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 Dilts Strategy Group
P.O. Box 67448
Scotts Valley, California 95067
Phone: +1(831) 438-8314
E-Mail: [email protected]
Homepage: http://www.diltsstrategygroup.com

© Copyright 2010 by Robert B.Dilts and Dilts Strategy Group. All rights reserved.
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form without written
permission of the Publisher.

Library of Congress Card Number 2010922378

I.S.B.N. 978-1-947629-17-2
I.S.B.N. 978-1-947629-33-2 (e-book)
 Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Preface

A NEW GENERATION OF NLP

Background and Overview of NLP
The Evolution of NLP
What Makes Something NLP?
Why a “New” Generation of NLP? What Does It Mean?
What Are First and Second Generation NLP?
What Makes Third Generation NLP Different?
What Does Third Generation NLP Mean Pragmatically?
The Structure of the Book

CHAPTER 1 THE COGNITIVE MIND

The Brain
Hemispheres of the Brain
Sensory Representational Systems
Accessing Cues
Language
Five Key Developments in Neuro-Linguistic Programming Since NLP
Volume I
Time Perception
The Origin of the Concept of Time Lines
Expanding the Concept of “Linear” Time
William James’ “String of Beads”
Time Lines as a Tool for Change
“In Time” and “Through Time”
Time Frames
 Exercise: Integrating Time Frames
Perceptual Positions
Basic Perceptual Positions Exercise
Practicing “Triple Description”
Meta Mapping with Perceptual Positions
Meta Map Exercise
Levels of Change and Interaction
Bateson’s Hierarchy of Logical Types and Levels of Learning
Russell’s Logical Types
Korzybski’s Order of Abstractions
Levels of Learning
The Neuro-Logical Levels Model of NLP
Set Theory
Neuro-Logical Levels as an Operational Hierarchy
Updating Patterns of Behavior through Bateson’s Levels of
Learning
Koestler’s Holarchies
Neuro-Logical Levels and the Nervous System
Neuro-Logical Levels and Language
Examples of Statements at Different Logical Levels
Levels of Questions
Levels and Non-Verbal Meta Messages
Verbally Reframing Experiences by Using Language to Shift
Logical Levels
The S.C.O.R.E. Model
“Knowing the S.C.O.R.E.”
Basic S.C.O.R.E. Questions
Applying the S.C.O.R.E. Model
Meta Program Patterns
Overview of Meta Program Patterns
Summary of Key Meta Program Patterns
Meta Program Clusters and Group Process
Identifying Meta Program Patterns
Mapping Across Meta Program Patterns
The Unified Field Theory for NLP:
An Overview of 30 Years of NLP Development
 The SOAR Model
Combining NLP and the SOAR Model
Neurolinguistic Operators for Changing States
Neurolinguistic Operators for Shifting Time Perception
Neurolinguistic Operators for Shifting Perceptual Positions
Neurolinguistic Operators for Shifting Levels of Change
Modeling and Mapping with the
NLP Unified Field Theory Framework
Tracing a Path of Change
SOARing Through Change
The S.C.O.R.E. Model—Defining a Path Within a Problem Space
Meta Program Patterns and the NLP Unified Field Theory
Generative NLP Format
Steps of the Generative NLP Format
Generative NLP Worksheet
Conclusion

CHAPTER 2 THE SOMATIC MIND

Felt Sense: Our Subjective Experience of Our Somatic Mind
Neurogastroenterology and the Brain in the Belly
Neurocardiology and the Brain in the Heart
HeartMath
The Breath
Somato Respiratory Integration™
The Spine
Body Posture
Network Spinal Analysis™ (NSA)
The Feet
Foot Pad Release Practice
The Cortical Homunculus – The Body In The Brain
Exploring Your Subjective Homunculus
Steps of the Somatic Foreground-Background Process
Biofeedback
NeuroLink and MindDrive
SomaticVision
Somatic Syntax
 Darwin's Thinking Path
Movement and Mind
Transformational Grammar
The Body as a Representational System
Applying Somatic Syntax
Somatic Syntax Exercises
Exercise 1: Getting a Resource “In the Muscle”
Exercise 2: Generalizing the Resourceful Pattern
Exercise 3: Applying the Resourceful Pattern
Exercise 4: Modeling Resources with Somatic Syntax
Exercise 5: Widening Your Scope of Self-Expression —Somatic
Syntax of Self
Exercise 6: Transforming Stuck States Through Somatic Syntax
Using Somatic Syntax to Enhance Non-Verbal Communication
Exploring Somatic Metaphors to Enhance Non-Verbal Communication
“Somatic Fractal” Format
Creating a Somatic Fractal for a Resource State
Dancing S.C.O.R.E. Format
Steps of the Dancing S.C.O.R.E. Format
Gabrielle Roth’s 5Rhythms®
Riding the Wave of Change
The 5Rhythms® and the Dancing S.C.O.R.E.
Follow Your Feet!

CHAPTER 3 THE FIELD MIND

Field, Spirit and Purpose
Studying the Subjective Experience of Field and Spirit
Neurophysiological Mechanisms of the Field Mind
Mirror Neurons
The Human Energy Field
Exploring the Field Mind
Feeling Your Field
Connecting Through Your Center
Energetic Mirroring
Generating a “Second Skin”
 Creating a Generative Field
Evolving a Shared Resource (A “We-Source”)
Generative Collaboration
Creating a Generative “Container”
Enriching the Group Field
“Intervision”
Accessing the “Larger Mind”
Active Dreaming
Active Dreaming Exercise
Seeing the “Field”

CHAPTER 4 APPLYING NEXT GENERATION NLP

Fitness for the Future
Survival Strategies
Promoting Generative Change
The Adaptive Cycle
Choice
Awareness: The Basis for Choice
Unconscious Programming and Thought Viruses
Coaching with Next Generation NLP
Large “C” and Small “c” Coaching
Coaching and the “Inner Game”
The Example of the “Miracle On The Hudson”
The Importance of Practice
Practicing Being in the Zone: COACHing Versus CRASHing
Finding Your Zone
Learning From Apple Juice
The Power of Presence
Creating a COACHing Container™
Moving from CRASH to COACH
Bringing Archetypal Energies into the COACHing Container™
Exploring the Influence of Archetypal Energies
Holding Difficult Feelings
Belief Barriers and Belief Bridges
Working with Archetypes of Transition
CONCLUSION : EGO AND SOUL
AFTERWORD
BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
 Dedication
This book is dedicated with affection and respect to:
The co-founders of NLP
Richard Bandler and John Grinder
who initiated us into this great adventure and encouraged us to be
confident, courageous and creative in our own exploration of the
structure of subjective experience.

The creative spirit of

Milton H. Erickson
Virginia Satir
Fritz Perls and
Gregory Bateson
who taught us through their example how to be pioneers of human
potential.

