The Virgilian Cento

And now first Aurora was scattering the lands with new light,

And, the stars put to flight, was proclaiming the day.

Then the ground begins to harden, and to shut Nereus off from the sea,

And little by little to take on the shapes of things,

And the varied face of the sea, huge whales

Swept the waters with their tails, and cut through the surge,

And also circled the wastes of the vast deep.

Now with the sun poured in, now with things uncovered by the light,

Exulting, it scatters at once the bitter dew.

And now the following day was rising with the first light of dawn,

The ground poured forth flowers, and unfolds all its leaves,

And the untended bird-haunts blush with blood-red berries,

Owing nothing to the rakes of men, nor to any care.

The third light had removed the cold shadow from the sky,

Then the pathless thickets resound with singing birds,

And crows give forth liquid cries with strained throat,

Nor did the turtledove cease its moaning from the airy elm.

On the fourth day the earth brings forth the monsters of varied wild beasts,

And cattle of every kind, with no guardian, through the grass

Out of the woods it leads them: suddenly (wondrous to see!)

Then at last the lion moves to arms, then the fiercest tiger

And the scaly dragon, and the lioness with tawny neck

Begin to rage, and the shapes of great wolves to howl.

The rest of the herds graze through the green grass,

Nor do clear springs or grasses fail the flocks.

And now day, and another day, had gone forward, and the whole

Of this work of divine virtue and skill of mind

The Begetter, beholding, with all things set in order and perfected,

Cannot fill his mind, and burns with gazing

Upon the lands, the tracts of the sea, and the deep sky,

The race of birds and of beasts, and turns over in his mind

Who should hold the sea, who the lands, with full dominion,

Lest the lands lie idle, it pleases him still to linger.

To one so pondering, this resolve suddenly settled,

And he draws the fertile clay and shapes it by pressing,

The rich soil, at once, from the first months of the year.

And now unforeseen, the image of so great a devotion

Came forth, a new form of man, fairest of things,

His face and shoulders like a god's, whose mind and spirit

A greater God moves, and sends back to greater works.

Thence another is sought, nor does anyone from so great a company

Dare to approach the man, and be called companion to his realm.

Without delay, at once he sends peaceful quiet through the young man's limbs,

And closes his eyes in sweet sleep.

And to him, in the mid-space of the dark night now,

The Almighty Begetter lays bare his ribs and flesh.

One of these he took from the young man, the joints of his side drawn apart,

And suddenly a wondrous gift arises,

A mighty proof gleamed forth with clear light—

A distinguished face, and, with lovely breast, a maiden

Already ripe for a man, already of full nubile years.

A great fear broke his sleep, and his bones and limbs

Call for marriage, and, struck with awe at the divine presence, he pressed her,

And received her with his hand, and, clasping her right hand, clung to her.

These things at last accomplished, he who whirls the stars of the world

Gave command: as he spoke, the sea presses its peaceful waters,

And the earth is shaken to its foundation, the high ether is silent.

Live happy, and amid the flourishing tilled lands

Of the fortunate groves and the blessed abodes.

This is your home, this your fatherland, this the sure rest from labors.

For you I set neither bounds of things, nor limits of time.

I have given empire without end, and for many years

The ground shall not suffer the rake, nor the vine the pruning-hook.

But your immortal race remains, nor does slow old age

Weaken the powers of the mind, or change its vigor.

You, on the other hand, turn your minds to what I shall say;

In the midst, stretching out its branches and aged arms,

There is in sight, among fruitful branches, a tree,

Which it is not right for anyone to move with fire, nor to fell with iron,

Never granted to be disturbed by sacred religion.

Whoever shall pluck the sacred fruits from this tree

Shall pay for it with deserved death: nor does my sentence change:

Nor let any prudent counselor persuade you now

To defile your hands; let yourself be moved by a woman's voice,

Nor let anyone's violence overcome you,

If a glory worthy of divine law awaits you.

After the Father, whom the stars of heaven obey,

Had arranged all things, and given laws, and displayed from above

The shining fields, the glory of such great works:

Behold, at the threshold of the first sun and its rising

They came to the places where soft marjoram

Embraces them with flowers, and its sweet shade breathing over them.

Here is the purple spring, and summer in months not its own,

Here are clear springs, here at a fixed season of the sky

They press out sweet honey, here the white poplar leans

Over the cave, and pliant vines weave their shady bowers:

Gardens breathing forth with saffron flowers invite them

Amid the fragrant grove of laurel, and the earth itself

Bore all things more freely, with none demanding it.

Happy the pair, if the mind of the wretched wife

Had not gone astray—the great outcome afterward showed it.

And now the unspeakable day was at hand throughout the flowery fields:

Behold, a fierce hostile serpent with immense coils

Was turning seven great circles, seven great folds,

Neither easy to look upon, nor speakable to any,

He hung with slanting envy from a leafy bough,

Breathing forth his viperous spirit, in whose heart were grim wars

And wraths and envies, and harmful crimes.

Even his own father hates him, he turns himself into so many faces,

And bristles with erected scales, and lest he leave anything unattempted

Or untried of wickedness or guile,

Thus he approaches first with words, and offered himself unbidden:

Speak, he says, O virgin (we dwell in shady groves,

And the couches of the riverbanks, and meadows fresh with streams

We inhabit), what such great cowardice has come upon your minds?

Fruits lie strewn everywhere, each beneath its own tree,

The clear springs are cups, gifts of heaven.

To touch is forbidden, this alone was lacking to things.

Who forbids to try thoroughly the hidden causes?

Vain superstition, the other part of things has been taken away,

The condition; if you did not think my words vain,

I shall be the author of daring to loose the sacred laws.

You, wife, it is right for you to test the mind by entreaty.

I shall be your leader, if your will toward me is sure,

And we build couches, and feast on rich banquets.

Their eyes set before the feast the venerable wood,

And they arrange the banquet, and defile everything by contact.

She especially, devoted to the coming plague, presses on,

And marvels at strange leaves, and fruits not her own.

The cause of so great an evil touched it only to the very lip,

Having undertaken a greater wickedness, and begun a greater madness.

Alas, to her wretched husband she offers the seed from an alien tree,

And moved his mind with sudden sweetness.

They are terrified at the sudden sight, and delaying no more,

They shade their bodies under the boughs with a screen of leaves,

A woven covering, nor was any hope of help given.

But not these things did the Sower of men and of gods,

Watching with His eyes, fail to note—the slaughters and deeds of the tyrant

He foresaw, and knew what a raging woman can do.

At once He assails them: Away, away, ye profane ones,

He cries aloud, who by His divine will establishes heaven and earth.

As soon as they saw, turned back by fear and rushing backward

They flee apart, and seek the woods and wherever hollow

Rocks lie hidden by stealth; they regret the beginning, and neither the light nor the breezes

Do they look back upon, they are weary of beholding the vault of heaven.

The sound of footsteps seemed to draw near, and the Father through the shadow

Addresses them with such words, and moreover reproaches them:

Unhappy ones, what such great madness has seized your mind?

What new frenzy is that? Whither now, whither do you tend?, He said.

Forgetful of your kingdoms, what insanity changes your mind?

Tell me, what dire longing for the light have you, wretched ones?

Hasten your flight, and withdraw from the whole grove,

Nor is it permitted to turn back your step, if ever adverse things should call you back:

A river surrounds it, hissing with torrential flames

Through the midst, and twists roaring stones,

And raises up masses of flame, and licks the stars.

In these places they set themselves down. I have deserved it, nor do I entreat against it, he says,

Almighty One, and I tremble at the sound of footsteps, and at the voice,

Conscious of a bold deed, and of a sinister warning.

The woman brings sad juices, and a slow-working taste;

She, turning over deceits and dire wickedness in her heart,

By a wicked accusation destroyed the innocent one, herself doomed to die, the girl,

While she rages, slew the unwary man with cruel death.

For she persuaded me—you yourself know it, nor is it possible for anyone to deceive you—

As soon as I saw, as soon as I perished, as soon as an evil error carried me away,

And we touched with our hand what its own tree does not sow.

Receive therefore, and fix these my words in your minds;

And you first, more monstrous in crime than all others,

Whom neither length of days nor any piety softens,

Instigator of crimes, serpent, you shall feed on evil grasses

In sloth, dragging your broad belly ingloriously.

Withdraw from these places, with no man compelling you, of your own accord

Where the clay is thin, and the pebble lies in bramble-covered fields.

All the age shall be worn away by iron, and first through art

(Alas, pitiable boy!) you shall pursue the earth with rakes,

And with noise you shall frighten the birds: the thistle shall bristle in the fields,

And the paliurus shall rise with sharp thorns,

And the burr, and the caltrop, and the deceptive herb of poison;

But if you labor the ground for a wheat harvest, and sturdy spelt,

In vain shall you await the heap,

And you shall console your hunger in the woods with the shaken oak.

