The Aeneid of Virgil (Bantam Classics)

This epic composed by Edward Fairfax Taylor (inspired by the original Latin source material by Virgil) is an unknown unrecognized masterpiece. This I have now concluded is the true English-language Aeneid and should be credited as such. Before I would have always avowed that it was Dryden's version, and I tried to love it while reading through it various times. But I had a hard time feeling that Virgil really sat up there with the language of Shakespeare when his work was presented that way. Dryden's telling so often uses such short sentences and simple words, and in places, while it is fine, it seems overly simplified with a lot of key lines and information from the original Latin epic not fully included. Many of the popular English translations of the Aeneid nowadays strive to be readable, relevant as colloquial prose but contain hardly any majestic sweep as when Virgil wrote in Latin.I do not understand why this version is not better known, and even on the internet there are barely any reviews or acknowledgement of its existence. Its words roll elegantly off the page and flowingly off the tongue as an epic story. The grand sway of lofty paragraphs unleash an epic to be taken seriously. This is what should always be quoted as the Aeneid when it is quoted in English.Here we may experience what it was like to receive the Aeneid as though we were the original audience. The Romans were able to experience reading the Homeric epics in Greek or in translations, but they did not have their own national epic in their own language. But along comes Virgil. If, with any such work, we can immerse ourselves into this world, we must suspend our disbelief and imagine that the language of Spenser, Milton, and Shelley is the language that "we" are speaking in ancient Rome. A heroic epic from the Trojan War has now been made ours and written in our language! Virgil was using what was even for them ancient mythology and religion to create new imperialistic propaganda to celebrate the new Caesarian dynasty. But we can still appreciate this work for what it is today even without believing in it, just as you can appreciate Paradise Lost if you don't believe in Puritanical Christianity.I am so glad I discovered this almost by accident from the internet almost a year ago and I am voicing my appreciation for Lector House Publishing for keeping this wonderful volume in print. It is presented very nicely in an attractive paperback and I love owning this hard copy as well.Here are some of the famous quotes from the Aeneid as composed by Edward Fairfax Taylor:Of arms I sing, and of the man . . .So huge, so hard the task to found the Roman state.Black night broods on the waters; all aroundFrom pole to pole the rattling peals resoundAnd frequent flashes light the lurid air.Thrice, four times blest, who, in their fathers' faceFell by the walls of Ilion far away!Rage finds them armsComrades! of ills not ignorant; far moreThan these ye suffered, and to these as wellWill Jove give ending, as he gave before.hereafter, it may beThese too will yield a pleasant tale to tell.Through shifting hazards, by the Fates' decree,To Latin shores we steerHe spake, and heart-sick with a load of care,Suppressed his grief, and feigned a cheerful air.Thou yet shalt see Lavinium's walls arise,And bear thy brave Æneas to the skies.To these no period nor appointed date,Nor bounds to their dominion I assign;An endless empire shall the race await.But hence, where leads the path, thy forward steps pursue.And by her walk the goddess shone complete"Even hereWorth wins her due, and there are tears to flow,And human hearts to feel for human woe.Fear not," he cries, "Troy's glory yet shall gainSome safety."We, Troy's poor fugitives, implore thy grace,Storm-tost and wandering over every mainNot unskilledIn woe, I learn to succour the distrest.The noise of festivalRings through the spacious courts, and rolls along the hall.There, blazing from the gilded roof, are seenBright lamps, and torches turn the night to day.What causes make the winter nights so long,Why sinks the sun so quickly in the main?The woes I saw, thrice piteous to behold,And largely shared.Some with wonder and dismayThe maid Minerva's fatal gift survey.I fear the Greeks, for all the gifts they bear.I mused indignant on his fate,And dragged my days in solitude and woe,Nor in my madness kept my purpose low,Poor souls! with festive garlands deck each fane,And through the town in revelry employThe day decreed our last, the dying hours of Troy!And now the heaven rolled round. From