THE AENEID: I, 1-7 - Virgil Poems


Poems » virgil » the aeneid i 1 7

War tales and heroes frame my song.
A man -- refugee from Troy --
pushed by fate from Illium to Italy.
O, but the troubles all he bore, tossed
across seas, and in foreign lands blown
like a leaf on the breath of the gods.
(Cruel Juno's wrath, smoking slow,
here the chief cause.)
And the troubles he bore,
the tests, the tricks, the battles,
that he might raise up a city,
that the gods might live in Italy;
the Latin clan, the seeds of our race,
the mighty walls of Rome.