ALBA LONGA
It was his fantasy, his dream,
It was what he had seen,
There was a city, it was his,
He had made it, he had made it this,
People did their business with cheer,
There flew his eye-banners, they were here,
He looked, they looked everywhere,
They reminded him of the poor, blind Cyclops,
Sight killed by an enemy with his soul in hock,
The man of the hollow horse,
Who took Troy by force.
His sleep grew stronger,
On a hill near the brook of Longa,
This city called Alba,
Had a shrine at its centre,
An ornate cone that was also his art,
A symbol of peace, stability and heart,
Redemption for all the war it grew out of,
A hope that there could be love,
This city would be the new start,
It held a great future that he could not chart,
He was Aeneas, and the city was his dream,
He knew he was Aeneas, but what did he mean?
At the end of his dream,
Or maybe at its start,
There was a woman,
Who came from his heart,
She had a beauty, not ostentatious,
And she talked advantageous
Classic, loving, and fertile,
But he awoke with a start,
Remembering not what she had to impart,
But only her cheeky, lovely smile.
Now there was the world with eyes open,
Something he was beginning to choke on,
The army of prince Turinus gathered on the other side of the Tiber,
He could only wish he was still beside her,
Turinus had vowed to throw the refugees out,
And Aeneas of the Trojans, who was out of clout,
But a messenger arrived with news from the wood,
There was a woman a way away who would help him if she could,
Her name was Alba, and was with him in his plight,
She could offer advice, make it a fair fight.
This woman and that city,
They shared their name,
It was enough for Aeneas,
Although he felt ashamed,
He rushed out, leaving his men to prepare,
Possibly this was cowardice, possibly to dare,
Out into the woods where nature seemed to laugh,
Why was he never sure of his path?
Just do what you do, that man had said,
That was a thing that stayed in his head.
When he found Alba she was all he desired,
But there was a shyness that had him mired,
There was a blocking force that couldn‘t be shaken,
Aeneas was almost relieved to discover she was taken,
She gave him a strong spear and a great carved shield,
‘My husband made these for you to wield,
You must fear what you desire, to be strong,
You must meet your fears and desires, meet them head on.’
She said that was her gift and her donation,
‘A person like you could build a nation!’
By the time Aeneas had got back to his men,
Battle had been joined and the situation was grim,
A host of young women in battle gear,
Sassy and strong and vibrant and shear,
Had joined with the army of Turinus,
And were hacking away at his Trojans,
The beauty and rawness of the hard-girls,
Could cause his loins to be frozen,
The advice of Alba was present in his mind,
Aeneas proceeded along his own raw line.
Behind his carved shield, and protected by his men,
He pushed himself, right into them,
He found their lovely strong leader on her battle-cart,
And thrust his strong spear, right into her heart,
On the loss of their queen, the warrior-women took fright,
And Turinus’ army, took headlong to flight,
The Trojans were victors, Turinus had lost his grip,
And Aeneas had redeemed his leadership,
It was the end of a battle, but what of the war?
Go to the king, that was the lore.
King Latinus sat on his old, dusty throne,
Again under pressure, he wanted to groan,
Sensing their power, and their friendly sincerity,
Latinus had invited in the Trojans, eager for posterity,
But had lost control of his countrymen,
For prince Turinus was at it again,
Turinus was a jealous man,
And a royal princess had been promised to the chief Trojan,
For Aeneas, after his difficulties,
Friendship and bride, he’d take them please.
Now Latinus was pondering over a judgement,
Before him were Aeneas and Turinus, both with an aggressive intent,
If the Trojans were to stay, it would cause more trouble,
But contradicting his own decrees, his limited power may be burst like a bubble!
Turinus or Aeneas? He could end up in hock to either,
And the princess bride, Turinus was the more eager,
But then the Italian prince stood up from where he sat,
And announced he was ready to fight in single combat!
