{"product_id":"the-aeneid-isbn-9781984854124","title":"The Aeneid","description":"\u003cb\u003eA fresh and faithful translation of Vergil’s \u003ci\u003eAeneid\u003c\/i\u003e restores the epic’s spare language and fast pace and sheds new light on one of the cornerstone narratives of Western culture.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Vivid and haunting . . . a model of how to render Latin poetry in English.”—Tom Holland, \u003ci\u003eNew Statesman\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor two thousand years, the epic tale of Aeneas’s dramatic flight from Troy, his doomed love affair with Dido, his descent into the underworld, and the bloody story behind the establishment of Rome has electrified audiences around the world. In Vergil’s telling, Aeneas’s heroic journey not only gave Romans and Italians a thrilling origin story, it established many of the fundamental themes of Western life and literature—the role of duty and self-sacrifice, the place of love and passion in human life, the relationship between art and violence, the tension between immigrant and indigenous people, and the way new foundations are so often built upon the wreckage of those who came before. Throughout the course of Western history, the Aeneid has affirmed our best and worst intentions and forced us to confront our deepest contradictions.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShadi Bartsch, Guggenheim Laureate, award-winning translator, and chaired professor at the University of Chicago, confronts the contradictions inherent in the text itself, illuminating the epic’s subversive approach to storytelling. Even as Vergil writes the foundation myth for Rome, he seems to comment on this tendency to mythologize our heroes and societies, and to gesture to the stories that get lost in the mythmaking. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBartsch’s groundbreaking translation, brilliantly maintaining the brisk pace of Vergil’s Latin even as it offers readers a metrical line-by-line translation, provides a literary and historical context to make the \u003ci\u003eAeneid\u003c\/i\u003e resonant for a new generation of readers.“A remarkable achievement . . . Bartsch manages to keep pace with Virgil’s verse, capturing the ‘dense, lapidate language’ of the Latin, and the energy of the narrative, without unduly flattening its meaning. . . . This translation reads like Virgil.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eTimes Literary Supplement\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Blending solid scholarship with poetic sensibility, classicist [Shadi] Bartsch delivers a new version of the foundational poem of Imperial Rome. . . . [This translation] gives some sense of the Latin and the tautness of its lines; most other English versions are fully 30 percent or more longer than the original, but not hers. . . . Through seductions, treacheries, murders, deicides, and other episodes, Bartsch—her scholarly notes as vigorous as her verse—produces an excellent companion for students of the poem and of Roman history. A robust, readable, reliable translation of a hallmark of world literature.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A tight, readable translation with a welcome feminist outlook and savvy engagement with the poem’s political and imperial themes and imperialist legacy. Its natural iambic voice, clear language, and faithfulness to the tight, fast-moving pace of Vergil’s original make it a refreshing way for modern audiences to access the\u003ci\u003e Aeneid\u003c\/i\u003e’s power.”\u003cb\u003e—Ada Palmer, award-winning author of Reading Lucretius in the Renaissance and the Terra Ignota series\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The best version of the \u003ci\u003eAeneid\u003c\/i\u003e in modern English: concise, readable, and beautiful, but also as accurate and faithful to Vergil’s Latin as possible. And the ‘Vergil’s Latin’ that she aims to stick close to reflects modern scholars’ realization that Vergil’s Latin is often difficult and strange; here it helps that she is one of the most accomplished Latinists to translate the poem, knows all the latest research, and is willing to wrestle with the most difficult passages. But this is not a translation just for scholars: Bartsch writes clear, vivid, concise lines that read well and read rapidly as she aims for ‘a kind of parallel to the experience of reading Vergil in Latin.’ The introduction and notes are concise, helpful, informative, provocative, and interesting. Readers, teachers, and students will find the kind of translation they need for private reading or a classroom encounter with the poem, and scholars may find that Bartsch has noticed new things in the Latin.”\u003cb\u003e—James J. O’Hara, George L. Paddison Professor of Latin, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eShadi Bartsch \u003c\/b\u003eis a Guggenheim Laureate, the Helen A. Regenstein Distinguished Service Professor in Classics at the University of Chicago, winner of a Charles J. Goodwin Award, and the inaugural director of The Stevanovich Institute on the Formation of Knowledge. She has been a professor of classics for nearly three decades, has published twelve books (monographs and edited volumes), and translated three of Seneca’s tragedies: \u003ci\u003eThyestes, Medea\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003ePhaedra\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePublius Vergilius Maro\u003c\/b\u003e (70–19 b.c.), known as Vergil, was born near Mantua at the end of the Roman Republic. He was the most famous poet of his age and his \u003ci\u003eAeneid\u003c\/i\u003e gave the Romans a great national epic equal to the Greeks’, celebrating their city’s origins and the creation of their empire. Vergil is also credited with \u003ci\u003eThe Eclogues\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Georgics.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eBook 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eLandfall at Carthage\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy song is of war and a man: a refugee by fate,\u003cbr\u003e the first from Troy to Italy’s Lavinian shores, \u003cbr\u003ebattered much on land and sea by blows from gods \u003cbr\u003eobliging brutal Juno’s unforgetting rage; \u003cbr\u003e he suffered much in war as well, all to plant\u003cbr\u003e his town and gods in Latium. From here would rise\u003cbr\u003ethe Latin race, the Alban lords, and Rome’s high walls.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRemember for me, Muse. Tell me the reasons. What pain,\u003cbr\u003e what insult to her power, moved the queen of gods\u003cbr\u003e to drive a man famous for piety through misery\u003cbr\u003eon misery? Can such anger grip gods’ minds?     \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn ancient city built by colonists from Tyre\u003cbr\u003e faced Italy and Tiber’s mouth across the sea:\u003cbr\u003e wealthy Carthage, fierce and fond of waging war.\u003cbr\u003e They say that Juno loved her best; even Samos\u003cbr\u003e came in second. Here the goddess kept her weapons\u003cbr\u003e and her chariot; this land would rule the world\u003cbr\u003e if fate allowed. This was her aim and hope.\u003cbr\u003e But she’d heard that men of Trojan blood\u003cbr\u003e would topple Carthage and her heights one day.\u003cbr\u003eThey’d be a people proud in war, an empire\u003cbr\u003e fatal for her Libya. This was what the Fates had\u003cbr\u003e spun, this was Juno’s fear. She remembered\u003cbr\u003e how she’d fought at Troy to help her cherished Greeks.     \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStill other reasons for her rage and bile\u003cbr\u003e remained deep-rooted in her heart: Paris’ scornful\u003cbr\u003e verdict on her beauty, the honors paid by Jove\u003cbr\u003e to kidnapped Ganymede, her hatred for that race.\u003cbr\u003e Enflamed by this, she barred from Latium\u003cbr\u003e the sea-tossed Trojans, the few left by the Greeks\u003cbr\u003eand cruel Achilles. They roamed for many years,\u003cbr\u003e over many oceans, forced on by the Fates.\u003cbr\u003e To found the Roman race required such great effort.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSicily had slipped from sight. The Trojans gladly\u003cbr\u003e sailed for open sea, their bronze prows churning foam.\u003cbr\u003e But Juno, nursing her eternal wound, thought\u003cbr\u003e to herself: “Am \u003ci\u003eI\u003c\/i\u003e to leave off from my plan\u003cbr\u003e and fail to turn the Trojan king from Italy?\u003cbr\u003e It seems that Fate forbids it. Then how could Pallas\u003cbr\u003e burn the Argive fleet and drown its crew, just to\u003cbr\u003epunish the mad crime of Ajax, son of Oïleus?\u003cbr\u003e On her own, she hurled Jove’s lightning from the clouds,\u003cbr\u003ewrecked the ships, and whipped up waves with wind;\u003cbr\u003e she grabbed up Ajax in a gust and spiked him on sharp\u003cbr\u003e reefs—the man puffed fire from his punctured chest!