Besides these, diseases follow, and sad old age,

And toil, and the harshness of dire death seizes all.

Not ignorant of the evil, the head and cause of these evils,

A great plague has been committed to you: alas, ruined one, you do not know,

Nor do you see what dangers surround you hereafter.

Now die, as you have deserved, since you sought it with your whole mind.

Nor now does my sentence yield, changed from its place.

Their eyes grew rigid, and no longer could they hide themselves

Any more in the shadows, nor hear and return familiar voices.

Without delay, they hasten, and being commanded, are borne with swift

Steps, and going together through the shadowy paths

They snatch through the middle space and leave the threshold

Weeping, and with equal cares they set their steps.

Then in the woods the boughs give them berries for food, and stony cornels,

And the plants nourish them with plucked-up roots.

Ten long months brought weariness to the mother,

Whence men were born, a hard race; thence by art

Neither do herbs appear in the field, nor leaves upon the tree,

And to the new suns the grasses dare safely to entrust

Themselves, and they begin to let down the grape upon the pliant boughs,

And teach it to grow fast with moist sap.

And one envied the other his preferred honor,

(I shudder to relate it) he receives his kinsman, close by blood, unwary,

And cuts him down at the ancestral altars,

Defiling with blood the very fires which he himself had consecrated.

And He shook the honey from the leaves, and took away the fire,

And bade the wolves to prey, and the sea to be stirred.

And everywhere He checked the wines that ran in streams.

Soon labor too was added to the crops, so that evil blight

Might eat the stalks, and the sickly crop deny its food.

Then to catch wild beasts with snares, and to deceive with birdlime

Was devised, and want, pressing in hard straits,

Set men to the fields, sharpening mortal hearts with cares.

Until gradually a worse and discolored age,

The iron race, lifted its hard head from the fields,

And the madness of war, and the love of possessing succeeded.

Justice, departing, left her footprints on the earth.

Nor was there long a middle time: fury and wrath cast down

The mind headlong, they rejoice bathed in the blood of brothers.

One hoards up wealth, and broods over buried gold,

Nor did he pity, feeling for the poor man, nor stretch out his right hand.

Then the Almighty Father, greatly moved, sends Himself down

From the high ether, and pours out the earth into the waves,

Mingling it with a flood, and dissolves heaven into the depths of Tartarus.

He lays low the fields, lays low the joyful crops, and dissolves

The labors of oxen; the ditches are filled, and the hollow rivers grow.

And He gave over to death every kind of cattle, every kind of wild beast.

Then one weighty in piety and in merits, wonderful to tell!

Who was on earth most observant of justice,

He rescued from death, though the waters rose so great,

So that he might have a stock from which to call back a new lineage.

Almighty, and He drives the ages under great laws.

Why should I recall the unspeakable slaughters? Why the deeds of the tyrant?

And hearts that know not how to be softened by human prayers?

Egypt, and the forces of the East, and the last wars,

And great-souled leaders, and whole nations in order,

With what course the deserted places were sought, both tribe and

Great nation of men never unmindful of so great a merit.

And what priests stand near the altars,

And what pious prophets rushed forth for freedom.

What kings, roused by war, what armies filled the plains

By the Red Sea shore,

With what arms the king, an outstanding race, burned,

With great fury inflaming him, leading a column of horsemen,

And troops flourishing with bronze.

The rest of the fathers' deeds, and the wars fought in order,

I pass over, and leave to be recounted by others after me.

Now to You, and to Your counsels, great Father, I return.

I set in motion a greater work, I approach the predictions of the former prophets,

Although the limit of a narrow span of years

Shall receive it, the way must be attempted, by which I too might be able

To raise myself from the ground, and bear a name through so many years by fame,

That Your offspring descended from high heaven,

And brought to us at last, when we longed for it, the age

Brought help and the coming of God: when first a woman,

Bearing the face and bearing of a virgin, wonderful to tell!

Bore a boy neither of our race nor of our blood.

But because with terrifying omen the prophets sang

That a man would come, proud over peoples and lands,

From heavenly seed, who should seize the world by his strength,

Whose rule should bound the Ocean, whose fame the stars.

