Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- The brothers Pandarus and Bitias,
- of whom Alcanor was the famous sire,
- on Ida born, and whom Iaera bred
- in sacred wood of Jove, an oread she,
- twin warriors, like their native hills and trees
- of stature proud, now burst those portals wide
- to them in ward consigned, and sword in hand
- challenge the foe to enter. Side by side,
- steel-clad, their tall heads in bright crested helms,
- to left and right, like towers, the champions stand
- as when to skyward, by the gliding waves
- of gentle Athesis or Padus wide,
- a pair of oaks uprise, and lift in air
- their shaggy brows and nodding crests sublime.
- In burst the Rutules where the onward way
- seemed open wide; Quercens no tarrying knows,
- nor proud Aquiculus in well-wrought arms;
- Tmarus sweeps on impetuous, and the host
- of Haemon, child of Mars. Some routed fly;
- some lay their lives-down at the gate. Wild rage
- o'erflows each martial breast, and gathered fast
- the Trojans rally to one point, and dare
- close conflict, or long sallies o'er the plain.
- To Turnus, who upon a distant field
- was storming with huge havoc, came the news
- that now his foe, before a gate thrown wide,
- was red with slaughter. His own fight he stays,
- and speeds him, by enormous rage thrust on,
- to those proud brethren at the Dardan wall.
- There first Antiphates, who made his war
- far in the van (a Theban captive's child
- to great Sarpedon out of wedlock born),
- he felled to earth with whirling javelin:
- th' Italic shaft of cornel lightly flew
- along the yielding air, and through his throat
- pierced deep into the breast; a gaping wound
- gushed blood; the hot shaft to his bosom clung.
- Then Erymas and Merops his strong hand
- laid low: Aphidnus next, then came the turn
- of Bitias, fiery-hearted, furious-eyed:
- but not by javelin,—such cannot fall
- by flying javelin,—the ponderous beam
- of a phalaric spear, with mighty roar,
- like thunderbolt upon him fell; such shock
- neither the bull's-hides of his double shield
- nor twofold corselet's golden scales could stay
- but all his towering frame in ruin fell.
- Earth groaned, and o'er him rang his ample shield.
- so crashes down from Baiae's storied shore
- a rock-built mole, whose mighty masonry,
- piled up with care, men cast into the sea;
- it trails its wreckage far, and fathoms down
- lies broken in the shallows, while the waves
- whirl every way, and showers of black sand
- are scattered on the air: with thunder-sound
- steep Prochyta is shaken, and that bed
- of cruel stone, Inarime, which lies
- heaped o'er Typhoeus by revenge of Jove.
- Now to the Latins Mars, the lord of war,
- gave might and valor, and to their wild hearts
- his spur applied, but on the Teucrians breathed
- dark fear and flight. From every quarter came
- auxiliar hosts, where'er the conflict called,
- and in each bosom pulsed the god of war.
- When Pandarus now saw his brother's corse
- low Iying, and which way the chance and tide
- of battle ran, he violently moved
- the swinging hinges of the gate, and strained
- with both his shoulders broad. He shut outside
- not few of his own people, left exposed
- in fiercest fight but others with himself
- he barred inside and saved them as they fled;
- nor noted, madman, how the Rutule King
- had burst in midmost of the line, and now
- stood prisoned in their wall, as if he were
- some monstrous tiger among helpless kine.
- His eyeballs strangely glared; his armor rang
- terrific, his tall crest shook o'er his brows
- blood-red, and lightnings glittered from his shield
- familiar loomed that countenance abhorred
- and frame gigantic on the shrinking eyes
- of the Aeneadae. Then Pandarus
- sprang towering forth, all fever to revenge
- his brother's slaughter. “Not this way,” he cried
- “Amata's marriage-gift! No Ardea here
- mews Turnus in his fathers' halls. Behold
- thy foeman's castle! Thou art not allowed
- to take thy leave.” But Turnus looked his way,
- and smiled with heart unmoved. “Begin! if thou
- hast manhood in thee, and meet steel with steel!
- Go tell dead Priam thou discoverest here
- Achilles!” For reply, the champion tall
- hurled with his might and main along the air
- his spear of knotted wood and bark untrimmed.
