Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Thus Mars relentless holds in equal scale
- slaughters reciprocal and mutual woe;
- the victors and the vanquished kill or fall
- in equal measure; neither knows the way
- to yield or fly. Th' Olympians Iook down
- out of Jove's house, and pity as they see
- the unavailing wrath of either foe,
- and burdens measureless on mortals laid.
- Lo! Venus here, Saturnian Juno yon,
- in anxious watch; while pale Tisiphone
- moves on infuriate through the battling lines.
- On strode Mezentius o'er the gory plain,
- and swollen with rage waved wide-his awful spear.
- Like tall Orion when on foot he goes
- trough the deep sea and lifts his shoulders high
- above the waves; or when he takes his path
- along the mountain-tops, and has for staff
- an aged ash-tree, as he fixes firm
- his feet in earth and hides his brows in cloud;—
- so Ioomed Mezentius with his ponderous arms.
- To match him now, Aeneas, Iooking down
- the long array of war, came forth in arms
- to challenge and defy. But quailing not,
- a mass immovable, the other stood
- waiting his noble foe, and with a glance
- measured to cast his spear the space between.
- “May this right hand“, he said, “and this swift spear
- which here I poise, be favoring gods for me!
- The spoils from yonder robber's carcase stripped
- I vow to hang on thee, my Lausus, thou
- shalt stand for trophy of Aeneas slain.”
- He said, and hurled from far the roaring spear,
- which from the shield glanced off, and speeding still
- smote famed Antores 'twixt the loin and side—
- antores, friend of Hercules, who came
- from Argos, and had joined Evander's cause,
- abiding in Italia. Lo, a wound
- meant for another pierced him, and he lay,
- ill-fated! Iooking upward to the light,
- and dreaming of dear Argos as he died.
- Then good Aeneas hurled his spear; it passed
- through hollow orb of triple bronze, and through
- layers of flax and triple-twisted hides;
- then in the lower groin it lodged, but left
- its work undone. Aeneas, not ill-pleased
- to see the Tuscan wounded, swiftly drew
- the falchion from his thigh, and hotly pressed
- his startled foe. But Lausus at the sight
- groaned loud, so much he loved his father dear,
- and tears his cheek bedewed. O storied youth!
- If olden worth may win believing ear,
- let not my song now fail of thee to sing,
- thy noble deeds, thy doom of death and pain!
- Mezentius, now encumbered and undone,
- fell backward, trailing from the broken shield
- his foeman's spear. His son leaped wildly forth
- to join the fray; and where Aeneas' hand
- lifted to strike, he faced the thrusting sword
- and gave the hero pause. His comrades raised
- applauding cries, as shielded by his son
- the father made retreat; their darts they hurl,
- and vex with flying spears the distant foe:
- Aeneas, wrathful, stands beneath his shield.
- As when the storm-clouds break in pelting hail,
- the swains and ploughmen from the furrows fly,
- and every traveller cowers in sure defence
- of river-bank or lofty shelving crag,
- while far and wide it pours; and by and by,
- each, when the sun returns, his task pursues:
- so great Aeneas, by assault o'erwhelmed,
- endured the cloud of battle, till its rage
- thundered no more; then with a warning word
- to Lausus with upbraiding voice he called:
- “Why, O death-doomed, rush on to deeds too high
- for strength like thine. Thou art betrayed, rash boy,
- by thine own loyal heart!” But none the less
- the youth made mad defence; while fiercer burned
- the Trojan's anger; and of Lausus' days
- the loom of Fate spun forth the last thin thread;
- for now Aeneas thrust his potent blade
- deep through the stripling's breast and out of sight;
- through the light shield it passed—a frail defence
- to threaten with!—and through the tunic fine
- his mother's hand had wrought with softest gold:
- blood filled his bosom, and on path of air
- down to the shades the mournful soul withdrew,
- its body quitting. As Anchises' son
- beheld the agonizing lips and brow
- so wondrous white in death, he groaned aloud
- in pity, and reached o'er him his right hand,
- touched to the heart such likeness to behold
- of his own filial love. “Unhappy boy!
- What reward worthy of heroic deeds
- can I award thee now? Wear still those arms
- so proudly worn! And I will send thee home
- (Perhaps thou carest!) to the kindred shades
- and ashes of thy sires. But let it be
- some solace in thy pitiable doom
- that none but great Aeneas wrought thy fall.”
- Then to the stripling's tardy followers
- he sternly called, and lifted from the earth
- with his own hand the fallen foe: dark blood
- defiled those princely tresses braided fair.