And now the promised day was at hand, at which time first

The sacred origin of the divine stock lifted up its face,

Sent under command, and power came in a body

Mingled with God, and the image of the beloved Father entered in.

Without delay, at once in the serene region of heaven

A star, drawing a fiery train, shone forth with great light.

The chief men recognized God, and all at once

Heap up gifts, and adore the holy star.

Then indeed faith became manifest, and they burn to know

The clear name of the paternal power, and the face of Christ,

And what signs of divine beauty He gives.

Straightway Rumor flies to the king raging with great outcry,

And with rumors sharpens his great wraths,

And kindles his mind, and steals into his mother's ears.

She, not unaware of the treacheries and dire wickedness of the matter,

Foresaw them, and first perceived the future commotions,

Foreknowing what was to come, and secretly gave order that he be nurtured,

While cares are uncertain, while her mind seethes with wrath.

But the anxious king orders the whole stock and future race

To be hurled headlong, and burned with flames set beneath,

Stirring up much, and sends men to bring back sure tidings.

No otherwise do they act as bidden, and are borne along

With rapid steps, and fill the city with great terrors.

At once are heard voices, and mighty wailing,

And the weeping souls of infants; before their parents' faces

The bodies of their sons are strewn upon the very threshold.

But the mother, not in vain terrified by so great a groaning,

Herself carrying before her with her own hand, amid the raging tumult,

The infant, fleeing, makes for the full mangers.

Here she nourished her son beneath the eaves of a narrow roof,

Pressing her breasts to his tender lips.

These first cradles, O boy, shall pour forth flowers for thee,

And the earth, smiling everywhere, mingled with baccar,

Shall gradually pour forth colocasia with soft acanthus.

And now the end had come, the circle of time being completed,

As soon as the fury ceased, and the raging mouths grew quiet,

He, of heavenly origin, bearing a mind beyond his years.

Through the midst of the cities he walks,

and the neighboring peoples.

Him all the youth, poured out from the rooftops and the fields,

Gaze upon as he goes, with astonished minds gaping,

And the crowd of mothers marvels what spirit is in him,

What countenance, what sound of voice, or what gait as he walks.

Straightway the prophet—for he is a most certain witness—

As soon as he saw him afar off, apart, by the cold river,

Says: The time, God, behold God, to whom belongs the greatest

Trust of things and of words: thou shalt not be other than he,

Fortunate boy, to whom the stars of heaven are obedient.

So indeed I was reasoning in my mind, and thought it would be so,

Thou comest, long awaited, hope and solace of ours.

When he had spoken these words, he received him as he came

To be plunged in the healthful river, and raised him up from the soft waves,

And the shallows exult, and suddenly, stirred, a dove

Flies down, and stood above his head, then suddenly

Skims her liquid path, nor moves her swift wings.

Hither all the crowd, pouring out to the banks, rushed,

Vying to pour abundant dews upon their shoulders.

Then the Father addresses his Son with kindly words:

Son, my strength, my great power, thou alone,

And, most sweet glory, about to return great to thy parent,

From thee is the beginning, in thee it ends. Receive, I call to witness,

O my offspring: where the sun, running back and forth,

Beholds both Oceans, joyful, thine honor accomplished,

Thou shalt see all things beneath thy feet turned and ruled.

Thou shalt rule with empire the peoples, mothers and men.

Long now the sluggish minds and hearts unused to good,

And those ignorant of the way, helpless—pitying them with me—

Approach them, and now accustom thyself to being called upon in prayers.

He had spoken; that one prepared to obey the commands

Of his great Father, pressing on to the work and to the kingdoms to come.

Alas, piety, alas, ancient faith, what thanks shall I

Begin to utter? If it be allowed to compare small things with great.

Nor had I now any hope of seeing my ancient fatherland,

Nor hope of liberty, nor care for safety.

Here he first gave me an answer as I sought it,

Removed the accumulated stain, and left pure

The ethereal sense, and sent me back into my own realms.

Him would I follow through flames, though exiled amid the shifting sands,

Through various chances, through a thousand pursuing weapons,

Whatever the outcome, this one thing for so great a gift

I would pursue, and would raise altars with my own gifts.

At his coming, as tribute of so great praises,

The unshorn mountains themselves in gladness cast their voices to the stars.

All the valleys answer back.

At no other time is it necessary to recall the great and memorable name,

The furious evil of the serpent.

Indeed he dared even—the report grows dimmer with the years—

To address the man, and demand the reasons for his coming.

