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The Aeneid of Virgil
Book Twelve
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ARGUMENT
Turnus realises that he must now redeem his promise to meet AEneas
in single combat, and refuses to be dissuaded either by Latinus or
by Amata (1-90). The challenge is sent, and the two make ready. Lists
are prepared and spectators gather (91-153). Juno warns the Nymph
Juturna to aid her brother Turnus (154-180). After the terms of
combat have been ratified by oath and sacrifice, Juturna, in disguise,
by an opportune omen induces one of the assembled Latins to break
the truce and kill a Trojan (181-310). AEneas is wounded while
endeavouring to restrain his men from reprisals, and the fray becomes
general. Turnus deals death among the Trojans (311-441). AEneas is
miraculously healed, and at first pursues only Turnus--who is
carried off by Juturna (442-561), but presently gives rein to his
anger and slays indiscriminately, until by Venus' advice he attacks
the city. Amata kills herself, believing Turnus dead (562-702).
Turnus' eyes are opened. Seeing the city outworks in flames, he
returns and proclaims himself ready to meet AEneas, who, welcoming
the challenge, rushes forward. All eyes are riveted on the two, when
Turnus' sword breaks, and once more he flees, pursued by AEneas.
Juturna gives Turnus another sword, and Venus restores to AEneas his
spear (703-918). Follows a colloquy between Jupiter and
Juno.--Turnus must die. AEneas shall marry Lavinia and be king. But
the new nation must keep the ancient rites and names of Latium, and
be called not Trojans but Latins. Juno yields, and Jupiter warns
Juturna to leave the battle (919-1026). Turnus, being beside himself,
after a last superhuman effort, is struck down. AEneas is about to
spare his life, when he sees upon his shoulder the spoils of Pallas,
and kills him (1027-1107).
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I. When Turnus saw the Latins faint and fly,
Crushed by the War-God, and his pledge reclaimed,
Himself the mark of every scornful eye,
Rage unappeasable his pride inflamed.
As when a lion, in the breast sore maimed
In Punic fields, uprousing, shakes his mane,
And snaps the shaft that felon hands had aimed,
His mouth all bloody, as he roars with pain,
So Turnus blazed with wrath, as thus in scornful strain
II. He hailed the king: "Not Turnus stops the way;
No cause have these their challenge to forego,
Poor Trojan cowards; I accept the fray,
Sire, be the compact hallowed; be it so.
Or I, while Latins sit and see the show,
Will hurl to Hell this Dardan thief abhorred,
This Asian runaway, and on the foe
Refute the common slander with the sword,
Or he, as victor, reign and be Lavinia's lord."
III. Then, calm of soul, Latinus made reply,
"O gallant youth, the more thy heart is fain
In fierceness to excel, the more should I
Weigh well the risks and measure loss with gain.
To thee belong thy father Daunus' reign
And captured towns. Good will have I and gold,
And other maids our Latin homes contain,
Of noble birth and lovely to behold.
Hear now, and let plain speech the thankless truth unfold.
IV. "To none of former suitors was I free
To wed my daughter, so the voice ordained
Of gods and men consenting. Love for thee,
And sympathy for kindred blood hath gained
The mastery, and a weeping wife constrained.
I robbed the husband of the bride he wooed,
Took impious arms, and plighted faith disdained.
Ah me! what wars, what bitter fates ensued,
Thou, Turnus, know'st too well, who first hast felt the feud.
V. "Scarce now, twice worsted in the desperate fray,
Our walls can guard what Latin hopes remain,
And, choked with Latin corpses, day by day,
Old Tiber's stream runs purple to the main,
And Latin bones are whitening all the plain.
Why shifts my frenzied purpose to and fro?
Why change and change? If, maugre Turnus slain,
I deign to welcome as a friend his foe,
Why not, while Turnus lives, the needless strife forego?
VI. "What will Rutulian kinsmen, what will all
Italia say, if (Chance the deed forefend!)
I leave thee, cheated of my care, to fall,
The daughter's lover, and the father's friend?
O, weigh the risks that on the war attend;
Pity the parent in his sad, old age,
Left at far Ardea to lament thine end."
Thus he; but naught fierce Turnus can assuage;
The healing hand but chafes, and words augment his rage.
VII. Then he, scarce gathering utterance, spake again,
"Good Sire, thy trouble for my sake forego;
Leave me the price of glory--to be slain.
I too can hurl, nor feeble is my blow,
The whistling shaft, that lays the foeman low,
And drinks his life-blood. Vain shall be his prayer.
No goddess mother shall be there, to throw
Her mist around him, with a woman's care,
And screen her darling son with empty shades of air."
VIII. The Queen, with death before her, filled with fears,
Wept sore and checked the fiery suitor's way.
"O Turnus! if thou heed'st me, by these tears;--
Hope of my age, Latinus' strength and stay,
Prop of our falling house! one boon I pray;
Forbear the fight. What fate awaiteth thee,
Awaits me too. If Trojans win the day,
With thee I'll leave the loathed light, nor see
AEneas wed my child, a captive slave, as she."
IX. With tears Lavinia heard her mother speak.
A crimson blush her glowing face o'erspread,
And hot fires kindled on her burning cheek.
As Indian ivory, when stained with red,
Or lilies, mixt with roses in a bed,
So flushed the maid, with varying thoughts distrest.
He, wild with love, upon Lavinia fed
His constant gaze, but maddening with unrest,
Burned for the fight still more, and thus the Queen addressed:
X. "Vex me not, mother, marching to the fray,
With these thy tears and bodings of despair.
'Tis not in me the fatal hour to stay.
Thou, Idmon, to the Phrygian tyrant bear
The unwelcome word: to-morrow let him spare
To lead his Teucrians to the fight. Each side
Shall rest awhile; when morning shines in air,
His blood or mine the quarrel shall decide,
And he or I shall win, whose prowess earns, the bride."
XI. Thus speaking, to his home the chieftain hies
And bids his steeds be harnessed for the fight:
Soon for the pleasure of their master's eyes
They stand before him, neighing in their might.
In days of old from Orithyia bright
To King Pilumnus came those coursers twain,
Swifter than breezes and than snow more white;
His ready grooms attend, a nimble train,
And clap the sounding breast and comb the abundant mane.
XII. Himself the shining corselet, stiff with gold
And orichalcum, on his shoulders laid.
His sword and shield he fitted to his hold,
And donned the helm, with crimson plumes arrayed,
The sword the Fire-King for his sire had made,
And dipped still glowing in the Stygian flood,
Last, the strong spear-beam in his hand he swayed
(Against a pillar in the house it stood),
Auruncan Actor's spoils, and shook the quivering wood,
XIII. And shouted, "Now, O never known to fail
Thy master's call, my trusty spear, I trow
The hour is come. Once, mightiest under mail,
Did Actor wield thee; Turnus wields thee now.
