Then sovereign Juno, flushed with solemn scorn,made answer. “Dost thou bid me here profanethe silence of my heart, and gossip forthof secret griefs? What will of god or manimpelled Aeneas on his path of war,or made him foeman of the Latin King?Fate brought him to Italia? Be it so!Cassandra's frenzy he obeyed. What voice —say, was it mine?—urged him to quit his camp,risk life in storms, or trust his war, his walls,to a boy-captain, or stir up to strifeEtruria's faithful, unoffending sons?What god, what pitiless behest of mine,impelled him to such harm? Who traces herethe hand of Juno, or of Iris spedfrom heaven? Is it an ignoble strokethat Italy around the new-born Troy makes circling fire, and Turnus plants his heelon his hereditary earth, the sonof old Pilumnus and the nymph divine,Venilia? For what offence would Troy bring sword and fire on Latium, or enslavelands of an alien name, and bear awayplunder and spoil? Why seek they marriages,and snatch from arms of love the plighted maids?An olive-branch is in their hands; their shipsmake menace of grim steel. Thy power one dayravished Aeneas from his Argive foes,and gave them shape of cloud and fleeting airto strike at for a man. Thou hast transformedhis ships to daughters of the sea. What wrongif I, not less, have lent the Rutulisomething of strength in war? Aeneas, then,is far away and knows not! Far awaylet him remain, not knowing! If thou sway'stCythera, Paphos, and Idalium,why rouse a city pregnant with loud wars,and fiery hearts provoke? That fading powerof Phrygia, do I, forsooth, essayto ruin utterly? O, was it Iexposed ill-fated Troy to Argive foe?For what offence in vast array of armsdid Europe rise and Asia, for a rapetheir peace dissolving? Was it at my wordth' adulterous Dardan shepherd came to stormthe Spartan city? Did my hand supplyhis armament, or instigate a warfor Cupid's sake? Then was thy decent hourto tremble for thy children; now too latethe folly of thy long lament to Heaven,and objurgation vain.” Such Juno's plea;the throng of gods with voices loud or lowgave various reply: as gathering windssing through the tree-tops in dark syllables,and fling faint murmur on the far-off sea,to tell some pilot of to-morrow's storm.Then Jupiter omnipotent, whose handshave governance supreme, began reply;deep silence at his word Olympus knew,Earth's utmost cavern shook; the realms of lightwere silent; the mild zephyrs breathed no more, and perfect calm o'erspread the levelled sea.“Give ear, ye gods, and in your hearts recordmy mandate and decree. Fate yet allowsno peace 'twixt Troy and Italy, nor bidsyour quarrel end. Therefore, what Chance this dayto either foe shall bring, whatever hopeeither may cherish,—the Rutulian causeand Trojan have like favor in my eyes.The destinies of Italy constrainthe siege; which for the fault of Troy fulfillsan oracle of woe. Yon Rutule hostI scatter not. But of his own attemptlet each the triumph and the burden bear;for Jove is over all an equal King.The Fates will find the way.” The god confirmedhis sentence by his Stygian brother's wave,the shadowy flood and black, abysmal shore.He nodded; at the bending of his browOlympus shook. It is the council's end.Now from the golden throne uprises Jove;the train of gods attend him to the doors.

Meanwhile at every gate the Rutule foeurges the slaughter on, and closes roundthe battlements with ring of flame. The hostof Trojans, prisoned in the palisades,lies in strict siege and has no hope to fly.In wretched plight they man the turrets tall,to no avail, and with scant garrisonthe ramparts crown. In foremost line of guardare Asius Imbrasides, the twinAssaraci, and Hicetaon's sonThymoetes, and with Castor at his sidethe veteran Thymbris; then the brothers bothof slain Sarpedon, and from Lycian steepClarus and Themon. With full-straining thewslifting a rock, which was of some huge hillno fragment small, Lyrnesian Acmon stood;nor less than Clytius his sire he seemed,nor Mnestheus his great brother. Some defendthe wall with javelins; some hurl down stonesor firebrands, or to the sounding stringfit arrows keen. But lo! amid the throng,well worth to Venus her protecting care,the Dardan boy, whose princely head shone forthwithout a helm, like radiant jewel setin burnished gold for necklace or for crown;or like immaculate ivory inclosedin boxwood or Orician terebinth;his tresses o'er his white neck rippled down,confined in circlet of soft twisted gold.Thee, too, the warrior nations gaze upon,high-nurtured Ismarus, inflicting woundswith shafts of venomed reed: Maeonia's valethy cradle was, where o'er the fruitful fieldswell-tilled and rich, Pactolus pours his gold.Mnestheus was there, who, for his late repulseof Turnus from the rampart, towered forthin glory eminent; there Capys stood,whose name the Capuan citadel shall bear.

