The Æneid of Virgil translated into English proseVirgil
General
The Æneid of Virgil translated into English prose
Virgil
Aeneas (Legendary character); Epic poetry, Latin -- Translations into English; Legends -- Rome
“Stretched before the Sicanian bay lies an island, over
against Plemyrium the billowy—former ages named it
Ortygia. Hither, the legend is, Alpheus, the river of 15
Elis, made himself a secret passage under the sea; and
he now, through thy mouth, Arethusa,[168] blends with the
waters of Sicily. Obedient to command, we worship
the mighty gods of the place; and from thence I pass the
over-rich soil of Helorus the marshy. Hence we skirt the 20
tall crags and jutting rocks of Pachynus, and Camarina is
seen in the distance,—Camarina, which the oracle gave
no man leave to disturb, and the plains of Gela, and Gela
itself, mighty city, called from the stream that laves it.
Next Acragas the craggy displays from afar its lofty 25
walls, one day the breeder of generous steeds. Thee,
too, I leave, by favour of the winds, palmy Selinus, and
pick my way through the sunk rocks that make Lilybæum’s
waters perilous. Hence Drepanum receives me,
with its haven and its joyless coast. Here, after so many 30
storms on the sea had done their worst, woe is me! I
lose him that had made every care and danger light, my
father, Anchises. Here, best of sires, you leave your son,
lone and weary, you, who had been snatched from those
fearful dangers, alas! in vain. Helenus, the seer, among 35
the thousand horrors he foretold, warned me not of
this agony; no, nor dread Celæno. This was my last
suffering, this the goal of my long journeyings. It
was on parting hence that Heaven drove me on your
coast.”
Thus father Æneas, alone, amid the hush of all around,
was recounting Heaven’s destined dealings, and telling of
his voyages; and now, at length, he was silent, made an 5
end, and took his rest.
BOOK IV
But the queen, pierced long since by love’s cruel shaft,
is feeding the wound with her life-blood, and wasting under
a hidden fire. Many times the hero’s own worth comes
back to her mind, many times the glory of his race; his
every look remains imprinted on her breast, and his every 5
word, nor will trouble let soothing sleep have access to
her frame.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account