My comrades lostbefore[errata 1] my eyes
Are turned to birds, and wing the skies,
Haunt, cruel change, the banks of streams,
And fill the rocks with piteous screams.
Such was the extremity of fate
On my transgression doomed to wait,
E'er since with heavenly ichor stained
My javelin Venus' hand profaned.
Then ask me not to tempt anew
The fight whose memory yet I rue:
Since Pergamus to earth was cast
I war not with the sons of Troy:
I cherish not the woful past,
Nor think of it with joy.
The presents that your country sends
May make you yet Æneas' friends.
Myself have faced him on the field
And tried the combat's chance;
I know the arms his hand can wield,
The thunder of his lifted shield,
The lightning of his lance.
Two chiefs beside in strength as great
Had Ida's region borne,
Troy's sons had knocked at Argos' gate
Unbidden, and reverse of fate
Had made Achaia mourn.
Count up the weary mouths we spent
'Neath Ilium's stubborn battlement,
'Twas Hector's and Æneas' power
Delayed so long the conquering hour,
Till in the tenth slow year it came
At last, with halting feet and lame.
Brave warriors both alike; but he,
Æneas, first in piety.
Join hands in peace, if so ye may,
But meet not arms with arms in fray."
