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  And, while he prayed and raised his eyes to heaven in supplication, the other spoke thus: “Consider whether the hero of Tiryns will not far more justly assist us in our enterprise. If thou frownest not on rival valour, invincible Alcides, thou wilt recognize that I come not short of thy young years; bring thy power to help me; and, as thou art renowned for the destruction of Troy long ago, so support me when I destroy the scions of the Phrygian race.” Thus Hannibal spoke; and at the same time, clutching his sword in fury, he drove it home till the hilt stopped it; then he drew back the weapon, and his dread armour was drenched with the blood of the dying man. At once the fighters rush forward, troubled by the great man’s fall, and defy the proud conqueror to take the famous armour and body of Murrus. Their numbers grow by mutual encouragement; they unite and charge in a serried mass. Now stones rattle on Hannibal’s helmet, and now spears on his brazen shield; they attack with stakes, and vie with one another in swinging and hurling weights of lead. The plume was shorn from his head, and the glorious horsehair crest that nodded over the slain was torn in pieces. And now streams of sweat started out and bathed his limbs, and pointed missiles stuck fast in the scales of his breastplate. No respite was possible and no change of armour, beneath the rain of blows. His knees shake, and his weary arms lose hold of his shield. Now too a constant steam comes smoking from his parched lips, with deep-drawn breaths, and men heard a groaning forced out with panting effort, and an inarticulate cry that broke against the helmet. So the furious wild boar, when pursued by baying hounds of Sparta, and when debarred from the forest by the hunters in his way, erects the bristles on his shaggy back and fights his last battle, champing his own foaming blood; and now with a yell he dashes his twin tusks against the spears. By courage Hannibal overcomes disaster; he is glad that valour is made brighter by hardship; and he finds an equivalent for danger in the reward of glory.

  Now the sky was cloven, and a sudden earth-shaking crash burst forth among the thick clouds, and right above the battle the Father of heaven thundered twice with repeated bolt. Then, mid the blind hurricane of the winds, there sped between the clouds a spear to punish unrighteous warfare, and the well-aimed point lodged in the front of Hannibal’s thigh. Ye Tarpeian rocks, where the gods have their dwelling, and ye fires of Laomedon, altars of Troy, that burn for ever with a flame tended by Vestals, how much, alas, Heaven promised to you by the appearance of that deceptive weapon! If the spear had pierced deeper into the fierce warrior, the Alps had been for ever closed to mortal men, and Allia would not now rank after the waters of Lake Trasimene.

  But Juno, surveying from the summit of the lofty Pyrenees his youthful prowess and martial ardour, when she saw the wound inflicted by the point of the flying spear, hastened thither through the sky, veiled by a dark cloud, and plucked forth the stout spear from the tough bone. He covered with his shield the blood that poured over his limbs, and went back from the rampart, dragging his feet one after the other slowly and gradually with uncertain effort.

  Night at last buried land and sea in welcome darkness, and separated the combatants by robbing them of light. But resolute hearts kept watch, and they rebuilt the wall — their task for the night. The besieged were spurred on by the extremity of their danger, and their last stand was more furious in their desperate plight. Here boys and feeble old men, and there women, strove valiantly to carry on the piteous task in the hour of peril, and soldiers with streaming wounds carried stones to the wall. And now the senators and noble elders were heedful of their special duty. Meeting in haste, they chose envoys, and urged them with entreaties to be active in this grievous plight and bring safety back, and to entreat the aid of Roman armies in their extremity. “Go with speed; urge on your ship with oar and sail, while the wounded wild beast is shut up in his camp; we must take advantage of the interruption of war, and rise to fame by danger. Go with speed; lament our loyalty and our crumbling walls, and bring us better fortune from our ancient home. This is our final charge — return before Saguntum falls.” Then the men hasten to the nearest coast, and fly with swollen sail over the foaming sea.

  The dewy spouse of Tithonus was banishing sleep, and her ruddy steeds had breathed on the mountain-tops with their first neighings, and tugged at their roseate reins. Now high on the walls the inhabitants, aloft on their finished work, point from the walls to their city, fenced in by towers that grew in the night. All activity was suspended; for the sorrowing Carthaginians relaxed the vigour of the blockade, and their martial ardour paused; it was to their leader in his great danger that their thoughts were turned.