While these in many a shock of grievous warhotly contend, Aeneas cleaves his wayat midnight through the waters. He had faredfrom old Evander to th' Etruscan folk,addressed their King, and to him told the taleof his own race and name, his suit, his powers;of what allies Mezentius had embraced,and Turnus' lawless rage. He bids him knowhow mutable is man, and warning gives,with supplication joined. Without delayTarchon made amity and sacred league,uniting with his cause. The Lydian tribe,now destined from its tyrant to be free,embarked, obedient to the gods, and gaveallegiance to the foreign King. The shipAeneas rode moved foremost in the line:its beak a pair of Phrygian lions bore;above them Ida rose, an emblem dearto exiled Trojans. On his Iofty seatwas great Aeneas, pondering the eventsof changeful war; and clinging to his sidethe youthful Pallas fain would learn the loreof stars, the highway of dark night, and asksthe story of his toils on land and sea.

Now open Helicon and move my song,ye goddesses, to tell what host in armsfollowed Aeneas from the Tuscan shore,and manned his ships and traveiled o'er the sea!

First Massicus his brazen Tigress rode,cleaving the brine; a thousand warriorswere with him out of Clusium's walls, or fromthe citadel of Coste, who for armshad arrows, quivers from the shoulder slung,and deadly bows. Grim Abas near him sailed;his whole band wore well-blazoned mail; his shipdisplayed the form of Phoebus, all of gold:to him had Populonia consigned(His mother-city, she) six hundred youthwell-proven in war; three hundred Elba gave,an island rich in unexhausted oresof iron, like the Chalybes. Next cameAsilas, who betwixt the gods and meninterprets messages and reads clear signsin victims' entrails, or the stars of heaven,or bird-talk, or the monitory flamesof lightning: he commands a thousand menclose lined, with bristling spears, of Pisa all,that Tuscan city of Alpheus sprung.Then Astur followed, a bold horseman he,Astur in gorgeous arms, himself most fair:three hundred are his men, one martial minduniting all: in Caere they were bredand Minio's plain, and by the ancient towersof Pyrgo or Gravisca's storm-swept hill.

Nor thy renown may I forget, brave chiefof the Ligurians, Cinyrus; nor thine,Cupavo, with few followers, thy crestthe tall swan-wings, of love unblest the signand of a father fair: for legends tellthat Cycnus, for his Phaethon so dearlamenting loud beneath the poplar shadeof the changed sisters, made a mournful songto soothe his grief and passion: but erewhile,in his old age, there clothed him as he sangsoft snow-white plumes, and spurning earth he soaredon high, and sped in music through the stars.His son with bands of youthful peers urged ona galley with a Centaur for its prow,which loomed high o'er the waves, and seemed to hurla huge stone at the water, as the keelploughed through the deep. Next Ocnus summoned fortha war-host from his native shores, the sonof Tiber, Tuscan river, and the nymphManto, a prophetess: he gave good walls,O Mantua, and his mother's name, to thee,—to Mantua so rich in noble sires,but of a blood diverse, a triple breed,four stems in each; and over all enthronedshe rules her tribes: her strength is Tuscan born.Hate of Mezentius armed against his namefive hundred men: upon their hostile prowwas Mincius in a cloak of silvery sedge,—Lake Benacus the river's source and sire.Last good Aulestes smites the depths below,with forest of a hundred oars: the floodlike flowing marble foams; his Triton prowthreatens the blue waves with a trumpet-shell;far as the hairy flanks its form is man,but ends in fish below—the parting wavesbeneath the half-brute bosom break in foam.Such chosen chiefs in thirty galleys ploughedthe salt-wave, bringing help to Trojan arms.

