The Adventures with the Harpies

It was the first dawn of summer, and the green herb was already beginning to shoot among the blackened ruins of Troy, when the little fleet, bearing that shattered remnant of a mighty nation, put out into the deep. Tears dimmed the eyes of Æneas and his men as they saw their native shores fade away into the distance behind them. The past was all sorrow and the future was veiled in mystery and terror; but Heaven’s eternal eye was watching them, and a divine hand was held over them. * * * * * The mountains of Crete have sunk beneath the horizon, and nothing appears but sea and sky, now black with clouds and lowering with impending storm. Down comes the wind, with sheets of rain, blotting out the view, so that the helmsmen lose their bearings, and drive at random before the tempest. Three days and three nights they are thus hurled along at the mercy of the gale; and when the weather begins to clear Æneas finds himself under the lee of a rocky island, one of the group called Strophades, in the Ionian Sea. One by one his vessels come struggling in, sorely battered by the heavy weather; and at length they all cast anchor in a sheltered inlet, and the weary multitude seeks repose and refreshment in the green meadows which run down to the beach, while the more active beat the bushes in search of game. Soon the welcome sound of lowing and bleating is heard, and a herd of fat oxen and a flock of goats are seen feeding near at hand. The choicest of the herd are speedily hemmed in and slaughtered, providing the materials for a joyful feast. But in the midst of the banquet all the air grows loud with the sound of whirring wings, and three monstrous creatures, with the bodies of birds and the faces of women, swoop down from the mountains, uttering discordant cries. The presence of these hideous beings brings pollution to all around them, and the very meat which the Trojans are eating grows tainted in their mouths; for these are the foul Harpies, who once dwelt on the shores of Thrace and tormented the unhappy Phineus, but being driven away by the sons of Boreas, when the Argonauts passed that way on their voyage, they had taken up their abode on this lonely island. Æneas and his company gave way before these revolting assailants, and resumed their interrupted meal in a spot sheltered by rocks and trees; but again the Harpies came down upon them, and turned their meat into carrion. They drew their swords, and strove to beat off these importunate guests; but their blows fell harmless, as if they had struck upon mail of proof; and the Harpies took wing again, and were seen towering, like vultures, high in air—all but one, who alighted on a neighboring rock, and shrieked at the discomfited Trojans with a voice as frightful as her face. “Accursed breed of an ancestor accursed, would ye add violence to robbery, and drive the Harpies from their home? Then hear this oracle, which I heard from Apollo, and he from Jupiter: Your voyage is to Italy, and to Italy shall ye come; but, ere ever ye shall found a city there, dire hunger shall compel you to devour your tables, in vengeance for the wrong which ye have wrought upon me and my sisters.” With prayer and sacrifice they sought to avert the evil foretold them; and when these were ended they went on board their ships, and the south wind bore them from that inhospitable shore. Then Ithaca looms in view, the rugged nurse of cruel Ulysses, and many a brow is bent, and many a curse is muttered, at the mention of that hated name. At last a cloud-capped peak appears, and, sweeping through a rocky and perilous channel, they cast anchor beneath the shadow of Apollo’s temple in the bay of Actium. Winter is now approaching, and for some time their travels are at an end. The winter was passed in rest and recreation. At the first dawn of spring they broke up their camp, and skirting the coast of Epirus, put into the harbor of Buthrotum, on the mainland, opposite the blue mountains of Corfu.