The court looked to Aeneas, and he accepted,
What choice was there, but to end it?
It was the night before the fight was due to take place,
Aeneas sat in the dark, thought of his wife, remembered her face,
He sharpened his strong spear, mechanically,
Polished his great shield, the carvings told of his future, messianically,
He was no longer willing to believe in all that,
If he won, they’d have a home, he could live with that,
He thought of his old house, that stood long ago,
He remembered the old city, smiled at its big ego,
Now those poisonous Greeks had been and gone,
His rambling memories trundled along:
It had been another night, another dream,
But this one a warning, from a monkey mean,
The old city was about to fall,
The hollow gift of a horse would end it all,
Aeneas had leapt out of his comfortable bed,
Gathered his family, who listened to all he said,
They rushed from the house, as flames spread,
His young son cried at the sight of the dead,
His three generations made it out of Troy,
But his wife was lost, and that crushed the boy.
On plains outside the burning citadel,
Survivors gathered, and ghosts as well,
An old man told of where the Trojans had sprung,
It was from the island of the Minotaur, according to song,
The surviving Trojans did implore,
Aeneas to lead them there, to that shore,
The ghosts and the shaking could be left behind,
They would live with their memories, and with a new life to find,
But that ancient island would not accept them,
There, famine and pestilence killed one in ten.
They had left that awful dwelling,
Gone across a sea that was swelling,
Gone to the land of Sicily,
To see if the gods would let them be,
Here they found the one-eyed Cyclops race,
The leader blinded, by a stab in the face,
Taken from the nefarious Ulysses,
Aeneas made common cause, for their common enemies,
But he knew the pact would be too onerous,
For these creatures were sickeningly monstrous.
A year into the Sicilian fission,
Aeneas set off for help on a diplomatic mission,
Off to Carthage to see the queen,
Praying to the gods that she would be seen,
In fact, queen Dido had heard his story,
From a travelling seeker of glory,
She invited him to the palace to impress,
With her beauty, city and dress,
Aeneas was be-smitten,
To a point where he almost forgot his mission,
He stayed for a year in cosy luxury,
But his conscience would not let him be.
One night in the imperial boudoir,
Aeneas dreamed again, and went far,
Again that curious man spoke with a monkey face,
He said he was a template of the human race,
He beckoned Aeneas to follow further in sleep,
Said the Trojan had a meeting to keep,
Then they went down to a river,
Monkey pointed across, ‘The dead live thither!’
He ferried the sleeper to the other side,
The heinous guard muttered ‘This I can’t abide!’
But that monster-dog always slept when he lied,
And Monkey and Trojan, the ferry-boat they tied.
There was a road and they came to a fork,
The road was long, but there was no walk,
Aeneas, pondering, said he could not decide,
‘Just do what you do’ the monkey-man replied
‘One way lies a land of fear,
The other, Elysium, rest and cheer,
I must admit, there’s pressure here!’
Aeneas faced pressure and made a decision,
With dew, the trees began to glisten,
At the edge of a field, a man smiled welcome grand,
It was his father, dead on Minotaur Island!
Aeneas laughed: ‘I hope this is Elysium!’
His father grinned: ‘Nice to see you son!’
His father took Aeneas to a bubbling stream,
It began to speak, or show, as it seemed,
It told the future of Trojan blood,
Its images great, as if in flood,
Troy was gone, all could see,
But the blood of Troy was to remain and be,
‘Your twin grandsons will be suckled by a wolf,
Europa they will engulf,
They will fight over their citadel home,
But it is predicted, it will be Rome!’
‘Kings of another race will come of late,
But they, Trojan blood will hate,
Senate, People, State, Respublica,
Carthage will suffer and smother,
War will come between in fevers,
Make way for the mighty Caesars!
After a Golden Age when you rule a world empire,
The Severni will come and kill the sire,
Crisis! Invasion! Rebellion! Shit!
There will be a new God at the end of it!
