維吉爾集句聖史詩 第 1 章

Leader of Romulus' sons, second light of the bright sun, you who rule the eastern realms with just governance, hope of the world and glory of your brother: deign with divine perception to recognize a Maro changed for the better, whom you had bidden be written for your servant. He will set forth for you the beginning of the world and the form of the sky and man created from clay; he will bring forth the birth of Christ, the king's snares, the gifts of the Magi, the learned disciples and the threats of the deep and the walking over the sea; he will tell of the servile yoke broken and life brought back by the aid of a single cross, and the return of buried death and the ascension likewise of Him who seeks His own realms. Read these and keep them long and hand them down to the younger Arcadius; let him receive these for his own seed, and may your august line ever receive and teach them to its own.

Long since I confess I have written how leaders profaned the holy covenants of peace — wretched men whom a dire lust for ruling held — and of diverse slaughters, of the cruel wars of kings and kindred battle-lines, of distinguished shields polluted by the murder of kinsmen and trophies won from no enemy, of triumphs which fame had borne sprinkled with blood, of cities so often widowed of countless citizens: I confess, I have written it. It is enough to have remembered evils: now, almighty God, I pray, receive this sacred song, and loosen the mouths of Your eternal sevenfold Spirit, and unbar the inner chambers of my heart, that I, Proba, may be able to relate all the secret things of the bard.

It is not now my care to seek the ambrosial nectar, nor does it please me to lead the Muses down from the Aonian peak; let no empty error persuade me that the rocks speak, nor to follow the laurel-bearing tripods and vain vows and the wrangling gods of the chiefs and the conquered household gods: for there is no labour in extending fame with words and seeking out scant praise by the zeal of men. But, dripping with the Castalian fount, having imitated the blessed ones, I who, thirsting, have drunk the libations of the holy light — from this I shall begin to sing. Be present, O God, lift up my mind; I shall tell that Virgil sang the holy gifts of Christ.

Repeating nothing obscure, I shall proceed from the beginning, claiming it for no one's secret: if there is any faith in my soul, if a mind poured through my limbs sets the mass in motion, and a spirit mingles itself through the whole body—so far as no harmful bodies hinder me, nor earthly frames and dying limbs dull my powers. O Father, O eternal power over men and over all things, grant me an easy course, and glide down into our spirits; and you, be present, and run through together with me the labor I have begun—O Son, strength of the most high Father and of heavenly origin, whom we, the first, worship, and to whom we renew the honors he has merited, now a new offspring, in whom every age has believed. For I remember, as I turn over the records of the men of old, that before all others the Muse-poet sang throughout your world what things are, what have been, and what shall presently be drawn into being.

...all things, and the tender orb of the world itself coalesced. Happy was he who could come to know the causes of things—whence comes the race of men and beasts and of living things that fly, and what monsters the sea bears beneath its marble surface, and likewise the liquid fire and the moving moisture of heaven. Not otherwise, I would believe, did the days shine forth at the first dawning of the growing world, or hold any other course. A greater order of things is born for me, if any age can lend belief to so great a work. For—I will confess it—I always used to sing the spectacles of trivial things: horses and the arms of men and battles, and in vain I wished to ply my labor with such zeal. But to one trying all things, the better resolve seemed this: to lay open lofty matters, sunk in the earth and in darkness.

And day by day my mind has long been stirring to undertake some great thing, nor is it content with placid rest. Give heed, all of you, and turn glad minds hither—mothers and men, boys and unwed maidens. In the beginning the Father himself established heaven and earth and the flowing plains, the gleaming orb of the moon and the labors of the sun—and you, O most glorious lights of the world, who lead the gliding year through the sky. For there were as yet no fires of the stars nor any shining ether, but black night, borne up by its two-horse car, held the firmament, and chaos stretched headlong toward the shadows as far as is the upward gaze to the ethereal Olympus of heaven.

Then the almighty Father, in whose hands is the supreme power over all things, parted the dark air and dispelled the shadows, and now divided the middle world between light and darkness. He marks all the stars gliding through the silent heaven, turning his intent eyes upon them—in what region they bore the southern heats, and which backs they turned toward the pole. After the Almighty saw that all things stood firm beneath a serene sky, he made numbers and names for the stars, and made the year equal to the four diverse seasons—the heats and the rains and the winds that drive the cold. And that we might learn these things by sure signs: in spring the lands swell and demand the generative seeds; in the midday heat the threshing-floor grinds the parched grain; autumn lays down its varied fruits; and dark winter comes; the Sicyonian olive-berry is crushed in the presses.