The legions of
NLP Practitioners,
Master Practitioners and
Trainers
throughout the world
who have created the fertile and generative field that has made new
generations of NLP possible.
 Acknowledgments
We would like to acknowledge:
Stephen Gilligan for his profoundly important contributions to the
evolution of Next Generation NLP. Stephen was one of the members
of the original group of students studying with Richard Bandler and
John Grinder at the beginnings of NLP. He has since gone on to
develop his own ideas through his work on Self-Relations and the
Generative Self.
A number of the core ideas presented in this book regarding
generativity, the three minds (cognitive, somatic and field) and their
associated principles and elements, archetypal energies, centering
and the idea of sponsorship were originally developed by Stephen in
his seminal work on Self-Relations (1997). The rich cross-fertilization
between Self-Relations and NLP can be seen the book The Hero's
Journey: A Voyage of Self-Discovery (Gilligan and Dilts, 2009).
We also want to acknowledge:
Gabrielle Roth, creator of the 5Rhythms® (who shares a common
mentorship with Gregory Bateson), for continuing to champion the
deep importance of movement and connection with the body as key
to the process of change.
Richard Moss for making the transformative power of awareness,
presence and connection so clear.
Teresa Epstein for working so diligently over the years to provide
the NLP University context in which we can all continue to
generatively collaborate.
Sandra Bacon for lending her expert proofreading skills to this
effort.
 Michael Dilts and Claire Sage for their steady support and editing
assistance with the cover.
 Preface
At the conclusion of our book NLP Volume I (1980), we authors
(Dilts, Grinder, Bandler and DeLozier) promised a second volume,
NLP II , which would present more concrete applications of the
concepts, principles and distinctions we laid out in that first
introduction to NLP. We claimed the second book would “explore
more specifically how to apply Neuro-Linguistic Programming to your
work and everyday life.”
For a variety of reasons, NLP Volume II never materialized. This
was partly because we authors all had busy lives and were intensely
involved in developing and experiencing those applications about
which we had pledged to write. As time went on, life took us in
separate directions. We have never all been together again in the
same way as we were in those early days, and the project to
produce NLP II “got lost in the shuffle.”
Another factor was that the field kept developing so rapidly that
it was difficult to select a particular group of processes that we felt
most characterized the history and potential of NLP. New challenges
and opportunities stretched us to find resources and solutions that
constantly brought innovations touching the very foundations of the
field.
While all four of us original authors of NLP I have continued to
travel extensively throughout the world, teaching NLP and
contributing to its evolution and development, we (Robert and
Judith) have maintained a close personal and working relationship,
culminating each year in our summer residential programs at NLP
University at the University of California in Santa Cruz.
Over the years, we have frequently ruminated on the vision and
promise of an NLP II made all those years ago. People within the
field have also continued to ask, “Where is NLP Volume II ?” At
times, we have attempted to fulfill the promise in other ways. We
spent four years writing the Encyclopedia of Systemic NLP and NLP
New Coding to cover the rich variety of NLP models and applications
and to honor the intellectual history of the fascinating field of NLP. In
our work, we have sought to preserve the spirit of the original
ensemble of students studying and developing NLP in small groups
in the Santa Cruz mountains with Bandler and Grinder.
Four years ago, we decided the time had come to finally
complete our commitment to a second volume. In our view, there
was clearly something new to say. This book NLP II: The Next
Generation is a result of that decision.
The book has gone through various evolutions over the past
several years and would not exist without the energy and support of
Deborah—a 5Rhythms® dance teacher, psychotherapist and
Psychosynthesis trainer as well as an interpreter—who has been an
important contributor to a number of the new developments
presented in the later chapters.
Deborah’s connection with NLP began in 1994 when she
interpreted John Grinder into French in Paris, where she has been
living since the early 1980s as an American expatriate. Since that
time, she has interpreted many other NLP trainers, including David
Gordon, Charles Faulkner, Lynne Conwell, Robert McDonald and, of
course, Robert and Judith.
Since 2005, Deborah and Robert have been developing programs
bringing together Deborah’s background in body-oriented
transformational practices, such as the 5Rhythms® , and principles
of NLP. (Robert and Deborah were married in 2008.) They have
applied these new developments in workshops and seminars
throughout the world as well as with Judith at NLP University in
California.
The collaboration between the three of us (Robert, Judith and
Deborah) has been characterized by enthusiasm, creativity and
inclusiveness. We hope that all these qualities come forth in this
book and provide you readers with a new appreciation of the depth,
richness and potential of NLP.
Another random document with
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sacred meteor: ‘No more, no more delay from me. I
follow your guidance, and am already in the way by which
you would lead me. Gods of my country! preserve my
house, preserve my grandchild. Yours in this augury—your
shield is stretched over Troy. Yes, my son, I 30
give way, and shrink not from accompanying your flight.’
He said—and by this the blaze is heard louder and louder
through the streets, and the flames roll their hot volumes
nearer. ‘Come then, dear father, take your seat on my
back, my shoulders shall support you, nor shall I feel the 35
task a burden. Fall things as they may, we twain will
share the peril, share the deliverance. Let my little Iulus
walk by my side, while my wife follows our steps at a
distance. You, our servants, attend to what I now say.
As you leave the city there is a mound, where stands an
ancient temple of Ceres all alone, and by it an old cypress,
observed these many years by the reverence of our sires.
This shall be our point of meeting in one place from 5
many quarters. You, my father, take in your hand these
sacred things, our country’s household gods. For me, just
emerged from this mighty war, with the stains of carnage
fresh upon me, it were sacrilege to touch them, till I
have cleansed me in the running stream.’ 10

“So saying, I spread out my shoulders, bow my neck,

cover them with a robe, a lion’s tawny hide, and take up
the precious burden. My little Iulus has fastened his
hand in mine, and is following his father with ill-matched
steps, my wife comes on behind. On we go, keeping in the 15
shade—and I, who erewhile quailed not for a moment at
the darts that rained upon me or at the masses of Greeks
that barred my path, now am scared by every breath of air,
startled by every sound, fluttered as I am, and fearing alike
for him who holds my hand and him I carry. And now I 20
was nearing the gates, and the whole journey seemed
accomplished,
when suddenly the noise of thick trampling
feet came to my ear, and my father looks onward through
the darkness. ‘Son, son,’ he cries, ‘fly: they are upon
us. I distinguish the flashing of their shields and the 25
gleam of their steel.’ In this alarm some unfriendly
power perplexed and took away my judgment. For,
while I was tracking places where no track was, and
swerving from the wonted line of road, woe is me! destiny
tore from me my wife Creusa. Whether she stopped, 30
or strayed from the road, or sat down fatigued, I never
knew—nor was she ever restored to my eyes in life.
Nay, I did not look back to discover my loss, or turn my
thoughts that way till we had come to the mound and
temple of ancient Ceres; then at last, when all were 35
mustered, she alone was missing, and failed those who
should have travelled with her, her son and husband both.
Whom of gods or men did my upbraiding voice spare?
what sight in all the ruin of the city made my heart bleed
more? Ascanius and Anchises my father and the Teucrian
household gods I give to my comrades’ care, and lodge
them in the winding glade. I repair again to the city
and don my shining armour. My mind is set to try every 5
hazard again, and retrace my path through the whole of
Troy, and expose my life to peril once more. First
I repair again to the city walls, and the gate’s dark entry
by which I had passed out. I track and follow my footsteps
back through the night, and traverse the ground 10
with my eye. Everywhere my sense is scared by the
horror, scared by the very stillness. Next I betake me
home, in the hope, the faint hope that she may have turned
her steps thither. The Danaans had broken in and were
lodged in every chamber. All is over—the greedy flame 15
is wafted by the wind to the roof, the fire towers triumphant—the
glow streams madly heavenwards. I pass
on, and look again at Priam’s palace and the citadel. There
already in the empty cloisters, yes, in Juno’s sanctuary,
chosen guards, Phœnix and Ulysses the terrible, were 20
watching the spoil. Here are gathered the treasures of
Troy torn from blazing shrines, tables of gods, bowls of
solid gold, and captive vestments in one great heap. Boys
and mothers stand trembling all about in long array.

“Nay, I was emboldened even to fling random cries 25

through the darkness. I filled the streets with shouts, and
in my agony called again and again on my Creusa with unavailing
iteration. As I was thus making my search and
raving unceasingly the whole city through, the hapless
shade, the spectre of my own Creusa appeared in my 30
presence—a likeness larger than the life. I was aghast,
my hair stood erect, my tongue clove to my mouth, while
she began to address me thus, and relieve my trouble
with words like these: ‘Whence this strange pleasure
in indulging frantic grief, my darling husband? It is 35
not without Heaven’s will that these things are happening:
that you should carry your Creusa with you on your journey
is forbidden by fate, forbidden by the mighty ruler
of heaven above. You have long years of exile, a vast
expanse of ocean to traverse—and then you will arrive
at the land of Hesperia, where Tiber, Lydia’s river, rolls
his gentle volumes through rich and cultured plains.
There you have a smiling future, a kingdom and a royal 5
bride waiting your coming. Dry your tears for Creusa,
your heart’s choice though she be. I am not to see the
face of Myrmidons or Dolopes in their haughty homes,
or to enter the service of some Grecian matron—I, a
Dardan princess, daughter by marriage of Venus the immortal. 10
No, I am kept in this country by heaven’s
mighty mother. And now farewell, and continue to love
your son and mine. Thus having spoken, spite of my
tears, spite of the thousand things I longed to say, she left
me and vanished into unsubstantial air. Thrice, as I 15
stood, I essayed to fling my arms round her neck—thrice
the phantom escaped the hands that caught at it in vain—impalpable
as the wind, fleeting as the wings of sleep.

“So passed my night, and such was my return to my

comrades. Arrived there, I find with wonder their band 20
swelled by a vast multitude of new companions, matrons
and warriors both, an army mustered for exile, a crowd
of the wretched. From every side they were met, prepared
in heart as in fortune to follow me over the sea to
any land where I might take them to settle. And now 25
the morning star was rising over Ida’s loftiest ridge
with the day in its train—Danaan sentinels were blocking
up the entry of the gates, and no hope of succour appeared.
I retired at last, took up my father, and made for the
mountains. 30
 BOOK III
“After that it had seemed well to the powers above to
overthrow Asia’s fortunes and Priam’s guiltless nation;
after that Ilion fell headlong from its pride, and Troy,
which Neptune reared, became one levelled smoking ruin,
we are driven by auguries from heaven to look elsewhere 5
for the exile’s home in lands yet unpeopled. We build us
a fleet under the shadow of Antandros,[140] and the range of
our own Phrygian Ida, all uncertain whither fate may
carry us, where it may be our lot to settle, and muster
men for sailing. Scarcely had summer set in, when my 10
father, Anchises, was bidding us spread our sails to destiny.
Then I give my last tearful look to my country’s shores
and her harbours, and those plains where Troy once stood
but stands no longer. A banished man, I am wafted into
the deep with my comrades and my son, my household 15
gods and their mighty brethren.

“In the distance lies the land of the war-god, inhabited,

in vast extent—the Thracians are its tillers—subject
erewhile to Lycurgus’[141] savage sway, bound by old hospitality
to Troy, their household gods friends of ours, while 20
our star yet shone. Hither I am wafted, and on the
bending line of coast trace the outline of a city, a commencement
made in an evil hour, and call the new nation
Æneadæ,[142] after my own name.

“I was sacrificing to my parent, Dione’s[143] daughter, and 25

the rest of the gods, that they might bless the work I
had begun, and was slaying to the heavenly monarch of the
powers above a bull of shining whiteness on the shore.
It happened that there was a mound near, on whose top
were plants of cornel, and a myrtle bristling thick with 30
spearlike wands. I drew near, and essayed to pull up
from the ground the green forest growth, that I might
have leafy boughs wherewith to shadow the altar, when I
see a portent dreadful and marvellous to tell. For the
first tree that I pull up from the soil, severing its roots, 5
from that tree trickle drops of black blood, staining the
earth with gore. For me, a freezing shudder palsies my
frame, and my chilled blood curdles with affright. Again
I go on to pluck the reluctant fibres of a second tree, and
thus probe the hidden cause to the bottom; as surely 10
from the bark of that second tree the black blood follows.
Much musing in my mind, I began to call on the nymphs
of the wood, and Gradivus,[144] our father, patron of the land
of Thrace, that they might duly turn the appearance to
good, and make the heavy omen light. But when I come 15
to tear up a third spear-shaft with a still greater effort,
straining with my knees against the sand which pressed on
them—ought I to tell the tale or hold my peace?—a lamentable
groan is heard from the bottom of the mound, and
the utterance of a human voice reaches my ear: ‘Why, 20
Æneas, mangle a wretch like me? Spare me at length in
my grave—spare those pious hands the stain of guilt.
It was not an alien to you that Troy bore in bearing me—it
is no alien’s blood that is trickling from the stem. Ah!
fly from this land of cruelty, fly from this shore of greed, 25
for I am Polydorus. Here I lie, pierced and buried by a
growing crop of spears that has shot into sharp javelins.’

“Then, indeed, terror, blank and irresolute, came over

me—I was aghast—my hair stood erect, my tongue
clove to my mouth. Yes, this Polydorus had long ago 30
been sent secretly by Priam, unhappy then as ever, with
a vast weight of gold, to be brought up by the king of
Thrace, when he had already come to despair of the arms
of Dardania, and saw the siege folding closer round his
city. When the power of the Trojans had been broken, 35
and their star set, the Thracian followed Agamemnon’s
fortunes, and joined the standard of the conqueror—every
tie of duty is snapped—he murders Polydorus, and
by violence possesses himself of the gold. Cursed lust of
gold, to what dost thou not force the heart of man? After
the cold shuddering had ceased to tingle in my marrow,
I lay this portent from heaven before the select senate
of our nation, and my father as their chief, and ask them 5
what they think. All are of the same mind, to depart from
the land of crime, to leave the home of violated friendship,
and indulge our fleet with the gales that wooed it. So we
give Polydorus a solemn funeral: earth is heaped high
upon his mound; there stand the altars reared to his 10
manes,[145] in all the woe of dark fillets and sad-coloured
cypress: and round them are daughters of Ilion, their
hair unbound in mourner fashion: we offer bowls of new
milk warm and frothing, and dishes of consecrated blood:
so we lay the spirit to rest in its grave, and with a loud 15
voice give the farewell call.[146]

“Then, when the deep first looks friendly, and the

winds offer a smooth sea, and the south’s gentle whisper invites
us to the main, our crews haul down their ships and
crowd the shore. We sail out of the harbour, land and 20
town leaving us fast. There is a sacred country with
water all round it, chief favourite of the mother of the
Nereids and the god of the Ægean. Once it drifted among
the coasts and seaboards round about, till the heavenly
archer in filial gratitude moored it to the rock of Myconos 25
and to Gyaros, and gave it to be a fixed dwelling-place
henceforth, and to laugh at the winds. Hither I sail:
here it is that in a sheltered harbour our weary crews
find gentlest welcome. We land, and worship the city of
Apollo. King Anius, king of men at once and priest of 30
Phœbus, his temples wreathed with fillets and hallowed
bay, comes running up; in Anchises he owns an old friend,
we knit hand to hand in hospitality and enter his roof.

“Behold me now worshipping the temple of the god,

built of ancient stone. ‘Give us, god of Thymbra,[147] a home 35
that we can call our own: give us weary men a walled
habitation, a posterity, a city that will last: keep from
ruin Troy’s second Pergamus, all that was left by the
Danaans and their ruthless Achilles! Who is our guide?
Whither wouldst thou have us go? where set up our
roof-tree? Vouchsafe us a response, great father, and
steal with power upon our souls!’

“Scarce had I spoken, when methought suddenly came 5

a trembling on the whole place, temple-gate and hallowed
bay, a stir in the mountain from height to depth, a muttering
from the tripod as the door of the shrine flew open.
We fall low on earth, and a voice is wafted to our ears:
‘Sons of Dardanus, strong to endure, the land which first 10
gave you birth from your ancestral tree, the same land
shall welcome you back, restored to its fruitful bosom:
seek for your old mother till you find her. There it is
that the house of Æneas shall set up a throne over all
nations, they, and their children’s children, and those 15
that shall yet come after.’ Thus Phœbus; and a mighty
burst succeeds of wild multitudinous joy, all asking as one
man what that city is—whither is Phœbus calling the
wanderers, and bidding them return. Then my father,
revolving the traditions of men of old: ‘Listen,’ he cries, 20
‘lords of Troy, and learn where your hopes are. Crete
lies in the midst of the deep, the island of mighty Jove.
There is Mount Ida, and there the cradle of our race.
It has a hundred peopled cities, a realm of richest plenty.
Thence it was that our first father, Teucer, if I rightly 25
recall what I have heard, came in the beginning to the
Rhœtean coast, and fixed on the site of empire: Ilion and
the towers of Pergamus had not yet been reared: the
people dwelt low in the valley. Hence came our mighty
mother, the dweller on Mount Cybele, and the symbols 30
of the Corybants, and the forest of Ida: hence the inviolate
mystery of her worship, and the lions harnessed
to the car of their queen. Come, then, and let us follow
where the ordinance of heaven points the way: let us
propitiate the winds, and make for the realm of Gnossus[148]—the
35
voyage is no long one—let but Jupiter go with us,
and the third day will land our fleet on the Cretan shore.’
He said, and offered on the altar the sacrifice that was
meet—a bull to Neptune, a bull to thee, beauteous
Apollo—a black lamb to the storm-wind, to the favouring
Zephyrs a white one.

“Fame flies abroad that King Idomeneus[149] has been

driven to quit his paternal realm, that the shores of Crete 5
are abandoned, houses cleared of the enemy, dwellings
standing empty to receive us. So we leave Ortygia’s
harbour, and fly along the deep, past Naxos’ bacchant
mountains, and green Donysa, Olearos, and snowy Paros,
and the Cyclades sprinkled over the waves, and seas thick 10
sown with islands. Up rises the seaman’s shout amid
strain and struggle—each encourages his comrades,
‘For Crete and our forefathers, ho!’ A wind gets up
from the stern and escorts us on our way, and at length we
are wafted to the Curetes’ time-honoured shore. 15

“And now the site is chosen, and I am rearing a city’s

walls and calling it Pergamia: the new nation is proud
to bear the name of the old: I bid them love hearth and
home, and raise and roof the citadel. Already the ships
had been hauled up high and dry on the shore, the crews 20
were busied with marriage and tilling the new country, and
I was appointing laws to live by, and houses to dwell in—when
suddenly there came on the human frame a wasting
sickness, shed from the whole tainted expanse of the sky,
a piteous blight on trees and crops, a year charged with 25
death. There were men leaving the lives they loved, or
dragging with them the bodies that burdened them,
while Sirius baked the fields into barrenness, the herbage
was parching, the corn was sickening, and would not
yield its food. Back again to Phœbus and his Ortygian 30
oracle over the sea my father bids us go, and there sue for
grace, asking the god to what haven he means to bring our
overtoiled fortunes, whence he orders us to seek for help
in our sufferings—whither to direct our course.

“It was night and all living things on earth were in the 35
power of sleep, when methought the sacred images of the
gods, the Phrygian household deities, whom I had borne
away with me from Troy, even from the midst of the blazing
town, stood before my eyes as I lay in slumber, clear in
a flood of light, where the full moon was streaming through
the windows of the house. Then they began to address
me thus, and relieve my trouble with words like these:
‘The answer which Apollo has ready to give you when you 5
reach Ortygia, he delivers here, sending us, see, of his own
motion to your very door. We, the followers of you and
your fortune since Dardanland sunk in flame—we,
the comrades of the fleet which you have been guiding over
the swollen main—we it is that will raise to the stars the 10
posterity that shall come after you, and crown your city
with imperial sway. Be it yours to build mighty walls
for mighty dwellers, and not abandon the task of flight for
its tedious length. Change your settlement: it is not this
coast that the Delian god moved you to accept—not in 15
Crete that Apollo bade you sit down. No, there is a
place—the Greeks call it Hesperia[150]—a land old in
story, strong in arms and in the fruitfulness of its soil—the
Œnotrians were its settlers. Now report says that
later generations have called the nation Italian from the 20
name of their leader. That is our true home: thence
sprung Dardanus and father Iasius, the first founder of our
line. Quick! rise, and tell the glad tale, which brooks no
question, to your aged sire; tell him that he is to look for
Corythus[151] and the country of Ausonia. Jupiter bars you 25
from the fields of Dicte.’[152] Thus astonished by visions
and voices of heaven—for sleep it was not: no—methought
I saw them face to face, their wreathed locks and
their features all in full view; and a cold sweat, too,
trickled down my whole frame. I leap from the bed, and 30
direct upturned hand and voice to heaven, and pour on the
hearth the undefiled libation. The sacrifice paid, with
joy I inform Anchises, and expound the whole from first to
last. He owns the double pedigree and the rival ancestors,
and his own new mistake about the two old countries. 35
Then he says: ‘My son, trained in the school of Troy’s
destiny, Cassandra’s was the one voice which used to
chant to me of this chance. Now I recollect, this was the
fortune she presaged as appointed for our line, calling often
for Hesperia, often for the land of Italy. But could anyone
think that Teucrians would ever reach the Hesperian
shore? Could Cassandra’s prophesying in those days gain
any one’s credence? Let us give way to Phœbus, and 5
follow the better course enjoined.’ He said, and with one
consent we gladly obey. So we quit this settlement as we
quitted the last, and leaving a few behind, set sail, and
make our hollow barque fly over the vast world of waters.

“Soon as the ships had gained the mid-sea, and land was 10
no more to be seen, sky on every side, on every side ocean,
then came a murky storm-cloud and stood over my head,
charged with night and winter tempest, and darkness
ruffled the billow’s crest. At once the winds lay the sea in
heaps, and the waters rise mountains high: a scattered 15
fleet, we are tossed upon the vast abyss: clouds enshrouded
the day, and dank night robbed us of the sky, while fire
flashes momently from the bursting clouds. We are
dashed out of our track, and wander blindly over the blind
waters. Nay, even Palinurus owns he cannot tell day 20
from night in a heaven like this, or recollect the footpath
in the watery wilderness. Three dreary suns, blotted by
blinding darkness, we wander on the deep: three nights
with never a star. On the fourth day, at last, land was
first seen to rise, and mountains with curling smoke 25
wreaths to dawn in distant prospect. Down drop the
sails: we rise on our oars: incessantly the crews, straining
every nerve, toss the foam and sweep the blue.

“Escaped from the sea, I am first welcomed by the coast

of the Strophades—the Strophades are known by the 30
name Greece gave them, islands in the great Ionian, which
fell Celæno[153] and the rest of the Harpies have made their
home, ever since Phineus’[154] doors were closed against
them, and fear drove them from the board which once fed
them. A more baleful portent than this—a fiercer plague 35
of heaven’s vengeance never crawled out of the Stygian
flood. Birds with maiden’s faces, a foul discharge, crooked
talons, and on their cheeks the pallor of eternal famine.

“On our arrival here, and entering the harbour, see! we

behold luxuriant herds of oxen grazing dispersedly in the
fields, and goats all along the grass, with none to tend them.
On we rush, sword in hand, inviting the gods and Jove
himself to share the spoil with us: and then on the winding 5
shore pile up couches for the banquet, and regale on the
dainty fare. But on a sudden, with an appalling swoop
from the hills, the Harpies are upon us, flapping their
wings with a mighty noise—they tear the food in pieces,
and spoil all with their filthy touch, while fearful screeches 10
blend with foul smells. Again, in a deep retreat under a
hollow rock, with trees and crisp foliage all about us, we set
out the board and put new fire on new altars. Again,
from another quarter of the sky, out of their hidden lair,
comes the troop, all rush and sound, flying about the prey 15
with their hooked talons, tainting the food with their
loathsome mouths. I give the word to my comrades to
seize their arms and wage war with the fell tribe. As I
ordered they do—they arrange their swords in hiding
about the grass, and cover and conceal their shields. So 20
soon as the noise of their swoop was heard along the winding
shore, Misenus, from his lofty watch-tower, makes the
hollow brass sound the alarm. On rush my comrades, and
essay a combat of a new sort, to spoil with their swords the
plumage of these foul sea-birds. But no violence will 25
ruffle their feathers, no wounds pierce their skin: they are
off in rapid flight high in the air, leaving their half-eaten
prey and their filthy trail behind them. One of them,
Celæno, perches on a rock of vast height—ill-boding
prophetess—and gives vent to words like these: ‘What, 30
is it war, for the oxen you have slain and the bullocks
you have felled, true sons of Laomedon? is it war that
you are going to make on us, to expel us, blameless Harpies,
from our ancestral realm? Take then into your minds
these my words, and print them there. The prophecy 35
which the Almighty Sire imparted to Phœbus, Phœbus
Apollo to me, I, the chief of the Furies, make known to you.
For Italy, I know, you are crowding all sail: well, the winds
shall be at your call as you go to Italy, and you shall be
free to enter its harbours: but you shall not build walls
round your fated city, before fell hunger and your murderous
wrong against us drive you to gnaw and eat up your
very tables.’[155] She said, and her wings carried her swiftly 5
into the wood. But for my friends, a sudden terror curdled
their blood, their hearts died within them; no more arms—no,
we must sue for grace, with vows and prayers, be
the creatures goddesses or fell and loathsome birds. And
my father Anchises, spreading his hands from the shore, 10
invokes the mighty powers, and ordains meet sacrifice—‘Great
gods, forefend these menaces! Great gods, avert a
chance like this, and let your blessing shield your worshippers!’
Then he bids us tear our moorings from the shore,
and uncoil and stretch our ropes. 15

“The winds swell our sails, we scud over the foaming

surge, where gale and pilot bid us go. Now rising from
the wave are seen the woods of Zacynthos,[156] and Dulichium,
and Samos, and the tall cliffs of Neritos: we fly
past the rocks of Ithaca, Laertes’ realm, breathing a curse 20
for the land that nursed the hard heart of Ulysses. Soon,
too, the storm-capped peaks of Leucata dawn on the
view, and their Apollo, the terror of sailors. In our
weariness we make for him, and enter the little town:
our anchors are thrown from the prow, our sterns ranged 25
on the coast.

“So now, masters of the land beyond our hope, we perform

lustrations to Jove, and set the altars ablaze with
our vows, and solemnize the shores of Actium[157] with the
native games of Troy. My comrades strip, and practise 30
the wrestle of the old country, all slippery with oil: what
joy to have passed in safety by all those Argive cities,
and held on our flight through the heart of the foe!
Meanwhile the sun rolls round the mighty year, and the
north winds of icy winter roughen the sea. A shield of 35
hollow brass, once borne by the great Abas, I fasten up
full on the temple gate, and signalize the deed with a
verse: ‘These arms are the offering of Æneas, won from
his Danaan conquerors.’ Then I give the word to leave
the haven and take seat on the benches. Each vying with
each, the crews strike the water and sweep the marble
surface. In due course we hide from view the airy summits 5
of Phæacian[158] land, coast the shore of Epirus, enter
the Chaonian haven, and approach Buthrotum’s lofty
tower.

“Here a rumour of events past belief takes hold of our

ears—that Helenus, son of Priam, is reigning among
Grecian cities, lord of the wife and crown of Pyrrhus, 10
Achilles’ very son, and that Andromache had again been
given to a husband of her own nation. I was astounded:
my heart kindled with a strange longing to have speech
of my old friend, and learn all about this wondrous stroke
of fortune. So I advance into the country from the haven, 15
leaving fleet and coast behind, at the very time when
Andromache, before the city, in a grove, by the wave of
a mock Simois, was celebrating a yearly banquet, the
offering of sorrow, to the dead, and invoking her Hector’s
shade at a tomb called by his name, an empty mound of 20
green turf which she had consecrated to him with two
altars, that she might have the privilege of weeping.
Soon as her wild eye saw me coming with the arms of
Troy all about me, scared out of herself by the portentous
sight, she stood chained to earth while yet gazing—life’s 25
warmth left her frame—she faints, and after long time
scarce finds her speech:—‘Is it a real face that I see?
are those real lips that bring me news? Goddess-born,
are you among the living? or, if the blessed light has left
you, where is my Hector?’ She spoke—her tears flowed 30
freely, and the whole place was filled with her shrieks.
Few, and formed with labour, are the words I address to
her frenzied ear, broken and confused the accents I utter:—‘Aye,
I live, sure enough, and through the worst of
fortunes am dragging on life still. Doubt it not, your eye 35
tells you true. Alas! on what chance have you alit,
fallen from the height where your first husband throned
you? What smile has Fortune bright enough to throw
back on Hector’s Andromache? is it Pyrrhus’ bed you
are still tending?’ She dropped her eyes, and spoke with
bated breath:—‘O blest pre-eminently over all, Priam’s
virgin daughter,[159] bidden to die at the grave of her foe,
under Troy’s lofty walls! she that had not to brook the 5
chance of the lot, or, a slave and a captive, to touch the
bed of her lord and conqueror! While we, after the burning
of our city, carried over this sea and that, have stooped
to the scorn, the youthful insolence of Achilles’ heir, the
slave-mother of his child; he, after this, goes in quest of 10
Leda’s Hermione[160] and her Spartan alliance, and gives me
over to Helenus, the bondwoman to be the bondman’s
mate! Him, however, Orestes, fired by desperate passion
for a ravished bride, and maddened by the frenzy-fiend of
crime, surprises at unawares, and slays at his sire’s own 15
altar. At Neoptolemus’ death a portion of this kingdom
passed to Helenus, who called the fields Chaonian, and
the land itself Chaonia, from Chaon, their Trojan namesake,
and crowned, as you see, these heights with a new
Pergamus, the citadel of Ilion. But you—what wind, 20
what destiny has shaped your voyage? What god has
driven you on a coast which you know not to be ours?
What of the boy Ascanius? is he alive and breathing
upper air? he, whom you on that night at Troy—say,
can his boyish mind feel yet for the mother he has lost? 25
Is he enkindled at all to the valour of old days, the prowess
of a grown man, by a father like Æneas, an uncle like
Hector?’

