are you slow, Trojan Aeneas? For till then the mighty mouths of the awestruck house will not gape open.” So she spoke and was mute. “Are you slow to vow and to pray?” she cries. They had come to the threshold, when the maiden cries: “Tis time to ask the oracles the god, lo! the god!” As thus she spoke before the doors, suddenly not countenance nor colour was the same, nor stayed her tresses braided but her bosom heaves, her heart swells with wild frenzy, and she is taller to behold, nor has her voice a mortal ring, since now she feels the nearer breath of deity.

The huge side of the Euboean rock is hew into a cavern, into which lead a hundred wide mouths, a hundred gateways, from which rush as many voices, the answers of the Sibyl.

Ay, and all the tale throughout would their eyes have scanned, but now came Achates from his errand, and with him the priestess of Phoebus and Trivia, Deiphobe, daughter of Glaucus, who addressed the king: “Not sights like these does this hour demand! Now it were better to sacrifice seven bullocks from the unbroken herd, and as many ewes fitly chosen.” Having thus addressed Aeneas – and not slow are the men to do her sacred bidding – the priestess calls the Teucrians into the lofty fane. You, too, Icarus, would have large share in such a work, did grief permit: twice had he essayed to fashion your fall in gold twice sank the father’s hands. Opposite, rising from the sea, the Cretan land faces this here is the cruel love of the bull, Pasiphaë craftily mated, and the mongrel breed of the Minotaur, a hybrid offspring, record of a monstrous love there that house of toil, a maze inextricable but Daedalus pitying the princess’s great love, himself unwound the deceptive tangle of the palace, guiding blind feet with the thread. On the doors is the death of Androgeos then the children of Cecrops, bidden, alas, to pay as yearly tribute seven living sons there stands the urn, the lots now drawn. Here first restored to earth, he dedicated to thee, Phoebus, the orange of his wings and built a vast temple. Daedalus, it is said, when fleeing from Minos’ realm, dared on swift wings to trust himself to the sky on his unwonted way he floated forth towards the cold North, and at last stood lightly poised above the Chalcidian hill. Now they pass under the grove of Trivia and the roof of gold. But loyal Aeneas seeks the heights, where Apollo sits enthroned, and a vast cavern hard by, hidden haunt of the dread Sibyl, into whom the Delian seer breathes a mighty mind and soul, revealing the future.

In hot haste the youthful band leaps forth on the Hesperian shore some seek the seeds of flame hidden in veins of flint, some despoil the woods, the thick coverts of game, and point to new-found streams. They turn the prows seaward, then with the grip of anchors’ teeth made fast the ships, and the round keels fringe the beach. Thus he cries weeping, and gives his fleet the reins, and at last glides up to the shores of Euboean Cumae. BOOKS 7 - 12 AENEID BOOK 6, TRANSLATED BY H.

And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars