Virgil – Page 2

Aeneid 1.137-41, Neptune chastising the winds for the storm they launched – at Juno’s order – against the Trojan fleet:

Hasten your flight and say these words to your king:
Not to him were the power over the sea and the fierce trident
given by lot – but to me. He has those huge rocks,
your home, Eurus; Let him vaunt himself in that hall
– Aeolus – and let him reign in his closed up prison of winds.

Maturate fugam, regique haec dicite vestro:
non illi imperium pelagi saevumque tridentem,
sed mihi sorte datum. Tenet ille immania saxa,
vestras, Eure, domos; illa se iactet in aula
Aeolus, et clauso ventorum carcere regnet.

Virgil can be so damning so succintly. And with such perfect word order and verbal juxtapositions: Aeolus + clausus (enclosed) + ventus (winds) + carcer (prison) + regnere (reign). The prison and its adjective enclose the winds. Aeolus and his verb enclose/rule the prison. And then the line ends leading up to regnere so perfectly draw out Neptune’s flow of irony – from his dismissive saxa (plain rocks) to mocking aula (grand hall, court, palace) to the very much cut down sense of the final verb regnere.

What is certainly one of the Aeneid’s best known passages (6.129ish),

Trojan, son of Anchises, easy is the descent to Avernus:
night and day do the doors of black Dis lay open;
but to retrace your step and escape to the upper air,
this is the task, this the labor

Tros Anchisiade, facilis descensus Averno:
noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis;
sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,
hoc opus, hic labor est.

Which, with consistent temperamental flippancy, I cannot read without recalling Ovid’s corrupting echo in Ars Amatoria 1.453:

But what you haven’t given, seem always on the cusp of giving:
In this way a barren field has often deceived its owner:
In this way the gambler – so that he won’t lose – does not leave off losing
and often the dice call back his greedy hands.
This is the the task, this the labor – to get her to bed without a preceding gift;
And so that what she’s given won’t have been given for nothing she’ll keep on giving.

At quod non dederis, semper videare daturus:
Sic dominum sterilis saepe fefellit ager:
Sic, ne perdiderit, non cessat perdere lusor,
Et revocat cupidas alea saepe manus.
Hoc opus, hic labor est, primo sine munere iungi;
Ne dederit gratis quae dedit, usque dabit.

Tag: Virgil

Et clauso ventorum carcere regnet

Hoc opus, hic labor est