And the year rolls back upon itself along its own tracks. From that time the great ether, mingled with the great body of earth by fruitful showers, nourishes its offspring. And now Dawn, with the stars put to flight, was scattering the lands with new light and bringing on the day. Then the soil began to harden and to shut Nereus off in the deep, and little by little to take on the forms of things; and the varied shapes of the sea—the huge sea-monsters—swept the waters with their tails and cut the swell. And likewise round about, the watery race of the vast deep, now that the sun was poured in and things were uncovered by light, exulting, scatters far the bitter brine. And now the next day was rising at the first dawn. The ground pours forth flowers and unfolds all its leaves, and the untilled thickets grow red with blood-red berries—subject neither to the rake nor to any care of men.

The third light had driven the chill shadow from the sky. Then the pathless coppices resound with melodious birds, and the ravens give forth their liquid voices from a pressed throat, nor did the turtle-dove cease to moan from the airy elm. On the fourth day the earth brings forth the wonders of varied wild beasts and every kind of cattle through the grass, with no keeper, suddenly out of the woods—a marvel to behold. Then at last the lion stirs his weapons, then the most savage tigress and the scaly serpent and the tawny-necked lioness rage, and the shapes of great wolves howl. The other herds graze through the green grass, and neither liquid springs nor pastures are lacking to the flocks.

And now day after day went on, and the Begetter, looking upon all this work of his divine mind and inspiration, when all things had been completed in order, cannot fill his mind, and burns with gazing upon the lands and the tracts of the sea and the deep heaven, the race of birds and of cattle—and he ponders within himself who might hold the sea, who the lands, under their full sovereignty, lest the earth lie idle. It pleases him to linger on. As he turns such things over, suddenly a resolve settled upon him, and he draws the fertile clay and shapes by pressing the rich soil, straightway from the first months of the year. And now unforeseen, an image of such great devotion comes forth—a new form of man, most beautiful at the first, in face and shoulders like to God; in him a greater god sets mind and spirit in motion and sends him on to greater works.

A companion is sought for him; nor does anyone out of so great a throng dare to approach the man and be called his fellow in the realm. Without delay, straightway the Almighty Begetter gives the youth placid quiet through his limbs and lowers his eyes in sweet sleep. And while he lay in the midst of dark night, the Almighty Begetter lays bare his ribs and inward parts. One of these, from the tight-joined framework of his sides, he took from the youth, and suddenly there arises a marvelous gift—a mighty token—and shining in the clear light there appeared, distinguished in face and with fair breast, a maiden, now ripe for a husband, now of full years for marriage. A vast dread breaks his sleep; he calls his bones and limbs a wedlock, and, stupefied by the divine power, he pressed and took her hand, and embracing her right hand he clung to it. When at last these things were accomplished, he who turns the stars of the world...

He begins to speak: as he speaks, the sea presses its calm waters smooth, and the earth trembles at its base, and the lofty ether falls silent: 'Live happy, amid the gleaming tilled fields, the seats of the blessed in the groves of the fortunate. This is your home, this your fatherland, this is the sure rest from your toils. To these things I set neither bounds nor times: I have given dominion without end. And through many years the soil will suffer no rake, the vine no pruning-hook. But the immortal race remains, nor does slow old age weaken the strength of the mind or change its vigor. You, on the other hand, give heed in your minds to what I shall say. There is in your sight a tree with fruitful branches, which it is right for no one to fell by fire or by sword, which by sacred religion may never be disturbed.

Whoever shall pluck the sacred fruits from this tree shall pay with a deserved death: nor does my resolve change. Let no author, however prudent, persuade you to defile your hands—let it be permitted to warn you by my voice—O woman, nor let the violence of anyone overcome you, if a glory worthy of you awaits you in this divine domain.' After the Father, whom the stars of heaven obey, had set all things in order and given laws, he shows from above the gleaming fields—the glory of so great a work. But behold, beneath the threshold and rising of the first sun, they came down to places where soft marjoram enfolds them with its flowers and with a sweet, breathing shade.

