# The Works of Virgil (Dryden)/Aeneid/Book II

The Second Book of the
ÆNEIS.
The ARGUMENT.
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​$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$Arm'd once again, my glitt'ring Sword I wield, While th' other hand sustains my weighty Shield: And forth I rush to seek th' abandon'd Field. 915 I went; but sad Creusa stop'd my way, And cross the Threshold in my Passage lay; Embrac'd my Knees; and when I cou'd have gone Shew me my feeble Sire, and tender Son. If Death be your design, at least, said she, 920 Take us along, to share your Destiny. If any farther hopes in Arms remain, This Place, these Pledges of your Love, maintain. To whom do you expose your Father's Life, Your Son's, and mine, your now forgotten Wife! 925 While thus the fills the House with clam'rous Cries, Our Hearing is diverted by our Eyes. For while I held my Son, in the short space, Betwixt our Kisses and our last Embrace; $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$Strange to relate, from young Iulus Head 930 A lambent Flame arose, which gently spread Around his Brows, and on his Temples fed. Amaz'd, with running Water we prepare To quench'd the sacred Fire, and shake his Hair; But old Anchises, vers'd in Omens, rear'd 935 His Hands to Heav'n, and this Request preferr'd. $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$If any Vows, Almighty Jove, can bend Thy Will, if Piety can Pray'rs commend, Confirm the glad Presage which thou art pleas'd to send. ​Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear 940 A peal of ratling Thunder rowl in Air: There shot a streaming Lamp along the Sky, Which on the winged Lightning seem'd to fly; From o'er the Roof the blaze began to move; And trailing vanish'd in th' Idean Grove. 945 It swept a path in Heav'n, and shone a Guide; Then in a steaming stench of Sulphur dy'd. The good old Man with suppliant Hands implor'd The Gods protection, and their Star ador'd. Now, now, said he, my Son, no more delay, 950 I yield, I follow where Heav'n shews the way. Keep (O my Country Gods) our dwelling Place, And guard this Relick of the Trojan Race: This tender Child; these Omens are your own; And you can yet restore the ruin'd Town. 955 At least accomplish what your Signs foreshow: I stand resign'd, and am prepar'd to go. He said; the crackling Flames appear on high, And driving Sparkles dance along the Sky. With Vulcan's rage the rising Winds conspire; 960 And near our Palace rowl the flood of Fire. Haste, my dear Father, (tis no time to wait,) And load my Shoulders with a willing Fraight. What e'er befalls, your Life shall be my care, One Death, or one Deliv'rance we will share. 965 My Hand shall lead our little Son; and you My faithful Consort, shall our Steps pursue.
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