|
Explorers, Scientists &
Inventors
Musicians, Painters &
Artists
Poets, Writers &
Philosophers
Native Americans & The Wild
West
First Ladies
Popes
Troublemakers
Historians
Archaeologists
Royal
Families
Tribes & Peoples
Assassinations in History
Who
got slain, almost slain, when, how,
why, and by whom?
Go to the
Assassination Archive
Online History Dictionary A - Z
Voyages in History
When did what
vessel arrive with whom onboard and where
did it sink if it didn't?
Go to the
Passage-Chart
The Divine Almanac
Who all roamed the heavens in
olden times? The Who's Who of
ancient gods.
Check out
the Divine Almanac
|
|
The Aeneid of Virgil
Book Ten
|
|
ARGUMENT
The gods meet in council. Venus pleads for the Trojans, Juno for the Latins. Jupiter as a compromise leaves the arbitrament to Fate
(1-153). The siege of the Trojan camp continues. AEneas meanwhile
is sailing with his Arcadian and Tuscan allies down the Tiber
(154-207). Catalogue of the helpers of AEneas, who is presently
warned by the nymphs in what peril Ascanius stands: comes in sight
of the camp and with difficulty lands his men (208-369). A
hard-fought battle by the river follows, of which Pallas and Lausus
are the heroes (370-531). Pallas is killed by Turnus in single combat
(532-603). AEneas in revenge gives no quarter, but slays and slays,
until Juno, warned by Jupiter that if she would save Turnus even for
a time she must act at once, goes down into the battle and fashions
in the form of AEneas a phantom, which flees before Turnus and lures
him into a ship, by which he is miraculously carried away to his
father's city (604-838). Mezentius takes up the command, but after
performing prodigies of valour is wounded by AEneas (839-954).
Mezentius withdraws, and his son Lausus is killed while covering his
retreat. Thereupon Mezentius gets to horse and rides back to die in
a vain endeavour to avenge his son. AEneas exults over Mezentius
(955-1089).
I. Meanwhile, at bidding of almighty Jove,
His palace, as Olympus' gates unfold,
Stands open. To his starry halls above
The Sire of Gods and men, whose eyes behold
The wide-wayed earth, the Dardans' leaguered hold,
And Latium's peoples, from his throne of state
Convokes the council. Ranged on seats of gold
Around the halls, in silence they await.
Himself, in measured speech, begins the grand debate.
|
II. "Heaven's great inhabitants, what change hath brewed
Rebellious thoughts, my purpose thus to mar?
'Twixt Troy and Italy I banned the feud;
My nod forbade it. Whence this impious jar?
What fear hath stirred them to provoke the war?
Fate in due course shall bring the destined hour,-- Foredate it not--when Carthage from afar
Her barbarous hordes through riven Alps shall pour,
To storm the towers of Rome, to ravage and devour.
III. "Then may ye rend, and ravage and destroy,
Then may ye glut your vengeance. Now forbear,
And plight this peaceful covenant with joy."
Thus Jove; but Venus of the golden hair,
Less brief, made answer: "Lord of earth and air!
O Father! Power eternal! whom beside
We know none other, to approach with prayer,
See the Rutulians, how they swell with pride;
See Turnus, puffed with triumph, borne upon the tide.
IV. "Their very walls the Teucrians shield no more.
Within the gates, amid the mounds the fray
Is raging, and the trenches float with gore,
While, ignorant, AEneas is away.
Is theirs no rest from leaguer--not a day?
Again a threatening enemy hangs o'er
A new-born Troy! New foemen in array
Swarm from AEtolian Arpi, and once more
A son of Tydeus comes, as dreadful as before.
V. "Ay, wounds are waiting for thine offspring still,
And mortal arms must vex her. List to me:
If maugre thee, and careless of thy will,
The Trojans sought Italia, let them be,
Nor aid them; let their folly reap its fee.
But if, oft called by many a warning sign
From Heaven and Hell, they followed thy decree,
Who then shall tamper with the doom divine,
Or dare to forge new Fates, or alter words of thine?
VI. "Why tell of grievances in days forepast,
The vessels burnt on Eryx' distant shore,
The tempest's monarch, and the raging blast
Stirred in AEolia, and the winds' uproar,
And Iris, heaven-sent messenger? Nay more,
From Hell's dark depths she summons her allies,
The ghosts of Hades, overlooked before.
Through Latin towns, sent sudden from the skies,
Alecto wings her flight, and riots as she flies.
VII. "I reck not, I, of empire; once, indeed,
While fortune smiled, I hoped for it; but now
Theirs, whom thou choosest, be the victor's meed.
But if no land thy ruthless spouse allow
To Teucrian outcasts, hearken to me now:
O Father! by the latest hour of Troy,
By Ilion's smoking ruins, deign to show
Thy pity for Ascanius; spare my boy;
Safe let him cease from arms, my darling and my joy.
VIII. "Let brave AEneas follow, as he may,
Where future leads, and wander on the brine.
_Him_ shield, and let me snatch him from the fray.
Paphos, Cythera, Amathus are mine,
And on Idalium is my home and shrine:
There let him live, forgetful of renown,
And, deaf to fame, these warlike weeds resign;
Then let fierce Carthage press Ausonia down,
For he and his no more shall vex the Tyrian town.
IX. "Ah, what availed to 'scape the fight and flame,
And drain all dangers of the land and main,
If Teucrians seek on Latin soil to frame
Troy's towers anew? Far better to remain
There, on their country's ashes, on the plain
Where Troy once stood. Give, Father, I implore,
To wretched men their native streams again;
Their Xanthus and their Simois restore;
There let them toil and faint, as Trojans toiled of yore."
X. Then, roused with rage, spake Juno: "Wherefore make
My lips break silence and lay bare my woe?
What God or man AEneas forced to take
The sword, and make the Latin King his foe?
Fate to Italia called him: be it so:
Driven by the frenzied prophetess of Troy.
Did we then bid him leave the camp, and throw
His life to fortune, ay, and leave a boy
To rule the war, and Tuscan loyalty destroy,
XI. "And harass peaceful nations? Who was there
The God, and whose the tyranny to blame
For fraud like that? Where then was Juno? where
Was cloud-sent Iris? Sooth, ye count it shame
That Latins hedge the new-born Troy with flame,
And Turnus dares his native land possess,
Albeit from Pilumnus' seed he came,
And nymph Venilia. Is the shame then less,
That Troy with foreign yoke should Latin fields oppress,
XII. "And rob their maidens of the love they vow,
And lift, and burn and ravage as they list,
Then plead for peace, with arms upon the prow?