Day now had left the sky. The moon benignhad driven her night-wandering chariotto the mid-arch of heaven. Aeneas sate,for thought and care allowed him no repose,holding the helm and tending his own sails.but, as he sped, behold, the beauteous train,lately his own, of nymphs, anon transformedby kind Cybebe to sea-ruling powers.In even ranks they swam the cloven wave,—nymphs now, but once as brazen galleys mooredalong the sandy shore. With joy they knewtheir King from far, and with attending trainaround him drew. Cymodocea then,best skilled in mortal speech, sped close behind,with her right hand upon the stern, uprosebreast-high, and with her left hand deeply pliedthe silent stream, as to the wondering Kingshe called: “So late on watch, O son of Heaven,Aeneas? Slack thy sail, but still watch on!We were the pine-trees on the holy topof Ida's mountain. Sea-nymphs now are we,and thine own fleet. When, as we fled, the flamesrained o'er us from the false Rutulian's hand't was all unwillingly we cast awaythy serviceable chains: and now once morewe follow thee across the sea. These formsour pitying mother bade us take, with powerto haunt immortally the moving sea.Lo, thy Ascanius lies close besiegedin moated walls, assailed by threatening armsand Latium's front of war. Arcadia,her horsemen with the bold Etruscan joined,stands at the place appointed. Turnus means,with troop opposing, their advance to barand hold them from the camp. Arouse thee, then,and with the rising beams of dawn call forththy captains and their followers. Take that shieldvictorious, which for thee the Lord of Fireforged for a gift and rimmed about with gold.To-morrow's light—deem not my words be vain!—shall shine on huge heaps of Rutulia's dead.”So saying, she pushed with her right hand the sternwith skilful thrust, and vanished. The ship spedswift as a spear, or as an arrow fliesno whit behind the wind: and all the fleetquickened its course. Anchises' princely son,dumb and bewildered stood, but took good heartat such an omen fair. Then in few wordswith eyes upturned to heaven he made his prayer:“Mother of gods, O Ida's Queen benign,who Iovest Dindymus and towns with towers,and lion-yokes obedient to thy rein,be thou my guide in battle, and fulfilthine augury divine. In Phrygia's causebe present evermore with favoring power!”He spoke no more. For now the wheels of dayhad sped full circle into perfect light,the dark expelling. Then, for his first care,he bade his captains heed the signal given,equip their souls for war, and wait in armsthe coming fray. Now holds he full in viewhis Trojans and their fortress, as he standsupon his towering ship. With his left handhe lifts his radiant shield; then from the wallthe Dardan warriors send a battle-crythat echoes to the stars, as kindling hopetheir rage renews. A flight of spears they hurl:'t was like the cranes of Strymon, through dark cloudseach other calling, when they cleave the skiesvociferous, outwinging as they flythe swift south winds—Ioud music them pursues.Amazement on Ausonia's captains felland Turnus, as they gazed. But soon they sawships pointing shoreward and the watery plainall stirring with a fleet. Aeneas' helmuplifted its bright peak,—like streaming flamethe crimson crest; his shield of orbed goldpoured forth prodigious fire: it seemed as whenin cloudless night a comet's blood-red beammakes mournful splendor, or the Dog-star glows,which rises to bring drought and pestilenceto hapless men, and with ill-omened raysaddens the sky. But Turnus, undismayed,trusted not less to hurl th' invaders backand hold the shore against them. “Look!” he cried,your prayer is come to pass,—that sword in handye now may shatter them. The might of Marsis in a true man's blow. Remember welleach man his home and wife! Now call to mindthe glory and great deeds of all your sires!Charge to yon river-bank, while yet they takewith weak and fearful steps their shoreward way!Fortune will help the brave.” With words like these,he chose, well-weighing, who should lead the charge,who at the leaguered walls the fight sustain.

Aeneas straightway from his lofty shipslets down his troop by bridges. Some awaitthe ebbing of slack seas, and boldly leapinto the shallows; others ply the oar.Tarchon a beach discovers, where the sandssing not, nor waves with broken murmur fall,but full and silent swells the gentle sea.Steering in haste that way, he called his crews:“Now bend to your stout oars, my chosen brave.Lift each ship forward, till her beak shall cleaveyon hostile shore; and let her keel's full weightthe furrow drive. I care not if we breakour ship's side in so sure an anchorage,if once we land.” While Tarchon urged them thus,the crews bent all together to their bladesand sped their foaming barks to Latium's plain,till each beak gripped the sand and every keellay on dry land unscathed:—all save thine own,O Tarchon! dashed upon a sand-bar, she!Long poised upon the cruel ridge she hung,tilted this way or that and beat the waves,then split, and emptied forth upon the tideher warriors; and now the drifting wreckof shattered oars and thwarts entangles them,or ebb of swirling waters sucks them down.

Turnus no lingering knows, but fiercely hurlshis whole line on the Teucrians, and makes standalong the shore. Now peals the trumpet's call.Aeneas in the van led on his troopagainst the rustic foe, bright auguryfor opening war, and laid the Latins low,slaughtering Theron, a huge chief who daredoffer Aeneas battle; through the scalesof brazen mail and corselet stiff with goldthe sword drove deep, and gored the gaping side.Then smote he Lichas, from his mother's wombripped in her dying hour, and unto thee,O Phoebus, vowed, because his infant daysescaped the fatal steel. Hard by him fellstout Cisseus and gigantic Gyas; theseto death were hurled, while with their knotted clubsthey slew opposing hosts; but naught availedHerculean weapons, nor their mighty hands,or that Melampus was their sire, a peerof Hercules, what time in heavy toilsthrough earth he roved. See next how Pharon boasts!But while he vainly raves, the whirling spearsmites full on his loud mouth. And also thou,Cydon, wast by the Trojan stroke o'erthrown,while following in ill-omened haste the stepsof Clytius, thy last joy, whose round cheek woreits youthful golden down: soon hadst thou lainin death, unheeding of thy fancies fondwhich ever turned to youth;—but now arosethe troop of all thy brothers, Phorcus' sons,a close array of seven, and seven spearsthey hurled: some from Aeneas' helm or shieldglanced off in vain; some Venus' kindly power,just as they touched his body, turned away.Aeneas then to true Achates cried:“Bring on my spears: not one shall fruitless flyagainst yon Rutules, even as they piercedthe breasts of Greeks upon the Ilian plain.”Then one great shaft he seized and threw; it spedstraight into Maeon's brazen shield, and clovehis mail-clad heart. Impetuous to his aidbrother Alcanor came, and lifted upwith strong right hand his brother as he fell:but through his arm a second skilful shaftmade bloody way, and by the sinews heldthe lifeless right hand from the shoulder swung.Then from his brother's body Numitorthe weapon plucked and hurled it, furious,upon Aeneas; but it could not strikethe hero's self, and grazed along the thighof great Achates. Next into the fightClausus of Cures came, in youthful bloomexulting, and with far-thrown javelinstruck Dryops at the chin, and took awayfrom the gashed, shrieking throat both life and voice;the warrior's fallen forehead smote the dust;his lips poured forth thick blood. There also fellthree Thracians, odspring of the lordly stemof Boreas, and three of Idas' sonsfrom Ismara, by various doom struck down.Halaesus here his wild Auruncans brings;and flying to the fight comes Neptune's son,Messapus, famous horseman. On both sideseach charges on the foe. Ausonia's strandis one wide strife. As when o'er leagues of airthe envious winds give battle to their peers,well-matched in rage and power; and neither theynor clouds above, nor plunging seas belowwill end the doubtful war, but each withstandsthe onset of the whole—in such wild waythe line of Trojans on the Latian linehurls itself, limb on limb and man on man.

But at a distance where the river's floodhad scattered rolling boulders and torn treesuprooted from the shore, young Pallas spiedth' Arcadian band, unused to fight on foot,in full retreat, the Latins following close—who also for the roughness of the groundwere all unmounted: he (the last resourceof men in straits) to wild entreaty turnedand taunts, enkindling their faint hearts anew:“Whither, my men! O, by your own brave deeds,O, by our lord Evander's happy wars,the proud hopes I had to make my namea rival glory,—think not ye can fly!Your swords alone can carve ye the safe waystraight through your foes. Where yonder warrior-throngis fiercest, thickest, there and only thereyour Country's honor calls for men like you,and for your captain Pallas. Nay, no godsagainst us fight; we are but mortal menpressed by a mortal foe. Not more than oursthe number of their lives or swords. Behold,the barrier of yonder spreading seaemprisons us, and for a craven flightyon lands are all too small. Ha! Shall we steeracross the sea to Troy?” He said, and sprangfull in the centre of his gathered foes.

First in his path was Lagus, thither ledby evil stars; whom, as he tried to lifta heavy stone, the shaft of Pallas piercedwhere ribs and spine divide: backward he drewthe clinging spear; But Hisbo from abovesurprised him not, though meaning it; for while(In anger blind for friend unpitying slain)at Pallas' face he flew:—he, standing firm,plunged deep into that swelling breast the sword.Then Sthenius he slew; and next Anchemolusof Rhoetus' ancient line, who dared defilehis step-dame's bridal bed. And also ye,fair Thymber and Larides, Daucus' twins,fell on that Rutule field; so like were ye,your own kin scarce discerned, and parents proudsmiled at the dear deceit; but now in deathcruel unlikeness Pallas wrought; thy headfell, hapless Thymber, by Evander's sword;and thy right hand, Larides, shorn away,seemed feeling for its Iord; the fingers coldclutched, trembling, at the sword. Now all the troopof Arcady, their chief's great action seen,and by his warning roused, made at their foes,spurred on by grief and shame. Next Pallas piercedthe flying Rhoetus in his car; this gainedfor Ilus respite and delay, for himthe stout spear aimed at; but its flight was stoppedby Rhoetus, as in swift retreat he rode,by the two high-born brothers close pursued,Teuthras and Tyres: from his car he rolled,making deep furrows with his lifeless heelsalong the Rutule plain. Oft when the windsof summer, long awaited, rise and blow,a shepherd fires the forest, and the blazedevours the dense grove, while o'er the fields,in that one moment, swift and sudden spreadgrim Vulcan's serried flames; from some high seaton distant hill, the shepherd peering downsees, glad at heart, his own victorious fires:so now fierce valor spreads, uniting allin one confederate rage, 'neath Pallas' eyes.But the fierce warrior Halaesus nextled on the charge, behind his skilful shieldclose-crouching. Ladon and Demodocusand Pheres he struck down; his glittering bladecut Strymon's hand, which to his neck was raised,sheer off; with one great stone he crushed the browsof Thoas, scattering wide the broken skull,bones, brains, and gore. Halaesus' prophet-sire,foreseeing doom, had hid him in dark groves;but when the old man's fading eyes declinedin death, the hand of Fate reached forth and doomedthe young life to Evander's sword; him nowPallas assailed, first offering this prayer:“O Father Tiber, give my poising shaftthrough stout Halaesus' heart its lucky way!The spoil and trophy of the hero slainon thine own oak shall hang.” The god receivedthe vow, and while Halaesus held his shieldover Imaon, his ill-fated breastlay naked to th' Arcadian's hungry spear.