ocean rushedThe Night, and wrapt in shadow earth and airAnd Myrmidonian wiles.Madly I rush to arms; though vain the fight,Yet burns my soul, in fury and despair,To rally a handful and to hold the height:Sweet seems a warrior's death and danger a delight.Troy was, and we were Trojans, now, alas!No more, for perished is the Dardan fame.Fierce Jove to Argos biddeth all to pass,And Danaans rule a city wrapt in flame.My spirit stirred with impulse from on high,I rush to arms amid the flames and fight,Where yells the war-fiend and the warrior's cry,Mixt with the din of strife, mounts upward to the sky.Troy's guardian gods have left her; altar, fane,All is deserted, every temple bare.The town ye aid is burning. Forward, then,To die and mingle in the tumult's blare.Sole hope to vanquished men of safety is despair.Then fury spurred their courage, and behold,As ravening wolves, when darkness hides the day,Stung with mad fire of famine uncontrolled,Prowl from their dens, and leave the whelps to stay,With jaws athirst and gaping for the prey.So to sure death, amid the darkness there,Where swords, and spears, and foemen bar the way,Into the centre of the town we fare.Night with her shadowy cone broods o'er the vaulted air.O son, what meanThese transports? Say, what bitter grief doth moveThy soul to rage untamed? Where vanished is thy love?Quick, father, mount my shoulders; let us go.That toil shall never tire me. Come whatsoThe Fates shall bring us, both alike shall shareOne common welfare or one common woe.On we strideThrough shadowy ways; and I who rushing spearAnd thronging foes but lately had defied,Now fear each sound, each whisper of the air,Trembling for him I lead, and for the charge I bear.So mused I, blind with anger. . . .What power I know not, but some power unkindConfused my wandering wits, and robbed me of my mind.Curst greed of gold, what crimes thy tyrant power attest!'Twas night; on earth all creatures were asleep:Long since a prey to passion's torturing pains,The Queen was wasting with the secret flame,The cruel wound was feeding on her veins.But he—how oft by danger sore bestead,What warlike exploits did his lips retrace.I know the traces of the long-quenched flame;Blind seers, alas! what artTo calm her frenzy, now hath vow or shrine?Deep in her marrow feeds the tender smart,Unseen, the silent wound is festering in her heart.Poor Dido burns with love, her blood is turned to fire.Fame with the news through Libya's cities hies,Fame [Rumor], far the swiftest of all mischiefs bred;Speed gives her force; she strengthens as she flies.Small first through fear, she lifts a loftier head,Her forehead in the clouds, on earth her tread.Swift-winged, swift-footed, of enormous girth,Huge, horrible, deformed, a giantess from birth.As many feathers as her form surround,Strange sight! peep forth so many watchful eyes,So many mouths and tattling tongues resound,So many ears among the plumes uprise.By night with shrieks 'twixt heaven and earth she flies,Nor suffers sleep her eyelids to subdue;By day, the terror of great towns, she spiesFrom towers and housetops, perched aloft in view,Fond of the false and foul, yet herald of the true.So now, exulting, with a mingled humOf truth and falsehood, through the crowd she sped.May Heaven—if Heaven be righteous—make thee payThy forfeit, left on ocean's rocks to prayFor help to Dido. There shall Dido goWith sulphurous flames, and vex thee far away.My ghost in death shall haunt thee. I shall knowThy punishment, false wretch, and hail the news below."The pious Prince, though fainWith gentle words her anguish to ally,Sighing full sore, and racked with inward pain,Bows to the God's behest, and hastens to the main.What, hapless Dido, were thy feelings then?. . . .O tyrant love, so potent to subdue!Again, perforce, she weeps for him; againShe stoops to try persuasion, and to sue,And yields, a suppliant, to her love's sweet pain,Lest aught remain untriedChangeful is woman's mood, and varying with the day.Them and their children's children evermoreYe Tyrians, with immortal hate outwear.This gift—'twill please me best—for Dido's shade prepare.This heritage be yours; no truce nor trust'Twixt theirs and ours, no union or accordArise, unknown Avenger from our dust;With fire and steel upon the Dardan hordeMete out the measure of their crimes' reward.To-day, to-morrow, for eternityDear relics! loved while Fate and Jove were kind,Receive this soul, and free me from my woe.My life is lived; behold, the course assignedBy Fortune now is finished, and I go . . .as they dare,They do; the thought of