When he saw him advancing opposite through the grasses,

He stopped, and roared fiercely, and the serpent, wounded

By the powerful word, addresses him with a haughty voice:

Is thy face true? Dost thou bring me a true report?

What race art thou? From what home? Why dost thou come to our threshold?

Speak, come, why thou comest, for they say thou givest laws.

Or what youth, most bold of all, bade thee

Approach our home, and impose the custom of peace upon it?

Indeed I do not begrudge thee, I marvel more; hear further

What I doubt, and what opinion now rises in my mind.

There is a lofty house; call the west winds, and glide on wings

Seeking the steep roofs, having dared to entrust thyself to heaven,

If indeed he whom thou namest is thy father, to whom the stars are obedient.

To him, smiling, with a calm heart he speaks,

Not unaware of the prophets, nor ignorant of the age to come:

Didst thou hope even to dissemble, treacherous serpent?

Nor doubt, for thou seest true things: choose to seek the steep

Stars on wings, and to hide thyself shut up in the hollow earth.

Whither, thou who art to perish, dost thou rush? And darest more than thy strength?

Yield to God, cast down upon the earth with thy whole body.

No more than this: he, marveling at the venerable gift,

Presses the earth with his brow, and drives foam from his bloody mouth,

And, content with flight, hid himself in the blind shadows.

Meanwhile the flying rumor goes through the great cities;

The men came together, one mind in all to follow

Into whatever lands he wished to lead them across the sea.

Many besides, whom obscure report conceals,

Rush together with dense clamor, and throng in crowds,

And exult in spirit: for a very great crowd

Holds him in its midst, and lifts him standing out on high shoulders.

When he saw them joined together, daring to enter into contests,

He begins, and with his words breathes divine love:

Learn justice, being warned, and help the weary,

Each for himself, men, according to each one's abundance, gladly,

And call upon the common God; let us follow better things,

And whither he calls, let us turn our path; the first way of salvation

Is undefiled faith, and a mind conscious to itself of what is right:

For you rest has been won when the circle of time is completed.

For those who alone have brooded over riches found,

And have set aside no part for their own while life remained,

Or have struck a parent, and woven fraud against a client,

When cold death shall have withdrawn the soul from the limbs,

Shut in, they await punishment—which is the greatest throng—

And it is roused from the infernal darkness, and they weigh out

The penalties of ancient evils; for others, beneath a vast gulf,

The stained crime is washed away, or burned away by fire.

Here a turbid whirlpool, with a vast abyss, seethes,

And belches up all its sand into Cocytus.

Hence groans are heard, and savage lashes

Resound, then the grating of iron, and dragged chains

Always, and the darkness thickens with unrelieved night.

Moreover, mark with your minds what I shall say:

Not I, hereafter, with slain bullocks according to custom

Of the religion of your fathers, nor images born of trunks and oak,

Or made by mortal hand, nor temples of the gods.

Hear, and I will admonish you again and again, repeating it:

But it is enough to have perished once, and it will profit more

To remember son and father, if it is worthy to believe.

But meanwhile it flies, the irrevocable time flies,

And the day of flames, and the hostile power draws near.

Their minds hung astonished: nor delaying more

Does he sing another greater judgment for wretched, ailing mortals,

And announce sad wraths,

A coming destruction, all things then together, torn by vast ruin,

Mingled equally with ruddy fire,

And the stars wandering in the sky, and the fall of heaven.

Then indeed a new fear, trembling, steals through all their breasts,

And, silent, they saw what was to come.

A boy, marking his face with first unshorn youth,

Rich in wealth, flourishing ignobly in pursuits of leisure;

Five flocks of bleating sheep, and two herds

Returned to him, and he loaded his tables with rich feasts.

Straightway he stretched forth both eager palms,

And, embracing his knees, thus addressed him with friendly speech:

O God, O by right the greatest part of our renown,

To thee I flee for refuge, and as a suppliant I entreat thy divine power:

I have accomplished all things, and gone through them beforehand in my mind.

Snatch me, unconquered one, from these evils; what, finally, remains,

Or what, following, might I do to overcome such great labors?

Receive and give thy pledge; it is right for me to take up the commands.

O youth outstanding in spirit, cease from entreating,

Nor let it grieve thee; nothing, O friend, has been left to thee.

This too I will add, if thy will is fixed with me:

Learn, boy, to despise riches, and fashion thyself

Worthy also of God, and thou shalt be able to know what virtue is.

