Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- But now the brazen trumpet's fearsome song
- blares loud, and startled shouts of soldiery
- spread through the roaring sky. The Volscian band
- press to the siege, and, locking shield with shield,
- fill the great trenches, tear the palisades,
- or seek approach by ladders up the walls,
- where'er the line of the defenders thins, and light
- through their black circle shines. The Trojans pour
- promiscuous missiles down, and push out hard
- with heavy poles—so well have they been schooled
- to fight against long sieges. They fling down
- a crushing weight of rocks, in hope to break
- th' assailing line, where roofed in serried shields
- the foe each charge repels. But not for long
- the siegers stand; along their dense array
- the crafty Teucrians down the rampart roll
- a boulder like a hill-top, laying low
- the Rutule troop and crashing through their shields.
- Nor may the bold Rutulian longer hope
- to keep in cover, but essays to storm
- only with far-flung shafts the bastion strong.
- Here grim Mezentius, terrible to see,
- waved an Etrurian pine, and made his war
- with smoking firebrands; there, in equal rage,
- Messapus, the steed-tamer, Neptune's son,
- ripped down the palisade, and at the breach
- strung a steep path of ladders up the wall.
- Aid, O Calliope, the martial song!
- Tell me what carnage and how many deaths
- the sword of Turnus wrought: what peer in arms
- each hero to the world of ghosts sent down.
- Unroll the war's great book before these eyes.
- A tower was there, well-placed and looming large,
- with many a lofty bridge, which desperately
- th' Italians strove to storm, and strangely plied
- besieging enginery to cast it down:
- the Trojans hurled back stones, or, standing close,
- flung through the loopholes a swift shower of spears.
- But Turnus launched a firebrand, and pierced
- the wooden wall with flame, which in the wind
- leaped larger, and devoured from floor to floor,
- burning each beam away. The trembling guards
- sought flight in vain; and while they crowded close
- into the side unkindled yet, the tower
- bowed its whole weight and fell, with sudden crash
- that thundered through the sky. Along the ground
- half dead the warriors fell (the crushing mass
- piled over them) by their own pointed spears
- pierced to the heart, or wounded mortally
- by cruel splinters of the wreck. Two men,
- Helenor one, and Lyeus at his side,
- alone get free. Helenor of the twain
- was a mere youth; the slave Lycymnia
- bore him in secret to the Lydian King,
- and, arming him by stealth, had sent away
- to serve the Trojan cause. One naked sword
- for arms had he, and on his virgin shield
- no blazon of renown; but when he saw
- the hosts of Turnus front him, and the lines
- this way and that of Latins closing round, —
- as a fierce, forest-creature, brought to bay
- in circling pack of huntsmen, shows its teeth
- against the naked spears, and scorning death
- leaps upward on the javelins,—even so,
- not loth to die, the youthful soldier flew
- straight at the centre of his foes, and where
- the shining swords looked thickest, there he sprung.
- But Lyeus, swifter-footed, forced his way
- past the opposing spears and made escape
- far as the ciity-wall, where he would fain
- clutch at the coping and climb up to clasp
- some friend above: but Turnus, spear in hand,
- had hotly followed, and exulting loud
- thus taunted him, “Hadst thou the hope, rash fool,
- beyond this grasp to fly?” So, as he clung,
- he tore him down; and with him broke and fell
- a huge piece of the wall: not otherwise
- a frail hare, or a swan of snow-white wing,
- is clutched in eagle-talons, when the bird
- of Jove soars skyward with his prey; or tender lamb
- from bleating mother and the broken fold
- is stolen by the wolf of Mars. Wild shouts
- on every side resound. In closer siege
- the foe press on, and heap the trenches full,
- or hurl hot-flaming torches at the towers.
- Ilioneus with mountain-mass of stone
- struck down Lucetius, as he crept with fire
- too near the city-gate. Emathion fell
- by Liger's hand, and Corynteus' death
- Asilas dealt: one threw the javelin well;
- th' insidious arrow was Asilas' skill.
- Ortygius was slain by Caeneus, then
- victorious Geneus fell by Turnus' ire.
- Then smote he Dioxippus, and laid low
- Itys and Promolus and Sagaris
- and Clonius, and from the lofty tower
- shot Idas down. The shaft of Capys pierced
- Privernus, whom Themilla's javelin
- but now had lightly grazed, and he, too bold,
- casting his shield far from him, had outspread
- his left hand on the wound: then sudden flew
- the feathered arrow, and the hand lay pinned
- against his left side, while the fatal barb
- was buried in his breathing life. The son
- of Arcens now stood forth in glittering arms.
- His broidered cloak was red Iberian stain,
- and beautiful was he. Arcens his sire
- had sent him to the war; but he was bred
- in a Sicilian forest by a stream
- to his nymph-mother dear, where rose the shrine
- of merciful Palicus, blest and fair.
- But, lo! Mezentius his spear laid by,
- and whirled three times about his head the thong
- of his loud sling: the leaden bullet clove
- the youth's mid-forehead, and his towering form
- fell prostrate its full length along the ground.