Thy sheltering power AEneas can assist,
And cheat his foemen with an empty mist,
The warrior's counterfeit. At thy command
Ships change to sea-nymphs, and the flames desist.
And now, that we should stretch a friendly hand,
And lend Rutulians aid, an infamy ye brand.
XIII. "Thy chief is absent, absent let him be.
He knows not: let him know not. Do I care?
What is AEneas' ignorance to me?
Thou hast thy Paphos, and Idalium fair,
And bowers of high Cythera; get thee there.
Why seek for towns with battle in their womb,
And beard a savage foeman in his lair?
Wrought we the wreck, when Ilion sank in gloom,
We, or the hands that urged poor Trojans to their doom?
XIV. "Was I the robber, who the war begun,
Whose theft in arms two continents arrayed,
When Europe clashed with Asia? I the one,
Who led the Dardan leman on his raid,
To storm the chamber of the Spartan maid?
Did I with lust the fatal strife sustain,
And fan the feud, and lend the Dardans aid?
_Then_ had thy fears been fitting; now in vain
Thy taunts are hurled; too late thou risest to complain."
XV. So pleaded Juno: the immortals all
On this and that side murmured their assent,
As new-born gales, that tell the coming squall,
Caught in the woods, their mingled moanings vent.
Then thus began the Sire omnipotent,
Who rules the universe, and as he rose,
Hush'd was the hall; Earth shook; the firmament
Was silent; whist was every wind that blows,
And o'er the calm deep spread the stillness of repose.
XVI. "Now hearken all, and to my words give heed.
Since naught avails this discord to allay,
And peace is hopeless, let the war proceed.
Trojans, Rutulians--each alike this day
Must carve his hopes and fortune as he may.
Fate, blindness, crooked counsels--whatso'er
Holds Troy in leaguer, equally I weigh
The chance of all, nor would Rutulians spare.
For each must toil and try, till Fate the doom declare."
XVII. He spake, and straightway, to confirm his word,
Invoked his brother, and the Stygian flood,
The pitchy whirlpool, and the banks abhorr'd,
Then bent his brow, and with his awful nod
Made all Olympus tremble at the god.
So ceased the council. From his throne of state,
All golden, he arose, and slowly trod
The courts of Heaven. The powers celestial wait
Around their sovereign Lord, and lead him to the gate.
XVIII. Now, fire in hand, and burning to destroy,
The fierce Rutulians still the siege maintain.
Pent in their ramparts stay the sons of Troy,
Hopeless of flight, and line the walls in vain,
A little band, but all that now remain.
Thymoetes, son of Hicetaon bold,
Asius, the son of Imbrasus, the twain
Assaraci, Castor and Thymbris old,
These, battling in the van, the desperate strife uphold.
XIX. Next stand the brethren of Sarpedon slain,
Claros and Themon,--braver Lycians none.
There, with a rock's huge fragment toils amain
Lyrnessian Acmon, famous Clytius' son,
Menestheus' brother, nor less fame he won.
Hot fares the combat; from the walls these fling
The stones, and those the javelins. Each one
Toils to defend; these blazing firebrands bring,
And fetch the flying shafts, and fit them to the string.
XX. There too, bare-headed, in the midst is seen
Fair Venus' care, the Dardan youth divine,
Bright as a diamond, or the lustrous sheen
Of gems, that, set in yellow gold, entwine
The neck, or sparkling on the temples shine.
So gleams the ivory, inlaid with care
In chest of terebinth, or boxwood scrine;
And o'er his milk-white neck and shoulders fair,
Twined with the pliant gold, streams down the warrior's hair.
XXI. There, too, brave Ismarus, the nations see,
Scattering the poisoned arrows from thy hands;
A gallant knight, and born of high degree
In far Maeonia, where his golden sands
Pactolus rolls along the fruitful lands.
There he, whom yesterday the voice of fame
Raised to the stars, the valiant Mnestheus stands,
Who drove fierce Turnus from the camp with shame;
There, Capys, he who gave the Capuan town its name.
XXII. Thus all day long both armies toiled and fought.
And now, at midnight, o'er the deep sea fares
AEneas. By Evander sent, he sought
The Tuscan camp. To Tarchon he declares
His name and race, the aid he asks and bears,
The friends Mezentius gathers to the fray,
And Turnus' violence; then warns, with prayers,
Of Fortune's fickleness. No more delay:
Brave Tarchon joins his power, and strikes a league straightway.
XXIII. So, free of Fate, Heaven's mandate they obey,
And Lydians, with a foreign leader, plough
The deep; AEneas' vessel leads the way.
Sweet Ida forms the figure-head; below,
The Phrygian lions ramp upon the prow.
Here sits AEneas, thoughtful, on the stern,
For war's dark chances cloud the chieftain's brow.
There, on his left, sits Pallas, and in turn
Now cons the stars, now seeks the wanderer's woes to learn.
XXIV. Now open Helicon; unlock the springs,
Ye Goddesses. Strike up the noble stave,
And sing what hosts from Tuscan shores he brings,
What ships he arms, and how they cross the wave.
First, Massicus with brazen Tiger clave
The watery plain. With him from Clusium go,
And Cosae's town, a hundred, tried and brave;
Deft archers, well the deadly craft they know.
Light from their shoulders hang the quiver and the bow.
XXV. With blazoned troops came Abas, gaunt and grim.
Golden Apollo on the stern he bore.
Six hundred Populonia gave to him,
All trained to battle, and three hundred more
Sent Ilva, rich in unexhausted ore.
Third came Asylas, who the voice divine
Expounds to man, and kens, with prescient lore,
The starry sky, the hearts of slaughtered kine,
The voices of the birds, the lightning's warning sign.
XXVI. A thousand from Alphaeus' Tuscan town
Of Pisa, with him to the war proceed,
In bristling ranks, all spearmen of renown.
Next, Astur--comeliest Astur--clad in weed
Of divers hues, and glorying in his steed:
Three hundred men from ancient Pyrgos fare,
From Caere's home, from Minio's fruitful mead,
And they who breathe Gravisca's tainted air.
One purpose fills them all, to follow and to dare.
XXVII. Nor would I leave thee, Cinyras, untold,
Liguria's chief, nor, though a few were thine,
Cupavo. Emblem of his sire of old,
The swan's white feathers on his helmet shine,
Thy fault, O Love. When Cycnus, left to pine
For Phaethon, the poplar shades among,
Soothed his sad passion with the Muse divine,
Old age with hoary plumage round him clung;
Starward he soared from earth and, soaring up, still sung.
XXVIII. Now comes his son, with his Ligurian bands,
Oaring their bark. A Centaur from the prow
Looms o'er the waves a-tiptoe, with his hands
A vast rock heaving, as in act to throw;
The long keel ploughs the furrowed deep below.
Next, from his home the gallant Ocnus came,
The son of Manto, who the Fates doth know,
Brave child of Tiber. He his mother's name
And walls to Mantua gave,--great Mantua, rich in fame,
XXIX. And rich in heroes, though diversely bred.
Three separate stems four-fold the state compose,
Herself, of Tuscan origin, the head.
Five hundred warriors, all Mezentius' foes,
And armed for vengeance, from her walls arose.
Mincius in front, veiled in his sedges grey
(Fair stream, whose birth from sire Benacus flows),
Shines on the poop, and seaward points the way;
Swift speeds the bark of pine, with foemen for the fray.
XXX. Last, huge Aulestes, rising with his row
Of hundred oarsmen, beats the watery lea.
The lashed deeps boil; big Triton from the prow
Sounds his loud shell, that frights the sky-blue sea.
Waist-high, a man with human face is he;
All else, a fish; beneath his savage breast
The white foam roars before him.--Such to see,
Such, and so numerous was the host that pressed,
Borne in their thirty ships, to succour Troy distrest.
XXXI. Daylight had failed; to mid Olympus' gate
Bright Phoebe drove her nightly-wandering wain.
Tiller in hand, the good AEneas sate
And trimmed the sails, while trouble tossed his brain.
When lo! around him thronged the Sea-nymphs' train,
Whom kind Cybele changed from ships of wood
To rule, as goddesses, the watery main.
As many as late, with brazen beaks, had stood
Linked to the shore, now swim in even line the flood.
XXXII. Far off, their king the goddesses beheld
And danced around him joyously, and lo,
Cymodocea, who in speech excelled,
Clings to the stern; breast-high the nymph doth show;
Her left hand oars the placid deep below.
Then, "Watchest thou, AEneas, child divine?
Watch on," she cries, "and let the canvas go.
Behold us, sea-nymphs, once a grove of pine
On Ida's sacred crest, the Trojans' ships and thine.
XXXIII. "When on us late the false Rutulian pressed
With sword and flame, perforce, sweet life to save,
We broke our chains, and wander in thy quest.
Our shape the Mother, pitying, changed and gave
Immortal life, to spend beneath the wave.
Thy son, he stays in Latin leaguer pent;
Arcadian horsemen, with the Tuscans brave,
Hold tryst to aid. His troops hath Turnus sent,
Charged, with opposing arms, their succour to prevent.
XXXIV. "Now rise, and when to-morrow's dawn shall shine,
Bid forth thy followers to arms. Be bold,
And take this shield, the Fire-King's gift divine,
Invincible, immortal, rimm'd with gold.
Next morn--so truly as the word is told--
Huge heaps of dead Rutulian foes shall view."
She spake; her hand, departing, loosed its hold,
And pushed the vessel; well the way she knew;
Swift as a dart it flies; the rest its flight pursue.
XXXV. Wondering, AEneas pauses in amaze,
Yet hails the sign, and gladdens at the sight,
And, gazing on the vaulted skies, he prays,
"Mother of Heaven, whom Dindymus' famed height,
And tower-girt towns, and lions yoked delight,
Assist the Phrygians, and direct the fray.
Kind Goddess, prosper us, and speed aright
This augury." He ended, and the day
Returning, climbed the sky, and chased the night away.
XXXVI. Forthwith he calls his comrades to arise
And take fresh heart, and for the fight prepare.
Now, from the stern, the Dardans he espies,
Hemmed in their camp. Aloft his hands upbear
The burning shield. With shouts his Dardans tear
Heaven's concave. Hope with fury fires their veins.
Fast fly their darts, as when through darkened air
With clang and clamour the Strymonian cranes
Stream forth, the signal given, from winter's winds and rains.
XXXVII. Then lost in wonderment, the foemen stand,
Till, looking round, they see the watery ways
A sea of ships, all crowding to the land,
The flaming crest, the helmet all ablaze,
The golden shield-boss, with its lightning rays.
As when a comet, bright with blazing hair,
Its blood-red beams athwart the night displays,
Or Sirius, rising, with its baleful glare
Brings pestilence and drought, and saddens all the air.
XXXVIII. Yet quails not Turnus; still his hopes are high
To seize the shore, and keep them from the land.
Now cheering, and now chiding, rings his cry
"Lo, here--'tis here, the battle ye demand.
Up, crush them; war is in the warrior's hand.
Think of your fathers and their deeds of old,
Your homes, your wives. Forestall them on the strand,
Now, while they totter, while the foot's faint hold
Slips on the shelving beach. Fair Fortune aids the bold."
XXXIX. So saying, he ponders inly, whom to choose
To mind the siege, and whom the foe to meet.
By planks meanwhile AEneas lands his crews.
Some wait until the languid waves retreat,
Then, leaping, to the shallows trust their feet;
Some vault with oars. Brave Tarchon marks, quick-eyed,
A sheltered spot, where neither surf doth beat,
Nor breakers roar, but smooth the waters glide,
And up the sloping shore unbroken swells the tide.
XL. Here suddenly he bids them turn the prow,
And shouts aloud, "Now, now, my chosen band,
Lean to your oars; strive lustily and row.
Lift the keel onward, till it cleaves the strand,
And ploughs its furrow in the foeman's land.
Let the bark break, with such a haven here
What harm, if once upon the shore we stand?"
So Tarchon spake; his comrades, with a cheer,
Rise on the smooth-shaved thwarts, and sweep the foaming mere.
XLI. So, one by one, they gain the land, and, whole
And scatheless, on the Latin shore abide.
All safe but Tarchon. Dashed upon a shoal,
Long on a rock's unequal ridge astride,
In doubtful balance swayed from side to side,
His vessel hangs, and back the waves doth beat,
Then breaks, and leaves them tangled in the tide
'Twixt planks and oars, while, ebbing to retreat,
The shrinking waves draw back, and wash them from their feet.
XLII. Nor loiters Turnus; eager to attack,
Along the shore he marshals his array,
To meet the foe, and drive the Teucrians back.
The trumpet sounds: the Latin churls straightway
AEneas routs, first omen of the day,
Huge Theron slain, their mightiest, who in pride
Of strength, rushed forth and dared him to the fray.
Through quilted brass the Dardan sword he plied,
Through tunic stiff with gold, and pierced th' unguarded side.
XLIII. Lichas he smites, who vowed his infant life,
Ripped from his mother, dying in her pain,
To Phoebus, freed from perils of the knife.
Huge Gyas, brawny Cisseus press the plain,
As, club in hand, they strew the Tuscan train.
Naught now avail those stalwart arms, that plied
The weapons of Alcides; all in vain
They boast their sire Melampus, comrade tried
Of Hercules, while earth his toilsome tasks supplied.
