ENEA IN CRETA -- Raffaello Sanzio -- "MORBETTO"

Speranza

Crete lies in the midst of the sea, the island of mighty Jove,

where Mount Ida is, the cradle of our race.

From "IDA", we derive

(a) IDOMENEO (the power of "IDA")

(b) IDA-mante (Idomeneo's son, first named by FENELONE)
 

The Cretans inhabit a hundred great cities, in the richest of kingdoms,

from which the Roman earliest ancestor, Teucro, if I remember the tale

rightly, first sailed to Troy, and chose a site

for his royal capital.

Until then Troy and the towers of the citadel

did not stand there.

Men lived in the depths of the valleys.
 

The Mother who inhabits Cibele is Cretan.

And the cymbals

of the Coribanti, and the grove of Ida are also Cretan.

From Crete comes the faithful silence of Cibele's rites, and the yoked lions

drawing the lady’s chariot.

So come, and let us follow where the god’s command may lead.

Let us placate the winds, and seek out the Cretan kingdom.
 

It is not a long journey away.

If only GIOVE is with us,

the third dawn will find our fleet in CRETA.
 

So saying, ENEA sacrifices the due offerings at the altars,

a bull to Neptune, a bull to Apollo, a black sheep to the Storm god, a white to the auspicious Westerlies.

 

 

A rumour spread that Idomeneo had been driven

from his father’s kingdom.

There are various explanations for this:

(a) IDOMENEO had killed his son, IDAMANTE, and therefore, he was forced to leave the island by the Cretans. They were against hasty vows like the one made by IDOMENEO to save his own life.

The Cretan shores are deserted,

her houses are emptied of enemies.

The abandoned homes are waiting for the Romans.

The Romans leave Ortygia’s harbour, and sped over the sea,

threading the foaming straits thick with islands, Nasso

with its Bacchic worship in the hills, green Donysa, Olearos,

snow-white Paros, and the Cyclades, scattered over the waters.

The sailors’ cries rose, as they competed in their various tasks.

The crew shouted.

We’re heading for Crete, and our Cretan ancestors.
 

A wind rising astern sends the Romans on their way to Creat.

And at last

we glided by the ancient shores of the Curetes.
 

Then Enea works eagerly on the walls of our chosen city, and called

it Pergamo, and exhorted his people, delighting in the name,

to show love for their homes, and build a covered fortress.

----- PERGAMO is the name then of the city that ENEA founds in CRETA.
 

Now the ships were usually beached on the dry sand.

The men were busy with weddings and their fresh fields.

Enea is deciding on laws and homesteads.

Suddenly,

from some infected region of the sky, came a wretched plague.

The plague corrupts
(a) bodies
(b) trees, and
(c) crops, and a season of death.

The Romans were relinquishing sweet life.

They were dragging their sick limbs around.

Then Sirio blazed over barren fields.

The grass withers.

And the sickly harvest denies its fruits.

ANCHISE urges the Romans us retrace the waves, and revisit

the oracle of Apollo at Delos, and beg for protection,

ask where the end might be to our weary fate, where he commands

that we seek help for our trouble, where to set our course.

It isnight, and sleep had charge of earth’s creatures.
 

The sacred statues of the gods, the Phrygian Penates,

that ENEA carries with him from Troy, out of the burning city,

seemed to stand there before his eyes, as I lay in sleep,

perfectly clear in the light, where the full moon

streams through the window casements.

Then the FIRGIANI PENATI spoke

to Enea and with their words dispelled his cares.

 

Apollo speaks here what he would say to you, on reaching Delos,

and sends us besides, as you see, to your threshold.

When Troy burned we followed you and your weapons,

we crossed the swelling seas with you on your ships,

we too shall raise your descendants yet to be, to the stars,

and grant empire to your city.

Build great walls for the great,

and do not shrink from the long labour of exile.

Change your country.

These are not the shores that Delian Apollo urges on you.

Apollo NEVER ordered ENEA to settle in Crete.
 

There is a place the Greeks call Hesperia by name,

an ancient land powerful in arms and in richness of the soil.
 

There the Oenotrians lived.

Now the rumour is that

another race has named it ITALIA after their leader.

That is our true home, Dardanus and father Iasius,

from whom our race first came, sprang from ITALIA -- not from CRETA!
 

Come, bear these words of truth joyfully to Anchise,

that he might seek Corythus and Ausonia’s lands:

Jupiter denies the fields of Dicte to you.”

 

 

Amazed by such a vision, and the voices of the gods,

(it was not a dream, but ENEA seems to recognise their expression,

before him, their wreathed hair, their living faces:

then a cold sweat bathed all his limbs)

Enea's body leaps from the bed, and he lifts his voice

and upturns palms to heaven, and offers pure

gifts on the hearth-fire.

The rite completed, with joy

Enea tells Anchise of this revelation, revealing it all in order.

ANCHISE understands about the ambiguity in our origins -- DARDANO from ITALIA -- and the dual

descent, and that he had been deceived by a fresh error,

about our ancient country.

Then Anchise speaks:

“My son, troubled

by Troy’s fate, Only Cassandra prophesied such an outcome.

Now I remember her foretelling that this was destined for our race,

and often spoke of Hesperia, and the Italian kingdom.

Who would believe that Trojans would travel to Hesperia’s shores?

Who’d have been moved by Cassandra, the prophetess, then?

Let us trust Apollo, and, warned by him, take the better course.

 

So Anchise speaks, and the Romans are delighted to obey his every word.

We departed this home as well, and, leaving some people behind,

set sail, and ran through the vast ocean in our hollow ships.

When the fleet had reached the high seas and the land

was no longer seen, sky and ocean on all sides, then

a dark-blue rain cloud settled overhead, bringing

night and storm, and the waves bristled with shadows.

Immediately the winds rolled over the water and great seas rose:

we were scattered here and there in the vast abyss.

Storm-clouds shrouded the day, and the night mists

hid the sky: lightning flashed again from the torn clouds.

We were thrown off course, and wandered the blind waves.

Palinurus himself was unable to tell night from day in the sky,

and could not determine his path among the waves.

So for three days, and as many starless nights,

we wandered uncertainly, in a dark fog, over the sea.

At last, on the fourth day, land was first seen to rise,

revealing far off mountains and rolling smoke.

The sails fell, we stood to the oars: without pause, the sailors,

at full stretch, churned the foam, and swept the blue sea.