But Lausus, seeing such a hero slain,bade his troop have no fear, for he himselfwas no small strength in war; and first he slewAbas, who fought hard, and had ever seemedhimself the sticking-point and tug of war.Down went Arcadia's warriors, and slainetruscans fell, with many a Trojan bravethe Greek had spared. Troop charges upon troopwell-matched in might, with chiefs of like renown;the last rank crowds the first;—so fierce the pressscarce hand or sword can stir. Here Pallas stands,and pushes back the foe; before him loomsLausus, his youthful peer, conspicuous bothin beauty; but no star will them restoreto home and native land. Yet would the Kingof high Olympus suffer not the pairto close in battle, but each hero founda later doom at hands of mightier foes.

Now Turnus' goddess-sister bids him hasteto Lausus' help. So he, in wheeling car,cut through the lines; and when his friends he saw,“Let the fight stop! “ he cried, “for none but Imay strike at Pallas; unto me alonethe prize of Pallas falls. I would his sirestood by to see.” He spake: his troop withdrewa fitting space. But as they made him room,the young prince, wondering at the scornful words,looked upon Turnus, glancing up and downthat giant frame, and with fierce-frowning browsscanned him from far, hurling defiant wordsin answer to the King's. “My honor nowshall have the royal trophy of this war,or glorious death. For either fortune fairmy sire is ready. Threaten me no more!”So saying, to the midmost space he strode,and in Arcadian hearts the blood stood still.Swift from his chariot Turnus leaped, and ranto closer fight. As when some lion seesfrom his far mountain-lair a raging bullthat sniffs the battle from the grassy field,and down the steep he flies—such picture showedgrim Turnus as he came. But when he seemedwithin a spear's cast, Pallas opened fight,expecting Fortune's favor to the bravein such unequal match; and thus he prayed:“O, by my hospitable father's roof,where thou didst enter as a stranger-guest,hear me, Alcides, and give aid divineto this great deed. Let Turnus see these handsstrip from his half-dead breast the bloody spoil!and let his eyes in death endure to seehis conqueror!” Alcides heard the youth:but prisoned in his heart a deep-drawn sigh,and shed vain tears; for Jove, the King and Sire, .spoke with benignant accents to his son:“To each his day is given. Beyond recallman's little time runs by: but to prolonglife's glory by great deeds is virtue's power.Beneath the lofty walls of fallen Troy fell many a son of Heaven. Yea, there was slainSarpedon, my own offspring. Turnus toois summoned to his doom, and nears the boundsof his appointed span.” So speaking, Joveturned from Rutulia's war his eyes away.But Pallas hurled his lance with might and main,and from its hollow scabbard flashed his sword.The flying shaft touched where the plated steelover the shoulders rose, and worked its waythrough the shield's rim—then falling, glanced asidefrom Turnus' giant body. Turnus thenpoised, without haste, his iron-pointed spear,and, launching it on Pallas, cried, “Look nowwill not this shaft a good bit deeper drive?”He said: and through the mid-boss of the shield,steel scales and brass with bull's-hide folded round,the quivering spear-point crashed resistlessly,and through the corselet's broken barrierpierced Pallas' heart. The youth plucked out in vainthe hot shaft from the wound; his life and bloodtogether ebbed away, as sinking proneon his rent side he fell; above him ranghis armor; and from lips with blood defiledhe breathed his last upon his foeman's ground.Over him Turnus stood: “Arcadians all,”He cried, “take tidings of this feat of armsto King Evander. With a warrior's wagehis Pallas I restore, and freely grantwhat glory in a hero's tomb may lie,or comfort in a grave. They dearly paywho bid Aeneas welcome at their board.”So saying, with his left foot he held downthe lifeless form, and raised the heavy weightof graven belt, which pictured forth that crimeof youthful company by treason slain,all on their wedding night, in bridal bowersto horrid murder given,—which Clonus, sonof Eurytus, had wrought in lavish gold;this Turnus in his triumph bore away,exulting in the spoil. O heart of man,not knowing doom, nor of events to be!Nor, being lifted up, to keep thy boundsin prosperous days! To Turnus comes the hourwhen he would fain a prince's ransom givehad Pallas passed unscathed, and will bewailcuch spoil of victory. With weeping nowand lamentations Ioud his comrades layyoung Pallas on his shield, and thronging closecarry him homeward with a mournful song:alas! the sorrow and the glorious gainthy sire shall have in thee. For one brief daybore thee to battle and now bears away;yet leavest thou full tale of foemen slain.