XLIV. Lo, full at Pharus, in his bawling mouth
He plants a dart. Thou, Cydon, too, in quest
Of Clytius, blooming with the down of youth,
Thy latest joy, had'st laid thy loves to rest,
Slain by the Dardan; but around thee pressed
Old Phorcus' sons. Seven brethren bold are there,
Seven darts they throw. These helm and shield arrest,
Those, turned aside by Venus' gentle care
Just graze the Dardan's frame, and, grazing, glance in air.
XLV. Then cried AEneas to Achates true,
"Quick, hand me store of weapons; none in vain
This arm shall hurl at yon Rutulian crew,
Not one of all that whilom knew the stain
Of Argive blood upon the Trojan plain."
So saying, he snatched, and in a moment threw
His mighty spear, that, hurtling, rent in twain
The brazen plates of Maeon's shield, and through
The breastplate pierced the breast, nor faltered as it flew.
XLVI. Up ran, and raised his brother, as he lay,
Alcanor. Shrill another javelin sung,
And pierced his arm, and, reddening, held its way,
And from his shoulders by the sinews hung
The dying hand. Then straight, the dart outwrung,
His brother Numitor the barb let fly
Full at AEneas. In his face he flung,
But failed to smite. The weapon, turned awry,
Missed the intended mark, and grazed Achates' thigh.
XLVII. Up Clausus came, of Cures, in the pride
Of youth. His stark spear, urged with forceful sway,
Through Dryops' throat, beneath the chin, he plied,
And voice and life forsook him, as he lay,
Spewing thick gore, his forehead in the clay.
Three Thracians next, three sons of Idas bleed.
Ismarians these. Halaesus to the fray
Brings his Auruncan bands, and Neptune's seed,
Messapus, too, comes up, the tamer of the steed.
XLVIII. Each side strives hard the other's ground to win.
E'en on Ausonia's threshold raves the fray.
As in the broad air warring winds begin
The battle, matched in strength and rage, nor they,
The winds themselves, nor clouds nor sea give way,
All locked in strife, and struggling as they can,
And long in doubtful balance hangs the day,
So meet the ranks, and mingle in the van,
And foot clings close to foot, and man is massed with man.
XLIX. Where, in another quarter, stones and trees,
Torn from its banks, a torrent at its height
Had strewn with wide-wrought ravage, Pallas sees
His brave Arcadians break the ranks of fight,
And turn before their Latin foes in flight.
Strange to foot-combat, from his trusty horse
The rough ground lured each rider to alight.
Now with entreaties--'tis his last resource--
And now with bitter words he fires their flagging force.
L. "Shame on ye, comrades! whither do ye run?
By your brave deeds, and by the name ye bear,
And great Evander's, by the wars ye won,
By these my hopes, which even now bid fair
E'en with my father's honours to compare.
Trust not your feet; the sword, the sword must hew
A pathway through the foemen. See, 'tis there,
Where foes press thickest, and our friends are few,
Our noble country calls for Pallas and for you.
LI. "No gods assail us; mortals fight to-day
With mortals. Lives as many as theirs have we,
As many hands, to match them in the fray.
Earth fails for flight, and yonder lies the sea.
Seaward or Troyward--whither shall we flee?"
So saying, he plunged amid the throng. First foe,
Fell Lagus, doomed an evil fate to dree.
Him, toiling hard a ponderous stone to throw,
Between the ribs and spine a whistling dart laid low.
LII. Scarce from his marrow could the victor tear
The steel, so tightly clung it to the bone.
Forth Hisbo leaped, to smite him unaware.
Rash hope! brave Pallas caught him, rushing on,
And through the lung his sword a passage won.
Then Sthenius he slew; beside him bled
Anchemolus, of Rhoetus' stock the son,
The lewd defiler of his stepdame's bed.
Fate stopped his lewdness now, and stretched him with the dead.
LIII. Ye, too, young Thymber and Larides fair,
Twin sons of Daucus, did the victor quell.
So like in form and features were the pair,
That e'en their doting parents failed to tell
This one from that. Alas! the sword too well
Divides them now. Here, tumbled on the sward,
At one fierce swoop, the head of Thymber fell.
Thy severed hand, Larides, seeks its lord;
The fingers, half alive and quivering, clutch the sword.
LIV. Fired by his words, his deeds the Arcadians view,
And shame and anger arm them to the fray.
Rhoeteus, as past his two-horsed chariot flew
He pierced,--'twas Ilus Pallas meant to slay,
And Ilus gained that moment of delay.
Rhoeteus, in flight from Teuthras and from thee,
His brother Tyres, met the spear midway.
Down from his chariot in the dust rolled he,
And, dying, with his heels beat the Rutulian lea.
LV. As when a shepherd, on a summer's day,
The wished-for winds arising, hastes to cast
The flames amid the stubble: far away,
The mid space seized, the line of fire runs fast
From field to field, and broadens with the blast:
And, sitting down, the victor from a height
Surveys the triumph, as the flames rush past.
So all Arcadia's chivalry unite,
And round thee, Pallas, throng, and aid thee in the fight.
LVI. But lo, from out the foemen's ranks, athirst
For battle, fierce Halesus charged, and drew
His covering shield before him. Ladon first,
Then Pheres, then Demodocus he slew.
Next, at his throat as bold Strymonius flew,
The glittering falchion severed at a blow
The lifted hand. At Thoas' face he threw
A stone, that smashed the forehead of his foe,
And bones, and blood, and brains the spattered earth bestrow.
LVII. Halesus, when a boy, in woods concealed,
His sire, a seer, had reared with tender care.
But soon as death the old man's eyes had sealed,
Fate marked the son for the Evandrian spear.
Him Pallas sought; "O Tiber!" was his prayer,
"True to Halesus let this javelin go.
His arms and spoils thy sacred oak shall bear."
'Twas heard: Halesus, shielding from the foe
Imaon, leaves his breast unguarded to the blow.
LVIII. Firm Lausus stands, bearing the battle's brunt,
Nor lets Halesus' death his friends dismay.
Dead falls the first who meets him front to front,
Brave Abas, knot and holdfast of the fray.
Down go Arcadia's chivalry that day,
Down go the Etruscans, and the Teucrians, those
Whom Grecian conquerors had failed to slay.
Man locked with man, amid the conflict's throes,
With strength and leaders matched, the rival armies close.
LIX. On press the rearmost, crowding on the van,
So thick, that neither hand can stir, nor spear
Be wielded; each one struggles as he can.
Here Pallas, there brave Lausus, charge and cheer,
Two foes, in age scarce differing by a year.
