Book X

Meanwhile Olympus , seat of sovereign sway,

threw wide its portals, and in conclave fair

the Sire of gods and King of all mankind

summoned th' immortals to his starry court,

whence, high-enthroned, the spreading earth he views—

and Teucria's camp and Latium 's fierce array.

Beneath the double-gated dome the gods

were sitting; Jove himself the silence broke:

“O people of Olympus , wherefore change

your purpose and decree, with partial minds

in mighty strife contending? I refused

such clash of war 'twixt Italy and Troy .

Whence this forbidden feud? What fears

seduced to battles and injurious arms

either this folk or that? Th' appointed hour

for war shall be hereafter—speed it not!—

When cruel Carthage to the towers of Rome

shall bring vast ruin, streaming fiercely down

the opened Alp. Then hate with hate shall vie,

and havoc have no bound. Till then, give o'er,

and smile upon the concord I decree!”

Thus briefly, Jove. But golden Venus made

less brief reply. “O Father, who dost hold

o'er Man and all things an immortal sway!

Of what high throne may gods the aid implore

save thine? Behold of yonder Rutuli

th' insulting scorn! Among them Turnus moves

in chariot proud, and boasts triumphant war

in mighty words. Nor do their walls defend

my Teucrians now. But in their very gates,

and on their mounded ramparts, in close fight

they breast their foes and fill the moats with blood.

Aeneas knows not, and is far away.

Will ne'er the siege have done? A second time

above Troy 's rising walls the foe impends;

another host is gathered, and once more

from his Aetolian Arpi wrathful speeds

a Diomed. I doubt not that for me

wounds are preparing. Yea, thy daughter dear

awaits a mortal sword! If by thy will

unblest and unapproved the Trojans came

to Italy , for such rebellious crime

give them their due, nor lend them succor, thou,

with thy strong hand! But if they have obeyed

unnumbered oracles from gods above

and sacred shades below, who now has power

to thwart thy bidding, or to weave anew

the web of Fate? Why speak of ships consumed

along my hallowed Erycinian shore?

Or of the Lord of Storms, whose furious blasts

were summoned from Aeolia ? Why tell

of Iris sped from heaven? Now she moves

the region of the shades (one kingdom yet

from her attempt secure) and thence lets loose

Alecto on the world above, who strides

in frenzied wrath along th' Italian hills.

No more my heart now cherishes its hope

of domination, though in happier days

such was thy promise. Let the victory fall

to victors of thy choice! If nowhere lies

the land thy cruel Queen would deign accord

unto the Teucrian people,—O my sire,

I pray thee by yon smouldering wreck of Troy

to let Ascanius from the clash of arms

escape unscathed. Let my own offspring live!

Yea, let Aeneas, tossed on seas unknown,

find some chance way; let my right hand avail

to shelter him and from this fatal war

in safety bring. For Amathus is mine,

mine are Cythera and the Paphian hills

and temples in Idalium . Let him drop

the sword, and there live out inglorious days.

By thy decree let Carthage overwhelm

Ausonia's power; nor let defence be found

to stay the Tyrian arms! What profits it

that he escaped the wasting plague of war

and fled Argolic fires? or that he knew

so many perils of wide wilderness

and waters rude? The Teucrians seek in vain

new-born Troy in Latium . Better far

crouched on their country's ashes to abide,

and keep that spot of earth where once was Troy !

Give back, O Father, I implore thee, give

Xanthus and Simois back! Let Teucer's sons

unfold once more the tale of Ilium 's woe!”

Then sovereign Juno, flushed with solemn scorn,

made answer. “Dost thou bid me here profane

the silence of my heart, and gossip forth

of secret griefs? What will of god or man

impelled 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 strife

Etruria's faithful, unoffending sons?

What god, what pitiless behest of mine,

impelled him to such harm? Who traces here

the hand of Juno, or of Iris sped

from heaven? Is it an ignoble stroke

that Italy around the new-born Troy

makes circling fire, and Turnus plants his heel

on his hereditary earth, the son

of old Pilumnus and the nymph divine,

Venilia? For what offence would Troy

bring sword and fire on Latium , or enslave

lands of an alien name, and bear away

plunder and spoil? Why seek they marriages,

and snatch from arms of love the plighted maids?

An olive-branch is in their hands; their ships

make menace of grim steel. Thy power one day

ravished Aeneas from his Argive foes,

and gave them shape of cloud and fleeting air

to strike at for a man. Thou hast transformed

his ships to daughters of the sea. What wrong

if I, not less, have lent the Rutuli

something of strength in war? Aeneas, then,

is far away and knows not! Far away

let him remain, not knowing! If thou sway'st

Cythera , Paphos , and Idalium ,

why rouse a city pregnant with loud wars,

and fiery hearts provoke? That fading power

of Phrygia , do I, forsooth, essay

to ruin utterly? O, was it I

exposed ill-fated Troy to Argive foe?

For what offence in vast array of arms

did Europe rise and Asia , for a rape

their peace dissolving? Was it at my word

th' adulterous Dardan shepherd came to storm

the Spartan city? Did my hand supply

his armament, or instigate a war

for Cupid's sake? Then was thy decent hour

to tremble for thy children; now too late

the folly of thy long lament to Heaven,

and objurgation vain.” Such Juno's plea;

the throng of gods with voices loud or low

gave various reply: as gathering winds

sing 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 hands

have governance supreme, began reply;

deep silence at his word Olympus knew,

Earth's utmost cavern shook; the realms of light

were silent; the mild zephyrs breathed no more,

and perfect calm o'erspread the levelled sea.

“Give ear, ye gods, and in your hearts record

my mandate and decree. Fate yet allows

no peace 'twixt Troy and Italy , nor bids

your quarrel end. Therefore, what Chance this day

to either foe shall bring, whatever hope

either may cherish,—the Rutulian cause

and Trojan have like favor in my eyes.

The destinies of Italy constrain

the siege; which for the fault of Troy fulfills

an oracle of woe. Yon Rutule host

I scatter not. But of his own attempt

let each the triumph and the burden bear;

for Jove is over all an equal King.

The Fates will find the way.” The god confirmed

his sentence by his Stygian brother's wave,

the shadowy flood and black, abysmal shore.

He nodded; at the bending of his brow

Olympus 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 foe

urges the slaughter on, and closes round

the battlements with ring of flame. The host

of 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 garrison

the ramparts crown. In foremost line of guard

are Asius Imbrasides, the twin

Assaraci, and Hicetaon's son

Thymoetes, and with Castor at his side

the veteran Thymbris; then the brothers both

of slain Sarpedon, and from Lycian steep

Clarus and Themon. With full-straining thews

lifting a rock, which was of some huge hill

no fragment small, Lyrnesian Acmon stood;

nor less than Clytius his sire he seemed,

nor Mnestheus his great brother. Some defend

the wall with javelins; some hurl down stones

or firebrands, or to the sounding string

fit arrows keen. But lo! amid the throng,

well worth to Venus her protecting care,

the Dardan boy, whose princely head shone forth

without a helm, like radiant jewel set

in burnished gold for necklace or for crown;

or like immaculate ivory inclosed

in 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 wounds

with shafts of venomed reed: Maeonia 's vale

thy cradle was, where o'er the fruitful fields

well-tilled and rich, Pactolus pours his gold.

Mnestheus was there, who, for his late repulse

of Turnus from the rampart, towered forth

in glory eminent; there Capys stood,

whose name the Capuan citadel shall bear.