Grant this strong hand to lay the foeman low,
This Phrygian eunuch of his arms to spoil,
And rend his shattered breastplate with a blow;
Dragged in the dust, his dainty curls to soil,
Hot from the crisping tongs, and wet with myrrh and oil."
XIV. Such furies urge him, and, ablaze with ire,
His hot face sparkles, and his eyes burn bright,
And from his eye-balls leaps the living fire;
As when a bull, in prelude for the fight,
Roars terribly, and fills the hinds with fright,
And, butting at a chance-met tree, would try
To vent his fury on his horns of might,
And with his fierce hoofs flings the sand on high,
And gores the empty air, and challenges the sky.
XV. Nor less, meanwhile, and terrible in arms,--
The arms that Venus to her son doth lend,--
AEneas rages, and the War-God warms.
Pleased with the challenge, singly to contend,
And bring the weary warfare to an end,
His friends he cheers, and calms Iulus' care,
Unfolding Fate, then heralds hastes to send,
His answer to the Latin King to bear:
The challenge he accepts, the terms of peace are fair.
XVI. Scarce Morning glimmered on the mountains grey,
And Phoebus' steeds, uprising from the main,
With lifted nostrils breathed approaching day.
Mixt with the Trojans, the Rutulian train,
Beneath the lofty town-walls on the plain
Mark out the lists, and mid-way in the ring,
Their braziers set, as common rites ordain.
These, apron-girt and crowned with vervain, bring
Fire for the turf-piled hearths, and water from the spring.
XVII. Forth, as to war, Ausonia's spear-armed host,
Trojans and Tuscans, to the field proceed,
And to and fro, in gold and purple, post
Asilas brave, Assaracus's seed,
Mnestheus, Messapus, tamer of the steed.
Back step both armies at the trumpet's call,
Their spears in earth, their shields upon the mead.
An unarmed crowd, old men and matrons, all
Stand by the lofty gates, and throng the towers and wall.
XVIII. But Juno, seated on a neighbouring height,
Now Alban called, then nameless and unknown,
Gazed from its summit on the field of fight,
And, musing, on the marshalled hosts looked down
Of Troy and Latium, and Latinus' town,
Then straight--a goddess to a goddess--spake
To Turnus' sister, who the sway doth own
Of sounding river and of stagnant lake,
Raised by the King of air, as yielding for his sake.
XIX. "Nymph, pride of rivers, darling of my love,
Thou know'st, Juturna, how to all whoe'er
Of Latin maidens climbed the couch of Jove,
I thee preferred, and gave his courts to share.
Learn now thy woe, lest I the blame should bear.
While Fate and Fortune smiled on Latium's sway,
Thy walls I saved, and Turnus was my care.
Now in ill hour I see him tempt the fray;
Fate and the foe speed on the inevitable day.
XX. "Not I this fight, this wager can behold.
Thou, if thou durst, thy brother's doom arrest.
Go; luck perchance may follow thee." Fast rolled
Juturna's tears, and thrice she smote her breast.
"No time to weep," said Juno, "speed thy quest,
And save thy brother, if thou canst, ere dead,
Or wake the war, and rend the league unblest;
'Tis I who bid thee to be bold." She said,
And left her, tost with doubt, and full of wildering dread.
XXI. Forth come the Kings; Latinus, proudly borne
High in his four-horse chariot, shines afar.
Twelve gilded rays the monarch's brows adorn,
His Sire's, the Sun-God's. Wielding as for war
Two spears, comes Turnus in his two-horse car.
There, Rome's great founder, doth AEneas ride,
With dazzling shield, bright-shining as a star,
And arms divine, and at his father's side
Ascanius takes his place, Rome's second hope and pride.
XXII. And clad in robes of purest white, the priest
Leads forth the youngling of a bristly swine,
And two-year sheep, by shearer's hands unfleec'd.
And they, with eyes turned to the dawn divine,
Bared the bright steel, the victim's brow to sign,
And strewed the cakes of salted meal, and poured
On blazing altars bowls of sacred wine;
And good AEneas drew his glittering sword,
And thus, with pious prayer, the immortal gods adored:
XXIII. "Witness, O Sun, thou Earth attest my prayer,
For whom I toil. Thou, Jove, supreme in sway,
And thou, great Juno, pleased at length to spare.
O mighty Mars, whose nod directs the fray;
Springs, Streams, and Powers whom Air and Sea obey.
If Turnus win--O let the vow remain--
Humbly to King Evander, as they may,
Troy's sons shall fly, Iulus quit the reign,
Nor seed of mine e'er vex the Latin field again.
XXIV. "But else, if victory smile upon my sword
(As rather deem I, and may Heaven decree),
I wish not Troy to be Italia's lord,
Nor claim the crown; let each, unquelled and free,
In deathless league on equal terms agree.
Arms, empire let Latinus keep; I claim
To bring our rites and deities. For me
My Teucrian friends another town shall frame,
And bless the rising towers with fair Lavinia's name."
XXV. Thus first AEneas; then with uplift eyes,
His right hand stretching to the stars in prayer,
"Hear me, AEneas," old Latinus cries,
"By the same Earth, and Sea and Stars I swear,
By the twin offering of Latona fair,
And two-faced Janus, and Hell's powers malign,
And Dis unpitying; let Jove give ear,
The Sire whose bolt the solemn league doth sign,
Witness these fires and gods,--my hand is on the shrine,--
XXVI. "No time with Latins shall this league unbind,
Whate'er the issue, or the peace confound,
No force shall shake the purpose of my mind.
Nay--though the circling Ocean burst its bound,
And all the Earth were in a deluge drowned,
And Heaven with Hell should mingle. Sure as now
This sceptre" (haply in his hand was found
The Royal sceptre) "nevermore, I trow,
Shall bourgeon with fresh leaves, or spread a shadowing bough,
XXVII. "Since once in forests, from its parent tree
Lopped clean away, the woodman stripped it bare
Of boughs and leaves, now fashioned, as ye see,
And cased in brass by cunning craftsman's care,
For fathers of the Latin realm to bear."
So they, amid their chiefest, Sire with Sire,
Confirm the league. These o'er the flames prepare
To slay the victims, and, as rites require,
The living entrails tear, and feed the sacred fire.
XXVIII. Long while unequal to Rutulian eyes
The combat seemed, and trouble tossed them sore,
Now more, beholding nearer, how in size
And strength the champions differed, yea, and more,
Beholding Turnus, as he moved before
The altars, sad and silently, and seeks
With downcast eyes Heaven's favour to implore,
The wanness of his youthful frame, that speaks
Of health and hope now fled, the pallor of his cheeks.