  Meantime the Rutulians had travelled far over the waters, and the hills of Hercules began to emerge from the sea, and to lift up from the range the cloud-capt cliffs of Monoecus. Thracian Boreas is the sole lord of these rocks, a savage domain; ever freezing, he now lashes the shore, and now beats the Alps themselves with his hissing wings; and, when he spreads over the land from the frozen Bear, no wind dares to rise against him. He churns the sea in rushing eddies, while the broken billows roar and the mountains are buried beneath water piled above them; and now in his career he raises the Rhine and the Rhone up to the clouds. Having escaped this awful fury of Boreas, the envoys spoke sadly one to another of the hazards of war succeeded by the hazards of the sea, and about the doubtful issue of events. “Alas for our country, the famous home of Loyalty! how do thy fortunes now stand? is thy sacred citadel still erect upon the hills? Or — alas, ye gods! — are ashes all that remain of so mighty a name? Grant us light airs, and send forth favouring breezes, if the Carthaginian fire is not yet triumphant over the tops of our temples, and if the Roman fleets have power to help us.”

  Thus night and day they mourned and wept, until their ship put in at the shore of Laurentum, where father Tiber, richer by the tribute of the Anio’s waters, runs down with yellow stream into the sea. From here they soon reached the city of their Roman kinsmen.

  The consul summoned the worshipful assembly — the Fathers rich in unstained poverty, with names acquired by conquests — a senate rivalling the gods in virtue. Brave deeds and a sacred passion for justice exalted these men; their dress was rough and their meals simple, and the hands they brought from the crooked plough were ready with the sword-hilt; content with little, uncovetous of riches, they often went back to humble homes from the triumphal car.

  At the sacred doors and on the threshold of the temple captured chariots were hung, glorious spoils of war, and armour taken from hostile generals, and axes ruthless in battle, and perforated shields, and weapons to which the blood still clung, and the bolts of city-gates. Here one might see the wars with Carthage, the Aegatian islands, and the ships’ prows which testified that Carthage had been driven from the sea when her fleet was defeated on the water. Here were the helmets of the Senones and the insolent sword that decreed the weight of gold paid down, and the armour that was borne in the procession of Camillus on his return, when the Gauls had been repulsed from the citadel; here were the spoils of the scion of Aeacus, and here the standards of the Epirote, the bristling plumed helmets of the Ligures, the rude targets brought back from Spanish natives, and Alpine javelins.

  But when the mourning garb of the suppliants made plain their calamities and sufferings in war, the Senate seemed to see before them the figure of Saguntum appealing for help in her last hour. Then aged Sicoris thus began his sorrowful tale: “O people famous for keeping of your oaths, people whom the nations defeated by your arms admit with reason to be the seed of Mars, think not that we have crossed the sea because of trifling dangers. We have seen our native city besieged and its walls rocking; we have looked on Hannibal, a man to whom raging seas or some union of wild beasts gave birth. I pray that Heaven may keep the deadly arm of that stripling far from these walls, and confine him to war against us. With what might he hurls the crashing beam! How his stature increases in battle! Scorning the limit of the Ebro, and crossing the range of the Pyrenees, he has roused up Calpe and stirs up the peoples hidden in the sands
of the Syrtis, and has greater cities in his eye. This foaming billow, rising-in mid-ocean, will dash itself against the cities of Italy, if you refuse to stop it. Do you believe that Hannibal, frantic for the war he has sworn to wage, will be content with this reward of his great enterprise and his breach of treaty by force of arms — the conquest and submission of Saguntum? Hasten, ye men of Rome, to put out the flame in its beginning, or the trouble may recur too late when the danger has grown greater. And yet — ah me! — if no danger threatened you, if the hidden sparks of war were not at this moment smoking, would it be beneath you to hold out to your city of Saguntum a kindred hand? All Spain threatens us, all Gaul with her swift horsemen, and all thirsty Libya from the torrid zone. By the long-cherished origins of the Rutulian race, by the household gods of Laurentum, and by the pledges of our mother Troy, preserve those righteous men who were forced to leave the walls of Acrisius for the towers of Hercules. It was your glory to help Zancle against the armies of the Sicilian despot; you deemed it worthy of your Trojan ancestors to defend the walls of Capua and drive away the strength of the Samnites. I was once a dweller in Daunia — bear witness, ye springs and secret pools of the river Numicius! — and when Ardea sent forth the sons in which she was too rich, I bore forth the sacred things and the inner shrine from the house of Turnus, my ancestor, and carried the name of Laurentum beyond the Pyrenees. Why should I be scorned, like a limb cut off and torn from the body? and why should our blood expiate the breach of the treaty?”