\u003cbr\u003e But me, the queen of all the gods, Jove’s wife\u003cbr\u003e and sister too, for years I’ve had to fight\u003cbr\u003e against a single race! Now who’ll worship me\u003cbr\u003e or put gifts on my altars as a supplicant?”     \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer hot heart fixed on these thoughts, Queen Juno reached\u003cbr\u003eAeolia, a land that teemed with storms and clouds.\u003cbr\u003e In his colossal cave, King Aeolus\u003cbr\u003e ruled the warring winds and howling gales \u003cbr\u003e and locked them up inside. They roared around the latches\u003cbr\u003eoutraged. Over them, the mountain murmured\u003cbr\u003e mightily. Aeolus, sitting in his stronghold,     \u003cbr\u003escepter in his hand, soothed their angry spirits.\u003cbr\u003e Otherwise, they’d seize the oceans, lands,\u003cbr\u003e and deepest sky, and blast them all away.\u003cbr\u003e It was this fear that made the mighty Father\u003cbr\u003ehide them in a lightless cave and heap mountains \u003cbr\u003e on top. He chose a king who swore he’d curb\u003cbr\u003e the winds or free their reins as he was told.\u003cbr\u003e Now Juno came to wheedle him: “Aeolus,\u003cbr\u003e the father of the gods and king of men\u003cbr\u003e chose you to calm the waves or whip them up with wind. \u003cbr\u003eA race I hate travels the Tuscan sea: \u003cbr\u003e they bring the beaten gods of Troy to Italy.\u003cbr\u003e Rouse the winds to gale-force, sink the ships,\u003cbr\u003e or scatter them and fling the crew into the sea.\u003cbr\u003eIn my retinue are fourteen gorgeous nymphs;\u003cbr\u003e Deiopea is the loveliest of all. She’s yours—\u003cbr\u003e just do me this favor. I’ll join you both\u003cbr\u003e in lasting marriage, so she’ll spend her years\u003cbr\u003e with you and make you father to fair children.”     \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAeolus said: “Your task, O Queen, is to know\u003cbr\u003eyour wish and will; mine, to make it happen.\u003cbr\u003eThanks to you, I have this little kingdom\u003cbr\u003eand Jupiter’s goodwill, I dine with gods, \u003cbr\u003e I’m master of the storms and wild weather.”     \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSaying this, he struck the hollow mountain\u003cbr\u003e with the butt-end of his spear. A battle-line\u003cbr\u003e of winds rushed out the rift and swept over the lands.\u003cbr\u003eNotus, Eurus, and Africus, full of storms,\u003cbr\u003e settled on the sea as one and churned it\u003cbr\u003e from its bed; they rolled huge waves to shore.\u003cbr\u003e Next came the shouts of men, the shriek of ropes.\u003cbr\u003e At once, storm-clouds snatched the sky from sight.     \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBlack night brooded on the sea. The heavens\u003cbr\u003e thundered, frequent  ashes tore the dark.\u003cbr\u003eAll signs warned the men that death had come.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt once Aeneas’ knees buckled with chill.\u003cbr\u003e He groaned and held up both hands to the stars:\u003cbr\u003e “Three and four times fortunate, all you who died\u003cbr\u003e by Troy’s high walls under your fathers’ gaze!\u003cbr\u003e O Diomedes, bravest of the Greeks!\u003cbr\u003e I wish I’d fallen on Troy’s fields, my blood spilled\u003cbr\u003e by your strong right hand, where fierce Hector perished\u003cbr\u003e on Achilles’ spear, and huge Sarpedon too;\u003cbr\u003e where Simoïs rolls in its stream so many shields\u003cbr\u003eand helmets, so many bodies of the brave.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs he spoke, the howling north wind hit the sails\u003cbr\u003ehead-on and pushed the sea up to the stars.\u003cbr\u003e The oars snapped and the ship swung broadside\u003cbr\u003eto the waves; a wall of water crashed on deck. \u003cbr\u003eSome sailors hung on crests, some saw seabed \u003cbr\u003e as each wave loomed up. The sea boiled with sand.\u003cbr\u003e Notus snatched three ships and hurled them onto reefs\u003cbr\u003e that lurked mid-sea, the ones Italians call Altars,\u003cbr\u003e huge spines near the surface. Eurus drove\u003cbr\u003ethree boats into the shoals, a sorry sight, and smashed\u003cbr\u003e them on the rocks. Sand built up around them.\u003cbr\u003e Before Aeneas’ eyes, a giant wave broke on\u003cbr\u003e the ship of good Orontes and his Lycians.