Fall 2006 • Vol. XXVIII No. 4 Poetry |

Excerpts from “The Aeneid” – Aeneas and His Father’s Ghost

From the Latin.        Now father Anchises, deep in the valley's green recess,was passing among the souls secluded there, reviewing them,eagerly, on their way to the world of light above. By chancehe was counting over his own people, all his cherished heirs,their fame and their fates, their values, acts of valor.When he saw Aeneas striding toward him over the fields,he reached out both his hands as his spirit lifted,tears ran down his cheeks, a cry broke from his lips:"You've come at last? Has the love your father hoped formastered the hardship of the journey? Let me look at your face,my son, and hear your familiar voice, exchange some words.So I dreamed, I knew you'd come, I counted the moments—my longing has not betrayed me.Over what lands, what seas have you been driven,buffeted by what perils into my open arms, my son?How I feared the realm of Libya might well do you harm!"     "Your ghost, my father," he replied, "your grieving ghost,so often it c

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