“Such were the sorrows she kept pouring out, weeping

long and fruitlessly, when Priam’s noble son, Helenus, 30
presents himself from the city, with a train of followers,
and knows his friends again, and joyfully leads them to
his home, many a tear interrupting his utterance. As I
go on, I recognize a miniature Troy, a Pergamus copied
from the great one, a dry rivulet the namesake of Zanthus, 35
and throw my arms round a Scæan[161] gate. My
Trojan comrades, too, are made free of the friendly town.
The king made entertainment for them in spacious cloisters.
There, in the midst of the hall, they were pouring libations
from cups of wine, their meat served on gold, and
goblets in their hands.

“And now suppose a day past, and yet another day:

the breeze is inviting the sail, the swelling south inflating 5
the canvas, when I accost the prophet with these words,
and put to him the question I tell you:—‘True Trojan
born, heaven’s interpreter,[B] whose senses inform you of
the stars, and of the tongue of birds, and of the omens of
the flying wing, tell me now—for revelation has spoken 10
in auspicious words of the whole of my voyage, and all
the gods have urged me with one voice of power to make
for Italy, and explore that hidden clime. One alone, the
Harpy Celæno, forebodes a strange portent, too horrible
to tell, denouncing fierce vengeance and unnatural hunger. 15
Tell me then, what perils do I shun first, or what must
I observe to surmount the tremendous hardships before
me?’ Then Helenus first implores the favour of Heaven
by a solemn sacrifice of bullocks, and unbinds the fillet
from his consecrated brow, and with his own hand leads 20
me to thy temple, Phœbus, my mind lifted from its place
by the effluence of divine power; which done, that priestly
mouth chants these words from its prophetic lips:—

“‘Goddess-born—for that presages of mighty blessing

are attending you over the deep is clear beyond doubt—such 25
is the casting of the lot of fate by heaven’s king as
he rolls event after event—such the ordained succession—a
few things out of many, to make your voyage through
strange waters safer, your settlement in Ausonia’s haven
more assured. My speech shall unfold to you but a few—for 30
the rest the fatal sisters keep from Helenus’ knowledge,
and Saturnian Juno seals his lips. First then for
Italy, which you think close at hand, ready in your blindness
to rush into the harbours that neighbour us, the
length of a way where no way is severs you from its length 35
of territory. First must the oar be suppled in Trinacrian
waters, and your ships must traverse the expanse
of the Ausonian brine, and the spectral lake, and the isle
of Ææan Circe,[162] ere you can find a safe spot to build a
peaceful city. I will tell you the tokens, be it yours to 5
keep them lodged in your mind. When on an anxious
day, by the side of a sequestered river, you shall find an
enormous swine lying under the oaks on the bank with a
litter of thirty head just born, white herself through all
her lazy length, her children round her breasts as white 10
as she—that shall be the site of your city—that your
assured rest from toil and trouble. Nor need you shudder
beforehand at the prospect of gnawing your tables—the
fates will find you a path, and a prayer will bring you
Apollo. But as for these lands, and this line of the 15
Italian coast, which lies close at hand, and is washed by
the spray of our waters, this you must fly: the cities, one
and all, are peopled by enemies from Greece. Here the
Narycian Locrians have built them cities, and the Sallentine
fields have been occupied with an army by Lyctian 20
Idomeneus: here is the Melibœan chief Philoctetes’ tiny
town Patelia, with a strong wall to prop it. Further,
when your fleet stands moored on the other side the
water, and you build altars and pay vows on the coast,
shroud your head with the covering of a purple robe, lest, 25
while the hallowed fires are blazing, and the worship of
the gods is yet unfinished, some enemy’s eye should meet
yours, and make the omens void. Be this ritual custom
maintained by your comrades as by yourself: let the piety
of generations to come abide in this observance. But 30
when leaving Italy you are carried by the wind near the
Sicilian coast, and Pelorus’ narrow bars dimly open, make
for the left shore, for the left water, long as the circuit
round may be; avoid the right, its land and its seas.
This whole region by the forceful throes of a mighty convulsion—
such 35
power of change is there in long centuries
of olden time—was rent in twain, so runs the story, the
two countries before having been one and unbroken; at
last the sea poured in violently between, and with its
waters cut off the Hesperian from the Sicilian side, washing
between fields and cities, their seaboards now parted,
with the waves of its narrow channel. There the right-hand
coast is held by Scylla,[163] the left by Charybdis, ever 5
hungering, who, at the bottom of the whirling abyss,
thrice a day draws the huge waves down her precipitous
throat, and in turn upheaves them to the sky, and lashes
the stars with their spray. But Scylla is confined in the
deep recesses of a cave, whence she thrusts out her mouths, 10
and drags vessels on to her rocks. At top, a human face,
a maiden with beauteous bosom; at bottom an enormous
sea-monster—dolphins’ tails attached to a belly all of
wolves’ heads. Better far wearily to round the goal of
Trinacrian[164] Pachynus and fetch about a tedious compass, 15
than once to have looked on the monster Scylla in her
enormous cave, and the rocks that echo with her sea-coloured
dogs. Moreover, if there be any foresight in
Helenus, if you give any credence to his prophetic tongue,
if his mind be a fountain of Apollo’s truth, one thing 20
there is, goddess-born, one thing outweighing all beside
which I will foreshow you, reiterating the warning again
and again—be Juno, great Juno, the first whose deity
you worship—to Juno chant your willing prayers: subdue
that mighty empress by suppliant offerings: thus at 25
last victorious you will leave Trinacria behind, and be
sped to the borders of Italy. When you are there at
length, and have come to the city of Cumæ, and the
haunted lake, and the woods that rustle over Avernus, you
will have sight of the frenzied prophetess, who, in the 30
cavern under the rock, chants her fateful strain, and commits
characters and words to the leaves of trees. All the
strains that the maid has written on these leaves she
arranges in order, shuts them up in her cave, and leaves
them there. They remain as she has left them, their 35
disposition unchanged. But, strange to say, when the
hinge is turned, and a breath of air moves the leaves,
and the opened door throws their light ranks into confusion,
henceforth she never troubles herself for a moment
to catch them as they fly about the cavern, to restore
them to their places, or to fit each strain to each. The
inquirers retire with their doubts unsolved, and a hatred
of the sibyl’s seat. Arrived here, let no cost of time or 5
delay weigh with you so much—though your comrades
should chide, and the voyage loudly call your sails
to sea, and a sheet-full of fair wind be there at your choice—but
that you visit the prophetess, and beg and pray
her herself to chant the oracle, loosing speech and tongue 10
with a ready will. She shall tell you of the nations of
Italy, and the wars of the future, and the way to shun or
stand the shock of every peril, and shall vouchsafe to
your prayer the boon of a prosperous voyage. Such are
the counsels which it is given you to receive from my 15
lips. Go on your way, and by your own actions lift to
heaven the greatness of Troy.’
“Soon as the seer had thus uttered these words of kindness,
he next orders massy gifts of gold and carved ivory
to be carried on shipboard, and stores in the keels, a 20
weight of silver and caldrons of Dodona, a cuirass of
chain-mail, three-threaded in gold, and a splendid helmet
with cone and flowing crest, the armour of Neoptolemus.
My father, too, has presents of his own. Horses, too, he
gives, and guides too; makes up the complement of oars, 25
and arms the crews. Meanwhile Anchises was giving the
word to rig the fleet, not to wear out the patience of a
fair wind. Him the interpreter of Phœbus addresses with
much pomp of courtesy: ‘Anchises, graced with the
proud privilege of Venus’ wedded love, the special care 30
of the gods, whom they twice interposed to save from the
fall of Pergamus, lo! there lies Ausonia’s land; for this
make all sail. Yet what have I said? This coast you
must needs sail past; far away yonder lies that part of
Ausonia which Apollo reveals to you. Go on your way,’ 35
cries he, ‘blessed in a son so duteous! Why proceed
further, and make the rising gales wait while I talk?’
As freely, too, Andromache, saddened with the grief of
parting, presents Ascanius with robes pictured with gold
embroidery, and a Phrygian scarf. She tires not in her
bounty, but loads him with gifts of needlework, and bespeaks
him thus: ‘Take, too, these, dear boy, to be a
memorial of what my hands can do—a token for long 5
years of the affection of Andromache, Hector’s wife. Yes,
take the last presents your kin can bestow, O sole surviving
image of my own Astyanax[165]! Those eyes are his
eyes, those hands his hands, that face his face, and he
would now be growing to manhood by your side, in bloom 10
like yours!’ Tears started forth, as I addressed my parting
words to the royal pair: ‘Live long and happily, as
those should for whom the book of Fortune is closed.
We, alas! are still called to turn page after page. You
have won your rest: you have no expanse of sea to 15
plough, no Ausonian fields to chase, still retiring as
you advance. Your eyes look upon a copy of the old
Xanthus, upon a Troy which your own hands have made—made,
I would hope and pray, with happier auspices, and
with less peril of a visit from Greece. If the day ever 20
arrive when I shall enter Tiber and the fields that neighbour
Tiber, and look on the walls which Fate has made
over to my people, then we will have our two kindred
cities, our two fraternal nations—the one in Epirus, the
other in Hesperia, with a common founder, Dardanus, 25
and a common history—animated by one heart, till they
come to be one Troy. Be this the destined care of our
posterity!’

