Virgil

No, my boys, no! Don't accustom your spirits to wars of such huge scope,

Don't use your strength and your vigour to disembowel your country!

Lust of the sword rages in him, the accursed frenzy of war.

Now aged, but a god's old age is hardy and green.

Now I will set forth the glory that awaits

The Trojan race, the illustrious souls

Of the Italian heirs to our name.

I will teach you your destiny.

The fresh blood running red on Neptune's fields.

On they went, those dim travelers under the lonely night,

Through gloom and the empty halls of Death's ghostly realm,

like those who walk through woods by a grudging moon's

deceptive light.

A fickle and changeful thing is woman ever.

Alas! by what fates is he vexed! What wars, long endured, did he recount!

There lies my love, there lies my homeland now.

Few in number, but ardent for war.

Rumor, swiftest of all the evils in the world.

She thrives on speed, stronger for every stride,

slight with fear at first, soon soaring into the air

she treads the ground and hides her head in the clouds.

Now hither, now thither he swiftly throws his mind.