winning wins the game.He mourned for Palinurus. "Ah," he cried,"For faith reposed on flattering sea and sky,Left on an unknown shore, thy naked corpse must lie!"Fame is, that Dædalus, adventuring forthOn rapid wings, from Minos' realms in flight,Trusted the sky, and to the frosty NorthSwam his strange way, till on the tower-girt heightOf Chalcis gently he essayed to light.There, toil-wrought house and labyrinthine grove,With tangled maze, too intricate to tread,Yield not to evils, but the bolder thouPersist, defiant of misfortune's frown,And take the path thy Destinies allow.Down to Avernus the descent is light,The gate of Dis stands open day and night.But upward thence thy journey to retrace,There lies the labour; 'tis a task of might,By few achieved, and those of heavenly race,Whom shining worth extolled or Jove hath deigned to grace.O silent Shades, and ye, the powers of Hell,Chaos and Phlegethon, wide realms of night,What ear hath heard, permit the tongue to tell,High matter, veiled in darkness, to indite.—On through the gloomy shade, in darkling plight,Through Pluto's solitary halls they stray,As travellers, whom the Moon's unkindly lightBaffles in woods, when, on a lonely way,Jove shrouds the heavens, and night has turned the world to grey.On through the gloomy shade, in darkling plight,Through Pluto's solitary halls they stray,As travellers, whom the Moon's unkindly lightBaffles in woods, when, on a lonely way,Jove shrouds the heavens, and night has turned the world to grey.Death's kinsman, Sleepand o'er his cheeks apaceRolled down soft tears, of sadness and delight.Thrice he essayed the phantom to embrace;Thrice, vainly clasped, it melted from his sight,Swift as the wingèd wind, or vision of the night.One mind, infused through every part, sustains;One universal, animating soulQuickens, unites and mingles with the whole.And fiery energy divine they share,Save what corruption clogs, and earthly limbs impair.Hence Fear and Sorrow, hence Desire and Mirth;Nor can the soul, in darkness and in chains,Assert the skies, and claim celestial birth.We suffer eachOur ghostly penanceOthers, no doubt, from breathing bronze shall drawMore softness, and a living face deviseFrom marble, plead their causes at the lawMore deftly, trace the motions of the skiesWith learned rod, and tell the stars that rise.Thou, Roman, rule, and o'er the world proclaimThe ways of peace. Be these thy victories,To spare the vanquished and the proud to tame.These are imperial arts, and worthy of thy name.A larger theme unfolds, and loftier is the lay.And Hell shall hear, if Heaven its aid deny.Ho! Latin mothers all, where'er ye be,Here, if ye love me, if a mother's pleaDeserve your pity, let your hair be seenLoosed from the fillets, and be mad, like me.Leave peace and war to men, whose business is to fight.Aid ye, for ye are goddesses, and clearCan ye remember, and the tale unfold.But faint and feeble is the voice we hear,A slender breath of Fame, that falters on the ear.strong arms are ours to-day,Stout hearts, and manhood proved in many a hard essay.Dare thou to quit thee like the god, nor dreadTo scorn mere wealth, nor humble cheer disdain.Is it that the Gods inspire,Euryalus, this fever of the breast?Or make we gods of but a wild desire?No length of time shall make your memory wane.Bless, Jove omnipotent, this bold design:Aid me, and yearly offerings shall be thine.Hail to thy maiden prowess; yonder liesThy path, brave boy, to glory and the skies.each alike this dayMust carve his hopes and fortune as he may.Fate, blindness, crooked counsels—whatso'erHolds Troy in leaguer, equally I weighThe chance of all, nor would Rutulians spare.For each must toil and try, till Fate the doom declare."199, 140Fair Fortune aids the bold!Each hath his day; irreparably briefIs mortal life, and fading as the leaf.'Tis valour's part to bid it bloom anewBy deeds of fame.I heed not death nor deities, not I;Forbear thy taunting; I am here to die,But send this gift to greet thee, ere I go.Poor boy; hath Fortune, in her hour of pride,To me thy triumph and return denied?This niche of fame,—'tis all the Fates bestow—Awaits thee still. For me, all life's desire—'Twere vain—hath fled; but gladly would I go,And bear the welcome news to Pallas' shade below."till dewy night on highRolls round the circling heavens, and starlight gilds the sky.Still dwells thy War-God in a windy tongue,And flying feet, and knees all feeble and unstrung?His mouth all bloody, as he roars with pain,So Turnus blazed with wrath, as thus in scornful strainO sister, let me vent this fury, while I may.

