The Aeneid. Публий Марон Вергилий

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground;

      Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep,

      Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.

      South, East, and West with mix’d confusion roar,

      And roll the foaming billows to the shore.

      The cables crack; the sailors’ fearful cries

      Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;

      And heav’n itself is ravish’d from their eyes.

      Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue;

      Then flashing fires the transient light renew;

      The face of things a frightful image bears,

      And present death in various forms appears.

      Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,

      With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief;

      And, “Thrice and four times happy those,” he cried,

      “That under Ilian walls before their parents died!

      Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train!

      Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,

      And lie by noble Hector on the plain,

      Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields

      Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields

      Of heroes, whose dismember’d hands yet bear

      The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!”

      Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,

      Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,

      And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise,

      And mount the tossing vessels to the skies:

      Nor can the shiv’ring oars sustain the blow;

      The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;

      While those astern, descending down the steep,

      Thro’ gaping waves behold the boiling deep.

      Three ships were hurried by the southern blast,

      And on the secret shelves with fury cast.

      Those hidden rocks th’ Ausonian sailors knew:

      They call’d them Altars, when they rose in view,

      And show’d their spacious backs above the flood.

      Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,

      Dash’d on the shallows of the moving sand,

      And in mid ocean left them moor’d aland.

      Orontes’ bark, that bore the Lycian crew,

      (A horrid sight!) ev’n in the hero’s view,

      From stem to stern by waves was overborne:

      The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn,

      Was headlong hurl’d; thrice round the ship was toss’d,

      Then bulg’d at once, and in the deep was lost;

      And here and there above the waves were seen

      Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men.

      The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,

      And suck’d thro’ loosen’d planks the rushing sea.

      Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old,

      Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,

      Endur’d not less; their ships, with gaping seams,

      Admit the deluge of the briny streams.

      Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound

      Of raging billows breaking on the ground.

      Displeas’d, and fearing for his wat’ry reign,

      He rear’d his awful head above the main,

      Serene in majesty; then roll’d his eyes

      Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.

      He saw the Trojan fleet dispers’d, distress’d,

      By stormy winds and wintry heav’n oppress’d.

      Full well the god his sister’s envy knew,

      And what her aims and what her arts pursue.

      He summon’d Eurus and the western blast,

      And first an angry glance on both he cast;

      Then thus rebuk’d: “Audacious winds! from whence

      This bold attempt, this rebel insolence?

      Is it for you to ravage seas and land,

      Unauthoriz’d by my supreme command?

      To raise such mountains on the troubled main?

      Whom I—but first ’t is fit the billows to restrain;

      And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign.

      Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear—

      The realms of ocean and the fields of air

      Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me

      The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea.

      His pow’r to hollow caverns is confin’d:

      There let him reign, the jailer of the wind,

      With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call,

      And boast and bluster in his empty hall.”

      He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth’d the sea,

      Dispell’d the darkness, and restor’d the day.

      Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train

      Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main,

      Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands:

      The СКАЧАТЬ