“We push on over the sea under Ceraunia’s neighbouring

range, whence there is a way to Italy, the shortest 30
course through the water. Meantime the sun drops, and
the mountains are veiled in shadow. We stretch ourselves
gladly on the lap of earth by the water’s side, having cast
lots for the oars, and take our ease dispersedly along the
dry beach. Sleep’s dew sprinkles our wearied limbs. Not 35
yet was night’s car entering the middle of its circle, drawn
by the unflagging hours, when Palinurus, with no thought
of sloth, springs from his bed, explores every wind, and
catches with his ears the voices of the air. All the stars
he notes, as they swim through the silent sky, looking
round on Arcturus, and the showery Hyades, and the
twin Bears, and Orion in his panoply of gold. Soon as
he sees them all set in a heaven of calm, he gives a clear 5
signal from the stern. We break up our quarters, essay
our flight, and spread the wings of our sails. And now
the stars were fled, and Aurora[166] was just reddening in the
sky, when in the distance we see the dim hills and low
plains of Italy. ‘Italy!’ Achates was the first to cry. 10
Italy our crews welcome with a shout of rapture. Then
my father, Anchises, wreathed a mighty bowl with a garland,
and filled it with wine, and called on the gods, standing
upon the tall stern: ‘Ye powers that rule sea and
land and weather, waft us a fair wind and a smooth passage, 15
and breathe auspiciously!’ The breeze we wished
for freshens; the harbour opens as we near it, and the
temple of Minerva is seen crowning the height. The crews
furl the sails, and turn their prows coastward. The harbour
is curved into an arch by the easterly waves; a 20
barrier of cliffs on each side foams again with the briny
spray; between them the haven lies concealed; the towery
rocks let down their arms like two walls, and the temple
retires from the shore. Here on the grass I saw four
horses, the first token of heaven’s will, browsing the 25
meadow at large, of snowy whiteness. And Anchises, my
father, breaks forth: ‘War is on thy front, land of the
stranger; for war thy horses are prepared; war is threatened
by the cattle we see. Still, these beasts no less are trained
one day to stoop to the car, and carry harness and curb 30
in harmony with the yoke; yes,’ cries he, ‘there is hope
of peace, too.’ With that we make our prayers to the
sacred majesty of Pallas, queen of clanging arms, the first
to welcome us in the hour of our joy; and, according to
Helenus’ order, that order which he gave so earnestly, we 35
duly solemnize to Juno of Argos the prescribed honours.
Then, without dallying, soon as our vows were paid in
course, we turn landward the horns of our covered sail-yards,
and leave the homes of the sons of Greece, and
the fields we could not trust. Next we sight the bay of
Tarentum, the city, if legend say true, of Hercules; right
against us rises the goddess of Lacinium, and the towers
of Caulon, and Scylaceum, wrecker of ships. Then, in 5
the distance, from the surge is seen Trinacrian Ætna;
and the heavy groaning of the sea and the beating of the
rocks is heard from afar, and broken voices on the beach,
and the depths leap up to sight, and the sands are in a
turmoil with the surge. Then, my father, Anchises: ‘No 10
doubt this is that Charybdis; these the cliffs, these the
frightful rocks of Helenus’ song. Snatch us from them,
comrades; rise on your oars as one man.’ They do no
less than bidden; first of all Palinurus turned the plashing
prow to the waters on the left; for the left makes the 15
whole fleet, oars, winds, and all. Up we go to heaven on
the arched back of the wave; down again, as the water
gives way under us, we sink to the place of death below.
Thrice the rocks shouted in our ears deep in their stony
hollows; twice we saw the foam dashed up, and the stars 20
all dripping. Meanwhile, tired and spent, we lose wind
and sunlight at once, and, in our ignorance of the way,
float to the land of the Cyclops.