\u003cbr\u003e It threw the helmsman off the deck headfirst into\u003cbr\u003e wild waters. Eddies spun the ship around\u003cbr\u003e three times, then the raging undertow engulfed it.\u003cbr\u003e A few men surfaced in the vast abyss. Weapons,\u003cbr\u003e planks, and Trojan treasure floated in the waves.\u003cbr\u003e The storm seized Ilioneus’ sturdy ship,\u003cbr\u003ebrave Achates’ ship, Abas’ ship, and old\u003cbr\u003eAletes’ ship. They all let in fatal water\u003cbr\u003e through the hulls’ loose seams and gaping cracks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow Neptune sensed the sea’s chaos and clamor,\u003cbr\u003e the storm Aeolus sent. He felt the churning\u003cbr\u003e of the sluggish waters of the deep. Perplexed,\u003cbr\u003e he raised his peaceful face and scanned the sea.\u003cbr\u003e He saw Aeneas’ wave-tossed ships, the Trojans\u003cbr\u003e swamped by swells and the ruin of the sky.\u003cbr\u003e Juno’s angry treachery was clear to him.\u003cbr\u003eHe called Eurus and Zephyrus, and said to them:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Is it your noble birth that makes you bold?\u003cbr\u003e You winds now dare to mingle sky and earth\u003cbr\u003e and stir up waves without permission? Why,\u003cbr\u003e I should—But first I’ll soothe the wild sea. Then\u003cbr\u003eyou’ll get what you deserve, and it won’t be in words!\u003cbr\u003eGet out of here, now, and tell your king: \u003cbr\u003e rule over the sea and savage trident’s \u003ci\u003emine\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e by lot, not his. \u003ci\u003eHis\u003c\/i\u003e kingdom is the cave\u003cbr\u003e where you live, Eurus. Let him strut in that court\u003cbr\u003eand rule there—once his winds are jailed.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFaster than his words, Neptune soothed the swells,\u003cbr\u003erouted huddled clouds, brought back the sun. \u003cbr\u003eCymothoe and Triton pried the ships off crags;\u003cbr\u003eNeptune helped them with his trident. He cleared \u003cbr\u003epathways through long shoals and calmed the sea,\u003cbr\u003eskimming wave-crests lightly in his chariot. \u003cbr\u003e Just as riots often fester in great crowds\u003cbr\u003e when the common mob goes mad; rocks and\u003cbr\u003efirebrands fly, the weapons rage supplies;\u003cbr\u003ebut if they see a man of weight in piety\u003cbr\u003e and service, they hush and wait to hear him;\u003cbr\u003e he guides their minds and soothes their hearts with words— \u003cbr\u003ejust so, all the tumult of the sea died down\u003cbr\u003e once Neptune scanned the waters. He turned his team\u003cbr\u003eand let them run free under cloudless skies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAeneas’ tired crew fights to reach the nearest\u003cbr\u003e shore; they bend toward the Libyan coast.\u003cbr\u003e There, an island’s deep bay forms a harbor\u003cbr\u003e with its sides. Every wave from the high sea\u003cbr\u003eis broken here and fans out to the curving coves. \u003cbr\u003e On both sides sheer cliffs and matching crags\u003cbr\u003emenace the sky, but underneath, safe pools\u003cbr\u003elie wide and still. Above, a rustling forest\u003cbr\u003e sets the scene, dark with trembling shade. \u003cbr\u003e A cave with rocky overhangs faces the front.\u003cbr\u003e It has freshwater pools and stones for seats,\u003cbr\u003e the home of nymphs. Here no cables tie\u003cbr\u003e the weary boats, no anchor bites the sand.\u003cbr\u003e Aeneas enters with his ships, seven\u003cbr\u003eleft from all the fleet. With great love for land, \u003cbr\u003e the Trojans reach the shore they craved, disembark,\u003cbr\u003eand rest their sodden limbs on sand. Achates\u003cbr\u003e is the first to strike a spark from flint.\u003cbr\u003e He kindles fire with leaves and sets dry fodder \u003cbr\u003e on the flames, then feeds the blaze with twigs.\u003cbr\u003e Weary from their wandering, they fetch the pots\u003cbr\u003e and spoiled grain they rescued from the waves, then dry\u003cbr\u003ethe food with fire and crush it under stone.","brand":"Modern Library","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304680083685,"sku":"NP9781984854124","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781984854124.jpg?v=1767738019","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-aeneid-isbn-9781984854124","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}