Vergil or Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro), greatest of Roman poets was born near Mantua, Italy, in 70 B.C., seven years before the birth of Caesar Augustus.He was a resident of Rome from 41  B.C. Early life on his father's farm was central to his education. Though he studied law, he finally gave it up to devote his entire life to writing poetry. In the year 41, Vergil began writing the Ecologues I and IX, which deal with farmers facing confiscation. The Eclogues or Bucolics (37 B.C.) idealized rural life in the  manner of THEOCRITUS. Vergil then turned to realistic and didactic rural poetry in the Georgics (30 B.C.), seeking, like HESIOD, to convey the charm of real life and work on the farm. He spent the rest of his life from 31 B.C. on, working on his national epic, the  Aeneid, one of the greatest long poems in world literature. Vergil's AENEAS is a paragon of Roman virtues and familial devotion,   loyalty to the state, and piety. The 12 books follow Aeneas from TROY's fall through his affair with the Carthaginian queen, DIDO, to the founding of the Roman state. The poem, in dactylic hexameters of striking regularity, is central to all Latin  literature. In 19 B.C., having completed most of the Aeneid, Vergil set sail for Greece to devote three years to revision. On his return trip, Vergil died after landing at Brindisi, on September 21st of the year 17 B.C.  A favorite of AUGUSTUS, Vergil influenced poets from DANTE on. The Aeneid was probably published as part of Augustus' celebrations.

Salvatore Amico M. Buttaci, Contributing Editor

from ECOLOGUE V

...As to trees the vine
Is crown of glory, as to vines the grape,
Bulls to the herd, to fruitful fields the corn,
So the one glory of thine own art thou.
When the Fates took thee hence, then Pales' self,
And even Apollo, left the country lone.
Where the plump barley-grain so oft we sowed,
There but wild oats and barren darnel spring;
For tender violet and narcissus bright
Thistle and prickly thorn uprear their heads.
Now, O ye shepherds, strew the ground with leaves,
And o'er the fountains draw a shady veil-
So Daphnis to his memory bids be done-
And rear a tomb, and write thereon this verse:
'I, Daphnis in the woods, from hence in fame
Am to the stars exalted, guardian once
Of a fair flock, myself more fair than they.'"

from THE AENEID, Book 12

I cannot live a slave, or see my throne
Usurp'd by strangers or a Trojan son."

At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed;
A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread,
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.
The driving colors, never at a stay,
Run here and there, and flush, and fade away.
Delightful change! Thus Indian iv'ry shows,
Which with the bord'ring paint of purple glows;
Or lilies damask'd by the neighb'ring rose.

The lover gaz'd, and, burning with desire,
The more he look'd, the more he fed the fire:
Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite,
Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight.
Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,
Firm to his first intent, he thus replies:
"O mother, do not by your tears prepare
Such boding omens, and prejudge the war.
Resolv'd on fight, I am no longer free
To shun my death, if Heav'n my death decree."
Then turning to the herald, thus pursues:
"Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news;
Denounce from me, that, when to-morrow's light
Shall gild the heav'ns, he need not urge the fight;
The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more
Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore:
Our single swords the quarrel shall decide,
And to the victor be the beauteous bride."

He said, and striding on, with speedy pace,
He sought his coursers of the Thracian race.
At his approach they toss their heads on high,
And, proudly neighing, promise victory.