Both fair of form. Stern Fate to each forbade
His home return. But Jove allowed not here
A meeting; he who great Olympus swayed,
Awhile for mightier foes their destined doom delayed.
LX. Warned by his gracious sister, Turnus flies
To take the place of Lausus. Driving through
The ranks, "Stand off," he shouts to his allies,
"I fight with Pallas; Pallas is my due.
Would that his sire were here himself to view!"
All clear the field. Then, pondering with surprise
The proud command, as back the crowd withdrew,
The youth, amazed at Turnus, rolls his eyes
And scans his giant foe, and thus in scorn replies:
LXI. "Or kingly spoils shall make me famed to-day,
Or glorious death. Whatever end remain,
My sire can bear it. Put thy threats away."
Then forth he stepped; cold horror chills his train.
Down from his car, close combat to darrain,
Leapt Turnus. As a lion, who far away
Has marked a bull, that butts the sandy plain
For battle, springs to grapple with his prey;
So dreadful Turnus looks, advancing to the fray.
LXII. Him, deemed within his spear-throw, undismayed
The youth prevents, if chance the odds should square,
And aid his daring. To the skies he prayed,
"O thou, my father's guest-friend, wont whilere
A stranger's welcome at his board to share,
Aid me, Alcides, prosper my emprise;
Let Turnus fall, and, falling, see me tear
His blood-stained arms, and may his swooning eyes
Meet mine, and bear the victor's image, when he dies."
LXIII. Alcides heard, and, stifling in his breast
A deep groan, poured his unavailing grief.
Whom thus the Sire with kindly words addressed:
"Each hath his day; irreparably brief
Is mortal life, and fading as the leaf.
'Tis valour's part to bid it bloom anew
By deeds of fame. Dead many a godlike chief,
Dead lies my son Sarpedon. Turnus too
His proper Fates demand; his destined hour is due."
LXIV. So saying, he turned, and shunned the scene of death.
Forth Pallas hurled the spear with all his might,
And snatched the glittering falchion from the sheath.
Where the shield's top just matched the shoulders' height,
Clean through the rim, the javelin winged its flight,
And grazed the flesh. Then Turnus, poising slow
His oakbeam, tipt with iron sharp and bright,
Took aim, and, hurling, shouted to his foe,
"See, now, if this my lance can deal a deadlier blow."
LXV. He spake, and through the midmost shield, o'erlaid
With bull-hide, brass, and iron, welded hard,
Whizzed the keen javelin, nor its course delayed,
But pierced the broad breast through the corslet's guard.
He the warm weapon, in the wound embarred,
Wrenched, writhing in his agony; in vain;
Out gushed the life and life-blood. O'er him jarred
His clanging armour, as he rolled in pain.
Dying, with bloody mouth he bites the hostile plain.
LXVI. Then Turnus, standing o'er the dead, "Go to,
Arcadians, hear and let Evander know,
I send back Pallas, handled as was due.
If aught of honour can a tomb bestow,
If earth's cold lap yield solace to his woe,
I grant it. Dearly will his Dardan guest
Cost him, I trow." Then, trampling on the foe,
His left foot on the lifeless corpse he pressed,
And tore the ponderous belt in triumph from his breast;
LXVII. The belt, whereon the tale of guilt was told,--
The wedding night, the couches smeared with gore,
The bridegrooms slain--which Clonus in the gold,
The son of Eurytus, had grav'n of yore,
And Turnus now, exulting, seized and wore.
Vain mortals! triumphing past bounds to-day,
Blind to to-morrow's destiny. The hour
Shall come, when gold in plenty would he pay
Ne'er Pallas to have touched, and curse the costly prey.
LXVIII. With tears his comrades lifted from the ground
Dead Pallas; groaning, on his shield they bore
Him homeward, and the bitter wail went round.
"O grief! O glory! fall'n to rise no more!
Thus back we bring thee, thus the son restore!
One day to battle gave thee, one hath ta'en,
Victor and vanquished in the self-same hour!
Yet fall'n with honour, for behind thee slain,
Heaps of Rutulian foes thou leavest on the plain!"
LXIX. Sure tidings to AEneas came apace,--
'Twas no mere rumour--of his friends in flight;
Time pressed for help, death stared them in the face.
Sweeping his foes before him, left and right
He mows a passage through the ranks of fight.
Thee, haughty Turnus, thee he burns to find,
Hot with new blood, and glorying in thy might.
The sire, the son, the welcome warm and kind,
The feast, the parting grasp--all crowd upon his mind.
LXX. Eight youths alive he seizes for the pyre,
Four, sons of Sulmo, four, whom Ufens bred,
Poor victims, doomed to feed the funeral fire,
And pour their blood in quittance for the dead.
Then from afar a bitter shaft he sped
At Magus. Warily he stoops below
The quivering steel, that whistles o'er his head,
And, like a suppliant, crouching to his foe,
Clings to AEneas' knees, and cries in words of woe:
LXXI. "O by the promise of thy youthful heir,
By dead Anchises, pity, I implore,
My son, my father; for their sakes forbear.
Rich is my house, its cellars heaped with store
Of gold, and silver talents by the score.
'Tis not my doom, that shall the day decide.
If Trojans win, one foeman's life the more
Mars not the triumph, nor can turn the tide."
Thus he, and thus in scorn the Dardan chief replied:
LXXII. "The treasures that thou vauntest, let them be.
Thy gold, thy silver, and thy hoarded gain
Spare for thy children, for they bribe not me.
Since Pallas fell by Turnus' hand, 'twere vain
To think thy pelf will traffic for the slain,
So deems my son, so deems Anchises' shade."
He spake, and with his left hand grasped amain
His helmet. Even as the suppliant prayed,
Hilt-deep, the neck bent back, he drove the shining blade.
LXXIII. Hard by, the son of Haemon there was seen,
Apollo's priest and Trivia's, all aglow
In robe and armour of resplendent sheen,
The holy ribboned chaplet on his brow.
Him, met, afield he chases, lays him low,
And o'er him, like a storm-cloud, dark as night,
Stands, hugely shadowing the fallen foe:
And back Serestus bears his armour bright,
A trophy, vowed to thee, Gradivus, lord of fight.
LXXIV. Then Caeculus, to Vulcan's race allied,
And Marsian Umbro, rally 'gainst the foe
The wavering ranks. The Dardan on his side
Still rages. First from Anxur with a blow
His sword the shield-arm and the shield laid low.
Big things had Anxur boasted, empty jeers,
And deemed his valour with his vaunts would grow:
Perchance, with spirit lifted to the spheres,
Hoar hairs he looked to see, and length of peaceful years.
