Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- But now the Queen, whose whole heart shrank in fear
- from these new terms of duel, wept aloud,
- and like one dying clasped her fiery son:
- “O Turnus, by these tears-if in thy heart
- thou honorest Amata still—O thou
- who art of our distressful, dark old age
- the only hope and peace, the kingly name
- and glory of Latinus rests in thee;
- thou art the mighty prop whereon is stayed
- our falling house. One favor I implore:
- give o'er this fight with Trojans. In such strife
- thy destined doom is destined to be mine
- by the same fatal stroke. For in that hour
- this hated life shall cease, nor will I look
- with slave's eyes on Aeneas as my son.”
- Lavinia heard her mother's voice, and tears
- o'erflowed her scarlet cheek, where blushes spread
- like flame along her warm, young face and brow:
- as when the Indian ivory must wear
- ensanguined crimson stain, or lilies pale
- mingled with roses seem to blush, such hues
- her virgin features bore; and love's desire
- disturbed his breast, as, gazing on the maid,
- his martial passion fiercer flamed; whereon
- in brief speech he addressed the Queen: “No tears!
- No evil omen, mother, I implore!
- Make me no sad farewells, as I depart
- to the grim war-god's game! Can Turnus' hand
- delay death's necessary coming? Go,
- Idmon, my herald, to the Phrygian King,
- and tell him this—a word not framed to please:
- soon as Aurora from her crimson car
- flushes to-morrow's sky, let him no more
- against the Rutule lead the Teucrian line;
- let Teucrian swords and Rutule take repose,
- while with our own spilt blood we twain will make
- an end of war; on yonder mortal field
- let each man woo Lavinia for his bride.”