While these in many a shock of grievous war

hotly contend, Aeneas cleaves his way

at midnight through the waters. He had fared

from old Evander to th' Etruscan folk,

addressed their King, and to him told the tale

of his own race and name, his suit, his powers;

of what allies Mezentius had embraced,

and Turnus' lawless rage. He bids him know

how mutable is man, and warning gives,

with supplication joined. Without delay

Tarchon 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 gave

allegiance to the foreign King. The ship

Aeneas rode moved foremost in the line:

its beak a pair of Phrygian lions bore;

above them Ida rose, an emblem dear

to exiled Trojans. On his Iofty seat

was great Aeneas, pondering the events

of changeful war; and clinging to his side

the youthful Pallas fain would learn the lore

of stars, the highway of dark night, and asks

the story of his toils on land and sea.

Now open Helicon and move my song,

ye goddesses, to tell what host in arms

followed 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 warriors

were with him out of Clusium 's walls, or from

the citadel of Coste, who for arms

had arrows, quivers from the shoulder slung,

and deadly bows. Grim Abas near him sailed;

his whole band wore well-blazoned mail; his ship

displayed the form of Phoebus, all of gold:

to him had Populonia consigned

(His mother-city, she) six hundred youth

well-proven in war; three hundred Elba gave,

an island rich in unexhausted ores

of iron, like the Chalybes. Next came

Asilas, who betwixt the gods and men

interprets messages and reads clear signs

in victims' entrails, or the stars of heaven,

or bird-talk, or the monitory flames

of lightning: he commands a thousand men

close 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 mind

uniting all: in Caere they were bred

and Minio's plain, and by the ancient towers

of Pyrgo or Gravisca 's storm-swept hill.

Nor thy renown may I forget, brave chief

of the Ligurians, Cinyrus; nor thine,

Cupavo, with few followers, thy crest

the tall swan-wings, of love unblest the sign

and of a father fair: for legends tell

that Cycnus, for his Phaethon so dear

lamenting loud beneath the poplar shade

of the changed sisters, made a mournful song

to soothe his grief and passion: but erewhile,

in his old age, there clothed him as he sang

soft snow-white plumes, and spurning earth he soared

on high, and sped in music through the stars.

His son with bands of youthful peers urged on

a galley with a Centaur for its prow,

which loomed high o'er the waves, and seemed to hurl

a huge stone at the water, as the keel

ploughed through the deep. Next Ocnus summoned forth

a war-host from his native shores, the son

of Tiber , Tuscan river, and the nymph

Manto, 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 enthroned

she rules her tribes: her strength is Tuscan born.

Hate of Mezentius armed against his name

five hundred men: upon their hostile prow

was 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 flood

like flowing marble foams; his Triton prow

threatens the blue waves with a trumpet-shell;

far as the hairy flanks its form is man,

but ends in fish below—the parting waves

beneath the half-brute bosom break in foam.

Such chosen chiefs in thirty galleys ploughed

the salt-wave, bringing help to Trojan arms.

Day now had left the sky. The moon benign

had driven her night-wandering chariot

to 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 transformed

by kind Cybebe to sea-ruling powers.

In even ranks they swam the cloven wave,—

nymphs now, but once as brazen galleys moored

along the sandy shore. With joy they knew

their King from far, and with attending train

around him drew. Cymodocea then,

best skilled in mortal speech, sped close behind,

with her right hand upon the stern, uprose

breast-high, and with her left hand deeply plied

the silent stream, as to the wondering King

she 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 top

of Ida's mountain. Sea-nymphs now are we,

and thine own fleet. When, as we fled, the flames

rained o'er us from the false Rutulian's hand

't was all unwillingly we cast away

thy serviceable chains: and now once more

we follow thee across the sea. These forms

our pitying mother bade us take, with power

to haunt immortally the moving sea.

Lo, thy Ascanius lies close besieged

in moated walls, assailed by threatening arms

and 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 bar

and hold them from the camp. Arouse thee, then,

and with the rising beams of dawn call forth

thy captains and their followers. Take that shield

victorious, which for thee the Lord of Fire

forged 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 stern

with skilful thrust, and vanished. The ship sped

swift as a spear, or as an arrow flies

no whit behind the wind: and all the fleet

quickened its course. Anchises' princely son,

dumb and bewildered stood, but took good heart

at such an omen fair. Then in few words

with 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 fulfil

thine augury divine. In Phrygia 's cause

be present evermore with favoring power!”

