Aeneid

Virgil

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

  1. By such discourse he stirred the burning blood
  2. of Turnus, who groaned loud and from his heart
  3. this utterance hurled: “O Drances, thou art rich
  4. in large words, when the day of battle calls
  5. for actions. If our senators convene
  6. thou comest early. But the council hall
  7. is not for swollen talk, such as thy tongue
  8. in safety tosses forth; so long as walls
  9. hold back thy foes, and ere the trenches flow
  10. with blood of brave men slain. O, rattle on
  11. in fluent thunder—thy habitual style!
  12. Brand me a coward, Drances, when thy sword
  13. has heaped up Trojan slain, and on the field
  14. thy shining trophies rise. Now may we twain
  15. our martial prowess prove. Our foe, forsooth,
  16. is not so far to seek; around yon wall
  17. he lies in siege: to front him let us fly!
  18. Why art thou tarrying? Wilt thou linger here,
  19. a soldier only in thy windy tongue,
  20. and thy swift, coward heels? Defeated, I?
  21. Foul wretch, what tongue that honors truth can tell
  22. of my defeat, while Tiber overflows
  23. with Trojan blood? while King Evander's house
  24. in ruin dies, and his Arcadians lie
  25. stripped naked on the field? O, not like thee
  26. did Bitias or the giant Pandarus
  27. misprize my honor; nor those men of Troy
  28. whom this good sword to death and dark sent down,
  29. a thousand in a day,—though I was penned
  30. a prisoner in the ramparts of my foe.
  1. War will not save us? Fling that prophecy
  2. on the doomed Dardan's head, or on thy own,
  3. thou madman! Aye, with thy vile, craven soul
  4. disturb the general cause. Extol the power
  5. of a twice-vanquished people, and decry
  6. Latinus' rival arms. From this time forth
  7. let all the Myrmidonian princes cower
  8. before the might of Troy; let Diomed
  9. and let Achilles tremble; let the stream
  10. of Aufidus in panic backward flow
  11. from Hadria's wave. But hear me when I say
  12. that though his guilt and cunning feign to feel
  13. fear of my vengeance, much embittering so
  14. his taunts and insult—such a life as his
  15. my sword disdains. O Drances, be at ease!
  16. In thy vile bosom let thy breath abide!
  17. But now of thy grave counsel and thy cause,
  18. O royal sire, I speak. If from this hour
  19. thou castest hope of armed success away,
  20. if we be so unfriended that one rout
  21. o'erwhelms us utterly, if Fortune's feet
  22. never turn backward, let us, then, for peace
  23. offer petition, lifting to the foe
  24. our feeble, suppliant hands. Yet would I pray
  25. some spark of manhood such as once we knew
  26. were ours once more! I count him fortunate,
  27. and of illustrious soul beyond us all,
  28. who, rather than behold such things, has fallen
  29. face forward, dead, his teeth upon the dust.
  30. But if we still have power, and men-at-arms
  31. unwasted and unscathed, if there survive
  32. Italian tribes and towns for help in war,
  33. aye! if the Trojans have but won success
  34. at bloody cost,—for they dig graves, I ween,
  35. storm-smitten not less than we,—O, wherefore now
  36. stand faint and shameful on the battle's edge?
  37. Why quake our knees before the trumpet call?
  38. Time and the toil of shifting, changeful days
  39. restore lost causes; ebbing tides of chance
  40. deceive us oft, which after at their flood
  41. do lift us safe to shore. If aid come not
  42. from Diomed in Arpi, our allies
  43. shall be Mezentius and Tolumnius,
  44. auspicious name, and many a chieftain sent
  45. from many a tribe; not all inglorious
  46. are Latium's warriors from Laurentian land!
  47. Hither the noble Volscian stem sends down
  48. Camilla with her beauteous cavalry
  49. in glittering brass arrayed. But if, forsooth,
  50. the Trojans call me singly to the fight,
  51. if this be what ye will, and I so much
  52. the public weal impair—when from this sword
  53. has victory seemed to fly away in scorn?
  54. I should not hopeless tread in honor's way
  55. whate'er the venture. Dauntless will I go
  56. though equal match for great Achilles, he,
  57. and though he clothe him in celestial arms
  58. in Vulcan's smithy wrought. I, Turnus, now,
  59. not less than equal with great warriors gone,
  60. vow to Latinus, father of my bride,
  61. and to ye all, each drop of blood I owe.
  62. Me singly doth Aeneas call? I crave
  63. that challenge. Drances is not called to pay
  64. the debt of death, if wrath from Heaven impend;
  65. nor his a brave man's name and fame to share.”