Aeneid

Virgil

Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.

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.