  At last, when they ceased to speak, it was pitiful to see them dash their unkempt bodies down upon the floor, with their open hands held up and their garments torn. Next the Fathers held counsel and carried on anxious debate. Lentulus, as if he actually saw the houses of Saguntum burning, moved that they should demand the surrender of Hannibal for punishment, and that, if Carthage refused to give him up, her territory should be ravaged with instant war. But Fabius, peering warily into the future, no lover of doubtful courses, slow to provoke war, and skilful to prolong a campaign without unsheathing the sword, was next to speak. He said that in so grave a matter they must first find out whether the madness of Hannibal began the war, or the senate of Carthage ordered the army to advance; they must send envoys to examine and report. Mindful of the future and musing on the war to come, Fabius, prophet-like, uttered this advice from his lofty soul. Thus many a veteran pilot, when from his high poop he sees by tokens that the gale will soon fall upon his canvas, reefs his sails in haste upon the topmast. But tears, and grief mixed with resentment, made them all eager to hasten the unknown future. Senators were chosen to approach Hannibal; if he turned a deaf ear to his engagements and fought on, they must then turn their steps to the city of Carthage and declare war without delay against men unmindful of the gods.

  BOOK II

  ARGUMENT

  THE ROMAN ENVOYS, DISMISSED BY HANNIBAL, PROCEED TO CARTHAGE (1-24). HANNIBAL ADDRESSES HIS MEN AND GOES ON WITH THE SIEGE (25-269). THE ROMAN ENVOYS ARE RECEIVED IN THE CARTHAGINIAN SENATE: SPEECHES OF HANNO AND GESTAR: FABIUS DECLARES WAR (270-390). HANNIBAL DEALS WITH SOME REBELLIOUS TRIBES AND RETURNS TO THE SIEGE: HE RECEIVES A GIFT OF ARMOUR FROM THE SPANISH PEOPLES (391-456). THE SUFFERINGS OF SAGUNTUM (457-474). THE GODDESS LOYALTY IS SENT TO THE CITY BY HERCULES, ITS FOUNDER, AND ENCOURAGES THEM TO RESIST (475-525). BUT JUNO SENDS A FURY FROM HELL WHO DRIVES THE PEOPLE MAD (526-649). THEY BUILD A GREAT PYRE AND LIGHT IT. HANNIBAL TAKES THE CITY (650-695). EPILOGUE BY THE POET (696-707).

  AND now the Roman vessel, sailing forth over the blue water, carried leading senators with the stern behests of the high-souled Senate. Fabius, descended from Hercules, could tell of ancestors three hundred in number, who were swept away in a single day by the hurricane of war, when Fortune frowned on the enterprise of the patricians and stained the banks of the Cremera with their blood. With Fabius went Publicola, the Spartan descendant of mighty Volesus, and shared the duty in common with his colleague. Publicola showed by his name his friendship for the people, and the name stood first on the roll of Roman consuls, when his ancestor held office.

  When word was brought to Hannibal that the envoys had lowered sail and were gaining the harbour, and that they brought a decree of the Senate demanding peace — a belated peace when war was already raging — and also the punishment of the general as laid down in the treaty, he quickly ordered squadrons in arms to display all along the shore menacing standards, shields newly dyed with blood, and weapons red with slaughter. ‘This is no time for words,” he cried; “all the land is loud with the blare of the Tyrrhene trumpet and the groans of the dying. Let them, while they may, put to sea again, and not make haste to join the besieged Saguntines; we know the licence of passion and of weapons reeking with slaughter, and the boldness of the sword, when once unsheathed.” Thus accosted by Hannibal, the envoys, driven away along the unfriendly shore, turned their course about and made for the Carthaginian senate.

  Then Hannibal shook his fist at the vessel as she spread her sails: “Ye gods,” he cried, “it is my head, even mine, which yonder ship seeks to carry across the sea! Woe be to minds that cannot see, and to hearts puffed up with prosperity! The unrighteous land demands Hannibal, sword in hand, for punishment. Without your asking, I shall come; you shall see enough of me before you expect me; and Rome, which is now protecting foreign households, shall tremble for her own gates and her own hearths. Though ye clamber a second time up the steep cliffs of the Tarpeian rock and take refuge in your lofty citadel, ye shall not again, when made prisoners, ransom your lives for any weight of gold.”

  These words fired the courage of his troops, and they fought with fresh fury. Instantly the sky was hidden with clouds of missiles, and the towers of Saguntum rattled under a thick hail of stones. Men were spurred on by their eagerness to wage war under the eyes of the retreating vessel, while she could still see the walls in her course. But their leader, conspicuous with his wound exposed to view, himself demanded of his excited soldiers the promised scapegoat, and shouted his repeated complaint with frenzied utterance: “Comrades, the Romans demand my surrender; and Fabius on the deck displays the fetters for me, and the wrath of the imperious Senate summons me. If you are weary of our enterprise, if the war we have begun is blameworthy, then make haste to recall the Roman ship from the sea. I am ready: hand me over to the torturers with fettered wrists. For why should I, though I trace my pedigree to Belus of the East, and am girt about by so many nations of Africa and Spain — why should I refuse to endure slavery? Nay, let the Roman rule for ever, and proudly spread his tyranny over the world for all generations: let us tremble at their nod and obey their bidding.” His men groan aloud, and turn the evil omen upon the race of the Aeneadae, and increase their ardour by shouting.