“There is a haven, sheltered from the approach of the

winds, and spacious, were that all; but Ætna is near, 25
thundering with appalling crashes; at one time it hurls
to the sky a black cloud, a smoky whirlwind of soot and
glowing ashes, and upheaves balls of fire, and licks the
stars; at another it raises rocks, torn from the mountain’s
bowels, and whirls heaps of molten stones into the air 30
with a groan, and boils up from its very foundations.
The legend is, that the body of Enceladus,[167] blasted by
lightning, is kept down by this mighty weight, and that
the giant bulk of Ætna, piled on him, breathes forth penal
fire through passages which that fire has burst; and ever, 35
as he shifts his side from weariness, all Trinacria quakes
and groans, and draws up a curtain of smoke over the
sky. That night, in the shelter of the woods, we endure
the visitation of monstrous portents, yet see not what
cause produces the sound. For there was no starlight,
no sky, bright with a heaven of constellations, but the
firmament was dim and murky, and dead night was keeping
the moon in a prison of storm-clouds. 5

“And now the next day was breaking in early dawn,

and Aurora had drawn off the dewy shadow from the
sky, when suddenly from the woods comes forth the
strange figure of a man unknown, in piteous trim—a
picture completed by Famine’s master-stroke, and 10
stretches his hands in supplication to the shore. We
look back: there was filth to make us shudder, a length
of beard, a covering fastened with thorns; yet the rest
betokened a Greek, who had once been sent to Troy in
the army of his nation. As for him, when he saw from 15
afar the dress of Dardan land and the arms of Troy, for
a moment he faltered, scared by the sight, and checked
his steps; soon he ran headlong to the shore, crying and
praying: ‘By the stars I adjure you, by the powers
above, by this blessed light of heaven we breathe, take 20
me with you, Teucrians; carry me off to any land you
will; this will be enough. I know I am one of the Danaan
crews; I own that I carried war into your Trojan homes;
for which, if the guilt of my crime is so black, fling me
piecemeal to the waves, drown me deep in the great sea. 25
If I am to die, there will be pleasure in dying by the hands
of men.’ His speech was over, and he was clinging about
us, clasping our knees, and writhing round them. We
encourage him to tell us who he is, of what race sprung,
to reveal what fortune has since made him its sport. My 30
father, Anchises, after no long pause, himself gives his
hand to the youth, and reassures him by the powerful
pledge. He at length lays aside his fear, and speaks as
follows:—

“‘I come from Ithaca, a comrade of the ill-starred 35

Ulysses, my name Achemenides. I went to Troy, leaving
my father, Adamastus, who was poor. Would that his
lot had remained mine! Here, in their hurry to leave
the door of the slaughterhouse, my comrades forgot me
and so left me behind in the Cyclops’ enormous den. It
is a house of gore and bloody feasting, deep, and dark,
and huge; its master towers aloft, and strikes the stars
on high (ye gods, remove from the earth a plague like 5
this!), whom no eye rests on with pleasure, no tongue dare
accost. The flesh of wretched men and their black blood
are the food he feeds on. These eyes saw, when two
bodies from our company, caught by his huge hand, as
he threw back his head in the midst of the den, were 10
being brained against the rock, and the floor was plashed
and swimming with blood—they saw, when he was
crunching their limbs, dripping with black gore, and the
warm joints were quivering under his teeth. He did it,
but not unpunished. Ulysses was not the man to brook 15
a deed like this; the brain of Ithaca was not wanting to
itself when the need was so great. For soon as, gorged
with his food and buried in wine, he bent and dropped
his neck, and lay all along the den in unmeasured length,
belching out gore in his sleep, and gobbets mixed with 20
bloody wine; then we, having made our prayer to the
great gods and drawn our places by lot, surround him on
all sides as one man, and with a sharp weapon bore out
his eye, that vast eye, which used to lie single and sunk
under his grim brow,[C] and thus at last take triumphant 25
vengeance for our comrades’ shades. But fly, unhappy
men, fly, and tear your cable from the shore. For hideous
and huge as is Polyphemus, folding in his den his woolly
flocks and pressing their udders, as hideous and huge are
a hundred others that dwell everywhere along this coast, 30
monster Cyclops, and stalk over the tall mountains. It
is now the third moon, whose horns are filling out with
light, that I am dragging along my life in the woods;
among the lonely lairs where wild beasts dwell, and looking
forth on the huge Cyclops as they stalk from rock to 35
rock, and trembling at their tread and at the sound of
their voices. My wretched fare, berries and stony cornels,
is supplied by the boughs, and herbage uprooted yields
me food. As I turned my eyes all about, this fleet of
yours at last I saw advancing to the shore; with this, 5
prove it what might, I cast in my lot; it is enough to
have escaped this race of monsters. Sooner do you destroy
this life by any death you please.’

“Scarce had he ended, when on the mountain-top we

see the giant himself, moving along with his enormous 10
bulk among his cattle, and making for the well-known
shore—a monster dreadful, hideous, huge, with his eye
extinguished. A pine, lopped by his own hand, guides
him and steadies his footsteps. His woolly sheep accompany
him—there is his sole pleasure, the solace of his 15
suffering. After he had touched the waves of the deep
and come to the sea, he washes with its water the gore
that trickles from his scooped-out eye, gnashing his teeth
with a groan; and he steps through the sea, now at main
height, while the wave has not yet wetted his tall sides. 20
We, in alarm, hasten our flight from the place, taking on
board the suppliant, who had thus made good his claim,
and silently cut the cable; then throw ourselves forward,
and with emulous oars sweep along the sea. He perceived
it, and turned his steps towards the noise he heard. 25
But when he finds he has no means of grasping at us with
his hand, no power of keeping pace with the Ionian waves
in pursuit, he raises a gigantic roar, at which the sea and
all its waters trembled inwardly, and the land of Italy
shuddered to its core, and Ætna bellowed through her 30
winding caverns. But the tribe of the Cyclops, startled
from wood and lofty mountain, rush to the haven and
fill the shore. There we see them standing, each with
the empty menace of his grim eye, the brethren of Ætna,
lifting their tall heads to heaven, a dire assemblage—like 35
as on some tall peak, skyey oaks or cone-bearing cypresses
stand together, a lofty forest of Jupiter, or a grove of
Diana. Headlong our crews are driven by keen terror to
fling out the ropes anywhither, and stretch their sails to
the winds that would catch them. On the other hand,
Helenus’ warning bids them not to hold on their way
between Scylla and Charybdis, a passage on either side
removed but a hair’s breadth from death; so our purpose 5
stands to spread our sails backward. When lo! the north
wind is upon us, sped from Pelorus’ narrow strait. On I
fly past Pantagia’s mouth of living rock, and the bay of
Megara, and low-lying Thapsus. Such were the coasts
named to us by Achemenides, as he retraced his former 10
wanderings—Achemenides, comrade of the ill-starred
Ulysses.

“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.

The dawn-goddess[169] of the morrow was surveying the

earth with Phœbus’ torch in her hand, and had already
withdrawn the dewy shadow from the sky, when she, 10
sick of soul, thus bespoke the sister whose heart was one
with hers:—“Anna, my sister, what dreams are these
that confound and appal me! Who is this new guest
that has entered our door! What a face and carriage!
What strength of breast and shoulders! I do believe—it 15
is no mere fancy—that he has the blood of gods in his
veins. An ignoble soul is known by the coward’s brand.
Ah! by what fates he has been tossed! What wars he
was recounting, every pang of them borne by himself!
Were it not the fixed, immovable purpose of my mind 20
never to consent to join myself with any in wedlock’s
bands, since my first love played me false and made me
the dupe of death—had I not been weary of bridal bed
and nuptial torch, perchance I might have stooped to
this one reproach. Anna—for I will own the truth—since 25
the fate of Sychæus, my poor husband—since the
sprinkling of the gods of my home with the blood my
brother shed, he and he only has touched my heart and
shaken my resolution till it totters. I recognize the