- 'T was then Ascanius first shot forth in war
- the arrow swift from which all creatures wild
- were wont to fly in fear: and he struck down
- with artful aim Numanus, sturdy foe,
- called Remulus, who lately was espoused
- to Turnus' younger sister. He had stalked
- before the van, and made vociferous noise
- of truths and falsehoods foul and base, his heart
- puffed up with new-found greatness. Up and down
- he strode, and swelled his folly with loud words:
- “No shame have ye this second time to stay
- cooped close within a rampart's craven siege,
- O Phrygians twice-vanquished? Is a wall
- your sole defence from death? Are such the men
- who ask our maids in marriage? Say what god,
- what doting madness, rather, drove ye here
- to Italy? This way ye will not find
- the sons of Atreus nor the trickster tongue
- of voluble Ulysses. Sturdy stock
- are we; our softest new-born babes we dip
- in chilling rivers, till they bear right well
- the current's bitter cold. Our slender lads
- hunt night and day and rove the woods at large,
- or for their merriment break stubborn steeds,
- or bend the horn-tipped bow. Our manly prime
- in willing labor lives, and is inured
- to poverty and scantness; we subdue
- our lands with rake and mattock, or in war
- bid strong-walled cities tremble. Our whole life
- is spent in use of iron; and we goad
- the flanks of bullocks with a javelin's end.
- Nor doth old age, arriving late, impair
- our brawny vigor, nor corrupt the soul
- to frail decay. But over silvered brows
- we bind the helmet. Our unfailing joy
- is rapine, and to pile the plunder high.
- But ye! your gowns-are saffron needlework
- or Tyrian purple; ye love shameful ease,
- or dancing revelry. Your tunics fiow
- long-sleeved, and ye have soft caps ribbon-bound.
- Aye, Phrygian girls are ye, not Phrygian men!
- Hence to your hill of Dindymus! Go hear
- the twy-mouthed piping ye have loved so long.
- The timbrel, hark! the Berecynthian flute
- calls you away, and Ida's goddess calls.
- Leave arms to men, true men! and quit the sword!”
- Of such loud insolence and words of shame
- Ascanius brooked no more, but laid a shaft
- athwart his bowstring, and with arms stretched wide
- took aim, first offering suppliant vow to Jove:
- “Almighty Jupiter, thy favor show
- to my bold deed! So to thy shrine I bear
- gifts year by year, and to thine altars lead
- a bull with gilded brows, snow-white, and tall
- as his own dam, what time his youth begins
- to lower his horns and fling the sand in air.”
- The Father heard, and from a cloudless sky
- thundered to leftward, while the deadly bow
- resounded and the arrow's fearful song
- hissed from the string; it struck unswervingly
- the head of Remulus and clove its way
- deep in the hollows of his brow. “Begone!
- Proud mocker at the brave! Lo, this reply
- twice-vanquished Phrygians to Rutulia send.”
- Ascanius said no more. The Teucrians
- with deep-voiced shout of joy applaud, and lift
- their exultation starward. Then from heaven
- the flowing-haired Apollo bent his gaze
- upon Ausonia's host, and cloud-enthroned
- looked downward o'er the city, speaking thus
- to fair Iulus in his victory:
- “Hail to thy maiden prowess, boy! This way
- the starward path to dwelling-place divine.
- O sired of gods and sire of gods to come,
- all future storms of war by Fate ordained
- shall into peace and lawful calm subside
- beneath the offspring of Assaracus.
- No Trojan destinies thy glory bound.”
- So saying, from his far, ethereal seat
- he hied him down, and, cleaving the quick winds
- drew near Ascanius. He wore the guise
- of aged Butes, who erewhile had borne
- Anchises, armor and kept trusty guard
- before his threshold, but attended now
- Ascanius, by commandment of his sire.
- Clad in this graybeard's every aspect, moved
- apollo forth,—his very voice and hue,
- his hoary locks and grimly sounding shield, —
- and to the flushed Iulus spoke this word:
- “Child of Aeneas, be content that now
- Numanus unavenged thine arrows feels.
- Such dawn of glory great Apollo's will
- concedes, nor envies thee the fatal shaft
- so like his own. But, tender youth, refrain
- hereafter from this war!” So said divine
- Apollo, who, while yet he spoke, put by
- his mortal aspect, and before their eyes
- melted to viewless air. The Teucrians knew
- the vocal god with armament divine
- of arrows; for his rattling quiver smote
- their senses as he fled. Obedient
- to Phoebus' voice they held back from the fray
- Iulus' fury, and their eager souls
- faced the fresh fight and danger's darkest frown.
- From tower to tower along the bastioned wall
- their war-cry flew: they bend with busy hand
- the cruel bow, or swing the whirling thong
- of javelins. The earth on every side
- is strewn with spent shafts, the reverberant shield
- and hollow helmet ring with blows; the fight
- more fiercely swells; not less the bursting storm
- from watery Kid-stars in the western sky
- lashes the plain, or multitudinous hail
- beats upon shallow seas, when angry Jove
- flings forth tempestuous and-boundless rain,
- and splits the bellied clouds in darkened air.