  Among the loosely-girt Libyans and the peoples of two tongues, Asbyte had come boldly to fight against Rome with troops from Marmarica. She was the child of Hiarbas the Garamantian; and he was the son of Ammon and ruled with extended sway the caves of Medusa, daughter of Phoreys, and the Macae who dwell by the river Cinyps, and the Cyrenians whom the cruel sun scorches; he was obeyed by the Nasamones, hereditary subjects, by ever-parched Barce, by the forests of the Autololes, by the shore of treacherous Syrtis, and by the Gaetulians who ride without reins. And he had built a marriage-bed for the nymph Tritonis, from whom the princess was born; she claimed Jupiter as her forefather and derived her name from the prophetic grove. She was a maiden and ever lay alone, and had spent her early years in the forest-chase; never did the wool-basket soften her hands nor the spindle give her occupation; but she loved Dictynna and the woodlands, and to urge on with her heel the panting steed and lay low wild beasts without mercy. Even so the band of Amazons in Thrace traverse Rhodope and the high forests on the stony ridges of Mount Pangaeus, and tire out the Hebrus by their speed; they spurn all suitors — the Cicones and Getae, the royal house of Rhesus, and the Bistones with their crescent-shaped shields.

  And thus conspicuous in her native dress — with her long hair b
ound by a gift from the Hesperides, with her right breast bared for battle, while the shield glittered on her left arm and the target of the Amazons protected her in battle — she urged on her smoking chariot with furious speed. Some of her companions drove two-horse chariots, while others rode on horseback; and some of the princess’s escort had already submitted to the bond of wedlock, but the maidens of the troop outnumbered these. She herself proudly displayed before the line the steeds which she had chosen from the droves among distant native huts; keeping near the mound, she drove round the plain in circles; and, hurling her whizzing missiles through the air, she planted them in the summit of the citadel.

  Again and again she hurled her weapons within the walls; but old Mopsus resented it, and sped from the high walls Cretan arrows from his twanging bow, and launched through the clear sky deadly wounds with the winged steel. He was a Cretan, who had voyaged from the caverns of the Curetes that ring with brass. When young and nimble, he was wont to beat the coverts of Dicte with feathered shafts: oft did he bring down from the sky the wandering bird; from a distance he would strike and stay the stag that was escaping from the nets along the plain; and the beast would collapse, surprised by a blow unforeseen, before the bow had ceased to twang. Gortyna, though she rivals the arrows of the East, had more reason then to boast of Mopsus than of any other archer. But when, grown poor, he was unwilling to pass his whole life in hunting, and when his poverty drove him across the sea, he had come, a humble guest, with his wife Meroe and his sons; and destiny had led him to ill-fated Saguntum. From the young men’s shoulders there hung quivers and their father’s arrows and the winged steel that is Crete’s weapon. Mopsus, between his sons, was raining arrows from his Cydonian bow of horn upon the Massylian warriors. Already he had laid low Garamus and bold Thyrus, and Gisgo rushing on together with fierce Bagas, and Lixus, yet beardless, who did not deserve to meet an arrow so unerring; and he fought on with his quiver filled. Now he turned his eyes and his weapon against the face of Asbyte, and prayed to Jupiter; but his prayer found no favour with the god whom he had deserted. For Harpe, a Nasamonian maid, when she saw the fatal bow turned about, placed herself in the way of the distant danger, and anticipated the mortal blow; and even as she shouted, the flying arrow struck her open mouth and passed through; and her sisters first saw the point standing out behind her. But Asbyte, furious at the fall of her comrade, raised the prostrate body and wetted with her tears the swimming eyes with their failing light; and then, putting forth all the strength of sorrow, she hurled her deadly spear against the city walls. On it flew and pierced with sudden blow the shoulder of Dorylas, as he strove to launch the steel into the air with loosened thumb — the ends of the bow already met, and the arrow filled the space left by the expanded string. Then he fell down headlong towards his sudden wound from the high bastions of the wall, and beside his falling body the arrows poured forth from his upset quiver. His brother, Icarus, armed alike and standing near him, cried aloud and sought to avenge that pitiable death. But, as he put forth his weapon in haste for battle, Hannibal hurled a great stone and stopped him with its whirling mass. His limbs collapsed, stiff with icy cold, and his failing hand returned to the quiver the arrow that belonged to it.