He spoke no more. For now the wheels of day

had 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 arms

the coming fray. Now holds he full in view

his Trojans and their fortress, as he stands

upon his towering ship. With his left hand

he lifts his radiant shield; then from the wall

the Dardan warriors send a battle-cry

that echoes to the stars, as kindling hope

their rage renews. A flight of spears they hurl:

't was like the cranes of Strymon, through dark clouds

each other calling, when they cleave the skies

vociferous, outwinging as they fly

the swift south winds—Ioud music them pursues.

Amazement on Ausonia's captains fell

and Turnus, as they gazed. But soon they saw

ships pointing shoreward and the watery plain

all stirring with a fleet. Aeneas' helm

uplifted its bright peak,—like streaming flame

the crimson crest; his shield of orbed gold

poured forth prodigious fire: it seemed as when

in cloudless night a comet's blood-red beam

makes mournful splendor, or the Dog-star glows,

which rises to bring drought and pestilence

to hapless men, and with ill-omened ray

saddens the sky. But Turnus, undismayed,

trusted not less to hurl th' invaders back

and hold the shore against them. “Look!” he cried,

your prayer is come to pass,—that sword in hand

ye now may shatter them. The might of Mars

is in a true man's blow. Remember well

each man his home and wife! Now call to mind

the glory and great deeds of all your sires!

Charge to yon river-bank, while yet they take

with 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 ships

lets down his troop by bridges. Some await

the ebbing of slack seas, and boldly leap

into the shallows; others ply the oar.

Tarchon a beach discovers, where the sands

sing 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 cleave

yon hostile shore; and let her keel's full weight

the furrow drive. I care not if we break

our ship's side in so sure an anchorage,

if once we land.” While Tarchon urged them thus,

the crews bent all together to their blades

and sped their foaming barks to Latium 's plain,

till each beak gripped the sand and every keel

lay 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 tide

her warriors; and now the drifting wreck

of shattered oars and thwarts entangles them,

or ebb of swirling waters sucks them down.

Turnus no lingering knows, but fiercely hurls

his whole line on the Teucrians, and makes stand

along the shore. Now peals the trumpet's call.

Aeneas in the van led on his troop

against the rustic foe, bright augury

for opening war, and laid the Latins low,

slaughtering Theron, a huge chief who dared

offer Aeneas battle; through the scales

of brazen mail and corselet stiff with gold

the sword drove deep, and gored the gaping side.

Then smote he Lichas, from his mother's womb

ripped in her dying hour, and unto thee,

O Phoebus, vowed, because his infant days

escaped the fatal steel. Hard by him fell

stout Cisseus and gigantic Gyas; these

to death were hurled, while with their knotted clubs

they slew opposing hosts; but naught availed

Herculean weapons, nor their mighty hands,

or that Melampus was their sire, a peer

of Hercules, what time in heavy toils

through earth he roved. See next how Pharon boasts!

But while he vainly raves, the whirling spear

smites full on his loud mouth. And also thou,

Cydon, wast by the Trojan stroke o'erthrown,

while following in ill-omened haste the steps

of Clytius, thy last joy, whose round cheek wore

its youthful golden down: soon hadst thou lain

in death, unheeding of thy fancies fond

which ever turned to youth;—but now arose

the troop of all thy brothers, Phorcus' sons,

a close array of seven, and seven spears

they hurled: some from Aeneas' helm or shield

glanced 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 fly

against yon Rutules, even as they pierced

the breasts of Greeks upon the Ilian plain.”

Then one great shaft he seized and threw; it sped

straight into Maeon's brazen shield, and clove

his mail-clad heart. Impetuous to his aid

brother Alcanor came, and lifted up

with strong right hand his brother as he fell:

but through his arm a second skilful shaft

made bloody way, and by the sinews held

the lifeless right hand from the shoulder swung.

