Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Thus in their doubtful cause the chieftains strove.
- Meanwhile Aeneas his assaulting line
- moved forward. The ill tidings wildly sped
- from royal hall to hall, and filled the town
- with rumors dark: for now the Trojan host
- o'er the wide plains from Tiber's wave was spread
- in close array of war. The people's soul
- was vexed and shaken, and its martial rage
- rose to the stern compulsion. Now for arms
- their terror calls; the youthful soldiery
- clamor for arms; the sires of riper days
- weep or repress their tears. On every side
- loud shouts and cries of dissonant acclaim
- trouble the air, as when in lofty grove
- legions of birds alight, or by the flood
- of Padus' fishy stream the shrieking swans
- far o'er the vocal marish fling their song.
- Then, seizing the swift moment, Turnus cried:
- “Once more, my countrymen,—ye sit in parle,
- lazily praising peace, while yonder foe
- speeds forth in arms our kingdom to obtain.”
- He spoke no more, but hied him in hot haste,
- and from the housetop called, “Volusus, go!
- Equip the Volscian companies! Lead forth
- my Rutules also! O'er the spreading plain,
- ye brothers Coras and Messapus range
- our host of cavalry! Let others guard
- the city's gates and hold the walls and towers:
- I and my followers elsewhere oppose
- the shock of arms.” Now to and fro they run
- to man the walls. Father Latinus quits—
- the place of council and his large design,
- vexed and bewildered by the hour's distress.
- He blames his own heart that he did not ask
- Trojan Aeneas for his daughter's Iord,
- and gain him for his kingdom's lasting friend.
- They dig them trenches at the gates, or lift
- burden of stakes and stones. The horn's harsh note
- sounds forth its murderous signal for the war;
- striplings and women, in a motley ring,
- defend the ramparts; the decisive hour
- lays tasks on all. Upon the citadel
- a train of matrons, with the doleful Queen,
- toward Pallas' temple moves, and in their hand
- are gifts and offerings. See, at their side
- the maid Lavinia, cause of all these tears,
- drops down her lovely eyes! The incense rolls
- in clouds above the altar; at the doors
- with wailing voice the women make this prayer:
- “Tritonian virgin, arbitress of war!
- Break of thyself yon Phrygian robber's spear!
- Hurl him down dying in the dust! Spill forth
- his evil blood beneath our lofty towers!”
- Fierce Turnus girds him, emulous to slay:
- a crimson coat of mail he wears, with scales
- of burnished bronze; beneath his knees are bound
- the golden greaves; upon his naked brow
- no helm he wears; but to his thigh is bound
- a glittering sword. Down from the citadel
- runs he, a golden glory, in his heart
- boldly exulting, while impatient hope
- fore-counts his fallen foes. He seemed as when,
- from pinfold bursting, breaking his strong chain,
- th' untrammelled stallion ranges the wide field,
- or tries him to a herd of feeding mares,
- or to some cooling river-bank he knows,
- most fierce and mettlesome; the streaming mane
- o'er neck and shoulder flies. Across his path
- Camilla with her Volscian escort came,
- and at the city-gate the royal maid
- down from her charger leaped; while all her band
- at her example glided to the ground,
- their horses leaving. Thus the virgin spoke:
- “Turnus, if confidence beseem the brave,
- I have no fear; but of myself do vow
- to meet yon squadrons of Aeneadae
- alone, and front me to the gathered charge
- of Tuscan cavalry. Let me alone
- the war's first venture-prove. Take station, thou,
- here at the walls, this rampart to defend.”
- With fixed eyes on the terror-striking maid,
- Turnus replied, “O boast of Italy,
- O virgin bold! What praise, what gratitude
- can words or deeds repay? But since thy soul
- so large of stature shows, I bid thee share
- my burden and my war. Our spies bring news
- that now Aeneas with pernicious mind
- sends light-armed horse before him, to alarm
- the plains below, while through the wilderness
- he climbs the steep hills, and approaches so
- our leaguered town. But I in sheltered grove
- a stratagem prepare, and bid my men
- in ambush at a mountain cross-road lie.
- Meet thou the charge of Tuscan cavalry
- with all thy banners. For auxiliar strength
- take bold Messapus with his Latin troop
- and King Tiburtus' men: but the command
- shall be thy task and care.” He spoke, and urged
- with like instruction for the coming fray
- Messapus and his captains; then advanced
- to meet the foe. There is a winding vale
- for armed deception and insidious war
- well fashioned, and by interlacing leaves
- screened darkly in; a small path thither leads,
- through strait defile-a passage boding ill.
- Above it, on a mountain's lofty brow,
- are points of outlook, level spaces fair,
- and many a safe, invisible retreat
- from whence on either hand to challenge war,
- or, standing on the ridges, to roll down
- huge mountain boulders. Thither Turnus fared,
- and, ranging the familiar tract, chose out
- his cunning ambush in the dangerous grove.
- But now in dwellings of the gods on high,
- Diana to fleet-footed Opis called,
- a virgin from her consecrated train,
- and thus in sorrow spoke: “O maiden mine!
- Camilla now to cruel conflict flies;
- with weapons like my own she girds her side,
- in vain, though dearest of all nymphs to me.
- Nor is it some new Iove that stirs to-day
- with sudden sweetness in Diana's breast:
- for long ago, when from his kingdom driven,
- for insolent and envied power, her sire
- King Metabus, from old Privernum's wall
- was taking flight amidst opposing foes,
- he bore a little daughter in his arms
- to share his exile; and he called the child
- (Changing Casmilla, her queen-mother's name)
- Camilla. Bearing on his breast the babe,
- he fled to solitary upland groves.
- But hovering round him with keen lances, pressed
- the Volscian soldiery. Across his path,
- lo, Amasenus with full-foaming wave
- o'erflowed its banks—so huge a rain had burst
- but lately from the clouds. There would he fain
- swim over, but the love of that sweet babe
- restrained him, trembling for his burden dear.
- In his perplexed heart suddenly arose
- firm resolve. It chanced the warrior bore
- huge spear in his brawny hand, strong shaft
- of knotted, seasoned oak; to this he lashed
- his little daughter with a withe of bark
- pulled from a cork-tree, and with skilful bonds
- fast bound her to the spear; then, poising it
- high in his right hand, thus he called on Heaven: