Nobody can be ready to go through
Clear to the time to come, no more to be
Gazed at, no more to choose. What will she do?
How terrified she is to have to see
That she was happy in the time before.
It was best to study, to be well, to marry,
It seems. But she was always sure of more
Though not of what. Strange, to remain unwary
So long of what could happen to persuade her
That God, the very God who cannot change,
Imagined grass and china when he made her,
But kept it secret. It is far too strange.
Sarah Rudens translation of The Aeneid was published by Yale University Press earlier this year
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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 21 May 2003, on page 38
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