Then from his brother's body Numitor

the weapon plucked and hurled it, furious,

upon Aeneas; but it could not strike

the hero's self, and grazed along the thigh

of great Achates. Next into the fight

Clausus of Cures came, in youthful bloom

exulting, and with far-thrown javelin

struck Dryops at the chin, and took away

from the gashed, shrieking throat both life and voice;

the warrior's fallen forehead smote the dust;

his lips poured forth thick blood. There also fell

three Thracians, odspring of the lordly stem

of Boreas, and three of Idas' sons

from 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 sides

each charges on the foe. Ausonia's strand

is one wide strife. As when o'er leagues of air

the envious winds give battle to their peers,

well-matched in rage and power; and neither they

nor clouds above, nor plunging seas below

will end the doubtful war, but each withstands

the onset of the whole—in such wild way

the line of Trojans on the Latian line

hurls itself, limb on limb and man on man.

But at a distance where the river's flood

had scattered rolling boulders and torn trees

uprooted from the shore, young Pallas spied

th' Arcadian band, unused to fight on foot,

in full retreat, the Latins following close—

who also for the roughness of the ground

were all unmounted: he (the last resource

of men in straits) to wild entreaty turned

and 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 name

a rival glory,—think not ye can fly!

Your swords alone can carve ye the safe way

straight through your foes. Where yonder warrior-throng

is fiercest, thickest, there and only there

your Country's honor calls for men like you,

and for your captain Pallas. Nay, no gods

against us fight; we are but mortal men

pressed by a mortal foe. Not more than ours

the number of their lives or swords. Behold,

the barrier of yonder spreading sea

emprisons us, and for a craven flight

yon lands are all too small. Ha! Shall we steer

across the sea to Troy ?” He said, and sprang

full in the centre of his gathered foes.

First in his path was Lagus, thither led

by evil stars; whom, as he tried to lift

a heavy stone, the shaft of Pallas pierced

where ribs and spine divide: backward he drew

the clinging spear; But Hisbo from above

surprised 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 Anchemolus

of Rhoetus' ancient line, who dared defile

his 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 proud

smiled at the dear deceit; but now in death

cruel unlikeness Pallas wrought; thy head

fell, hapless Thymber, by Evander's sword;

and thy right hand, Larides, shorn away,

seemed feeling for its Iord; the fingers cold

clutched, trembling, at the sword. Now all the troop

of Arcady, their chief's great action seen,

and by his warning roused, made at their foes,

spurred on by grief and shame. Next Pallas pierced

the flying Rhoetus in his car; this gained

for Ilus respite and delay, for him

the stout spear aimed at; but its flight was stopped

by 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 heels

along the Rutule plain. Oft when the winds

of summer, long awaited, rise and blow,

a shepherd fires the forest, and the blaze

devours the dense grove, while o'er the fields,

in that one moment, swift and sudden spread

grim Vulcan's serried flames; from some high seat

on distant hill, the shepherd peering down

sees, glad at heart, his own victorious fires:

so now fierce valor spreads, uniting all

in one confederate rage, 'neath Pallas' eyes.

But the fierce warrior Halaesus next

led on the charge, behind his skilful shield

close-crouching. Ladon and Demodocus

and Pheres he struck down; his glittering blade

cut Strymon's hand, which to his neck was raised,

sheer off; with one great stone he crushed the brows

of 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 declined

in death, the hand of Fate reached forth and doomed

the young life to Evander's sword; him now

Pallas assailed, first offering this prayer:

“O Father Tiber, give my poising shaft

through stout Halaesus' heart its lucky way!

The spoil and trophy of the hero slain

on thine own oak shall hang.” The god received

the vow, and while Halaesus held his shield

over Imaon, his ill-fated breast

lay naked to th' Arcadian's hungry spear.

But Lausus, seeing such a hero slain,

bade his troop have no fear, for he himself

was no small strength in war; and first he slew

Abas, who fought hard, and had ever seemed

himself the sticking-point and tug of war.