Give thy right hand to the wretched, and let not brother forsake brother;

If he hastens to be joined in hospitality, join him willingly;

Let a chaste house preserve its modesty; come now, break off

Slothful delays, and come, not harsh, to those in need.

He had spoken thus; the other, at his word, turned his steps.

More sorrowful, lifting her pale face in wondrous fashion,

Groaning much, she turns her eyes away, and departs.

Then too, urged upon the ribs of the slow ass,

He sat, gleaming as a cloud; then very many round about,

Mothers and men, boys, cast down familiar garments

Beneath him, and rejoice to touch the rope with their hand.

And now he was drawing near to the gates, and the temple,

Lofty with a hundred ancient columns of old cedar,

He enters, with a great crowd accompanying him in the midst.

A thing dreadful to the woods, this council-place was a temple to them,

These were the sacred seats, which they cultivated with wondrous honor.

For while under the vast temple he surveys each thing,

He shudders suddenly at the sight, and cracked his whip,

And gestures with his hand, and thunders at once with mighty voice:

What show of crimes, what gleaming bronze do I behold,

And Caesar's name? What madness changes your mind?

These seats are our own; here at an appointed time

Our fathers were wont to recline at perpetual tables.

They were struck dumb in spirit, and a cold trembling ran

Through their inmost bones, and in fear they left the former tables.

Then, when they first trusted the sea, through the tranquil deep

The companions bring their ships, with the guiding craft of skill,

Here one man with a net pierces the broad stream,

Seeking the deep waters, another draws the wet lines over the sea.

After the ships held the deep, and no more

Any lands appeared, the sky flashed with frequent fires,

Clouds suddenly snatched away both heaven and day:

The winds rise up, and lift the waves to the stars.

But in the companions, sudden dread froze

The blood cold, their spirits fell, and all at once suddenly

They gazed weeping toward the harbor, one voice for all,

Doubtful between hope and fear, whether to believe they would live,

Or to suffer the worst, by a small margin of death,

Such things as sailors often suffer on the deep sea.

Behold, God perceived the sea being churned with great roaring,

And the storm let loose, he whose supreme power

Is equal to the light winds, and swifter than the waves of a river.

He seeks the downward seas, and runs over the open deep,

Nor is he far distant, in his course, from the leading keel.

Far off the companions recognize their king, and his mighty right hand,

Bared, and they hail him with a great shout.

After he touched the deep waves, and came to the waters,

Here indeed—a thing dreadful and wondrous to behold—by chance

The waves subside, so that there was no struggle for the oar,

And he puts to flight the gathered clouds, and walks over the sea,

Already in the middle, nor yet does the wave wet his lofty sides.

But walking amid his companions in the midst of the ship,

Behold, the pilot himself takes the helm as master,

The mast trembled, the boat groaned beneath the weight.

The sails fall, and God settled upon the high stern,

And at last, joyful, they draw near to the familiar sands.

Meanwhile, as heaven inclines, evening draws nearer.

Then with food they restore their strength, and stretched upon the grass,

They load the tables with feasts, and set down the cups.

After the first rest from the feast, and the tables removed,

He himself, among the first, renews honors to the Father,

Looking up to heaven; then silence fell upon their tongues.

He gives to their hands the grain, and sweet waters from the springs;

And he filled the cup with wine, and teaches the rites

Of the sacred mysteries, and mingles prayers, and speaks such words:

Hear, O nobles, he says, and learn your hopes:

None of this company will depart from me without a gift,

And by the promises of the Father, your rewards, he says,

Remain certain for you, my sons, and no one moves the palm out of order:

And when tomorrow's light first returns upon the earth,

There will be but one against me, and the ruin of my own,

While he offers himself in the midst, for peace, out of our body.

For the day (unless I am mistaken) is at hand; set aside your cares:

This task will be with me, nor does my judgment fail me,

One head will be given for many. Having spoken thus,

He fell silent, and gave late rest to his limbs.

The companions scatter, and are covered by the dark night;

And many hard things they turn over in their sad heart.

What are they to do? Their faces remain fixed in their breast,

And their words, nor does care give peaceful rest to their limbs.

Then the elder spoke such words from his heart,

Pondering much: where is now for us that God, our teacher?

Whom do we follow? Whither do you bid us go? Where set our seat?

O grief, and honor, glory of such great deeds!

