Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Turnus, at full speed, had outridden far
- his laggard host, and, leading in his train
- a score of chosen knights, dashed into view
- hard by the walls. A barb of Thracian breed
- dappled with white he rode; a crimson plume
- flamed over his golden helmet. “Who,” he cries,
- “Is foremost at the foe? Who follows me?
- Behold!” And, with the word, he hurled in air
- a javelin, provoking instant war:
- and, towering from his horse, charged o'er the field.
- With answering shout his men-at-arms pursue,
- and war-cries terrible. They laugh to scorn
- “the craven hearts of Troy, that cannot give
- fair, equal vantage, matching man to man,
- but cuddle into camp.” This way and that
- Turnus careers, and stormily surveys
- the frowning rampart, and where way is none
- some entering breach would find: so prowls a wolf
- nigh the full sheepfold, and through wind and rain
- stands howling at the postern all night long;
- beneath the ewes their bleating lambs lie safe;
- but he, with undesisting fury, more
- rages from far, made frantic for his prey
- by hunger of long hours, his foaming jaws
- athirst for blood: not less the envy burned
- of the Rutulian, as he scanned in vain
- the stronghold of his foe. Indignant scorn
- thrilled all his iron frame. But how contrive
- to storm the fortress or by force expel
- the Trojans from the rampart, and disperse
- along the plain? Straightway he spied the ships,
- in hiding near the camp, defended well
- by mounded river-bank and fleeting wave.
- On these he fell; while his exultant crew
- brought firebrands, and he with heart aflame
- grasped with a vengeful hand the blazing pine.
- To the wild work his followers sped; for who
- could prove him craven under Turnus' eye?
- The whole troop for the weapon of their rage
- seized smoking coals, of many a hearth the spoil;
- red glare of fuming torches burned abroad,
- and Vulcan starward flung a sparkling cloud.