Down went Arcadia 's warriors, and slain

etruscans fell, with many a Trojan brave

the Greek had spared. Troop charges upon troop

well-matched in might, with chiefs of like renown;

the last rank crowds the first;—so fierce the press

scarce hand or sword can stir. Here Pallas stands,

and pushes back the foe; before him looms

Lausus, his youthful peer, conspicuous both

in beauty; but no star will them restore

to home and native land. Yet would the King

of high Olympus suffer not the pair

to close in battle, but each hero found

a later doom at hands of mightier foes.

Now Turnus' goddess-sister bids him haste

to 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 I

may strike at Pallas; unto me alone

the prize of Pallas falls. I would his sire

stood by to see.” He spake: his troop withdrew

a fitting space. But as they made him room,

the young prince, wondering at the scornful words,

looked upon Turnus, glancing up and down

that giant frame, and with fierce-frowning brows

scanned him from far, hurling defiant words

in answer to the King's. “My honor now

shall have the royal trophy of this war,

or glorious death. For either fortune fair

my 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 ran

to closer fight. As when some lion sees

from his far mountain-lair a raging bull

that sniffs the battle from the grassy field,

and down the steep he flies—such picture showed

grim Turnus as he came. But when he seemed

within a spear's cast, Pallas opened fight,

expecting Fortune's favor to the brave

in 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 divine

to this great deed. Let Turnus see these hands

strip from his half-dead breast the bloody spoil!

and let his eyes in death endure to see

his 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 recall

man's little time runs by: but to prolong

life'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 slain

Sarpedon, my own offspring. Turnus too

is summoned to his doom, and nears the bounds

of his appointed span.” So speaking, Jove

turned 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 steel

over the shoulders rose, and worked its way

through the shield's rim—then falling, glanced aside

from Turnus' giant body. Turnus then

poised, without haste, his iron-pointed spear,

and, launching it on Pallas, cried, “Look now

will 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 barrier

pierced Pallas' heart. The youth plucked out in vain

the hot shaft from the wound; his life and blood

together ebbed away, as sinking prone

on his rent side he fell; above him rang

his armor; and from lips with blood defiled

he breathed his last upon his foeman's ground.

Over him Turnus stood: “Arcadians all,”

He cried, “take tidings of this feat of arms

to King Evander. With a warrior's wage

his Pallas I restore, and freely grant

what glory in a hero's tomb may lie,

or comfort in a grave. They dearly pay

who bid Aeneas welcome at their board.”

So saying, with his left foot he held down

the lifeless form, and raised the heavy weight

of graven belt, which pictured forth that crime

of youthful company by treason slain,

all on their wedding night, in bridal bowers

to horrid murder given,—which Clonus, son

of 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 bounds

in prosperous days! To Turnus comes the hour

when he would fain a prince's ransom give

had Pallas passed unscathed, and will bewail

cuch spoil of victory. With weeping now

and lamentations Ioud his comrades lay

young Pallas on his shield, and thronging close

carry him homeward with a mournful song:

alas! the sorrow and the glorious gain

thy sire shall have in thee. For one brief day

bore thee to battle and now bears away;

yet leavest thou full tale of foemen slain.

No doubtful rumor to Aeneas breaks

the direful news, but a sure messenger

tells him his followers' peril, and implores

prompt help for routed Troy . His ready sword

reaped down the nearest foes, and through their line

clove furious path and broad; the valiant blade

through oft-repeated bloodshed groped its way,

proud Turnus, unto thee! His heart beholds

Pallas and Sire Evander, their kind board

in welcome spread, their friendly league of peace

proffered and sealed with him, the stranger-guest.

So Sulmo's sons, four warriors, and four

of Ufens sprung, he took alive—to slay

as victims to the shades, and pour a stream

of captives' blood upon a flaming pyre.

Next from afar his hostile shaft he threw

at Mago, who with wary motion bowed

beneath the quivering weapon, as it sped

clean over him; then at Aeneas' knees

he crouched and clung with supplicating cry:

“O, by thy father's spirit, by thy hope

in young Iulus, I implore thee, spare

for son and father's sake this life of mine.

