Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- The warrior-maid Juturna, seeing this,
- distraught with terror, strikes down from his place
- Metiscus, Turnus' charioteer, who dropped
- forward among the reins and off the pole.
- Him leaving on the field, her own hand grasped
- the loosely waving reins, while she took on
- Metiscus' shape, his voice, and blazoned arms.
- As when through some rich master's spacious halls
- speeds the black swallow on her lightsome wing,
- exploring the high roof, or harvesting
- some scanty morsel for her twittering brood,
- round empty corridors or garden-pools
- noisily flitting: so Juturna roams
- among the hostile ranks, and wings her way
- behind the swift steeds of the whirling car.
- At divers points she lets the people see
- her brother's glory, but not yet allows
- the final tug of war; her pathless flight
- keeps far away. Aeneas too must take
- a course circuitous, and follows close
- his foeman's track; Ioud o'er the scattered lines
- he shouts his challenge. But whene'er his eyes
- discern the foe, and fain he would confront
- the flying-footed steeds, Juturna veers
- the chariot round and flies. What can he do?
- Aeneas' wrath storms vainly to and fro,
- and wavering purposes his heart divide.
- Against him lightly leaped Messapus forth,
- bearing two pliant javelins tipped with steel;
- and, whirling one in air, he aimed it well,
- with stroke unfailing. Great Aeneas paused
- in cover of his shield and crouched low down
- upon his haunches. But the driven spear
- battered his helmet's peak and plucked away
- the margin of his plume. Then burst his rage:
- his cunning foes had forced him; so at last,
- while steeds and chariot in the distance fly,
- he plunged him in the fray, and called on Jove
- the altars of that broken oath to see.
- Now by the war-god's favor he began
- grim, never-pitying slaughter, and flung free
- the bridle of his rage.