But an end will come, just as before,
Rome will eat herself out, like a grumbling old whore!’
‘After that a new world will arise,
Rome will live in another guise,
And a millennium later as you see,
Another new world will come to be,
Men will speed like horses! Men will fly!
This will not be a world for you and I!
But before all this that you are seeing,
You have another task in your being,
For the Trojan native home is not Sicily or the land of Minos,
It is Italy, and this is where you must face victory or loss!’
Aeneas gazed,
And was amazed,
It seemed sincere,
To his limited brain gear,
He soon awoke,
And began to choke,
On Carthage,
On what he was doing there.
Dido was beautiful, rich and needy,
He had come for help, but she had been greedy,
He had sugared the pill with a lie about love,
Then he had said he was off, on a mission from above,
When he had been arranging his shipping,
She had been burning his gear,
Then she had tried to placate him,
With: ‘You are so dear!’
When he had explained his leaving was near,
She had delivered her lowest blow,
She claimed she would end her own life,
With fire or a knife,
Aeneas had thought it better just to let her go.
Aliens wanting to farm the earth,
Needing acceptance for their very birth,
Travelled across sea and space,
Marvelled at the madness of the human race,
Aeneas felt he’d had an eye plucked out of his brow,
He could understand the Cyclops now,
He was meant to be eye and voice,
A mighty help, a man of choice,
That god was the torturer in chief,
Either way, in the morning there would be relief.
* * * *
A stranger stood by the little stream,
It was a tributary of the Tiber it did seem,
He had travelled, looking for home,
Now he was away again, to befriend a foe,
He watched a city as it rose, in its centre a tall, tall cone,
He thought of a hollow horse, let his thoughts alone,
This man knew that thoughts were like the seas,
This man was Ulysses,
He watched a gardener weeding by a new city wall,
Ulysses called: ‘where have I made my fall?’
‘This,’ replied the gardener, pointing to the flying eye as if to send,
‘This is Alba Longa, my friend!’
It was his fantasy, his dream,
It was what he had seen,
There was a city, it was his,
He had made it, he had made it this,
People did their business with cheer,
There flew his eye-banners, they were here,
He looked, they looked everywhere,
They reminded him of the poor, blind Cyclops,
Sight killed by an enemy with his soul in hock,
The man of the hollow horse,
Who took Troy by force.
His sleep grew stronger,
On a hill near the brook of Longa,
This city called Alba,
Had a shrine at its centre,
An ornate cone that was also his art,
A symbol of peace, stability and heart,
Redemption for all the war it grew out of,
A hope that there could be love,
This city would be the new start,
It held a great future that he could not chart,
He was Aeneas, and the city was his dream,
He knew he was Aeneas, but what did he mean?
At the end of his dream,
Or maybe at its start,
There was a woman,
Who came from his heart,
She had a beauty, not ostentatious,
And she talked advantageous
Classic, loving, and fertile,
But he awoke with a start,
Remembering not what she had to impart,
But only her cheeky, lovely smile.
Now there was the world with eyes open,
Something he was beginning to choke on,
The army of prince Turinus gathered on the other side of the Tiber,
He could only wish he was still beside her,
Turinus had vowed to throw the refugees out,
And Aeneas of the Trojans, who was out of clout,
But a messenger arrived with news from the wood,
There was a woman a way away who would help him if she could,
Her name was Alba, and was with him in his plight,
She could offer advice, make it a fair fight.
This woman and that city,
They shared their name,
It was enough for Aeneas,
Although he felt ashamed,
He rushed out, leaving his men to prepare,
Possibly this was cowardice, possibly to dare,
Out into the woods where nature seemed to laugh,
Why was he never sure of his path?
Just do what you do, that man had said,
That was a thing that stayed in his head.
