Aeneids, Book 6 (Here at last)
羅馬古公紀
1958 Knight, p.167
Tears started down his checks; and a cry broke from him: `You have come at last! Your father knew that you would be true. So your faithfulness has overcome the hard journey? May I really look on your face, Son, and hear the tones which I know so well, and talk with you?
`I did in fact expect from my reckoning that so it would be, for I computed the required passage of time. And my calculation did not deceive me. But to think of all the lands and the vast seas which you had to traverse, and all the perils of your storm-tossed journey, before I could welcome you at last! How I feared too that the royal power of Africa might do some hurt to you!'
Aeneas answered : `Father, it was ever the vision of yourself, so often mournfully appearing to me, which compelled me to make my way to the threshold of this world. My fleet lies moored on the Etruscan brine. Father, oh let me, let me, clasp your hand! Do not slip from my embrace!'
As he spoke his face grew wet with the stream of tears. Three times he tried to cast his arms about his father's neck; but three times the clasp was vain and the wraith escaped his hands, like airy winds or the melting of a dream.
1970 Mandelbaum, 6.905--, p.167
1981 Fitzgerald, 6.919-- p.346
2006 Fagles, p.193
2007 Ahl, 6.685--, p.176
2008 Ruden, 6.685--
2016 Seamus Heaney, 6.926--
In eager joy, his eyes filled up with tears /
And he gave a cry: `At last! Are you here at last? /
I always trusted that your sense of right /
Would prevail and keep you going to the end. /
And am I now allowed to see your face, /
My son, and hear you talk, and talk to you myself? /
This is what I imagined and looked forward to /
As I counted the days; and my trust was not misplaced. /
To think of the lands and the outlying seas /
You have crossed, my son, to receive this welcome./
And after such dangers! I was afraid that Africa /
Might be your undoing.' But Aeneas replied: /
`Often and often, father, you would appear to me, /
Your sad shade would appear, and that kept me going /
To this end. My ships are anchored in the Tuscan sea. /
Let me take your hand, my father, O let me, and do not /
Hold back from my embrace.” And as he spoke he wept. /
Three times he tried to reach arms round that neck. /
Three times the form, reached for in vain, escaped /
Like a breeze between his hands, a dream on wings.
2017 Ferry, 6.932--
2021 Ruden (revised), 6.685--
Labels: classics