XXIX. Soon as Juturna saw the whispers grow
From tongue to tongue, and marked the changing tone,
The hearts of people wavering to and fro,
Amidst them,--now in form of Camers known,
Great Camers, sprung from grandsires of renown,
His father famed for many a brave emprise,
Himself as famed for exploits of his own,--
Amidst them, mistress of her part, she flies,
And scatters words of doubt, and many a dark surmise.
XXX. "Shame, will ye risk, Rutulians, for his host
The life of one? In number, strength and show
Do we not match them? _Those_ are all they boast,
Trojans, Arcadians and Etruscans. Lo,
Fight we by turns, each scarce can find a foe.
He to his gods, whose shrines he dies to shield,
Will rise, and praised will be his name below.
We, reft of home, to tyrant lords shall yield,
And toil as slaves, who sit so slackly on the field."
XXXI. So saying, Juturna to the youths imparts
Fresh rage, and murmurs through the concourse run,
And changed are Latin and Laurentian hearts,
And they, who lately sought the strife to shun,
And longed for rest, now wish the league undone,
And, pitying Turnus, wrongly doomed to die,
Call out for arms. And now, her work begun,
Juturna shows a lying sign on high,
That shakes Italian hearts, and cheats the wondering eye.
XXXII. Jove's golden eagle through the crimson skies
In chase of clanging marsh-fowl, swooped in flight
Down on a swan, and trussed the noble prize.
The Latins gaze, when lo, a wondrous sight!
Back wheels the flock, and all with screams unite,
And darkening, as a cloud, in dense array
Press on the foe, till, overborne by might,
And yielding to sheer weight, he drops the prey
Into the stream below, and cloudward soars away.
XXXIII. With shouts the glad Rutulians hail the sign,
And lift their hands. Then spake the seer straightway,
Tolumnius: "Welcome, welcome, powers divine!
'Twas this--'twas this I longed for, day by day.
To arms! 'Tis I, Tolumnius, lead the way.
Poor souls! whom yon strange pirate would enslave,
Like feeble birds, and make your coast a prey.
He too shall fly, and vanish o'er the wave.
Stand close and fight as one, your captive king to save."
XXXIV. He spake and hurled his javelin at the foes,
Advancing. Shrill the cornel hissed, and flew
True to its quarry. Then a shout uprose,
And the ranks wavered, and hearts throbbed anew
With ardour, as the gathering tumult grew.
On went the missile to where, side by side,
Nine brethren stood, of comely form, whom, true
To her Gylippus, bare a Tuscan bride,
Nine tall Arcadian sons, in bloom of youthful pride.
XXXV. One, where the belt chafes, and the strong clasp bites
The broidered edges,--comeliest of the band,
And sheathed in shining mail--the steel-head smites,
And rives the ribs, and rolls him on the sand.
Blind with hot rage, his brethren, sword in hand,
Or snatching missiles, to avenge the slain,
Rush to the charge. Laurentum's ranks withstand
Their onset, and a deluge sweeps the plain,
Trojans, Agylla's bands, Arcadia's glittering train.
XXXVI. One passion burns,--to let the sword decide.
Stript stand the altars, and the shrines are bare;
Dark drives the storm of javelins far and wide,
The iron tempest hurtles in the air,
And bowls and censers from the hearths they tear.
Himself Latinus, flying, bears afar
His home-gods, outraged by the league's misfare.
Some leap to horse, and others yoke the car,
Or bare the glittering sword, and hurry to the war.
XXXVII. Aulestes first, a king with kingly crown,
Messapus scares, and, spurring forward, fain
To break the treaty, rides the Tuscan down.
He, bating ground, falls back, and hurled amain
Against the altars, pitches on the plain.
Up comes Messapus, with his beam-like spear,
And smites him, pleading sorely but in vain,
Steep-rising heavily smites him, with a jeer,
"He hath it; Heaven hath gained a better victim here."
XXXVIII. Up Latins rush, and strip the limbs yet warm,
A brand half-burnt fierce Corynoeus there
Flings full at Ebusus, as with lifted arm
He nears him, and the long beard, all aflare,
Shines crackling, with a smell of burning hair.
He with his left hand, following up the throw,
Grasps the long locks, and, planting firm and fair
His knee, beneath him pins the prostrate foe,
And drives the stark sword home, so deadly is the blow.
XXXIX. Then, fired with fury, Podalirius flew
At shepherd Alsus, as he rushed among
The foremost. With his naked sword he drew
Behind him close, and o'er his foeman hung.
He turning round his broad axe backward swung,
And clave the chin and forehead. Left and right
The dark blood o'er the spattered arms outsprung.
Hard rest and iron slumber seal his sight,
The drooping eyelids close on everlasting night.
XL. Unarmed, AEneas, with uncovered brow,
Stretched out his hands, and shouted to his train:
"Where rush ye, men? what sudden discord now
Is this? Be calm; your idle wrath refrain.
The truce is struck; the treaty's terms are plain.
To me belongs the battle, not to you.
Give way to me, nor fret and fume in vain.
This hand shall make the treaty firm and true.
These rites, this solemn pact give Turnus for my due."
XLI. So spake he, fain the tumult to allay,
And scarce had ceased, when, whistling as it flew,
A feathered shaft came hurtling on its way,
And smote the good AEneas; whose, and who
That shaft had sped, what wind had borne it true,
What chance with fame Ausonia's host had crowned,
What God, perhaps, had aided them--none knew.
The glory of that noble deed was drowned,
And none was found to boast of great AEneas' wound.
XLII. When Turnus saw the Trojan prince retire,
The chiefs bewildered, and their hearts unstrung,
Hope unexpected set his soul on fire,
And, calling for his steeds and arms, he sprung
Upon his chariot, and the reins outflung.
On drives he; many a hero of renown
Sinks, crushed to death; the dying roll among
The dead; whole ranks beneath his wheels go down,
And fast at flying hosts the fliers' spears are thrown.
XLIII. As when grim Mars, by Hebrus' icy flood,
Clashing his brazen buckler, drives apace
His fierce steeds, maddening with the lust of blood;
They o'er the plain the flying winds outrace,
And with their trampling groan the fields of Thrace;
And round the War-God his attendants throng,
Hatred, and Treachery and Fear's dark face;
So Turnus drove the battling ranks among,
And lashed his smoking steeds, and waved the whistling thong.
XLIV. In piteous sort he tramples on the slain;
The flying horse-hoofs spirt the crimson dew,
And tread the gore down in the sandy plain.
