Aen. 3.19Sacra Diōnaeae mātrī dīvīsque ferēbam
20auspicibus coeptōrum operum, superōque nitentem
caelicolum rēgī mactābam in lītore taurum.I was offering sacrifice to my mother, Dione's daughter, and to the gods who favour work begun, and on the shore I was slaughtering a gleaming bull to the high king of the heaven-dwellers. Aen. 3.22Forte fuit iūxtā tumulus, quō cornea summō
virgulta et dēnsīs hastīlibus horrida myrtus.By chance there was a mound close by, on whose top grew cornel shoots and a myrtle bristling with dense spear-like stems. Aen. 3.24Accessī, viridemque ab humō convellere silvam
25cōnātus, rāmīs tegerem ut frondentibus ārās,
horrendum et dictū videō mīrābile mōnstrum.I went up to it, and, trying to tear the green growth from the ground so that I might cover the altars with leafy boughs, I see a dreadful portent, wondrous to tell. Aen. 3.27Nam, quae prīma solō ruptīs rādīcibus arbōs
vellitur, huic ātrō līquuntur sanguine guttae,
et terram tābō maculant.For from the first tree that is torn from the soil, its roots broken, drops of black blood trickle and stain the earth with gore.
Aen. 3.29Mihi frīgidus horror
30membra quatit, gelidusque coit formīdine sanguis.A cold shudder shakes my limbs, and my chilled blood congeals with terror. Aen. 3.31Rūrsus et alterīus lentum convellere vīmen
īnsequor, et causās penitus temptāre latentīs:
āter et alterīus sequitur dē cortice sanguis.Again I go on to tear a pliant shoot from a second, and to probe deep into the hidden causes: and black blood follows from the bark of the second too. Aen. 3.34Multa movēns animō nymphās venerābar agrestīs
35Grādīvumque patrem, Geticīs quī praesidet arvīs,
rīte secundārent vīsūs ōmenque levārent.Pondering much in my mind, I prayed to the nymphs of the countryside and to father Gradivus, who presides over the Getic fields, that they would duly bless the vision and lighten the omen. Aen. 3.37Tertia sed postquam maiōre hastīlia nīsū
adgredior, genibusque adversae obluctor harēnae—
ēloquar, an sileam?—gemitus lacrimābilis īmō
40audītur tumulō, et vōx reddita fertur ad aurīs:
Quid miserum, Aenēa, lacerās?But when I attack the third set of stems with greater effort, and wrestle with my knees against the resisting sand — should I speak, or keep silent? — a tearful groan is heard from deep in the mound, and a voice comes back to my ears: 'Why do you mangle a wretched man, Aeneas?
Aen. 3.41Iam parce sepultō;Spare me now that I am buried; Aen. 3.42parce piās scelerāre manūs.spare your dutiful hands from crime. Aen. 3.42Nōn mē tibi Troia
externum tulit, aut cruor hic dē stīpite mānat.Troy did not bear me a stranger to you, nor is it from a mere stem that this blood oozes. Aen. 3.44Heu, fuge crūdēlīs terrās, fuge lītus avārum:
45nam Polydōrus ego;Ah, flee these cruel lands, flee this greedy shore: for I am Polydorus; Aen. 3.45hīc cōnfīxum ferrea tēxit
tēlōrum seges et iaculīs incrēvit acūtīs.here an iron crop of weapons covered me, pierced through, and grew up into sharp javelins.' Aen. 3.47Tum vērō ancipitī mentem formīdine pressus
obstipuī, stetēruntque comae et vōx faucibus haesit.Then indeed, my mind gripped by doubtful fear, I was stunned; my hair stood on end and my voice stuck in my throat.