Aeneid

Virgil

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

What warrior first, whom last, did thy strong spear,
fierce virgin, earthward fling? Or what thy tale
of prostrate foes laid gasping on the ground?
Eunaeus first, the child of Clytius' Ioins,
whose bared breast, as he faced his foe, she pierced
with fir-tree javelin; from his lips outpoured
the blood-stream as he fell; and as he bit
the gory dust, he clutched his mortal wound.
Then Liris, and upon him Pagasus
she slew: the one clung closer to the reins
of his stabbed horse, and rolled off on the ground;
the other, flying to his fallen friend,
reached out a helpless hand; so both of these
fell on swift death together. Next in line
she smote Amastrus, son of Hippotas;
then, swift-pursuing, pierced with far-flung spear
Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon,
and Chromis; every shaft the virgin threw
laid low its Phrygian warrior. From afar
rode Ornytus on his Apulian steed,
bearing a hunter's uncouth arms; for cloak
he wore upon his shoulders broad a hide
from some wild bull stripped off; his helmet was
a wolf's great, gaping mouth, with either jaw
full of white teeth; the weapon in his hand,
a farmer's pole. He strode into the throng,
head taller than them all. But him she seized
and clove him through (his panic-stricken troop
gave her advantage), and with wrathful heart
she taunted thus the fallen: “Didst thou deem
this was a merry hunting in the wood
in chase of game? Behold, thy fatal day
befalls thee at a woman's hand, and thus
thy boasting answers. No small glory thou
unto the ghosts of thy dead sires wilt tell,
that 't was Camilla's javelin struck thee down.”

The turn of Butes and Orsilochus
came next, who were the Trojans, hugest twain:
yet Butes with her javelin-point she clove
from rearward, 'twixt the hauberk and the helm,
just where the horseman's neck showed white, and where
from shoulder leftward slung the light-weight shield.
From swift Orsilochus she feigned to fly,
through a wide circle sweeping, craftily
taking the inside track, pursuing so
her own pursuer; then she raised herself
to her full height, and through the warrior's helm
drove to his very skull with doubling blows
of her strong battle-axe,—while he implored
her mercy with loud prayers: his cloven brain
spilt o'er his face. Next in her pathway came—
but shrank in startled fear—the warrior son
of Aunus, haunter of the Apennine,
not least of the Ligurians ere his doom
cut short a life of lies. He, knowing well
no flight could save him from the shock of arms
nor turn the royal maid's attack, began
with words of cunning and insidious guile:
“What glory is it if a girl be bold,
on sturdy steed depending? Fly me not!
But, venturing with me on this equal ground,
gird thee to fight on foot. Soon shalt thou see
which one of us by windy boast achieves
a false renown.” He spoke; but she, to pangs
of keenest fury stung, gave o'er her steed
in charge of a companion, and opposed
her foe at equal vantage, falchion drawn,
on foot, and, though her shield no blazon bore,
of fear incapable. But the warrior fled,
thinking his trick victorious, and rode off
full speed, with reins reversed,—his iron heel
goading his charger's flight. Camilla cried:
“Ligurian cheat! In vain thy boastful heart
puffs thee so large; in vain thou hast essayed
thy father's slippery ways; nor shall thy trick
bring thee to guileful Aunus safely home.”
Herewith on winged feet that virgin bold
flew past the war-horse, seized the streaming rein,
and, fronting him, took vengeance on her foe
in bloody strokes: with not less ease a hawk,
dark bird of omen, from his mountain crag
pursues on pinions strong a soaring dove
to distant cloud, and, clutching with hooked claws,
holds tight and rips,—while through celestial air
the torn, ensanguined plumage floats along.