Now, man to man, at Thamyris he flew,
And Pholus. Sthenelus aloof he slew;
Aloof the two Imbracidae lay dead,
Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew,
Both armed alike, whom Imbracus had bred
To fight, or on swift steeds the flying winds to head.
XLV. Elsewhere afield, amid the foremost, fought
The brave Eumedes. (From the loins he came
Of noble Dolon, and to war he brought
The borrowed lustre of his grandsire's name,
The strength and spirit of his sire of fame,
Who for his meed, when offering to explore
The Danaan camp, Pelides' car would claim.
Poor fool! Tydides paid the boaster's score,
And for Achilles' steeds he hankers now no more.)
XLVI. Him Turnus sees, and through the void afar
Speeds a light lance, then bids the coursers stand,
And, lightly leaping from his two-horsed car,
Stamps on his neck, fall'n breathless on the sand,
And wrests the shining dagger from his hand.
Deep in his throat he deals a deadly wound,
And cries, "Now, Trojan, take the wished-for land.
Lie there, and measure the Hesperian ground;
Their meed, who tempt my sword; thus city-walls they found."
XLVII. Asbutes, Sybaris and Chloreus bleed,
Dares the bold, Orsilochus the brave,
Thymoetes, pitched from off his plunging steed.
As on the AEgean when the North-winds rave,
And the fierce gale rolls shoreward wave on wave,
And drives the cloud-rack through the sky; so these
Shrank back from Turnus, as his path he clave,
Urged by his impulse, and each turns and flees;
Loose streams his horsehair crest, blown backward by the breeze.
XLVIII. His fiery onset, and his shouts of pride
Bold Phlegeus brooked not, but himself he flung
Before the car, and caught and turned aside
The foaming steeds. But while, thus dragged along,
Grasping the bridle, on the yoke he hung,
His shieldless side the broad-tipt javelin found,
And pierced, and, staying, to the corslet clung,
With linen folds and brazen links twice bound.
And lightly scored the skin, and grazed him with the wound.
XLIX. His shield before him, at the foe he made,
And drew his short sword, turning sharply round,
And trusted to the naked steel for aid,
When wheel and axle, urged with onward bound,
Struck down and dashed him headlong to the ground,
And Turnus, reaching forward, sword in hand,
Room 'twixt the hauberk and the helmet found
And lopped the head with his avenging brand,
And left the bleeding trunk to welter on the sand.
L. While Turnus thus dealt havoc as he flew,
Back with AEneas from the combat went
Ascanius, Mnestheus, and Achates true,
And helped the bleeding hero to his tent.
Faltering and pale, as on the spear he leant,
Fretting, and tugging at the shaft in vain,
Quick help he summons,--with the broadsword's rent
The wound to widen, and the lurking bane
Cut out, and send him back to battle on the plain.
LI. Iapis, son of Iasus, was there,
The best-beloved of Phoebus. Long ago
Apollo, fired to see a youth so fair,
His arts and gifts had offered to bestow,
His augury, his lyre, his sounding bow.
But he, in hope a bed-rid parent's days
To lengthen, sought the leech's craft to know,
The power of simples, and the silent praise
Of healing arts, and scorned the great Apollo's bays.
LII. Dark-frowning stands, still propt upon his spear,
AEneas, heedless of his friends around
And young Iulus, weeping in his fear.
Tight-girt like Paeon, with the robes upbound,
Beside him kneels the aged leech renowned.
With busy haste Apollo's salves he tries,
In vain, in vain he coaxes in the wound
The stubborn steel, the pincer's teeth he plies:
Fate bides averse, his help the healing god denies;
LIII. And more and more, along the echoing wold,
The war's wild horror thickens on the ear,
And storm-like, in the darkened skies uprolled,
The driving dust-clouds show the danger near.
Now horsemen, galloping in haste, appear,
And darts and arrows, as the foe draw nigh,
Fall in the tents, and fill the camp with fear,
And a grim clamour mounts the vaulted sky,
The shouts of those that fight, the groans of those that die.
LIV. Then, Venus, for her darling filled with grief,
A stalk of dittany on Ida's crown
Seeks out, and gathers, for his wound's relief,
The flower of purple and the leaves of down.
(To wounded wild-goats 'twas a plant well-known)
This brings the Goddess, veiled in mist, and brews
In a bright bowl a mixture of her own,
And, steeped in water from the stream, she strews
Soft balm of fragrant scent, and sweet ambrosial dews.
LV. Therewith the leech, unwitting, rinsed the wound,
And the pain fled, and all the blood was stayed.
Out came the dart, and he again was sound.
"Arms! bring his arms! Why stand ye thus afraid?"
Iapis cries, and, foremost to upbraid,
Inflames them to the fight. "No hand of mine,
No power of leech-craft, nor a mortal's aid
This healing wrought; a greater power divine,
AEneas, sends thee back, by greater deeds to shine."
LVI. He, hot for fight, the golden cuishes bound,
And shook the spear, then put his corslet on,
And strung the shield, and in his arms enwound,
And gently through the helmet kissed his son.
"Learn, boy, of me, how gallant deeds are done,
Fortune of others. I will guard thee now,
And lead to fame. Let riper manhood con
Thy kinsmen's deeds. Remember, and be thou
What uncle Hector was, and what thy sire is now."
LVII. He spake, and swinging his tremendous spear,
Swept through the gate; then Antheus, with his train,
Rushed forth, and Mnestheus. With a general cheer
Forth pours the host; a dust-cloud hides the plain;
Earth, startled by their trampling, throbs in pain.
Pale Turnus saw them from a distant height,
The Ausonians saw, and terror chilled each vein.
Juturna heard, and knew the noise of fight,
And from the van drew back, and shuddered with affright.
LVIII. On swept he, and the blackening host behind.
As when from sea a storm-cloud sweeps to shore,
The weather breaking, and the trembling hind
Foresees afar the ruin and the roar,
The shattered orchards, and the crops no more,
While, landward borne, the muttering winds betray
The coming storm; so down the Trojan bore
Against the foemen, and in firm array
All knit their serried ranks, and gladden at the fray.
LIX. Thymbraeus smites Osiris, Mnestheus fells
Archetius; by Achates smitten sheer,
Falls Epulo, and Gyas Ufens quells.
Falls, too, Tolumnius, the sacred seer,
Who first against the foemen hurled his spear.
Uprose a shout, and the Rutulians reeled
And fled. AEneas, on the dusty rear
Close-trampling, scorns to follow them afield,
Or fight with those that stand, or slaughter those that yield.
LX. Turnus alone, amid the blinding gloom,
He tracks and traces, searching far and near,
Turnus alone he summons to his doom.
Juturna sees, and smit with sudden fear,
Unseats Metiscus, Turnus' charioteer,
And flings him down, and leaves him on the plain,
Then takes his place, and, urging their career,
Loose o'er the coursers shakes the waving rein;
Metiscus' voice and form, Metiscus' arms remain.
LXI. Like a black swallow, as she flies among
A rich man's halls, or in the courts is found
In quest of dainties for her twittering young.
And now in empty cloisters, now around
The fishpools circles, while the shrill notes sound.
So now Juturna, through the midmost foes,
Whirled in the rapid chariot, scours the ground;
Now here, now there triumphant Turnus shows,
Now, flying, wheels aloof, nor suffers him to close.
LXII. So wheels in turn AEneas to and fro,
And tracks his man, and through the war's wild tide
Calls him aloud. Oft as he marks his foe,
And, running, tries to match the coursers' stride,
So oft Juturna wheels the team aside.
What shall he do? While wavering thus in vain,
As diverse thoughts his doubtful mind divide,
A steel-tipt dart Messapus--one of twain--
Aims true, and hurls it forth, uprunning on the plain.
LXIII. AEneas paused, behind his buckler bent.
On came the javelin, and the cone was shorn
From off his helmet, and the plume was rent.
Foiled by this treachery, as he marked with scorn
The steeds and chariot from the combat borne,
He blazed with ire, and, calling on again
Jove and the altars of the truce forsworn,
Rushed on, thrice terrible, and o'er the plain
Dealt indiscriminate death, and gave his wrath the rein.
LXIV. What heavenly muse can sing, what god can say
The scenes of horror wrought on either side,
The varied slaughter of that fatal day,
What chiefs were chased along the field, and died,
As Turnus now, and now the Trojan plied
His murderous sword? Jove, could'st thou deem it right
So dire a broil such peoples should divide,
Two jarring nations met in deadly fight,
Whom leagues of lasting love were destined to unite?
LXV. AEneas first (that fight 'twas first that stayed
The Teucrian rout) caught Suero on the side.
Where death is quickest, 'twixt the ribs his blade,
Deep in the framework of the breast, he plied.
Then Turnus slew Diores; close beside,
His brother Amycus from his steed he tore;
One by the spear, one by the sword-cut died.
Their severed heads the ruthless victor bore,
Fixt to his flying car, and dripping with the gore.
LXVI. Talus, and Tanais, and Cethegus there
AEneas smote, and poor Onytes slew,
Whom Peridia to Echion bare.
Turnus two Lycian brethren next o'erthrew
From Phoebus' fields, and young Menoetes too
From Arcady, who loathed the war in vain.
Poor was his home, nor rich men's doors he knew.
By fishful Lerna he had earned his gain,
Hired was the scanty glebe his father sowed with grain.
LXVII. Lo, as fierce flames drive in from left and right
Through woodlands parched and groves of crackling bay,
As sweep impetuous from a mountain height
Loud, foaming torrents, that withouten stay
Cleave to the sea their devastating way:
So, while in each full tides of anger flow,
Rush Turnus and AEneas to the fray:
Their tameless breasts with bursting valour glow,
On, on they speed amain, nor fear the opposing blow.
LXVIII. There stands Murranus, vaunting in vain joy
His sires, and grandsires, he the princely son
Of Latin monarchs. Him the chief of Troy
Smites with the whirlwind of a monstrous stone,
Huge as a rock. Down from his chariot thrown,
'Twixt reins and yoke, he tumbles on the sward.
The fierce wheels, thundering onward, beat him down;
His starting steeds, to shun the victor's sword,
Tread on his trampled limbs, unmindful of their lord.
LXIX. Here, fronting Hyllus, as he rushed amain,
Fierce Turnus stood; his levelled spear-head clave
The golden casque, and quivered in his brain.
Nor thee, poor Creteus, though of Greeks most brave,
From Turnus had thy prowess power to save.
Nor aught availed Cupencus' gods to aid
Against the dread AEneas, as he drave.
Squaring his breast, he met the glittering blade,
Nor long his brazen shield the mortal stroke delayed.
LXX. Thee, too, great AEolus, Laurentum's plain
Saw trampled down by Turnus, as he flew,
And stretched at length among the Trojan slain.
Thou diest, whom ne'er could Argive bands subdue,
Nor Peleus' son, who Priam's realm o'erthrew.
Thy goal is here; beyond the distant wave,
Beneath the mount where Ida's fir-trees grew,
High house was thine; high house Lyrnessus gave,
Thy home; Laurentum's soil hath given thee a grave.
LXXI. So met the ranks, and mingled, man with man,
Latins and Dardans in promiscuous throng,
Mnestheus and fierce Serestus in the van,
Messapus, tamer of the steed, and strong
Asylas. There in tumult swept along
Arcadian horsemen, and the Tuscan train.
No rest is theirs, no respite; loud and long
The conflict rages, as with might and main,
Each for his own dear life, the warriors strive and strain.
LXXII. Now lovely Venus doth her son persuade
To seek the walls, and townward turn his train,
And deal swift havoc on the foe dismayed.
While here and there AEneas scans the plain,
Still tracking Turnus through the ranks in vain,
Far off the peaceful city he espies,
Unscathed, unstirred, and in his restless brain
The vision of a greater war doth rise;
Larger the War-God looms, and to his chiefs he cries.
LXXIII. Mnestheus, Sergestus and Serestus strong
He calls, and on a hillock takes his stand.
There, mustering round him, all the Teucrians throng,
Each armed with buckler, and his spear in hand,
And from the mound he thus exhorts the band:
"Hear, sons of Teucer, and let none be slack.
Jove fights for us, so hearken my command.
Though strange the venture, sudden the attack,
Let none for that cause faint, none loiter and hang back.
LXXIV. "This town--unless they yield them and obey--
This town, the centre of Latinus' reign,
The cause of war, will I uproot this day,
And raze her smoking roof-tops to the plain.
What! shall I wait, and wait, till Turnus deign
To take fresh heart, and tempt the war's rough game,
And, conquered, face his conqueror again?
See there the fount of all this blood! For shame;
Bring quick the torch; let fire the perjured pact reclaim!"
LXXV. So spake he, and one purpose nerves them all.
They form a wedge, and forward with a cheer
The close-knit column charges at the wall.
Here scaling ladders in a trice they rear,
And firebrands suddenly and flames appear.
These seek the gates, and lay the foremost dead;
Those flash the sword, or shake the shining spear.
Darts cloud the skies. AEneas, at their head,
Stands by the lofty walls, and with his hands outspread,
LXXVI. Upbraids aloud Latinus, twice untrue,
And bids heaven witness and his wrongs regard,
Thus forced reluctant to the fight anew;
How loth again with Latin foes he warred,
How twice the truce the Latin crimes had marred.