No doubtful rumor to Aeneas breaksthe direful news, but a sure messengertells him his followers' peril, and imploresprompt help for routed Troy. His ready swordreaped down the nearest foes, and through their lineclove furious path and broad; the valiant bladethrough oft-repeated bloodshed groped its way,proud Turnus, unto thee! His heart beholdsPallas and Sire Evander, their kind boardin welcome spread, their friendly league of peaceproffered and sealed with him, the stranger-guest.So Sulmo's sons, four warriors, and fourof Ufens sprung, he took alive—to slayas victims to the shades, and pour a streamof captives' blood upon a flaming pyre.Next from afar his hostile shaft he threwat Mago, who with wary motion bowedbeneath the quivering weapon, as it spedclean over him; then at Aeneas' kneeshe crouched and clung with supplicating cry:“O, by thy father's spirit, by thy hopein young Iulus, I implore thee, sparefor son and father's sake this life of mine.A lofty house have I, where safely hidare stores of graven silver and good weightof wrought and unwrought gold. The fate of warhangs not on me; nor can one little lifethy victory decide.” In answer spokeAeneas: “Hoard the silver and the goldfor thy own sons. Such bartering in warfinished with Turnus, when fair Pallas fell.Thus bids Anchises' shade, Iulus—thus!”He spoke: and, grasping with his mighty leftthe helmet of the vainly suppliant foe,bent back the throat and drove hilt-deep his sword.A little space removed, Haemonides,priest of Phoebus and pale Trivia, stood,whose ribboned brows a sacred fillet bound:in shining vesture he, and glittering arms.Him too the Trojan met, repelled, and toweredabove the fallen form, o'ermantling itin mortal shade; Serestus bore awaythose famous arms a trophy vowed to thee,Gradivus, Iord of war! Soon to fresh fightcame Caeculus, a child of Vulcan's line,and Umbro on the Marsic mountains bred:these met the Trojan's wrath. His sword shore offAnxur's left hand, and the whole orbed shielddropped earthward at the stroke: though Anxur's tongue had boasted mighty things, as if great wordswould make him strong, and lifting his proud heartas high as heaven, had hoped perchance to seegray hairs and length of days. Then Tarquitusstrode forth, exulting in his burnished arms(Him Dryope, the nymph, to Faunus bore),and dared oppose Aeneas' rage. But hedrew back his lance and, charging, crushed at oncecorselet and ponderous shield; then off he struckthe supplicating head, which seemed in vainpreparing speech; while o'er the reeking corpsethe victor stood, and thrusting it awayspoke thus with wrathful soul: “Now lie thou there,thou fearsome sight! No noble mother's handshall hide thee in the ground, or give those limbsto their ancestral tomb. Thou shalt be leftto birds of ravin; or go drifting faralong yon river to engulfing seas,where starving fishes on those wounds shall feed.”Antceus next and Lucas he pursues,though all in Turnus' van; and Numa boldand Camers tawny-tressed, the son and heirof Volscens the stout-hearted, whose domainsurpassed the richest of Ausonia's lords,when over hushed Amyclae he was king.Like old Aegaeon of the hundred arms,the hundred-handed, from whose mouths and breastsblazed fifty fiery blasts, as he made warwith fifty sounding shields and fifty swordsagainst Jove's thunder;—so Aeneas ragedvictorious o'er the field, when once his steelwarmed to its work. But lo, he turns him nowwhere come Niphaeus' bold-advancing wheelsand coursers four, who, when at furious speedthey faced his giant stride and dreadful cry,upreared in panic, and reversing spilledtheir captain to the ground, and bore awaythe chariot to the river's distant shore.

Meanwhile, with two white coursers to their car,the brothers Lucagus and Liger droveinto the heart of battle: Liger keptwith skilful hand the manage of the steeds;bold Lucagus swung wide his naked sword.Aeneas, by their wrathful brows defied,brooked not the sight, but to the onset flew,huge-looming, with adverse and threatening spear.Cried Liger, “Not Achilles' chariot, ours!Nor team of Diomed on Phrygia's plain!The last of life and strife shall be thy meedupon this very ground.” Such raving wordflowed loud from Liger's lip: not with a wordthe Trojan hero answered him, but flunghis whirling spear; and even as Lucagusleaned o'er the horses, goading them with steel,and, left foot forward, gathered all his strengthto strike—the spear crashed through the under rimof his resplendent shield and entered deepin the left groin; then from the chariot fallen,the youth rolled dying on the field, while thuspious Aeneas paid him taunting words:“O Lucagus, thy chariot did not yieldbecause of horses slow to fly, or scaredby shadows of a foe. It was thyselfleaped o'er the wheel and fled.” So saying, he graspedthe horses by the rein. The brother then,spilled also from the car, reached wildly forthhis helpless hands: “O, by thy sacred head,and by the parents who such greatness gave,good Trojan, let me live! Some pity showto prostrate me!” But ere he longer sued,Aeneas cried, “Not so thy language rana moment gone! Die thou! Nor let this daybrother from brother part!” Then where the lifehides in the bosom, he thrust deep his sword.Thus o'er the field of war the Dardan Kingmoved on, death-dealing: like a breaking floodor cloudy whirlwind seemed his wrath. Straightwaythe boy Ascanius from the ramparts came,his warriors with him; for the siege had failed.

Now Jupiter to Juno thus began:“O ever-cherished spouse and sister dear,surely 't is Venus—as thy mind misgave—whose favor props—O, what discernment thine! Yon Trojan power; not swift heroic hands,or souls of fury facing perilous war!”Juno made meek reply: “O noblest spouse!Why vex one sick at heart, who humbly fearsthy stern command? If I could claim to-daywhat once I had, my proper right and due,love's induence, I should not plead in vainto thee, omnipotent, to give me powerto lead off Turnus from the fight unscathed,and save him at his father Daunus' prayer.Aye, let him die! And with his loyal bloodthe Teucrians' vengeance feed! Yet he derivesfrom our Saturnian stem, by fourth removesprung from Pilumnus. Oft his liberal handshave heaped unstinted offering at thy shrine.”Thus in few words th' Olympian King replied:“If for the fated youth thy prayer imploresdelay and respite of impending doom,if but so far thou bidst me interpose,—go—favor Turnus' flight, and keep him safein this imperilled hour; I may concedesuch boon. But if thy pleading words intendsome larger grace, and fain would touch or changethe issue of the war, then art thou fedon expectation vain.” With weeping eyesJuno made answer: “Can it be thy mindgives what thy words refuse, and Turnus' life,if rescued, may endure? Yet afterwardsome cruel close his guiltless day shall see—or far from truth I stray! O, that I werethe dupe of empty fears! and O, that thouwouldst but refashion to some happier endthe things by thee begun—for thou hast power!”

She ceased; and swiftly from the peak of heavenmoved earthward, trailing cloud-wrack through the air,and girdled with the storm. She took her way to where Troy's warriors faced Laurentum's line.There of a hollow cloud the goddess frameda shape of airy, unsubstantial shade,Aeneas' image, wonderful to see,and decked it with a Dardan lance and shield,a crested helmet on the godlike head;and windy words she gave of soulless sound,and motion like a stride—such shapes, they say,the hovering phantoms of the dead put on,or empty dreams which cheat our slumbering eyes.Forth to the front of battle this vain shadestalked insolent, and with its voice and spearchallenged the warrior. At it Turnus flew,and hurled a hissing spear with distant aim;the thing wheeled round and fled. The foe forthwith,thinking Aeneas vanquished, with blind scornflattered his own false hope: “Where wilt thou fly,Aeneas? Wilt thou break a bridegroom's word?This sword will give thee title to some landthou hast sailed far to find!” So clamoring loudhe followed, flashing far his naked sword;nor saw the light winds waft his dream away.