When he found Alba she was all he desired,
But there was a shyness that had him mired,
There was a blocking force that couldn‘t be shaken,
Aeneas was almost relieved to discover she was taken,
She gave him a strong spear and a great carved shield,
‘My husband made these for you to wield,
You must fear what you desire, to be strong,
You must meet your fears and desires, meet them head on.’
She said that was her gift and her donation,
‘A person like you could build a nation!’
By the time Aeneas had got back to his men,
Battle had been joined and the situation was grim,
A host of young women in battle gear,
Sassy and strong and vibrant and shear,
Had joined with the army of Turinus,
And were hacking away at his Trojans,
The beauty and rawness of the hard-girls,
Could cause his loins to be frozen,
The advice of Alba was present in his mind,
Aeneas proceeded along his own raw line.
Behind his carved shield, and protected by his men,
He pushed himself, right into them,
He found their lovely strong leader on her battle-cart,
And thrust his strong spear, right into her heart,
On the loss of their queen, the warrior-women took fright,
And Turinus’ army, took headlong to flight,
The Trojans were victors, Turinus had lost his grip,
And Aeneas had redeemed his leadership,
It was the end of a battle, but what of the war?
Go to the king, that was the lore.
King Latinus sat on his old, dusty throne,
Again under pressure, he wanted to groan,
Sensing their power, and their friendly sincerity,
Latinus had invited in the Trojans, eager for posterity,
But had lost control of his countrymen,
For prince Turinus was at it again,
Turinus was a jealous man,
And a royal princess had been promised to the chief Trojan,
For Aeneas, after his difficulties,
Friendship and bride, he’d take them please.
Now Latinus was pondering over a judgement,
Before him were Aeneas and Turinus, both with an aggressive intent,
If the Trojans were to stay, it would cause more trouble,
But contradicting his own decrees, his limited power may be burst like a bubble!
Turinus or Aeneas? He could end up in hock to either,
And the princess bride, Turinus was the more eager,
But then the Italian prince stood up from where he sat,
And announced he was ready to fight in single combat!
The court looked to Aeneas, and he accepted,
What choice was there, but to end it?
It was the night before the fight was due to take place,
Aeneas sat in the dark, thought of his wife, remembered her face,
He sharpened his strong spear, mechanically,
Polished his great shield, the carvings told of his future, messianically,
He was no longer willing to believe in all that,
If he won, they’d have a home, he could live with that,
He thought of his old house, that stood long ago,
He remembered the old city, smiled at its big ego,
Now those poisonous Greeks had been and gone,
His rambling memories trundled along:
It had been another night, another dream,
But this one a warning, from a monkey mean,
The old city was about to fall,
The hollow gift of a horse would end it all,
Aeneas had leapt out of his comfortable bed,
Gathered his family, who listened to all he said,
They rushed from the house, as flames spread,
His young son cried at the sight of the dead,
His three generations made it out of Troy,
But his wife was lost, and that crushed the boy.
On plains outside the burning citadel,
Survivors gathered, and ghosts as well,
An old man told of where the Trojans had sprung,
It was from the island of the Minotaur, according to song,
The surviving Trojans did implore,
Aeneas to lead them there, to that shore,
The ghosts and the shaking could be left behind,
They would live with their memories, and with a new life to find,
But that ancient island would not accept them,
There, famine and pestilence killed one in ten.
They had left that awful dwelling,
Gone across a sea that was swelling,
Gone to the land of Sicily,
To see if the gods would let them be,
Here they found the one-eyed Cyclops race,
The leader blinded, by a stab in the face,
Taken from the nefarious Ulysses,
Aeneas made common cause, for their common enemies,
But he knew the pact would be too onerous,
For these creatures were sickeningly monstrous.
A year into the Sicilian fission,
Aeneas set off for help on a diplomatic mission,
Off to Carthage to see the queen,
Praying to the gods that she would be seen,
In fact, queen Dido had heard his story,
From a travelling seeker of glory,
She invited him to the palace to impress,
With her beauty, city and dress,
Aeneas was be-smitten,
To a point where he almost forgot his mission,
He stayed for a year in cosy luxury,
But his conscience would not let him be.