Upsprings wild discord in the town; some call
To cede the city, and have the gates unbarred,
And drag the aged monarch to the wall;
Some rush to arms, and strive their entrance to forestall.
LXXVII. As when within a crannied rock some hind,
Returning home, a swarm of bees hath found,
And all the nest with bitter smoke doth blind:
They, in their waxen citadel fast bound,
Post to and fro, the narrow cells around,
And whet their stings in fury and despair:
With stifled hum the caverned crags resound,
The black fumes search the windings of their lair,
And the dark smoke rolls up, and mingles with the air.
LXXVIII. A new mischance now smote with further woe
The Latin town, and fainting hearts dismayed.
As queen Amata sees the coming foe,
The ramparts stormed, their flames the roofs invade,
And nowhere Turnus nor his troops to aid,
Him dead she deems, herself the cause declares,
Herself alone she spares not to upbraid.
She wails,--she raves,--her purple robe she tears,
And from a lofty beam the hideous noose prepares.
LXXIX. The women heard; Lavinia first of all,
Her golden locks, her rosy cheeks doth tear.
All rave around, and wailings fill the hall.
Fast flies the news, and shakes the town with fear.
Then rends his robes Latinus in despair,
His town in ruins and his consort dead,
And, scattering dust upon his hoary hair,
Himself he blames, that ne'er in Turnus' stead
The Dardan prince he chose, his dear-lov'd child to wed.
LXXX. Meanwhile, in chase of distant stragglers, speeds
Fierce Turnus. Slacker is his car's career,
And less he glories in his conquering steeds,
When lo, the breezes from Laurentum bear
The sound of shouting, and the shrieks of fear,
And a dull murmur, as of men that groan,--
The city's roar--strikes on his listening ear.
"Ah me! what clamour on the winds is blown?
What noise of grief," he cries, "comes rolling from the town?"
LXXXI. He spake, and madly pulled the rein. Then she,
His sister, like Metiscus changed in view,
Who ruled the chariot, "Forward, Turnus! See
The path that victory points thee to pursue.
This way--this way to chase the Trojan crew!
Others there are, who can the walls defend,
See here AEneas, how he storms. We, too,
Our foes, Troy's varlets, to their graves can send,
Nor thee less tale of slain, nor scantier praise attend."
LXXXII. Then quickly answered Turnus, glancing round,
"Sister, long since I knew thee--knew thee plain,
When first thy cunning did the league confound,
And sent thee forth, fierce battle to darrain;
And now thou think'st to cheat me, but in vain,
Albeit a goddess. But what power on high
Hath willed thee, sent from the Olympian reign,
Such toils to suffer, and such tasks to try?
Cam'st thou, forsooth, to see thy wretched brother die?
LXXXIII. "What can I do? What pledge of safety more
Doth Fortune give? what better hopes remain?
Myself beheld, these very eyes before,
Murranus die, the dearest of our train,
Stretched by a huge wound hugely on the plain.
I saw, how, backward as his comrades reeled,
Poor Ufens, sooner than behold such stain,
Sank low in death; himself, his sword and shield
The Teucrian victors hold, their trophies of the field.
LXXXIV. "What, shall I see our houses wrapt in flame,--
Last wrong of all--and coward-like, stand by,
Nor make this arm put Drances' taunts to shame?
Shall Turnus run, and Latins see him fly?
And is it then so terrible to die?
Be kind, dread spirits of the world below!
To you, since envious are the powers on high,
Worthy my ancestors of long ago,
Free from the coward's blame, a sacred shade I go."
LXXXV. Scarce spake he; through the midmost foes apace
Comes Saces, borne upon his foaming steed,
A flying shaft had scored him in the face.
"Turnus," he cries, "sole champion in our need,
Help us, have pity on thy friends who bleed.
See there, AEneas threatens in his ire
To raze our towers, and with a storm-cloud's speed
Thunders in arms, and roofward flies the fire,
To thee the Latins turn, thee Latin hopes require.
LXXXVI. "Himself, the king, is wavering, whom to call
His new allies, and whom his kingdom's heir.
Dead is the queen, thy faithfullest of all,
Self-plunged from light, in terror and despair.
Scarce fierce Atinas and Messapus there,
Beside the town-gates standing, hold their own.
Dense hosts surround them, and with falchions bare,
War's harvest bristles, by the walls upgrown;
Thou on the empty sward art charioting alone."
LXXXVII. Stunned and bewildered by the changeful scene
Stood Turnus, gazing speechless and oppressed.
Shame, rage, and sorrow, and revengeful spleen,
And frenzied love, and conscious worth confessed
Boil from the depths of his tumultuous breast.
Now, when the shadows from his mind withdrew,
And light, returning, to his thoughts gave rest,
Back from his chariot towards the walls he threw
His eyes, aflame with wrath, and grasped the town in view.
LXXXVIII. From floor to floor, behold, a tower upblazed,--
The tower, with bridge above and wheels below,
Himself with beams and mortised planks had raised.
"Sister," he cries, "Fate conquers; let us go
The way which Heaven and cruel fortune show.
I stand to meet AEneas in the fray,
And die; if death be bitter, be it so.
No more dishonoured shalt thou see me, nay,
O sister, let me vent this fury, while I may."
LXXXIX. He spake, and quickly vaulting from his car,
Through foes, through darts, his sister left to mourn,
Rushed headlong forth, and broke the ranks of war.
As when a boulder, from a hill-top borne,
Which rains have washed, or blustering winds have torn,
Or creeping years have loosened, down the steep,
From crag to crag, leaps headlong, and in scorn
Goes bounding on, and with resistless sweep
Lays waste the woods, and whelms the shepherd and his sheep;
XC. So Turnus through the broken ranks doth fly
On to the town-walls, where the crimson plain
Is soaked, and shrill with javelins shrieks the sky,
Then shouts, with hand uplifted, to his train,
"Rutulians, hold! Ye Latin men refrain!
Mine are the risks of Fortune, mine of right,
The truce thus torn, to expiate the stain,
And let the sword give judgment." At the sight
The hostile ranks divide, and clear the lists of fight.
XCI. But when the Sire AEneas heard the name
Of Turnus, and his foeman's form espied,
Down from the ramparts and the towers he came,
And scorned delay, and put all else aside,
Thundering in arms, and glorying in his pride.
As Athos huge, as Eryx huge he shows,
Or huge as Father Apennine, whose side
Roars with his nodding oaks, when drifted snows
Shine on his joyous crest, and lighten on his brows.
XCII. Rutulians, Trojans, Latins,--each and all
Look wondering on, both they who man the height,
And they who batter at the base. Down fall
Their arms. Amazed Latinus views the sight,
Two chiefs from distant countries, matched in might.