Here is purple spring and summer in months not its own; here are liquid springs; here, at heaven's appointed season, sweet honey is pressed; here the white poplar overhangs the grotto, and the pliant vines weave shady bowers. The gardens invite, breathing with saffron flowers, amid the fragrant grove of laurel, and the very earth, unbidden, bore all things more freely with no one demanding. Happy both, if only the mind of the unspeakable spouse had not been perverse: a great catastrophe taught it afterward. And now the unspeakable day was at hand:

Behold, through the flowery fields the fierce enemy, a serpent with vast coils, immense, twisting its seven huge spirals, its sevenfold folds, neither easy to look upon nor pleasant for anyone to speak with, hung with crooked envy from a leafy bough, breathing a viperous breath, in whose heart were grim wars and angers and ambushes and noxious crimes. The Father himself hates him: he turns himself into so many faces and bristles with erect scales; and, lest he leave any wickedness or guile unattempted or unessayed, thus he approaches her first with words and offered himself unbidden: 'Tell me,' he says, 'O maiden—we dwell in the shadowy light and inhabit the banks' couches and meadows fresh with streams—what so great a sloth has come upon your spirit? Everywhere the fruits lie strewn, each beneath its own tree; the liquid springs are your cups:

To touch the heavenly gifts is forbidden: this one thing alone was wanting to your state. What prevents you from probing deeply the hidden causes? An empty superstition. The other part of things has been taken away from you. To what end did he give you eternal life? Why has the condition of death been taken away? If you do not think my words idle, I am the author of daring to loose the consecrated laws. You are the wife; for you it is right to try his mind by entreaty. I will be your leader: if your will toward me is sure, let us build couches and feast on the rich banquet.' Thus he speaks, and quicker than the word, they place beneath the feast that wood which is held by the law, once venerable, and they set out the banquet and defile all things by their touch.

Above all the unhappy woman, doomed to the coming plague, marveling at the strange leaves and the fruit not her own, the cause of so great an evil, touched it only with the edge of her lips. Having attempted a greater sin and begun a greater madness—alas, the wretched spouse—she casts a shoot from the forbidden tree before him, and stirred his spirit with sudden sweetness. At once a new light shone forth to their eyes; but they were terrified at the sudden sight, nor delaying longer, they shade their bodies beneath the branches with a screen of foliage—an interwoven covering; nor was any hope of help given them. But the Discoverer of men and things, watching with no inattentive eyes, foresensed these slaughters and the deeds of the tyrant, and knew well, raging, what a woman could do. Straightway he comes upon them: 'Far off, O far off be ye profane!' he cries aloud—he who establishes heaven and earth by his power.

And when they saw him advancing from afar and roaring dread things, turned about in fear and rushing backward they scatter and seek the woods, and wherever there are hollow rocks they stealthily make for them. They are weary of their undertaking and of the light, nor do they look on the breezes: it irks them to gaze upon the vault of heaven. Nor was there long a space between, when, frequent at their ears, there seemed to be the sound of feet drawing near, and the Begetter through the breezes—him, when he scarcely recognized the mourner in the deep shadow, he addresses with such words and chides unbidden: 'Unhappy one, what great madness has seized your mind? What strange frenzy is this? Whither now, whither do you tend,' he says, 'forgetful of the realms—what insanity changes your mind? Tell me, what longing for the light, so dire, has come upon you wretches? Hasten your flight and depart from the whole grove:

Nor is it permitted to recall your step, should adversity ever summon you; a river of torrential flames hisses round about through the midst, and rolls the resounding rocks and casts up globes of flame and licks the stars.' He, in answer to this: 'Your image, O Begetter, your sorrowful image set me in these places: I have deserved it, nor do I plead against it,' he says, 'Almighty One; and I tremble at the sound of feet and at your voice, conscious of a daring deed: and by sinister counsels the woman bears bitter juices and a lingering taste. She, turning treacheries and dread wickedness in her breast, has destroyed the innocent and unwary by an unspeakable disclosure—a girl doomed to die, while she rages, has slain the unguarded by a cruel death; for she urged it, you yourself know, nor can anyone deceive you.