- But all it wounded was the passing wind,
- for Saturn's daughter turned its course awry,
- and deep in the great gate the spear-point drove.
- “Now from the stroke this right arm means for thee
- thou shalt not fly. Not such the sender of
- this weapon and this wound.” He said, and towered
- aloft to his full height; the lifted sword
- clove temples, brows, and beardless cheeks clean through
- with loudly ringing blow; the ground beneath
- shook with the giant's ponderous fall, and, lo,
- with nerveless limbs, and brains spilt o'er his shield,
- dead on the earth he lay! in equal halves
- the sundered head from either shoulder swung.
- In horror and amaze the Trojans all
- dispersed and fled; had but the conqueror thought
- to break the barriers of the gates and call
- his followers through, that fatal day had seen
- an ending of the Teucrians and their war.
- But frenzied joy of slaughter urged him on,
- infuriate, to smite the scattering foe.
- First Phaleris he caught; then cut the knees
- of Gyges; both their spears he snatched away
- and hurled them at the rout; 't was Juno roused
- his utmost might of rage. Now Halys fell,
- and Phegeus, whom he pierced right through the shield:
- next, at the walls and urging reckless war,
- Alcander, Halius, and Noemon gave
- their lives, and Prytanis went down. In vain
- Lynceus made stand and called his comrades brave:
- for Turnus from the right with waving sword
- caught at him and lopped off with one swift blow
- the head, which with its helmet rolled away.
- Next Amycus, destroyer of wild beasts,
- who knew full well to smear a crafty barb
- with venomed oil; young Clytius he slew,
- son of the wind-god; then on Cretheus fell,
- a follower of the muses and their friend:
- Cretheus, whose every joy it was to sing,
- and fit his numbers to the chorded Iyre;
- steeds, wars, armed men were his perpetual song.
- At last the Teucrian chiefs had heard the tale
- of so much slaughter; and in council met
- are Mnestheus and Serestus bold, who see
- their comrades routed and the conquering foe
- within the gates. Cries Mnestheus, “Whither fly?
- What open way is yonder or what wall?
- Beyond these ramparts lost what stronger lie?
- Shall one lone man here in your walls confined,
- make havoc unavenged and feed the grave
- with your best warriors? 0 cowards vile!
- For your sad country and her ancient gods
- and for renowned Aeneas, can ye feel
- no pity and no shame?” Enflamed to fight
- by words like these, they close the line, and stand
- in strong array. So Turnus for a space
- out of the battle step by step withdrew
- to make the river-bank his rearguard strong;
- whereat the Teucrians, shouting loud, swept on
- the fiercer, and in solid mass pressed round.
- as when a troop of hunters with keen spears
- encircle a wild lion, who in fear,
- but glaring grim and furious, backward falls,
- valor and rage constrain him ne'er to cease
- fronting the foe; yet not for all his ire
- can he against such serried steel make way:
- so Turnus backward with a lingering step
- unwilling drew, and wrath his heart oterflowed.
- for twice already had he cloven a path
- into the foe's mid-press, and twice had driven
- their flying lines in panic through the town.
- But now the whole throng from the camp he sees
- massed to the onset. Nor will Juno now
- dare give him vigor to withstand, for Jove
- had sent aerial Iris out of heaven
- with stern commandment to his sister-queen
- that Turnus from the Teucrian walls retire.
- Therefore the warrior's shield avails no more,
- nor his strong arm; but he is overthrown
- by general assault. Around his brows
- his smitten helmet rings; the ponderous mail
- cracks under falling stones; the haughty plumes
- are scattered from his head, nor can the boss
- of his stout shield endure; the Trojans hurl
- redoubled rain of spears; and with them speeds
- Mnestheus like thunderbolt. The hero's flesh
- dissolves in sweat; no room to breathe has he;
- his limbs are spent and weary; his whole frame
- shakes with his gasping breath: then bounding fort
- with all his harness on, headlong he plunged
- into the flowing stream; its yellow tide
- embraced him as he fell, and gentle waves
- restored him smiling to his friends in arms,
- with all the gore and carnage washed away.