A lofty house have I, where safely hid

are stores of graven silver and good weight

of wrought and unwrought gold. The fate of war

hangs not on me; nor can one little life

thy victory decide.” In answer spoke

Aeneas: “Hoard the silver and the gold

for thy own sons. Such bartering in war

finished with Turnus, when fair Pallas fell.

Thus bids Anchises' shade, Iulus—thus!”

He spoke: and, grasping with his mighty left

the 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 towered

above the fallen form, o'ermantling it

in mortal shade; Serestus bore away

those famous arms a trophy vowed to thee,

Gradivus, Iord of war! Soon to fresh fight

came Caeculus, a child of Vulcan's line,

and Umbro on the Marsic mountains bred:

these met the Trojan's wrath. His sword shore off

Anxur 's left hand, and the whole orbed shield

dropped earthward at the stroke: though Anxur 's tongue

had boasted mighty things, as if great words

would make him strong, and lifting his proud heart

as high as heaven, had hoped perchance to see

gray hairs and length of days. Then Tarquitus

strode forth, exulting in his burnished arms

(Him Dryope, the nymph, to Faunus bore),

and dared oppose Aeneas' rage. But he

drew back his lance and, charging, crushed at once

corselet and ponderous shield; then off he struck

the supplicating head, which seemed in vain

preparing speech; while o'er the reeking corpse

the victor stood, and thrusting it away

spoke thus with wrathful soul: “Now lie thou there,

thou fearsome sight! No noble mother's hand

shall hide thee in the ground, or give those limbs

to their ancestral tomb. Thou shalt be left

to birds of ravin; or go drifting far

along 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 bold

and Camers tawny-tressed, the son and heir

of Volscens the stout-hearted, whose domain

surpassed 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 breasts

blazed fifty fiery blasts, as he made war

with fifty sounding shields and fifty swords

against Jove's thunder;—so Aeneas raged

victorious o'er the field, when once his steel

warmed to its work. But lo, he turns him now

where come Niphaeus' bold-advancing wheels

and coursers four, who, when at furious speed

they faced his giant stride and dreadful cry,

upreared in panic, and reversing spilled

their captain to the ground, and bore away

the chariot to the river's distant shore.

Meanwhile, with two white coursers to their car,

the brothers Lucagus and Liger drove

into the heart of battle: Liger kept

with 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 meed

upon this very ground.” Such raving word

flowed loud from Liger's lip: not with a word

the Trojan hero answered him, but flung

his whirling spear; and even as Lucagus

leaned o'er the horses, goading them with steel,

and, left foot forward, gathered all his strength

to strike—the spear crashed through the under rim

of his resplendent shield and entered deep

in the left groin; then from the chariot fallen,

the youth rolled dying on the field, while thus

pious Aeneas paid him taunting words:

“O Lucagus, thy chariot did not yield

because of horses slow to fly, or scared

by shadows of a foe. It was thyself

leaped o'er the wheel and fled.” So saying, he grasped

the horses by the rein. The brother then,

spilled also from the car, reached wildly forth

his helpless hands: “O, by thy sacred head,

and by the parents who such greatness gave,

good Trojan, let me live! Some pity show

to prostrate me!” But ere he longer sued,

Aeneas cried, “Not so thy language ran

a moment gone! Die thou! Nor let this day

brother from brother part!” Then where the life

hides in the bosom, he thrust deep his sword.

Thus o'er the field of war the Dardan King

moved on, death-dealing: like a breaking flood

or cloudy whirlwind seemed his wrath. Straightway

the 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 fears

thy stern command? If I could claim to-day

what once I had, my proper right and due,

love's induence, I should not plead in vain

to thee, omnipotent, to give me power

to lead off Turnus from the fight unscathed,

and save him at his father Daunus' prayer.

Aye, let him die! And with his loyal blood

the Teucrians' vengeance feed! Yet he derives

from our Saturnian stem, by fourth remove

sprung from Pilumnus. Oft his liberal hands

have heaped unstinted offering at thy shrine.”

