Catillus and Salia

Against the lintel of Voltumna's fane,
Which from the Cy minus surveys the lake
And grove of ancient oaks, Coresus left
His spear; his steed stood panting, and afraid
Sometimes of sight obscure, sometimes of sound
Strange to him, of wild beast or falling bark
Blackened by fire, and even of witherd leaves
Whirld by the wind above his bridle-bit.

"Voltumna," cried the youth, "do not reject
My vow to Salia; she despiseth not,
Nor doth her father, love so pure as mine;
But there are oracles which both believe
Are obstacles against the nuptial torch.
Goddess! thou knowest what the Powers above
Threaten, for from thy fane the threats procede,
Thine be it all such sorrow to dispell!
Amphiaraus could, not long ago.
Have taught me what impended; with him went
His art, alas! he with his car of fire
Sunk near Ismenos.

Ancient bards have sung
That the king's house and king himself must fall,
And that his daughter, when she weds, will bring
Destruction on them both. Her braver heart
Sees thro the oracles, at first obscure.
Nor fears to love me; should not I abide
The fate of arms, whatever it may be?
I would not they should part us; I would now
And ever be with her, altho the Gods
So will that we must pass the Stygian pool
Or, what is worse, roam thro the stranger's land.

O Salia! be thou mine a single day,
Another's never, nor a banisht man's."
A hollow murmur moves the forest heads.
The temple gloams, and from the inner shrine
A voice is heard, "Unhappy daughter! sprung
Of parent more unhappy, thus forewarnd
Of coming woe." The voices ceast . . the groves
Afar resounded when the portal closed.
Silence more awful followed, thro the sky
And lofty wood and solitary fane;
If any bird winged over, in that bird
He saw not whence might come an augury
To solace his torn heart; among dense shade
Some there might be; but over all the lake
He heard no sound, no swan was visible,
For shining afar off they floated high,
Or smooth'd their wings upon the swelling wave.

Now he thro shady fields of trelliced vine
Waving o'er-head, and thin-leaved olives hied.
Twas evening; on the earth he threw himself,
Hoping some dream might waft away his dread.
Sharp was the radiance of the stars above.
And all the sky seemd moving in a course
It never yet had moved in; what he heard
Beneath the roof of Anius, and within
The temple of Voltumna, now returnd.
And what seemd there so difficult, he felt
Plain to expound and easy to achieve.

The daughter and the father he resolves
To save forthwith; he snatches up the rein,
Leaps on his charger, and ere breaks the dawn
Reaches tlie city-gate: few sentries stood

Before or near it, long enjoying peace.
Well might the troop have known their youthful

friend,
Broad-chested, of high brow, of lustrous eye,
Familiar speech, large heart and liberal hand,
And prompt on horse or foot with Argive spear.
Fast went he to the mansion of the king.
Beneath the gateway Periphas he meets,
Seizes his hand, "I haste to Salia,"
Cries he, "Voltumna threatens mortal woe,
Woe which her father never can avert.
Piety may be blind, love open-eyed
Is ever on the watch: I bring with me
The Goddesses own words, words now confirmed
By surest omens, even by my dreams."

Unhappy Salia had already past.
She early every morning sacrificed
To Dian in the little fane anear
The city-gate: the hero's threatening steed
Neighd, and the palace-archway sounded loud
From frequent tramps of his impatient hoof.
It was the hour when each expiring lamp
Crackled beneath, now showing, hiding now,
The chain it hung by; when the hind prepared
To throw upon the slowly rising ox
His wooden collar, slow himself, morose
With broken sleep; along the lower sky
Reddened a long thin line of light that showd
But indistinctly the divided fields.
Catillus meets his Salia, "Fly," cries he,
"Fly while tis possible; the Gods have given
Sure omens; now distrust them never more."
He lifts her, ere she answers, on the steed,
Leaps on it after, spurs with rapid heel
The flank, and off they fly. " Now tremble not,
My Salia, there was room and time for fear
When flight was difficult and hope unsure.
Dian, to bless thy pious vow, had given
What now Voltumna gives; fallacious dream
Came never from her fane. Feel, Salia, feel
How quiet, without snort and without shy.
Moves under us the generous beast we ride!
Is then my arm too tight around thy waist?
I will relax this bondage . . and stil sigh!
Weary thou must be; we will here dismount
And leave behind us the brave beast to rest
Under the roof-tree of that cottage near.
We will reward him for his oaten bread.
And for the skiff" he idly lies along."

Large was the recompence; the pair imbarkt;
The hind stood wondering, "Are they then some

Gods'
Muttered he to himself.

The little sail
Catillus hoisted, hoisted leisurely,
That he might turn it whatsoever breeze
Haply should rise, but more that he might sit
On the same thwart, and near enough to screen
The face of Salia from the level sun,
And any gazers from the banks they pass.
Catillus listened; and whatever voice
Came to his ear, he shuddered at, but most
Dreaded lest Fescennine loose song reach hers.
Cautious he was of meeting the approach
Of the Volsinians; he would then avoid
The flowery fields that Farfar's rills refresh,
And those too where, when Sirius flames above,
Himella guides her little stream away.
Therefor he wisely wore a coarse attire,
Unrecognized, and seem'd a stranger hind
Returning to his kin at even-tide.
His crest and spear beneath dense rushes lay.
Long was the way by land, by water long,
Nor would he, if he could, say what remaind
To travel yet. " Thou seest with how mild light
Hesper advances, oscillating now
Alone upon the water; look up; how befriends us
The pale and tender sky; earth, water, heaven,
Conspire to help us." Sleepless, nor inclined
To slumber, both form dreams: supreme the l:)liss
Soon to be theirs, if but one touch inflames
Each thrilling fiber with such high delight.
Never be wise, ye youths; be credulous;
Happiness rests upon credulity.
Why should I, were it possible, relate
In what discourses hour succeded hour.
How calm the woods, how rich the cultured fields.
Or in how many places they could spend
Their lives most willingly, or why recount
The girlish fears when any sudden swell
A hands-breadth high rose up against the skiff.
Or lower bough and slender toucht her cheek?
Catillus too was not without his fears;
Whether some silent woman crept along
The river side, expecting the return
Of tardy husband, or burst suddenly

The light from cottage near, or fisherman
Crownd the black corks along his net with flames.
All night their watery way do they pursue.
At dawn Catillus willingly was borne
On where the stream grew lighter; to the right
He left those seven hills, of name unknown.
Where dwelt Evander: upon one had stood
A fortress built by Saturn, opposite
Had Janus rais'd one; both were now decayed;
Catillus wondered how such mighty piles
Could ever perish. He had soon arrived
Upon the borders of his native home.
He took the maiden's hand; he prest her chin,
Raising it up to cheer her, and he said,
"Tis lawful now to visit those abrupt
And shattered rocks, that headlong stream, that cave
Resounding with the voices of the Nymphs:
Here is thy domicile, thy country here.
And here the last of all thy cares shall rest.
Preserved by thee thy sire, thy faith preserved,
Anius will not regret that thou hast shown
Obedience to the Gods, and given to him
A son who will not shame him by the choice.
Think, who will envy us our rural life?
What savage mortal carry thee away?
Thy father's kingdom who will dare invade?
We have our own, let every other rest!
Now peace be with the Sabines.'"' May thy sire

Enjoy it long, unanxious and secure!
Instead of realm for dower, instead of gates
With soldiers for their bars, be thou content
With the deep wood where never Mars was heard
Above the Tiber ere he leaps and foams,
Or doze where under willowy banks obscure
Pareusius gently winds his gleamy wave.
Look! what a distance we have left behind!
How the fields narrow which we thought so vast!
How the sun reaches down the city- wall
Even to the base, and glows with yellower light."
Wherat her eyes she raises, but not yet
To his; the ancient city she surveys
Dimly thro tears, "Live, O my father! live.
Be comforted, be happy! If Voltumna
Commands it, never let thy love for me
Obstruct our pious duties: let me live
Amid the solid darkness of these woods.
Or see nought else than that mysterious lake '"'
Which other than its own shades wrap in gloom.
Enough for me if thee I leave at rest."