LXXV. Sheathed in bright arms, proud Tarquitus in scorn,
Whom Dryope the nymph, if fame be true,
To Faunus, ranger of the woods, had borne,
Leaped forth, and at the fiery Dardan flew.
He, drawing back his javelin, aimed and threw.
And through the cuirass and the ponderous shield
Pinned him. Then, vainly as he strove to sue,
Much pleading, even while the suppliant kneeled.
Lopt off, the lifeless head went rolling on the field.
LXXVI. His reeking trunk the victor in disdain
Spurns with his foot, and cries aloud, "Lie there,
Proud youth, and tell thy terrors to the slain.
No tender mother shall thy shroud prepare,
No father's sepulchre be thine to share.
Thy carrion corpse shall be the vultures' food,
And birds that batten on the dead shall tear
Thee piecemeal, and the fishes lick thy blood,
Drowned in the deep sea-gulfs, or drifting on the flood."
LXXVII. Lucas, Antaeus in the van were slain.
Here Numa, there the fair-haired Camers lay,
Great Volscens' son; full many a wide domain
Was his, and mute Amyclae owned his sway.
As when AEgeon, hundred-armed, they say,
And hundred-handed, would the Sire withstand,
And fifty mouths, and fifty maws each way
Shot flames against Jove's thunder, and each hand
Clashed on a sounding shield, or bared a glittering brand,
LXXVIII. So raves AEneas, victor of the war,
His sword now warmed, and many a foeman dies.
Now at Niphaeus, in his four-horse car
Breasting the battle, in hot haste he flies.
Scared stand the steeds, in terror and surprise,
So dire his gestures, as he strides amain,
So fierce his looks, so terrible his cries;
Then, turning, from his chariot on the plain
Fling their ill-fated lord, and gallop to the main.
LXXIX. With two white steeds into the midmost dashed
Bold Lucagus and Liger, brethren twain.
Around him Lucagus his broad sword flashed
His brother wheeled the horses with the rein.
Fired at the sight, AEneas in disdain
Rushed on them, towering with uplifted spear.
"No steeds of Diomede, nor Phrygian plain,"
Cries Liger, "nor Achilles' car are here.
This field shall end the war, thy fatal hour is near."
LXXX. So fly his words, but not in words the foe
Makes answer, but his javelin hurls with might.
As o'er the lash proud Lucagus bends low
To prick the steeds, and planting for the fight
His left foot forward, stands in act to smite,
Clean through the nether margin of his shield
The Dardan shaft goes whistling in its flight,
And thrills his groin upon the left. He reeled,
And from the chariot fell half-lifeless on the field.
LXXXI. Then bitterly AEneas mocked him: "Lo,
Proud Lucagus! no lagging steeds have played
Thy chariot false, nor shadows of the foe
Deceived thy horses, and their hearts dismayed.
'Tis thou--thy leap has lost the car!" He said
And snatched the reins. The brother in despair
Slipped down, and spread his hapless hands, and prayed:
"O by thyself, great son of Troy, forbear;
By those who bore thee such, have pity on my prayer."
LXXXII. More would he, but AEneas: "Nay, not so
Thou spak'st erewhile. Die now, and take thy way,
And join thy brother, brotherlike, below."
Deep in the breast he stabbed him as he lay,
And bared the life's recesses to the day.
Such deaths the Dardan dealt upon the plain,
Like storm or torrent, full of rage to slay.
And now at length Ascanius and his train
Burst forth, and leave their camp, long leaguered, but in vain.
LXXXIII. Great Jove meanwhile to Juno spake and said,
"Sweet spouse and sister, thou hast deemed aright,
'Tis Venus, sure, who doth the Trojans aid,
Not courage, strength and patience in the fight."
Then Juno meekly: "Dearest, why delight
With cruel words to vex me, sad with fear
And sick at heart? Had still my love the might
It had and should have; were I still so dear,
Not thou, with all thy power, should'st then refuse to hear,
LXXXIV. "But safe should Turnus from the fight once more
Return to greet old Daunus. Be it so,
And let him die, and shed his righteous gore
To glut the vengeance of his Teucrian foe,
Albeit his name celestial birth doth show,
Fourth in succession from Pilumnus, yea,
Though oft his hand thy sacred shrines below
Hath heaped his gifts." She ended, and straightway
Brief answer made the Sire, who doth Olympus sway:
LXXXV. "If but a respite for the youth be sought,
A little time of tarrying, ere he die,
And thus thou read'st the purport of my thought,
Take then awhile thy Turnus; let him fly
And 'scape his present fates; thus far may I
Indulge thee. But if aught beneath thy prayer
Lie veiled of purpose or of hopes more high,
To change the war's whole aspect, then beware,
For idle hopes thou feed'st, as empty as the air."
LXXXVI. Then She with tears: "What if thy heart should give
The pledge and promise, that thy lips disdain,
And Turnus by thy warrant still should live?
Now death awaits him guiltless, or in vain
I read the Fates. Ah! may I merely feign
An empty fear, and better thoughts advise
Thee--for thou can'st--to spare him and refrain!"
So saying, arrayed in storm-clouds, through the skies
Down to Laurentum's camp and Ilian lines she flies.
LXXXVII. Then straight the Goddess from a hollow cloud--
Strange sight to see!--a thin and strengthless shade
Shaped like the great AEneas, and endowed
With Dardan arms, and fixed the shield, and spread
The plume and crest as on his godlike head.
And empty words, a soulless sound, she gave,
And feigned the fashion of the warrior's tread.
Thus ghosts are said to glide above the grave;
Thus oft delusive dreams the slumbering sense enslave.
LXXXVIII. Proud stalks the phantom, gladdening in the van,
With darts provokes him, and with words defies.
Forth rushed fierce Turnus, hurling as he ran
His whistling spear. The shadow turns and flies.
Then Turnus, glorying in his fancied prize,
"Where now, AEneas, from thy plighted bride?
The land thou soughtest o'er the deep, it lies
Here, and this hand shall give it thee." He cried,
And waved his glittering sword, and chased him, nor espied
LXXXIX. The winds bear off his triumph.--Hard at hand,
With steps let down and gangway ready laid,
Moored by the rocks, a vessel chanced to stand,
Which brave Osinius, Clusium's king, conveyed.
Here, as in haste, for shelter plunged the shade.
On Turnus pressed, and with a bound ascends
The lofty gangways, dauntless nor delayed.
The bows scarce reached, the rope Saturnia rends,
And down the refluent tide the loosened ship descends.
XC. Loud calls AEneas for his absent foe,
And many a hero-body--all who dare
To meet him--hurries to the shades below.
No more the phantom lingers in his lair,
But, soaring, melts into the misty air.