This book quickly became one of my all-time favorites and much of that had to do with the verse translation. Rather than get bogged down in the poetry, Mandelbaum focused on character and story with very satisfying results. I'd recommend this translation to anyone serious about studying Virgil.

I took AP Latin: Vergil Junior year and had to read this book before I got to class. I thought that it was going to be extremely boring and dry. I was surprised. Mandelbaum makes the book more than tolerable, dare I say somewhat enjoyable. He's probably more colloquial than most of the other translations, which helps when you're trying to remember precise details of the plot from how Troy's Priam and his family die, to the treacherous journey of Aeneas across foreign lands. It's not going to be good for translating since it's not exactly direct word for word, but if you want to understand the book, this is the translation to get.

I purchased this particular translation of the Aeneid to help me read the original Latin text, and it has done a good job of helping me understand complicated grammatical phrases filled with patronymics and Greek constructions.Mandlebaum's translation, however, is not the most enjoyable to read. He translates literally many of the Latin verb tenses, which make more sense in the original language, making the reader feel slightly disoriented.Furthermore, part of the beauty of the Aeneid is its mood of antiquity. Mandlebaum modernizes the language, creating such ridiculous lines as, "It was so hard to found the race of Rome" (I.50). A translation that stays closer to the original Latin, and sounds less colloquial in English, would be something like "What a burden it was to found the Roman race."There are several annoying but simple typos, such as "though" for "through" which make the reader feel that the text was not thoroughly edited.Although it is to be expected with Bantam Classics books, the margins leave very little space for notes, and the text runs to the middle of the page, meaning that you can't easily hold the book open with just one hand.So, all things considered, this is a great book for Latin students looking for a literal translation of the Aeneid, but those looking for an enjoyable English read should look elsewhere (try The Aeneid (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition), for instance).

These are all historical survivors because of their depth and integrity of content -- their placement in history. They are essential study to any serious reader and/or writer and historian/teacher. Enough can't be said to bring the point home. I'm still waiting for the arrival of Metamorphoses, though I perused a college library translation already. When you digest this kind of matter, you come to know the pride many take in higher, formal education; I work the museums in my area, so, on their field trips, I know the same is being taught now to younger grades, so same can be said for them. When universities were first created all levels prominently studied this kind of stuff. Think about that...

This is one of the best translations of Vergil's "Aeneid." I ask students who are reading portions in Latin to purchase this text to read the epic completely in English.

This was my favorite work from my humanities course my first year in college. The translation was awesome and the story was even better.

As expected

"I sing of arms and of a man: his fate | had made him fugitive..."The Aeneid is a classic of world literature, and this splendid verse translation brings it really to life. The poem is about Aeneas' destiny: he must found a mighty city whose fruit will be the Roman empire, and undergo many trials before he can do so.There is also a powerful undercurrent of grief throughout the poem: many lives, including a number of those dear to Aeneas, will be lost. As the Sibyl (possessed by a god) warns him:"I see wars, horrid wars, the Tiber foaming | With much blood."

This verse translation of Virgil's Aeneid by Allen Mandelbaum(Bantam Classics) does more justice to the original text than those by other translators for different publications.Price wise...it's value for money!!!

MEET THE EXPECTATION

Excellent reading of a classic.

(This is not the review of the content). The book delivered is the book I ordered. But I didn't expect the font-size of the letters to be so small. That's the only drawback.