Catillus heard the pious wish, and said,
"Behold that rest at last by thee secured ]
However might Voltumna have desired
One so devout and duteous to retain,
She bade thee go, for she had heard thy prayer.
Now art thou mine indeed, now lawfully
And safely love and liberty are ours;
No deities oppose us: here is home."
He raises up his helm; it lights the copse
With splendour; soon the rural youth come down
With oxen reeking from laborious plough,
And war-horse after his long rest from toil.

Yet, slower with all these auxiliaries
The hours moved on than when the oar at eve
Was thrown upon the thwart, and when the winds
Had their own will.

Catillus would not land
Near bare and open downs; he knew a path
Safer and pleasanter, where soft and cool
About the hazles rose high grass oer moss.
"But, Salia! one step farther . . let us on,
And we shall view from that so short ascent
Our own domains, our Tibur."

They had reacht
The summit: thence what sees she opposite?
Only the wavy willows bend their heads
Below her, only higher elms oershade
The darker herbage, and their trailing vines
Which pat and pat again the passant stream.
What sees she then, fastening immovably
Her eyes upon one object? why so pale?
Her father! at first sight of him her limbs
Stiffen to stone.

He from across exclaims,
"Stay thee, O wretched girl! whom wouldst thou

Ayr'
She wrencht her feet from where they stood, and

flew
Faster at every word, but slower seem'd
Her flight to her at every step she took.
Doubtful it was to those upon the walls
Whether she drew the youth along, his spear
Holding as now she did in mortal dread,
Or whether he was guiding, to assure
Her footsteps; she was foremost of the two
Where the road was not wide enough for both,
He where the incumbent rock was hard to climb.
Indignant Anius watches them mount up,
Watches them enter thro the city-gate
Amid loud trumpets and applause as loud.
He raged not, waild not, but both hands comprest
His burning brow. How bitter must be grief
That such sweet scenes one moment fail to lull!
Fixt stood he just above the cave profound
Whence flows Pareusius, but the torrent's roar
He heard not; saw not the white dust of spray
Return above it over mead and wood,
Wherein are many birds that raise the throat,
Pouring a song inaudible, and more
That fly the eternal thunder; for their nests
Were not built there, nor there their loves inspired.
Others protect their brood with cowering wing
Or flit around to bring them food, unscared.

"The world as ever let Injustice rule
Let men and Gods look on and little heed.
Let violence overturn the bust, and spill
The treasured ashes, yet above the tomb
Sits holy Grief, and watchful Muse warns oft
Oblivion.

Why, O Powers above! from lands
The fairest on the earth, why should complaint
Rise up from mortal to your blest abode?
Why from a father's breast, from Anius?
Who offered ever gifts more cheerfully
Before your altars, or with purer hands?"
Anius smote his breast, and gaspt and groand,

"Piety! where now find it! She deserts
Her parent, conscious as she can but be

Of ills impending: kind, religious, chaste.
All ever thought her; so she was to all,
Alas! that I alone could not deserve
To be, as faithless stranger is, beloved!"
A pause ensued, and then with bitter scorn,
"Now learn? what a daughter's duty is!

O partner of my sorrows and my joys,
Whose sole contention throughout life was which
Should be the fonder parent of the two.
If Libitina had prolonged thy days
How" wouldst thou mourn such contest! I have since
Assumed thy place: when any little pain
Befell her, light as may be, could I rest?
Could I away from her bedside?"

He dasht
The tear from off his burning cheek, and cried
In agony and desperate, "Go then; sieze
The nuptial torch, and sing endearing song,
As once at home; let down the saffron veil . .
And be thy child, if child thou have, like thee.
If other rites thou hast omitted all.
If without dower, such dower as king should give
With daughter, if it. shames thee not to run
Hither and thither over foren lands.
The fault is mine, thy father's: that one fault

I now will expiate; I can yet afford

One victim." At these words, there where the rocks
Protrude above the channel they burst through.
Headlong he cast himself from crag to crag;
And then rose reddened the resurgent spray.
The deed is unforgotten, and the stream
Is now calld Anio since that fatal hour.