Turnus a storm-wind o'er the deep sea blows.
Backward he looks, and of events unware,
And all unthankful to escape his foes.
Up to the stars of heaven his hand and voice he throws.
XCI. "Great Sire, was I so guilty in thy sight,
To make thee deem such punishment my due?
Whence came I? Whither am I borne? What flight
Is this? and how do I return, and who?
Again Laurentum's city shall I view?
What of that band, who followed me, whom I--
Shame on me--left a shameful death to rue?
E'en now I see them scattered,--see them fly,--
And see them fall; and hear the groans of those that die.
XCII. "What am I doing? Where can Earth for me
Gape deep enough? Ye winds that round me roar,
Pity I crave, on rocks amid the sea--
'Tis Turnus, I, a willing prayer who pour--
Dash me this ship, or drive it on the shore,
'Mid ruthless shoals, where no Rutulian eyes
May see my shame, nor prying Fame explore."
Thus he, and, tost in spirit, as he cries,
This plan and that in turn his wavering thoughts devise:
XCIII. Madly to grasp the dagger in his hand,
And through his ribs drive home the naked blade,
Or plunge into the deep, and swim to land,
And, armed, once more the Teucrian foes invade.
Thrice, but in vain, each venture he essayed.
Thrice Heaven's high queen, in pity fain to save,
Held back the youth, and from his purpose stayed.
And borne along by favouring tide and wave,
On to his father's town the level deep he clave.
XCIV. Jove prompting, fierce Mezentius now the fight
Takes up, and charges at the Teucrian foes.
And, hurrying up, the Tuscan troops unite.
All against one--one only--these and those
Their gathered hate and crowding darts oppose.
Unmoved he stands, as when a rocky steep
In ocean, bare to every blast that blows,
Around whose base the savage waves upleap,
Braves all the threats of heaven, and buffets of the deep.
XCV. Hebrus he slew, from Dolichaon sprung,
Then Latagus, then Palmus, as he fled.
Full in the face of Latagus he flung
A monstrous stone, that stretched him with the dead.
Palmus, with severed hamstring, next he sped,
And rolled him helpless. Lausus takes his gear;
The shining crest he fits upon his head,
And dons the breastplate. 'Neath the conqueror's spear
Phrygian Evanthes falls, and Paris' friend and peer,
XCVI. Young Mimas, whom to Amycus that night
Theano bore, when, big with Ilion's bane,
Queen Hecuba brought Paris forth to light.
Now Paris sleeps upon his native plain,
But Mimas on a foreign shore is slain.
As when a wild-boar, hounded from the hill,
Who long on pine-clad Venulus hath lain,
Or in Laurentum's marish fed his fill,
Now in the toils caught fast, before his foes stands still,
XCVII. And snorts with rage, and rears his bristling back;
None dares approach him, but aloof they wait,
Safe-shouting, and with distant darts attack;
E'en so, of those who burn with righteous hate,
None dares against Mezentius try his fate.
But cries are hurled, and distant missiles plied,
While he, undaunted, but in desperate strait,
Gnashes his teeth, and from his shield's tough hide
Shakes off the darts in showers, and shifts from side to side.
XCVIII. From ancient Corythus came Acron there,
A Greek, in exile from his half-won bride.
Him, dealing havoc in the ranks, elsewhere
Mezentius marked; the purple plumes he eyed,
The robe his loved one for her lord had dyed.
As when a lion, prowling to and fro,
Sore pinched with hunger, round the fold, hath spied
A stag tall-antlered, or a timorous roe,
Ghastly he grins, erect his horrid mane doth show;
XCIX. Prone o'er his victim, to the flesh he clings,
And laps the gore; so, burning in his zeal,
The fierce Mezentius at his foemen springs.
Poor Acron falls, and earth with dying heel
Spurns, and the red blood stains the splintered steel.
Orodes fled; Mezentius marks his flight,
And scorns with lance a covert wound to deal,
But face to face confronts him in the fight,
Courage, not craft, prevails, and might o'ermatches might.
C. With foot and spear upon him, "See," he cries,
"Their champion; see the great Orodes slain!"
All shout applause, but, dying, he replies,
"Strange foe, not long thy triumph shall remain;
Like fate awaits thee, on the self-same plain."
"Die!" said Mezentius, with a smile of spite,
"Jove cares for me," and plucked the shaft again.
Grim rest and iron slumber seal his sight;
The drooping eyelids close on everlasting night.
CI. Now Caedicus made great Alcathous fall,
Sacrator killed Hydaspes; Rapo too
Parthenius and Orses, strong and tall;
Messapus Clonius, whom his steed o'erthrew,
And, foot to foot, Lycaon's son he slew,
Brave Ericetes. Valerus with a blow
Felled Agis, Lycia' s warrior. Salius flew
At Thronius, but Nealces lays him low,
Skilled with the flying dart and far-deceiving bow.
CII. Stern Mars, impartial, weighs in equal scale
The mutual slaughter, and the ghastly fight
Raves, as in turn they perish or prevail,
Vanquished or victor, for none dreams of flight.
From Heaven the gods look pitying on the sight,
Such fruitless hate, such scenes of mortal woe.
Here Venus, there great Juno, filled with spite,
Sits watching. Pale Tisiphone below
Fierce amid thousands raves, and bids the discord grow.
CIII. His massive spear Mezentius, flown with pride,
Shakes in his fury, as he towers amain,
Like huge Orion, when with ample stride
He cleaves the deep-sea, where the Nereids reign,
And lifts his lofty shoulders o'er the main,
Or when, uprooting from the mountain head
An aged ash, he stalks along the plain,
And hides his forehead in the clouds; so dread
Mezentius clangs his arms, so terrible his tread.
CIV. AEneas marks him in the files of fight
Far off, and hastes to meet him in advance.
Dauntless he waits, collected in his might,
The noble foe, then, measuring at a glance
The space his arm can cover with the lance;
"May this right hand, my deity," cried he,
"And this poised javelin aid the doubtful chance.
The spoils, from this false pirate stript, to thee
My Lausus, I devote; his trophy shalt thou be."
CV. So saying, from far his whistling shaft he threw.
Wide glanced the missile, by the tough shield bent,
And finding famed Antores, as it flew,
'Twixt flank and bowels pierced a deadly rent.
He, friend of Hercules, from Argos sent,
With king Evander, 'neath Italian skies,
Had fixed his home. Alas! a wound unmeant
Hath laid him low. To heaven he lifts his eyes,
And of sweet Argos dreams, his native land, and dies.
