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