One night in the imperial boudoir,
Aeneas dreamed again, and went far,
Again that curious man spoke with a monkey face,
He said he was a template of the human race,
He beckoned Aeneas to follow further in sleep,
Said the Trojan had a meeting to keep,
Then they went down to a river,
Monkey pointed across, ‘The dead live thither!’
He ferried the sleeper to the other side,
The heinous guard muttered ‘This I can’t abide!’
But that monster-dog always slept when he lied,
And Monkey and Trojan, the ferry-boat they tied.
There was a road and they came to a fork,
The road was long, but there was no walk,
Aeneas, pondering, said he could not decide,
‘Just do what you do’ the monkey-man replied
‘One way lies a land of fear,
The other, Elysium, rest and cheer,
I must admit, there’s pressure here!’
Aeneas faced pressure and made a decision,
With dew, the trees began to glisten,
At the edge of a field, a man smiled welcome grand,
It was his father, dead on Minotaur Island!
Aeneas laughed: ‘I hope this is Elysium!’
His father grinned: ‘Nice to see you son!’
His father took Aeneas to a bubbling stream,
It began to speak, or show, as it seemed,
It told the future of Trojan blood,
Its images great, as if in flood,
Troy was gone, all could see,
But the blood of Troy was to remain and be,
‘Your twin grandsons will be suckled by a wolf,
Europa they will engulf,
They will fight over their citadel home,
But it is predicted, it will be Rome!’
‘Kings of another race will come of late,
But they, Trojan blood will hate,
Senate, People, State, Respublica,
Carthage will suffer and smother,
War will come between in fevers,
Make way for the mighty Caesars!
After a Golden Age when you rule a world empire,
The Severni will come and kill the sire,
Crisis! Invasion! Rebellion! Shit!
There will be a new God at the end of it!
But an end will come, just as before,
Rome will eat herself out, like a grumbling old whore!’
‘After that a new world will arise,
Rome will live in another guise,
And a millennium later as you see,
Another new world will come to be,
Men will speed like horses! Men will fly!
This will not be a world for you and I!
But before all this that you are seeing,
You have another task in your being,
For the Trojan native home is not Sicily or the land of Minos,
It is Italy, and this is where you must face victory or loss!’
Aeneas gazed,
And was amazed,
It seemed sincere,
To his limited brain gear,
He soon awoke,
And began to choke,
On Carthage,
On what he was doing there.
Dido was beautiful, rich and needy,
He had come for help, but she had been greedy,
He had sugared the pill with a lie about love,
Then he had said he was off, on a mission from above,
When he had been arranging his shipping,
She had been burning his gear,
Then she had tried to placate him,
With: ‘You are so dear!’
When he had explained his leaving was near,
She had delivered her lowest blow,
She claimed she would end her own life,
With fire or a knife,
Aeneas had thought it better just to let her go.
Aliens wanting to farm the earth,
Needing acceptance for their very birth,
Travelled across sea and space,
Marvelled at the madness of the human race,
Aeneas felt he’d had an eye plucked out of his brow,
He could understand the Cyclops now,
He was meant to be eye and voice,
A mighty help, a man of choice,
That god was the torturer in chief,
Either way, in the morning there would be relief.
* * * *
A stranger stood by the little stream,
It was a tributary of the Tiber it did seem,
He had travelled, looking for home,
Now he was away again, to befriend a foe,
He watched a city as it rose, in its centre a tall, tall cone,
He thought of a hollow horse, let his thoughts alone,
This man knew that thoughts were like the seas,
This man was Ulysses,
He watched a gardener weeding by a new city wall,
Ulysses called: ‘where have I made my fall?’
‘This,’ replied the gardener, pointing to the flying eye as if to send,
‘This is Alba Longa, my friend!’
