eir notes have also been used by me
throughout.

Beyond this I have made constant use of the mass of ancient commentary
going under the name of Servius; the most valuable, perhaps, of all, as
it is in many ways the nearest to the poet himself. The explanation
given in it has sometimes been followed against those of the modern
editors. To other commentaries only occasional reference has been made.
The sense that Virgil is his own best interpreter becomes stronger as
one studies him more.

My thanks are due to Mr. EVELYN ABBOTT, Fellow and Tutor of Balliol, and
to the Rev. H. C. BEECHING, for much valuable suggestion and criticism.

THE AENEID

BOOK FIRST

THE COMING OF AENEAS TO CARTHAGE

I sing of arms and the man who of old from the coasts of Troy came, an
exile of fate, to Italy and the shore of Lavinium; hard driven on land
and on the deep by the violence of heaven, for cruel Juno's unforgetful
anger, and hard bestead in war also, ere he might found a city and carry
his gods into Latium; from whom is the Latin race, the lords of Alba,
and the stately city Rome.

Muse, tell me why, for what attaint of her deity, or in what vexation,
did the Queen of heaven drive one so excellent in goodness to circle
through so many afflictions, to face so many toils? Is anger so fierce
in celestial spirits?

* * * * *

There was a city of ancient days that Tyrian settlers dwelt in,
Carthage, over against Italy and the Tiber mouths afar; rich of store,
and mighty in war's fierce pursuits; wherein, they say, alone beyond all
other lands had Juno her seat, and held Samos itself less dear. Here was
her armour, here her chariot; even now, if fate permit, the goddess
strives to nurture it for queen of the nations. Nevertheless she had
heard a race was issuing of the blood of [20-53]Troy, which sometime
should overthrow her Tyrian citadel; from it should come a people, lord
of lands and tyrannous in war, the destroyer of Libya: so rolled the
destinies. Fearful of that, the daughter of Saturn, the old war in her
remembrance that she fought at Troy for her beloved Argos long ago,--nor
had the springs of her anger nor the bitterness of her vexation yet gone
out of mind: deep stored in her soul lies the judgment of Paris, the
insult of her slighted beauty, the hated race and the dignities of
ravished Ganymede; fired with this also, she tossed all over ocean the
Trojan remnant left of the