The lists set wide, they dash into the fray.
Each hurls a spear, then, hand to hand, they fight.
Loud ring the shields, and quick the broadswords play.
Earth groans, and chance contends with courage for the day.
XCIII. As on Taburnus, or in Sila's shade
Two bulls, with butting foreheads, mix in fray:
Pale fly the hinds, mute stands the herd dismayed:
The heifers low, unknowing who shall sway
The grove, what lord and leader to obey;
They, with horns locked, their mutual rage outpour,
And thrust for thrust, and wound for wound repay,
Fast from their necks and dewlaps streams the gore,
And all the neighbouring wood rebellows to the roar;
XCIV. So, when both champions on the listed field,
The Trojan and the Daunian, eye to eye,
Met in the deadly conflict, shield to shield
Clanged, and a loud crash shattered through the sky.
And now great Jove, the Sire of gods on high,
Holds up the scales, and sets the long beam straight,
And in the balance lays their fates, to try
Each champion's fortune in the stern debate,
Whom battle's toil shall doom, where sinks the deathful weight.
XCV. Forth springs, in fancied safety, at his foe
Fierce Turnus, rising to his utmost height,
And planting all his body in the blow,
Strikes. A loud shout, of terror and delight
Goes up from Troy and Latium at the sight.
When lo, the falchion, as the stroke he plies,
Snaps short, and leaves him helpless. Naught but flight
Can aid him; swifter than the wind he flies,
As in his hand disarmed an unknown hilt he spies.
XCVI. When first his steeds were harnessed for the war,
In haste he snatched Metiscus' sword, 'tis said,
His sire's forgotten, as he climbed the car,
And well enough that weapon served his stead,
To smite the stragglers, while the Trojans fled;
But when it met, and countered in the fray
The arms of Vulcan, then the mortal blade,
Found faithless, like the brittle ice, gave way,
And in the yellow sand the sparkling fragments lay.
XCVII. So Turnus flies, and, doubling, but in vain,
Now here, now there, weaves many an aimless round;
For all about him, as he scours the plain,
The swarming legions of the foe are found,
And here the marsh, and there the bulwarks bound.
Nor less AEneas, though his stiff knee feels
The rankling arrow, and the hampering wound
Retards his pace, pursues him, as he wheels,
And dogs the flying foe, and presses on his heels.
XCVIII. As when some stag, a river in his face,
Or toils with scarlet feathers, set to scare,
A huntsman with his braying hounds doth chase.
Awed by the steep bank and the threatening snare,
A thousand ways he doubles here and there;
But the keen Umbrian, all agape, is by,
Now grasps,--now holds him,--and now thinks to tear,
And snaps his teeth on nothing; and a cry
Rings back from shore and stream, and rolls along the sky.
XCIX. Chiding by name his comrades, as he flies,
Fierce Turnus for his trusty sword doth cry.
Nor less AEneas with his threat defies,
"Stand off," he shouts, "who ventures to draw nigh,
His town shall perish, and himself shall die."
Onward, though maimed, he presses to his prey.
Twice five times circling round the field they fly;
For no mean stake or sportive prize they play,
Lo, Turnus' life and blood are wagered in the fray.
C. A wilding olive on the sward had stood,
Sacred to Faunus. Mariners of yore
In worship held the venerable bough,
When to Laurentum's guardian, safe on shore
Their votive raiment and their gifts they bore.
That sacred tree, the lists of fight to clear,
Troy's sons had lopped. There, in the trunk's deep core,
The Dardan javelin, urged with impulse sheer,
Stuck fast; the stubborn root, retentive, grasped the spear.
CI. Stooping, AEneas with his hands essayed
To pluck the steel, and follow with the spear
The foe his feet o'ertook not. Sore dismayed
Then Turnus cried, "O Faunus, heed and hear,
And thou, kind Earth, hold fast the steel, if dear
I held the plant, which Trojan hands profaned."
He prayed, nor Heaven refused a kindly ear.
Long while AEneas at the tough root strained;
Vain was his utmost strength; the biting shaft remained.
CII. While thus he stooped and struggled, prompt to aid,
Juturna, to Metiscus changed anew,
Ran forth, and to her brother reached his blade.
Then Venus, wroth the daring Nymph to view,
Came, and the javelin from the stem withdrew,
Thus, armed afresh, each eager for his chance,
The Daunian trusting to his falchion true,
The Dardan towering with uplifted lance,
High-hearted, face to face, the breathless chiefs advance.
CIII. Then Jove, as from a saffron cloud above
Looked Juno, pleased the doubtful strife to view,
"When shall this end, sweet partner of my love?
What more? Thou know'st it, and hast owned it too,
Divine AEneas to the skies is due.
What wilt thou, chill in cloudland? Was it right
A god with mortal weapons to pursue?
Or give--for thine was all Juturna's might--
Lost Turnus back his sword, and renovate the fight?
CIV. "Desist at length, and hearken to my prayer.
Feed not in silence on a grief so sore,
Nor spoil those sweet lips with unlovely care.
The end is come; 'twas thine on sea and shore
Troy's sons to vex, to wake the war's uproar,
To cloud a home, a marriage-league untie,
And mar with grief a bridal. Cease, and more
Attempt not." Thus the ruler of the sky,
And thus, with down-cast look, Saturnia made reply.
CV. "E'en so, great Jove, because thy will was known,
I left, reluctant, Turnus and his land.
Else ne'er should'st thou behold me here alone,
Thus shamed and suffering, but, torch in hand,
To smite these hateful Teucrians would I stand.
I made Juturna rescue from the foe
Her hapless brother,--mine was the command,--
Approved her daring for his sake, yet so
As not to wield the spear, or meddle with the bow.
CVI. "Nay, that I swear, and a dread oath will take
(The only oath that doth the high gods bind),
By that grim fount that feeds the Stygian lake.
And now, great Jove, reluctant, but resigned,
I yield, and leave the loathed fight behind.
One boon I ask, nor that in Fate's despite,
For Latium, for the honour of thy kind.
When--be it so--blest Hymen's pact they plight,
And laws and lasting league the warring folks unite,
CVII. "Ne'er let the children of the soil disown
The name of Latins; turn them not, I pray,
To Trojan folk, to be as Teucrians known.
Ne'er let Italia's children put away
The garb they wear, the language of to-day
Let Latium flourish, and abide the same,
And Alban kings through distant ages sway.
Let Rome through Latin prowess wax in fame;
But fall'n is Troy, and fall'n for ever be her name."
CVIII. Smiling, the founder of the world replied:
"Thou, second child of Saturn, born to reign
In heaven Jove's sister, and his spouse beside.