Thus in few words th' Olympian King replied:

“If for the fated youth thy prayer implores

delay and respite of impending doom,

if but so far thou bidst me interpose,—

go—favor Turnus' flight, and keep him safe

in this imperilled hour; I may concede

such boon. But if thy pleading words intend

some larger grace, and fain would touch or change

the issue of the war, then art thou fed

on expectation vain.” With weeping eyes

Juno made answer: “Can it be thy mind

gives what thy words refuse, and Turnus' life,

if rescued, may endure? Yet afterward

some cruel close his guiltless day shall see—

or far from truth I stray! O, that I were

the dupe of empty fears! and O, that thou

wouldst but refashion to some happier end

the things by thee begun—for thou hast power!”

She ceased; and swiftly from the peak of heaven

moved 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 framed

a 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 shade

stalked insolent, and with its voice and spear

challenged 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 scorn

flattered his own false hope: “Where wilt thou fly,

Aeneas? Wilt thou break a bridegroom's word?

This sword will give thee title to some land

thou hast sailed far to find!” So clamoring loud

he followed, flashing far his naked sword;

nor saw the light winds waft his dream away.

By chance in covert of a lofty crag

a ship stood fastened and at rest; her sides

showed ready bridge and stairway; she had brought

Osinius, king of Clusium . Thither came

Aeneas' 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 reached

the vessel's prow, when Juno cut her loose,

the cables breaking, and along swift waves

pushed her to sea. Yet in that very hour

Aeneas to the battle vainly called

the vanished foe, and round his hard-fought path

stretched many a hero dead. No longer now

the mocking shadow sought to hide, but soared

visibly upward and was Iost in cloud,

while Turnus drifted o'er the waters wide

before the wind. Bewildered and amazed

he looked around him; little joy had he

in his own safety, but upraised his hands

in 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 away

this Turnus—if 't is he? Shall I behold

Laurentum's towers once more? But what of those

my heroes yonder, who took oath to me,

and whom—O sin and shame!—I have betrayed

to horrible destruction? Even now

I see them routed, and my ears receive

their dying groans. What is this thing I do?

Where will the yawning earth crack wide enough

beneath my feet? Ye tempests, pity me!

On rocks and reef—'t is Turnus' faithful prayer,

let this bark founder; fling it on the shoals

of wreckful isles, where no Rutulian eye

can follow me, or Rumor tell my shame.”

With such wild words his soul tossed to and fro,

not knowing if to hide his infamy

with his own sword and madly drive its blade

home to his heart, or cast him in the sea,

and, swimming to the rounded shore, renew

his battle with the Trojan foe. Three times

each fatal course he tried; but Juno's power

three times restrained, and with a pitying hand

the warrior's purpose barred. So on he sped

o'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 assault

against victorious Troy . The Tuscan ranks

meet round him, and press hard on him alone,

on him alone with vengeance multiplied

their host of swords they draw. As some tall cliff,

projecting to the sea, receives the rage

of winds and waters, and untrembling bears

vast, frowning enmity of seas and skies,—

so he. First Dolichaon's son he slew,

Hebrus ; then Latagus and Palmus, though

they fled amain; he smote with mighty stone

torn from the mountain, full upon the face

of Latagus; and Palmus he let lie

hamstrung and rolling helpless; he bestowed

the 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 Amycus

his 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 hills

by teeth of dogs (one who for many a year

was safe in pine-clad Vesulus, or roamed

the meres of Tiber , feeding in the reeds)

falls in the toils at last, and stands at bay,

raging and bristling, and no hunter dares

defy him or come near, but darts are hurled

from far away, with cries unperilous:

not otherwise, though righteous is their wrath

against Mezentius, not a man so bold

as face him with drawn sword, but at long range

they throw their shafts and with loud cries assail;

he, all unterrified, makes frequent stand,

gnashing his teeth, and shaking off their spears.