from the AENEID - Book VII, ll.1-24
Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro)tr. John Dryden
Tu quoque litoribus nostris, Aeneia nutrix,
aeternam moriens famam, Caieta, dedisti;
et nunc servat honos sedem tuus ossaque nomen
Hesperia in magna, siqua est ea gloria, signat.
At pius exsequiis Aeneas rite solutis,
aggere composito tumuli, postquam alta quierunt
aequora, tendit iter velis portumque relinquit.
Adspirant aurae in noctem nec candida cursus
Luna negat, splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus.
Proxima Circaeae raduntur litora terrae,
dives inaccessos ubi Solis filia lucos
adsiduo resonat cantu tectisque superbis
urit odoratam nocturna in lumina cedrum,
arguto tenuis percurrens pectine telas.
Hinc exaudiri gemitus iraeque leonum
vincla recusantum et sera sub nocte rudentum,
saetigerique sues atque in praesaepibus ursi
saevire ac formae magnorum ululare luporum,
quos hominum ex facie dea saeva potentibus herbis
induerat Circe in voltus ac terga ferarum.
Quae ne monstra pii paterentur talia Troes
delati in portus neu litora dira subirent,
Neptunus ventis implevit vela secundis
atque fugam dedit et praeter vada fervida vexit.
And thou, O Matron of Immortal Fame!
Here Dying, to the Shore hast left thy Name:
Cajeta still the place is call'd from thee,
The Nurse of great Eneas Infancy.
Here rest thy Bones in rich Hesperia's Plains,
Thy Name ('tis all a Ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the Prince her Fun'ral Rites had paid,
He plough'd the Tyrrhene Seas with Sails display'd.
From Land a gentle Breeze arose by Night,
Serenely shone the Stars, the Moon was bright,
And the Sea trembled with her Silver Light.
Now near the Shelves of Circe's Shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the Daughter of the Sun)
A dang'rous Coast: The Goddess wasts her Days
In joyous Songs, the Rocks resound her Lays:
In spinning, or the Loom, she spends the Night,
And Cedar Brands supply her Father's Light.
From hence were heard, (rebellowing to the Main,)
The Roars of Lyons that refuse the Chain,
The Grunts of Bristled Boars, and Groans of Bears,
And Herds of Howling Wolves that stun the Sailors Ears.
These from their Caverns, at the close of Night,
Fill the sad Isle with Horror and Affright.
Darkling they mourn their Fate, whom Circe's Pow'r
(That watch'd the Moon, and Planetary Hour)
With Words and wicked Herbs, from Human Kind
Had alter'd, and in Brutal Shapes confin'd.
With Monsters, lest the Trojans pious Host
Shou'd bear, or touch upon th' inchanted Coast;
Propitious Neptune steer'd their Course by Night,
With rising Gales, that sped their happy Flight.

Copyright © Frederick M.Keener 1997 - publ. Penguin Classics this book
translator's next