As soon as I saw, as soon as I perished, as soon as the evil error swept me away, we touched with our hand what no tree of its own sows.' Then the almighty Father from his high throne thus begins: 'Receive, then, in your minds and fix these my words: and you first, more monstrous in crime than all others, whom no length of days nor any piety softens, inciter of crimes, serpent, fed on evil herbs, dragging your broad belly in inglorious sloth—depart from these places, with no men compelling you, you yourself, where the soil is thin clay and the gravel of the bushy fields.' 'But to you, for your crime,' he cries, 'for such daring deeds, all time is worn away with iron; and you first, by craft, alas pitiable youth, shall harry the earth with rakes and shall terrify the birds with noise:

The thistle will bristle in the fields, and the briar will rise with sharp thorns, and burrs and caltrops and the deceitful weed of poison. But if you work the ground for a harvest of wheat and sturdy spelt, in vain will you look upon the heap, and you will console your hunger in the woods with the shaken oak. Besides these, diseases steal in, and sorrowful old age, and toil, and the harshness of unrelenting death snatches you away. These things shall always be yours; and you, O most savage spouse, not unaware of the evil, the head and cause of these evils, a great plague committed against you: alas, lost one, you do not know, nor do you discern what perils then stand around you. Now die, as you have deserved, since you sought it with your whole mind: nor does my resolve, now moved, give way from its place.' But savage horror first stood round about the youth:

His eyes grew rigid, nor could he hide himself any longer in the shadows or hear and return familiar voices. Without delay, ordered, they hasten and are borne along with rapid steps, and going equally through the dark ways they seize the middle space and leave the threshold, weeping, and with equal cares plant their footsteps. Then for their food in the woods the branches give them berries and stony cornel-cherries, and the herbs feed them with plucked roots. Meanwhile the sun rolls round the great year: ten months brought their long weariness to the mother, whence men were born, a hard race. Then by craft either the herbs appear in the field or the leaves on the tree, and the grasses dare to entrust themselves safely to the new suns; and they begin to lower the grape on the pliant branches and teach it to grow into the moist bark.

Then, the twin brothers—while they kindle the altars with torches—the one envied the other for the honor preferred to him—I shudder to relate—he receives his unwary kinsman near in blood and slays him by the ancestral altars, the very fire which he himself had consecrated befouling with blood. Then the Begetter added venom to the black serpents and shook honey from the leaves and took fire away, and bade the wolves to plunder and the sea to be stirred, and everywhere checked the wine that ran in streams. Soon, too, toil was added to the grain, that the evil mildew should consume the stalks, and the sickly crop should deny sustenance.

Then it was found out to catch wild beasts in snares and to deceive them with birdlime; and hard need, pressing in difficult circumstances, set the fields in motion, sharpening mortal hearts with cares—until little by little a worse and tarnished age, an iron progeny, raised its head from the hard fields, and the madness of war and the love of possessing succeeded. Justice, departing, left her traces upon the lands. Nor was there long a space between: frenzy and anger hurl down the mind; they rejoice drenched in the blood of brothers. One man heaps up riches and broods over the buried gold, nor did he grieve in pity for the needy man, nor stretch out his right hand. Then the almighty Father, gravely moved, sends himself down from the high ether: he pours out the earth, mingling the lands with the flood, and dissolves heaven into Tartarus. He levels the fields, levels the glad crops and the labors of the oxen, and washes them away:

The ditches are filled and the hollow rivers swell: and he gave to death every kind of cattle, every kind of wild beast. Then one heavy with piety and merits—wondrous to tell—who was upon the earth and most observant of right, he snatched from death, as so great waves rose, that he might have whence the race of a new stock could be recalled. After that Flood, the Almighty gives laws to the fathers, summoned: they pass their age under great laws. Why should I recall the unspeakable slaughters, why the deeds of the tyrant and the hearts that knew not how to grow gentle at human prayers?

Egypt and the strength of the East and the farthest wars and the great-souled leaders and, in order, the whole of a nation—by what course it sought the desert, both the tribes and the great race of men, never at any time unmindful of so great a power; and the chaste priests beside the altars, and the pious prophets who rushed forth for liberty, the kings stirred up by war, what battle-lines filled the plains by the Red Sea, with what arms the king blazed—a noble race—as a great frenzy inflamed him, leading a column of horsemen and squadrons flowering with bronze? The rest of the deeds of the fathers and the wars fought in order I pass by, and leave to others to be commemorated after me. Now I return to you and your great counsels, Father. A greater work I set in motion:

I approach the predictions of the prophets of old, although the boundary of a narrow span of life receives me; the way must be attempted by which I too may be able to lift myself from the ground and bear my name through fame for so many years—because your offspring came down from heaven on high and brought to us also, when we at last desired it, an age of help and the coming of God, when first a woman, bearing the face and garb of a virgin—wondrous to tell—brought forth a boy neither of our race nor of our blood, and late the prophets sang the omens of the terrifying one: that a man was drawing near, proud over peoples and lands, from an ethereal seed, who by his strength would take possession of the world. And now the promised day was at hand, at which time first the origin of the divine stock raised up its sacred face, sent to rule, and power came in a body, mingled with God:

The image of the dear Begetter came beneath. Without delay, straightway in a serene region of heaven, a star, leading its torch, ran on with much light. The nobles recognized God, and suddenly heap him with all gifts and adore the holy star. Then indeed the faith was made manifest, and the famous name of the paternal power; and they themselves recognized the countenance and the signs of the divine beauty of the blazing God. Forthwith rumor flies to the king with the great fervor of those rushing, and with great reports sharpens his angers and inflames his spirit, and glides to the mother's ears. She, not ignorant of affairs, foresensed the treacheries and dread wickedness, and first received the coming commotions. Foreknowing of what was to come, she had stealthily entrusted him to be nourished, while doubtful cares were upon her, while her mind seethed with anger.

But the troubled king bids that the stock and all the future race be cast down headlong and burned with fires set beneath, pondering many things, and that men be sent who would bring back sure reports. They do no otherwise than ordered, and are borne along with rapid steps, and fill the city with great terrors. Continually voices were heard, wailings and a great cry, and the weeping souls of infants: before the faces of their parents the bodies of their children are laid low on the very threshold. But the mother, terrified—not in vain—by so great a groaning, herself carrying him in her bosom before her, in the disordered tumult, fleeing with the infant, returns him to the full mangers. Here she nourished her son beneath the gables of the narrow dwelling, pressing her breasts to his tender lips.

Here for you, O boy, the first cradle shall pour forth flowers, and the earth, mingled here and there with smiling baccaris, shall pour forth the colocasia gently with soft acanthus. And now there was an end, the cycle of time being completed. As soon as the frenzy ceased and the raging mouths grew quiet, the heavenly Origin, bearing a spirit beyond his years, walks through the midst of cities and the neighboring peoples. All the youth, poured out from houses and fields, with astonished minds, gaping, gaze upon him as he goes, and the throng of mothers marvels: 'What spirit is in him, what countenance and sound of voice, or what gait as he walks!' Straightway the prophet—for he is the most certain witness—as soon as he saw the secluded one from afar by the cool stream, says, 'It is the time: behold God, God, in whom is the greatest faithfulness of things and of words.

You now shall be the second after him, fortunate boy, whom the stars of heaven obey. Thus indeed I led on in my mind and thought it would be: long awaited you come, the hope and solace of us.' When he had spoken these words, he received him as he came, to plunge him in the wholesome river, and lifted him out on the soft waves; and the shallows exult, and suddenly a dove, stirred, flies down and stood above his head. Then suddenly it skims the liquid path, swift, nor does it move its wings. Hither all the throng, poured out to the banks, rushed eagerly to pour generous dews upon his shoulders. Then the Begetter addresses his Son with friendly words: 'O Son, my strength, my great power, alone and surpassingly sweet glory, destined to return great to your parent—from you is the beginning, in you it shall end. Receive this, I attest, O my offspring:

Wherever the sun, running back, looks upon either Ocean, you, glad with honor accomplished, shall see all things turned and ruled beneath your feet. You shall rule the peoples with your sway, mothers and men; the spirits long since slothful and the hearts grown unaccustomed and ignorant of the way—the idle ones—pitying them with me, approach, and even now grow accustomed to be called by vows.' He had spoken: the other was preparing to obey the command of his great Father, pressing on to the work and to the realms to come. Alas, piety! Alas, ancient faith! What thanks shall I begin to tell, if it is permitted to compare small things with great? No hope was now left me of seeing my ancient fatherland, no hope of liberty, no care for safety.

Here he first gave me an answer when I sought it, took away the ingrained stain and left a pure, ethereal sense, and sent me back into my own realms. Him would I follow through flames, were I an exile in the Syrtes, through varied chances, through a thousand pursuing weapons—wherever things shall fall out—I would serve him alone for so great a name, and would build altars with his own gifts. At his coming, in tribute of such great praises, the unshorn mountains themselves cast their joyful voices to the stars: all the valleys answer. At no other time—a great and memorable name—it is necessary to remember the serpent's raging evil. He even dared—the report is dimmer with the years—to accost the man and demand the causes of his coming.