Now there is no more delay, snatch us into all things with you,

We pray, and do not withdraw yourself from our sight.

Meanwhile the dawn, rising, left the Ocean,

And now the priests fill the places far and wide with complaints,

With the people and the elders, and a murmur runs through the throngs:

What kind of men is this? What barbarous custom

Does this fatherland permit? They demand punishment with blood,

Gathered from every side, and with a great shout they pursue

The innocent one, and the ignoble crowd rages in spirit.

The fiery sun had climbed to the middle of the sky's circle,

Then suddenly all, both people and elders,

Demand that he be summoned, and bid him tell of what blood he sprang,

What he sought, or what he himself brought: and, guarding

Their prize, the deeds of the man, mingled grief and stupor press upon the dull-witted.

Unknowing the mind of men! They vie to mock the captive.

Then indeed with captive weapons they rush together from every side:

The shout is lifted to heaven, and all at once suddenly

They seized the sacred image, and with bloody hands

An enormous oak, with branches lopped off from every side

They set up, and bind him with huge thorns.

And he stretched out his hands, his feet bound together,

A sad service! The rest of the youth follow those,

All daring the monstrous crime, and having achieved what they dared.

But he, undaunted, said: Where do you bind these chains?

Has so great a trust in your own race possessed you?

Hereafter you will pay for these deeds with no like punishment.

Such things he kept recounting, and remained fixed.

Meanwhile the sky begins to be stirred with great roaring,

And black night took away the color of things,

And impious ages feared an eternal night.

The earth trembles, wild beasts fled, and mortal hearts

Throughout the nations were laid low by lowly dread: then suddenly

The earth gives a groan, and all heaven thunders with a crash.

Straightway the thin shades, companions of Erebus, went forth from their deepest seats:

The earth too, and the waters of the sea, gave signs, the rivers stood still, and the earth gaped open.

Nay, the very abodes themselves were struck dumb, and the innermost

Tartarus of death, and the shadowy caverns lay wholly open.

The rising sun too (all confess they know it)

Then veiled its bright head in dark rust-color.

Amid these disturbances, in the midst of such words,

The third light had separated the cold shadow from the sky.

And now, returning his step, he was coming up to the upper air,

When suddenly, before his eyes, a tomb of enormous mass,

Where the lifeless body had been laid, and neither the bars, nor the guards

Themselves, are able to endure, and they see stones

Torn from stones, the tight joints of the sides loosened.

A sound occurs, the earth was shaken by the huge weight,

Horror is everywhere in their minds, and the very silences terrify.

But behold, the first songs of the birds beneath the roof:

He enters, leaving the cave, and proud with his spoils

He went triumphant, and the earth, roused, trembles at the tread of his feet,

And bearing those wounds, he thrusts himself through the narrow doors.

And here he found, marveling, that a great multitude

Of new companions had flowed together, and to all suddenly,

Unforeseen, he says: Here I am, whom you seek, in your presence:

Piety, and lively virtue, has conquered the hard road.

Rouse yourselves in haste, men, watch, let all fear be absent.

To me belong those returnings, and the awaited triumphs,

This is my great pledge; O thrice and four times blessed,

What rewards, worthy of such praises, do I think can

Be given to you, men? What gifts prepared?

Receive then into your hearts: the same land which first bore you

From your fathers' stock, will receive you with joyful abundance,

Recall your spirit, and cast off sorrowful fear,

Now keep yourselves for prosperous things.

For the rest, joyful, with things duly accomplished in order,

Wish for peace with your hand, praise peace as you sit,

Great-souled ones: peace alone is the inviolable pledge.

And at the same time, with these words, he showed his face and mouth,

His face and both hands, and his breast ravaged by iron:

And they join hands with hands, and rejoice as they behold,

Nor is it enough to have seen once, it delights them to linger still,

And to match their step, and join right hand to right hand.

These things at last accomplished, he parts the breathing breezes

Through the tender air, and, borne into the open sky,

Left the sight of mortals in the midst of his speech.

He carries himself onward, wrapped in a cloud, wondrous to tell!

But the glory of the starry heaven's throne

Receives him, and he holds an eternal name through the ages.

From that time honor has been celebrated, and joyful descendants

Have kept the day, so many years now passing by.

Go, our glory, go, the fame of such great deeds,

Ever will your honor, and your name, and your praises remain.

And do you, propitious, with favoring step, come to us and to your sacred rites.