By chance in covert of a lofty craga ship stood fastened and at rest; her sidesshowed ready bridge and stairway; she had broughtOsinius, king of Clusium. Thither cameAeneas' counterfeit of flight and fear,and dropped to darkness. Turnus, nothing loth,gave close chase, overleaping every bar,and scaling the high bridge; but scarce he reachedthe vessel's prow, when Juno cut her loose,the cables breaking, and along swift wavespushed her to sea. Yet in that very hourAeneas to the battle vainly calledthe vanished foe, and round his hard-fought pathstretched many a hero dead. No longer nowthe mocking shadow sought to hide, but soaredvisibly upward and was Iost in cloud,while Turnus drifted o'er the waters widebefore the wind. Bewildered and amazedhe looked around him; little joy had hein his own safety, but upraised his handsin prayer to Heaven: “O Sire omnipotent!Didst thou condemn me to a shame like this?Such retribution dire? Whither now?Whence came I here? What panic wafts awaythis Turnus—if 't is he? Shall I beholdLaurentum's towers once more? But what of thosemy heroes yonder, who took oath to me,and whom—O sin and shame!—I have betrayedto horrible destruction? Even nowI see them routed, and my ears receivetheir dying groans. What is this thing I do?Where will the yawning earth crack wide enoughbeneath my feet? Ye tempests, pity me!On rocks and reef—'t is Turnus' faithful prayer,let this bark founder; fling it on the shoalsof wreckful isles, where no Rutulian eyecan follow me, or Rumor tell my shame.”With such wild words his soul tossed to and fro,not knowing if to hide his infamywith his own sword and madly drive its bladehome to his heart, or cast him in the sea,and, swimming to the rounded shore, renewhis battle with the Trojan foe. Three timeseach fatal course he tried; but Juno's powerthree times restrained, and with a pitying handthe warrior's purpose barred. So on he spedo'er yielding waters and propitious tides,far as his father Daunus' ancient town.

At Jove's command Mezentius, breathing rage,now takes the field and leads a strong assaultagainst victorious Troy. The Tuscan ranksmeet round him, and press hard on him alone,on him alone with vengeance multipliedtheir host of swords they draw. As some tall cliff,projecting to the sea, receives the rageof winds and waters, and untrembling bearsvast, frowning enmity of seas and skies,—so he. First Dolichaon's son he slew,Hebrus; then Latagus and Palmus, thoughthey fled amain; he smote with mighty stonetorn from the mountain, full upon the faceof Latagus; and Palmus he let liehamstrung and rolling helpless; he bestowedthe arms on his son Lausus for a prize,another proud crest in his helm to wear;he laid the Phrygian Euanthus Iow;and Mimas, Paris' comrade, just his age,—born of Theano's womb to Amycushis sire, that night when royal Hecuba,teeming with firebrand, gave Paris birth:one in the city of his fathers sleeps;and one, inglorious, on Laurentian strand.As when a wild boar, harried from the hillsby teeth of dogs (one who for many a yearwas safe in pine-clad Vesulus, or roamedthe meres of Tiber, feeding in the reeds)falls in the toils at last, and stands at bay,raging and bristling, and no hunter daresdefy him or come near, but darts are hurledfrom far away, with cries unperilous:not otherwise, though righteous is their wrathagainst Mezentius, not a man so boldas face him with drawn sword, but at long rangethey throw their shafts and with loud cries assail;he, all unterrified, makes frequent stand,gnashing his teeth, and shaking off their spears.

From ancient Corythus had Acron come,a Greek, who left half-sung his wedding-song,and was an exile; him Mezentius sawamong long lines of foes, with flaunting plumesand purple garments from his plighted spouse.Then as a starving lion when he prowlsabout high pasture-lands, urged on his wayby maddening hunger (if perchance he seea flying she-goat or tall-antlered stag)lifts up his shaggy mane, and gaping widehis monstrous jaws, springs at the creature's side,feeding foul-lipped, insatiable of gore:so through his gathered foes Mezentiusflew at his prey. He stretched along the groundill-fated Acron, who breathed life away,beating the dark dust with his heels, and bathedhis broken weapons in his blood. Nor deignedMezentius to strike Orodes downas he took flight, nor deal a wound unseenwith far-thrown spear; but ran before his face,fronting him man to man, nor would he winby sleight or trick, but by a mightier sword.Soon on the fallen foe he set his heel,and, pushing hard, with heel and spear, cried out:“Look ye, my men, where huge Orodes lies,himself a dangerous portion of this war!”With loyal, Ioud acclaim his peers reply;but thus the dying hero: “Victor mine,whoe'er thou art, I fall not unavenged!Thou shalt but triumph for a fleeting hour.Like doom for thee is written. Speedilythou shalt this dust inhabit, even as I!”Mezentius answered him with wrathful smile:“Now die! What comes on me concerns alonethe Sire of gods and Sovereign of mankind.”So saying, from the wounded breast he pluckedhis javelin: and on those eyes there fellinexorable rest and iron slumber,and in unending night their vision closed.