When the serpent saw him stretching forward against it through the grass, it halted and roared fierce, and, wounded, addresses the powerful Lord with haughty voice: 'Is it a true form you bring me, a true messenger? What is your race? Whence is your home, you who tend toward our thresholds? Come, tell me why you come; for they say that you give laws. Or who has bidden you, most confident of youths, to approach our houses and to impose order on the peace? Indeed I do not envy you, I rather marvel: receive, moreover, what I am in doubt about and what resolve now rises in my mind. There is a lofty house: call the zephyrs and glide on wings, seeking the high roofs, having dared to entrust yourself to heaven—if only he whom you mention is your father, whom the stars obey.'

Smiling at him with calm breast, he speaks—not ignorant of the prophets, nor unaware of the age to come: 'Did you even hope to dissemble, treacherous serpent? Do not doubt; for you see true things. Choose to follow the lofty stars on wings, and to hide yourself, shut up in the hollow earth. Whither, doomed to perish, do you rush, and dare things greater than your strength? Yield to God, cast down with your whole body on the earth.' No more than this: the serpent, marveling at the venerable gift, presses its forehead to the earth and drives bloody foam from its mouth, and content with flight, mingled itself with the blind shadows. Meanwhile, flying through the great cities, rumor goes. The men assembled: in all there was one mind—to follow into whatever lands he might wish to lead them across the sea.

Many besides, whom obscure report conceals, run together with dense roaring and crowd thronging and exult in their minds; for the largest throng holds him in the midst and looks up to him as he stands forth, towering with high shoulders. After they had come into the high mountains, the eternal Power was giving rights and laws to the men—the secrets of the Father—and gave hope to their doubting mind and loosed their cares. Behold, he beholds others, thronging on right and left. When he saw them crowded close, daring to enter into battles, he begins and breathes a divine love through his words: 'Learn justice, being warned; succor the weary, each man for himself, O men, as each has the means, gladly, and call upon the common God. Let us follow better things; and where he also calls, let us turn our way.

The first way of salvation is unstained faith and a mind conscious to itself of right. For you rest is gained, the cycle of time being completed. For those who alone have brooded over riches once found and laid not a portion aside for their own while life remained, or who struck a parent, or knit fraud upon a client—then, when cold death has parted the soul from the limbs, these, shut in, await their punishment (this is the greatest throng), and they stir up from the infernal darkness and pay the penalties of their old evils. For some the deep-dyed crime is washed out beneath a vast whirlpool, or burned out by fire. Here a turbid whirlpool seethes with mire and a vast abyss, and belches sand from the bottom of the pit. Hence are heard groans, and savage lashes resound, then the screech of iron and of dragged chains, and ever the shadows thicken, overspread with night.

Besides, give heed in your minds to what I shall say. I will not hear hereafter that you, after the manner of the fathers, with slain bullocks, by the religion of your forefathers, tend to images and temples made of trunks and oak or by mortal hand: and, repeating these things, again and again I shall warn you. But to have perished once is enough; and it will profit more to remember the Son and the Father, if it is worthy to be believed. But meanwhile time flees, flees irretrievably, and the day of flames and a hostile force draws near.' They clung with astonished minds; nor delaying further, here he sings another, greater judgment for wretched, ailing mortals—and he proclaims dread angers—that it will come for destruction, and, all things shattered in vast ruin, then all alike shall be mingled with the ruddy fire, and the stars wandering from the pole, and the ruin of heaven.

Then indeed, with hearts made to tremble, a strange dread steals into all through their breasts, and in silence they saw the things to come. While he warned many horrors concerning this coming, a boy, just marking his unshorn chin with first youth, rich in resources, flourishing in the pursuits of an inglorious leisure—five flocks of bleating sheep were his, five herds returned, and he loaded his tables with unbought feasts—straightway, eager, stretched out both his palms, and embracing his knees thus spoke with friendly mouth: 'O glory, O deservedly the greatest part of our fame, to you I flee and a suppliant I beg your divine power. I have anticipated all things and gone through them beforehand with myself in my mind. Snatch me, O unconquered one, from these evils. What at last remains, or what could I, following, overcome such great labors? Receive and give a pledge of faith:

It is right for me to undertake your commands.' And to him the hero gave answer thus in few words: 'O youth surpassing in spirit, cease from entreating, nor let it grieve you: nothing, O friend, has been left undone for you. This too I will add to these, if your will toward me is sure: learn, boy, to despise riches and to fashion yourself also worthy of God, and you shall be able to know what virtue is. Give your right hand to the wretched, and let not brother forsake brother. If he hastens to be joined in fellowship, join him willingly. Let the chaste house preserve its modesty. Come, break off your slothful delays, and come, not harsh toward needy circumstances.' He had spoken these things. The other, at the word, turned his steps, more sorrowful, lifting his pale face in wondrous ways, groaning much, and turned and bore himself away from sight. Then, when first there was confidence in the sea,

the companions lead out the ships through the tranquil deeps, and by the master's craft here one beats with a casting-net the wide stream, seeking the deep, and there another drags wet lines through the sea. After the ships held the deep and no more lands at all met them, the ether flashes with frequent fires, the clouds suddenly snatch away sky and day, the winds rise together and lift the waves to the stars. But for the companions the chill blood grew rigid with sudden terror: their spirits fell, and all at once they gazed weeping upon the sea—every voice failed them—doubting between hope and fear, whether they should believe they lived or were suffering their last, by the slight margin of death—such things as sailors suffer many on the deep sea.

Behold, God—he in whose hands is the supreme power—perceived that the sea was being stirred with a great roar and that a storm had been let loose. Equal to the light winds and swifter than the wings of the lightning, he makes for the downward seas and runs down over the open deep: nor does he stand far off in his course, the keel going before him. From afar the companions, stripped, recognize the King and his powerful right hand, and with a great shout they salute him. After he touched the high billows and came to the waters, that indeed was a thing dreadful and marvelous to behold: the waves subside, that there might be no struggle for the oar, and he puts to flight the gathered clouds and walks across the sea. Now he had not yet dipped his lofty sides in mid-wave; but advancing through the very midst of his companions in the ship, he himself takes the helm as steersman, himself as master.

The mast trembled, the boat groaned beneath the weight, the sails fall, and God sat down in the high stern: and at last, glad, they are turned toward the familiar sands. Then too the slow driver of the little ass sat upon it, shining forth from a cloud: round whom very many mothers and men and boys cast the familiar garments beneath, and rejoice to touch the rope with their hand. And now they were drawing near to the gates, and he enters the ancient temple, lofty with a hundred columns of old cedar, in the midst with a great accompanying throng. To them this was a temple dreadful with woods, this their council-hall, these their sacred seats, which they cherished with wondrous honor. For while, beneath the vast temple, he surveys each thing one by one, he shudders at the sudden sight, and sounded out with a scourge and signals with his hand, and at the same time thunders with mighty mouth:

'What faces of crime are these, what flashing standards of Caesar do I behold, and his name? What madness changes the mind? These are our own proper seats; here, at a fixed time, we are wont, through unbroken ages of the fathers, to gather at the tables.' They were stunned in spirit, and a cold tremor ran through the depths of their bones, and in fear they left the tables set before them. Meanwhile, as Olympus sloped down, the Evening Star drew nearer. Then with food they call back their strength, and reclining upon the grass they load the tables with banquets and set out the cups. After the first rest from feasting, and the tables had been removed, He Himself, foremost among the first, renews honours to the Father, looking up to heaven. Then silence fell upon their tongues. He gives into their hands the fruits and sweet waters from the springs, and He filled the bowl with wine, and teaches them the rites of the sacred things, and mingles prayers, and speaks such words as these:

'Hear, O nobles,' He said, 'and learn your hope. No one from this number shall depart from me ungifted, and by the Father's promises,' He said, 'your sure rewards await you, my children, and no one stirs from his rank for the palm. And when tomorrow's light first restores itself to the lands, there shall be but one against me and against the destruction of my own, while he offers himself in the midst for our body's sake unto peace. And now the day, unless I am mistaken, is at hand. Set aside your cares. That toil shall be with me, nor does my resolve deceive me: one life shall be given for the many.' Having thus spoken, He fell silent and granted late rest through His limbs. Meanwhile rising Dawn left the Ocean. And now the priests fill the places far and wide with lamentations, together with the people and the fathers, and a murmur is borne through the throngs.