Such floods of passion can thy breast contain?
But come, and from thy fruitless rage refrain.
I yield, and gladly; be thy will obeyed.
Speech, customs, name Ausonia shall retain
Unchanged for ever, as thy lips have prayed.
And in the Latin race Troy's mingled blood shall fade.
CIX. "All Latins will I make them, of one tongue,
And sacred rites, as common good, assign.
Hence shalt thou see, from blood Ausonian sprung,
A blended race, whose piety shall shine
Excelling man's, and equalling divine;
And ne'er shall other nation tell so loud
Thy praise, or pay such homage to thy shrine."
Well-pleased was Juno, and assenting bowed,
And straight with altered mind ascended from the cloud.
CX. New schemes the Sire, from Turnus to repel
Juturna's aid, now ponders in his mind.
Two fiends there are, called Furies. Night with fell
Megaera bore them at one birth, and twined
Their serpent spires, and winged them like the wind.
These at Jove's threshold, and beside his throne
Await his summons, to afflict mankind,
When death or pestilence the Sire sends down,
Or shakes the world with war, and scares the guilty town.
CXI. One, for an omen, from the skies he sends,
To front Juturna. Down, with sudden spring,
To earth, as in a whirlwind, she descends.
As when a poisoned arrow from the string
Through clouds a Parthian launches on the wing,--
Parthian or Cretan--and in darkling flight
The shaft, with cureless venom in its sting,
Screams through the shadows; so, arrayed in might,
Swift to the earth came down the daughter of the Night.
CXII. But when Troy's host and Turnus' ranks were known,
Shrunk to the semblance of a bird in size,
Which oft on tombs or ruined roofs alone
Sits late at night, and with ill-omened cries
Vexes the darkness; so in dwarfed disguise
The foul fiend, shrieking around Turnus' head,
Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes.
Strange torpor numbs the Daunian's limbs with dread;
The stiffening hair stands up, and all his voice is dead.
CXIII. The rustling wings Juturna knew, and tore
Her comely face, and rent her scattered hair,
And smote her breast: "O cruel me! what more
For Turnus can a sister now? What care
Or craft thy days can lengthen? Can I dare
To face this fiend? At last, at last I go,
And quit the field. Foul birds, avaunt, nor scare
My fluttering soul. Too well the sounds of woe,
Those beating wings,--too well great Jove's behest I know.
CXIV. "_This_ for my robbed virginity? Ah, why
Did immortality the Sire bestow,
And grudge a mortal's privilege--to die?
Else, sure this moment could I end my woe,
And with my hapless brother pass below.
Immortal I? What joy hath aught beside,
Thou, Turnus, dead? Gape, Earth, and let me go,
A Goddess, to the shades!" She spake, and sighed,
And, veiled in azure mantle, plunged beneath the tide.
CXV. But fierce AEneas on his foeman pressed.
His tree-like spear he poises for the fray,
And pours the pent-up fury of his breast.
"Why stay'st thou, Turnus? Wherefore this delay?
Fierce arms, not swiftness, must decide the day.
Shift as thou wilt, and every shape assume;
Exhaust thy courage and thy craft, and pray
For wings to soar with, or in earth's dark womb
Sink low thy recreant head, and hide thee from thy doom."
CXVI. Thus he; but Turnus shook his head, and said,
"Ruffian! thy threats are but as empty sound;
They daunt not Turnus; 'tis the gods I dread,
And Jove my enemy." Then, glancing round,
He marked a chance-met boulder on the ground,
Huge, grey with age, set there in ancient days
To clear disputes,--a barrier and a bound.
Scarce twelve picked men the ponderous mass could raise,
Such men as Earth brings forth in these degenerate days.
CXVII. That stone the Daunian lifted, straining hard
With hurrying hand, and all his height updrew,
And at AEneas hurled the monstrous shard;
So heaving, and so running, scarce he knew
His running, or how huge a weight he threw.
Cold froze his blood; beneath his trembling frame
The weak knees tottered. Through the void air flew
The stone, nor all the middle space o'ercame,
Short of its mark it fell, nor answered to its aim.
CXVIII. As oft in dreams, when drowsy night doth load
The slumbering eyes, still eager, but in vain,
We strive to race along a lengthening road,
And faint and fall, amidmost of the strain;
The feeble limbs their wonted aid disdain,
Mute is the tongue, nor doth the voice obey,
Nor words find utterance; so with fruitless pain
Poor Turnus strives; but, struggle as he may,
The baffling fiend is there, and mocks the vain essay.
CXIX. Then, tost with diverse passions, dazed with fear,
Towards friends and town he throws an anxious glance.
No car he sees, no sister-charioteer.
Desperate of flight, nor daring to advance,
Aghast, and shuddering at the lifted lance,
He falters. Then AEneas poised at last
His spear, and hurled it, as he marked his chance.
Less loud the stone from battering engine cast,
Less loud through ether bursts the levin-bolt's dread blast.
CXX. Like a black whirlwind flew the deadly spear,
Right thro' the rim the sevenfold shield it rent
And breastplate's edge, nor stayed its onset ere
Deep in the thigh its hissing course was spent.
Down on the earth, his knees beneath him bent,
Great Turnus sank: Rutulia's host around
Sprang up with wailing and with wild lament:
From neighbouring hills their piercing cries rebound,
And every wooded steep re-echoes to the sound.
CXXI. Then, looking up, his pleading hands he rears:
"Death I deserve, nor death would I delay.
Use, then, thy fortune. If a father's tears
Move thee, for old Anchises' sake, I pray,
Pity old Daunus. Me, or else my clay,
If so thou wilt, to home and kin restore.
Thine is the victory. Latium's land to-day
Hath seen her prince the victor's grace implore.
Lavinia now is thine; the bitter feud give o'er."
CXXII. Wrathful in arms, with rolling eyeballs, stood
AEneas, and his lifted arm withdrew;
And more and more now melts his wavering mood,
When lo, on Turnus' shoulder--known too true--
The luckless sword-belt flashed upon his view;
And bright with gold studs shone the glittering prey,
Which ruthless Turnus, when the youth he slew,
Stripped from the lifeless Pallas, as he lay,
And on his shoulders wore, in token of the day.
CXXIII. Then terribly AEneas' wrath upboils,
His fierce eyes fixt upon the sign of woe.
"Shalt _thou_ go hence, and with the loved one's spoils?
'Tis Pallas--Pallas deals the deadly blow.
And claims this victim for his ghost below."
He spake, and mad with fury, as he said, Drove the keen falchion through his
prostrate foe. The stalwart limbs grew stiff with cold and dead,
And, groaning, to the shades the scornful spirit fled.
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