The Aeneid (II)

"Book II: The Final Hours of Troy" of the Aeneid, by Virgil, is Aeneas's recount of the fall of his great city, from the "departure" of the Greeks to the hero's tragic escape. This section, as you may well imagine, is brimming with moments of intense action and pathos. The bits about Priam's death and Creusa's disappearance are positively heartrending. The passage below, however, are the words of Venus, as relayed by Aeneas, referring to the destruction of Troy at the hands of the gods themselves.

"'There,

yes, where you see the massive ramparts shattered,

blocks wrenched from blocks, the billowing smoke and ash--

it's Neptune himself, prising loose with his giant trident

the foundation-stones of Troy, he's making the walls quake,

ripping up the entire city by her roots.

"'There's Juno,

cruelest in fury, first to commandeer the Scaean Gates,

sword at her hip and mustering comrades, shock troops

streaming out of the ships.

"'Already up on the heights--

turn around and look--there's Pallas holding the fortress,

flaming out of the clouds, her savage Gorgon glaring.

Even Father himself, he's filling the Greek hearts

with courage, stamina--Jove in person spurring the gods

to fight the Trojan armies!'" (II.752-765)

Through the reader-response lens, these few lines provide stunning imagery--one can almost see Neptune uprooting entire buildings, Juno charging the Greeks on, Minerva making mincemeat of the helpless Trojans. Through the formalist lens, the parallelism was particularly striking: "'"There..., it's Neptune.... There's Juno... there's Pallas."'" This, coupled with the often disjunct rhythm of the sentence and clause organization, makes a dynamic and fast-paced read.

Virgil. The Aeneid. Trans. Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Books, 2006. Print.

The Aeneid (I)

The Aedeid, a translation by Fagles of which I have recently begun reading, is a poem written by Vergil, recounting the journey of Aeneas as he flees from the smoldering city of Troy to found what is ultimately to become Rome itself. I realize, writing this blogpost slightly later than the deadline, that the most popular passage after the first few pages is unequivocally the "Wars and a man I sing..."-paragraph (I.1). Though I too found these lines fascinating, charged with the sense of adventure that so characterizes this work, my attention was drawn, instead, to the following:

"My comrades, hardly strangers to pain before now,

we all have weathered worse. Some god will grant us

an end to this as well. You've threaded the rocks

resounding with Scylla's howling rabid dogs,

and taken the brunt of the Cyclops' boulders, too.

Call up your courage again. Dismiss your grief and fear.

A joy it will be one day, perhaps, to remember even this.

Through so many hard straits, so many twists and turns

our course holds firm for Latium. There Fate holds out

a homeland, calm, at peace. There the gods decree

the kingdom of Troy will rise again. Bear up.

Save your strength for better times to come." (I.232-244)

This passage is, perhaps, most famous for the line, "A joy it will be one day...," which Latin teachers often facetiously point out especially, referring to Latin lessons. On a more serious note, these lines are notable through the formalist lens for their parallel structures. "... taken the brunt..." closely echoes "... threaded the rocks..." and "Call up your courage again...," "Dismiss your grief and fear...." More obvious anaphora is employed with "There Fate holds out a homeland...," and, "There the gods decree..." This effectively emphasizes the many struggles Aeneas's men were forced to endure along their odyssey, for, indeed, this story is nothing less than a Roman adaptation of Homer's beloved epic.

Virgil. The Aeneid. Trans. Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Books, 2006. Print.