What race of men is this, what land so barbarous permits this custom? Gathered from every side they demand punishment with blood, and with a great shout they pursue the innocent one, and the ignoble crowd rages in its passions. The fiery Sun had climbed the mid-orb of heaven, when suddenly all, both people and fathers, demand that He be summoned, and bid Him speak: of what blood He was sprung, what He seeks, what He Himself brings. As they behold the glorious deeds of the man, grief mingled with stupor presses the sluggish — the mind of men knows nothing — and they vie to mock the captive. Then indeed, snatching up weapons, they rush together from every side.

A shout is raised to heaven, and all at once they seized the sacred figure, and with bloody hands set up a huge oak, its branches lopped on every side, and bind Him to it with mighty coils, and they stretched out His hands, His feet bound to one another — a grim service — and the rest of the youth follow them, all having dared a monstrous crime, and having made good their daring. But He, undaunted, said, 'Why do you bind these fetters? Has so great a confidence in your race held you? Hereafter you shall not atone for what you have done with a like penalty.' Such things He persisted in declaring, and remained fixed. Meanwhile the sky begins to be confounded with a great roar, and black night took the colour from things, and the impious ages feared an eternal night.

The earth trembles, the wild beasts flee, and lowly terror lays low the hearts of mortals throughout the nations: then suddenly the earth gives forth a groan, and all heaven thunders with crashing. At once, stirred from the deepest seats of Erebus, the thin shades came forth. The earth too and the waters of the sea gave signs: the rivers stand still, and the lands gape open. Nay, the very houses were stunned, and the inmost Tartarus of Death and the shadowy caverns lay open within. The Sun also, even as it rose — all confess they know it — then veiled its shining head in dark, rusty gloom. The companions scatter and are covered by murky night, and revolve many hard things in their sad hearts. What should they do? His face and words cling fixed in their breast, nor does care grant peaceful rest to their limbs.

Then the elder, pondering much, uttered such words from his heart: 'Where now for us is that God our Master? Whom do we follow? Or whither do you bid us go, where to set our seats? O grief and glory, glory of so great deeds! Now, now there is no delay: snatch us also along with you into all things — we pray — and do not withdraw yourself from our sight.' Amid these stirrings, in the midst of such words, the third light had driven the cold shade from heaven; and now, retracing its step, it was coming to the upper airs, when suddenly before their eyes was a tomb of vast mass, where the lifeless body had been laid — neither the barriers nor the guards themselves can endure it — and they see rocks torn from rocks, with the close-fitting joints of the sides loosened. A sound arises: the earth was shaken with mighty weight.

Terror everywhere upon the mind, and the very silence itself dismays. But lo, the first songs of the birds beneath the rooftop: He comes forth, leaving the cave, and proud of His spoils He went exulting, and the earth, roused, trembles at the tread of His feet; and bearing those wounds He bore Himself in through the lofty doors. And here, marvelling, He finds that a great number of new companions had flowed together, and suddenly, unforeseen by all, He says: 'In person, the one you seek, here I am. Piety has conquered the hard way, and living valour. Be vigilant, headlong men; let all fear be far off. These are our returns and the long-awaited triumphs; this is my great pledge. O thrice and four times blessed! What rewards worthy of you, O men, for these your praises do I think can be repaid, what gifts prepared? Receive then in your hearts:

the same land which first bore you from your parents' stock shall receive you in its glad bounty. Call back your spirit, and send away your mournful fear, and keep yourselves for prosperous things. As for what remains, glad in your well-ordered deeds, pray for peace with the hand; great-hearted, seated, praise peace; peace is the sole inviolable pledge.' And at the same time, with these words, He showed His face and countenance, His countenance and both hands, and His breast ravaged with the iron: and they mingle hands with hands and rejoice as they gaze. Nor is it enough to have seen Him once: it delights them to linger still and to keep step and to join right hand to right hand. When at last these things were done, He parts the breathing airs: borne through the soft air and into the open sky, He left their mortal sight in the midst of speech:

And the palace of the starry heaven receives Him on its throne, and holds Him through the ages with an eternal name. From that day the honour is celebrated, and the glad younger generations have kept the day, now that so many years are slipping by. O our glory, go, glory of so great deeds, and graciously draw near, both to us and to your sacred rites with favouring foot — the yearly rites which it is sin to put off. Celebrate, with favour, this custom of the sacred things, O comrades: hold to it yourself, O sweet spouse, and if by piety we deserve it, let our chaste descendants abide in this religion.