CVI. His javelin then the good AEneas cast;
Flying it pierced the hollow disk, and through
The plates of brass, thrice welded firm and fast,
And linen folds, and triple bull-hides flew,
And in the groin, with failing force but true,
Lodged deep. At once AEneas, for his eye
Glistens with joy, the Tuscan's blood to view,
His trusty sword unfastening from his thigh,
Springs at the faltering foe, and bids Mezentius die.
CVII. Love for his sire stirred Lausus, and the tears
Rolled down, and heavily he groaned. Thy fate,
Brave youth! thy prowess, if the far-off years
Shall give due credence to a deed so great,
My verse at least shall spare not to relate.
While backward limped Mezentius, spent and slow,
His shield still cumbered with the javelin's weight,
Forth sprang the youth, and grappled with the foe,
And 'neath AEneas' sword, uplifted for the blow,
CVIII. Slipped in, and checked him. Onward press the train
With shouts, to shelter the retreating sire,
And distant arrows on the foeman rain.
Safe-covered stands AEneas, thrilled with ire.
As when the storm-clouds in a deluge dire
Pour down the hail, and all the ploughmen fly,
And scattered hinds from off the fields retire,
And rock or stream-side shields the passer-by,
Till sunshine calls to toil, and reawakes the sky;
CIX. So, whelmed with darts, the Trojan chief defies
The cloud of war, till all its storms abate,
And chides and threatens Lausus. "Fool," he cries,
"Why rush to death, and dare a deed too great?
Rash youth! thy love betrays thee." 'Twas too late;
Rage blinds poor Lausus, and he scorns to stay.
Then fiercer waxed the Dardan's wrath, and Fate
The threads had gathered, for their forceful sway
Hilt-deep within his breast the falchion urged its way.
CX. It pierced the shield, light armour and the vest,
Wrought by his mother with fine golden thread,
And drenched with gore the tunic and the breast.
Sweet life, departing, left the limbs outspread,
And the sad spirit to the ghost-world fled.
But when the son of great Anchises scanned
The face, the pallid features of the dead,
Deeply he groaned, and stretched a pitying hand.
Grief for his own dear sire his noble soul unmanned.
CXI. "Alas! what meed, to match such worth divine,
Can good AEneas give thee? Take to-day
The arms wherein thou joyed'st; they are thine.
Thy corpse--if aught can please the senseless clay--
Back to thy parents' ashes I repay.
Poor youth! thy solace be it to be slain
By great AEneas." Then his friends' delay
He chides, and lifts young Lausus from the plain,
Dead, and with dainty locks fouled by the crimson stain.
CXII. Meanwhile the sire Mezentius, faint with pain,
In Tiber's waters bathes the bleeding wound.
Against a trunk he leans; the boughs sustain
His brazen helm; his arms upon the ground
Rest idly, and his comrades stand around.
Sick, gasping, spent, his weary neck he tends;
Loose o'er his bosom floats the beard unbound.
Oft of his son he questions, oft he sends
To bid him quit the field, and seek his sire and friends.
CXIII. But, sad and sorrowful, the Tuscan train
Bear back the lifeless Lausus from the field,
Weeping--the mighty by a mightier slain,
And laid in death upon the warrior's shield.
Far off, their wailing to the sire revealed
The grief, that made his boding heart mistrust.
In agony of vanquish, down he kneeled,
His hoary hairs disfiguring with the dust,
And, grovelling, clasped the corpse, and both his hands outthrust.
CXIV. "Dear son, was life so tempting to the sire,
To let thee face the foemen in my room,
Whom I begot? Shalt thou, my son, expire,
And I live on, my darling in the tomb,
Saved by thy wounds, and living by thy doom?
Ah! woe is me; too well at length I own
The pangs of exile, and the wound strikes home.
'Twas I, thy name who tarnished, I alone,
Whom just resentment thrust from sceptre and from throne.
CXV. "Due to my country was the forfeit; yea,
All deaths Mezentius had deserved to die.
Yet still I leave, and leave not man and day,
But leave I will,--the fatal hour is nigh."
Then, slowly leaning on his crippled thigh
(Deep was the wound, but dauntless was his breast),
He rose, and calling for his steed hard by,
The steed, that oft in victory's hour he pressed,
His solace and his pride, the sorrowing beast addressed:
CXVI. "Rhaebus, full long, if aught of earth be long,
We two have lived. AEneas' head to-day,
And spoils, blood-crimsoned to avenge this wrong,
Back shalt thou bring, or, failing in the fray,
Bite earth with me, and be the Dardan's prey.
Not thou would'st brook a foreign lord, I weet,
Brave heart, or deign a Teucrian to obey."
He spoke, and, mounting to his well-known seat,
Swift at the ranks spurred forth, his dreaded foe to meet.
CXVII. Each hand a keen dart brandished; o'er his head
Gleamed the brass helmet with its horse-hair crest.
Shame for himself, and sorrow for the dead,
The parent's anguish, and the warrior's zest,
Thrilled through his veins, and kindled in his breast,
And thrice he called AEneas. With delight
AEneas heard him, and his vows addressed:
"So help me Jove, so Phoebus lend his might,
Come on," and couched his spear, advancing to the fight.
CXVIII. "Wretch," cries Mezentius, "having robbed my son,
Why scare me now? Thy terrors I defy.
Only through Lausus were his sire undone.
I heed not death nor deities, not I;
Forbear thy taunting; I am here to die,
But send this gift to greet thee, ere I go."
He spake, and quickly let a javelin fly,
Another--and another, as round the foe
In widening orbs he wheels; the good shield bides the blow.
CXIX. Thrice round AEneas leftward he careers,
Raining his darts. Thrice, shifting round, each way
The Trojan bears the forest of his spears.
At length, impatient of the long delay,
And tired with plucking all the shafts away,
Pondering awhile, and by the ceaseless blows
Hard pressed, and chafing at the unequal fray,
Forth springs AEneas, and betwixt the brows
Full at the warrior-steed a fatal javelin throws.
CXX. Up rears the steed, and paws the air in pain,
Then, following on his falling rider, lies
And pins him with his shoulder to the plain.
Shouts from each host run kindling through the skies.
Forth springs AEneas, glorying in his prize,
And plucks the glittering falchion from his thigh,
"Where now is fierce Mezentius? where," he cries,
"That fiery spirit?" Then, with upturned eye,
Gasping, with gathered sense, the Tuscan made reply:
CXXI. "Stern foe! why taunt and threaten? 'twere no shame
To slay me. No such covenant to save
His sire made Lausus; nor for this I came.
One boon I ask--if vanquished men may crave
The victor's grace--a burial for the brave.
My people hate me; I have lived abhorred;
Shield me from them with Lausus in the grave." This said, his throat he
offered to the sword, And o'er his shining arms life's purple stream
was poured.
More History
|
