ACT III. SCENE 1

The _atrium_ in the palace of Æneas. The aged Anchises lies prone upon the couch. Creüsa, Ascanius, and other members of the household are huddled together in the same room, listening in awestruck silence to the confused sounds of battle without. The room is lit by the red glare of burning buildings. Enter Æneas, breathless with his haste.

_Æneas_, going up to his father and attempting to lift him in his arms (635, 636):

O father, all is lost; come, flee with me, While still the fates and angry gods allow; Come, let me bear thee on my shoulders broad Unto the shelter of Mount Ida’s slopes.

_Anchises_, resisting (637-649):

If all is o’er, and Troy is in the dust, Why should I wish to prolong this worthless life In exiled wanderings? Turn ye to flight, Who feel the blood of youth within your veins, Whose sturdy powers still flourish in their prime. If heavenly gods had wished me still to live, They would have saved this home wherein to dwell. Enough and more, that I have seen one fall Of Troy, and once outlived my captured town. Then, even as I lie in seeming death, Address my lifeless body and be gone. I’ll quickly gain the boon of death I seek: The enemy will pity me and slay, Or else will slay me for my noble spoils. As for the loss of burial due the dead, ‘Twill not be hard to bear. Too long on earth I spend my useless years, abhorred of heaven, Since when the sire of gods and king of men Blasted my body with his lightning’s breath, And marked me with his scorching bolt of flame.

_Æneas_ and all the household join in entreating Anchises to go with them (651-653):

The heavy hand of fate is on us all, But do not thou, O father, seek to add To this our weight of sorrow, and o’erthrow Our fortunes utterly.

But the old man stubbornly persists in his refusal.

_Æneas_, seeing his father immovable (656-670):

And didst thou think that I could leave thee here, O father, and betake myself to flight? And has such monstrous utterance as this Fall’n from a father’s lips? If heaven has willed That nothing from this city vast survive, And if thy mind is firmly set to die, And ‘tis thy pleasure to our ruined Troy To add thyself and all thy family— The door to that destruction opens wide Soon Pyrrhus will be here, his murderous hands Reeking with Priam’s blood, who slays the son Before his father’s eyes, and eke the sire Upon the sacred altar’s very steps Was it for this that thou, through sword and flame, O fostering mother, didst deliver me, That midst the very sanctities of home I should behold the foe, that I should see Ascanius, my father, and my wife All weltering in one another’s blood? Nay rather, arms! My men, in haste bring arms!

Attendants bring him his sword and shield which he hurriedly fits in place.

The last day calls the vanquished to their death. Let me go forth to meet the Greeks again, Once more sustain the desperate battle shock. We shall not all in helpless slaughter die.

Æneas is rushing toward the door, when Creüsa intercepts him, pushing toward him their little son, Ascanius.

_Creüsa_, kneeling (675-678):

If thou art going forth to seek thy death, Oh, take us, too, with thee to share thy fate; But if thy wisdom bids thee still to hope In sword and shield, here make thy final stand, And guard thy home. To whose protection, pray, Is young Iulus left, to whose thy sire? To whom can I, once called thy wife, appeal?

Suddenly a tongue of flame is seen to leap and play among the locks of the boy. His parents, in consternation, attempt to extinguish this, but to no effect.

_Anchises_, seeing the portent, starts up with wondering joy, stretching his hands upward in prayer (689-691):

O Jove, if thou art moved by any prayer, Look on us now; this only do I ask; And, if our piety deserves the boon, Help us, O father, and confirm these signs.

A sudden crash of thunder resounds without, and through the open impluvium a bright star is seen shooting across the sky.

_Anchises_, rising from his couch in trembling haste (701-704):

Now, now is no delay; I’ll follow thee, O son, wherever thou wouldst have me go. O gods, on whom our fatherland depends, Preserve my house, preserve my grandson too. From you has come this heavenly augury, And on your will divine does Ilium rest. I yield me then, O son, into thy hands. And would no more refuse to go with thee.

Meanwhile from without the glare of the conflagration increases, and the shouting of the victorious Greeks is heard approaching nearer and nearer.

_Æneas_ (707-720):

Come then, dear father, mount upon my back, For on my shoulders will I carry thee, Nor will I find that burden overhard. Whatever comes, ‘twill come to both of us, We’ll share misfortune and deliverance too.

He takes the old man upon his shoulders, first spreading over his back a lion’s skin.

Let young Iulus fare along with me, But at a distance let my wife note well The way I take. And ye, attendants, hark To what I say. Without the city walls There is a mound, where stands an ancient fane Of Ceres, all alone, a cypress tree Of ancient stock, preserved with reverent care For many generations, overhangs The temple walls. Be this our meeting place To which by devious ways in many bands We all shall come. Do thou, my father, carry in thy hands The sacred emblems and our household gods; For me, late come from strife, and stained with blood, ‘Twere sacrilege to touch the holy things, Till I have cleansed me in some running stream.

With his father upon his shoulders and leading Iulus by the hand he takes his way out of the house. The household follows, leaving the room deserted.