Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Soon Turnus, reckless of the risk, leaped forth,
- upreached his whole height to his lifted sword,
- and struck: the Trojans and the Latins pale
- cried mightily, and all eyes turned one way
- expectant. But the weak, perfidious sword
- broke off, and as the blow descended, failed
- its furious master, whose sole succor now
- was flight; and swifter than the wind he flew.
- But, lo! a hilt of form and fashion strange
- lay in his helpless hand. For in his haste,
- when to the battle-field his team he drove,
- his father's sword forgotten (such the tale),
- he snatched Metiscus' weapon. This endured
- to strike at Trojan backs, as he pursued,
- but when on Vulcan's armory divine
- its earthly metal smote, the brittle blade
- broke off like ice, and o'er the yellow sands
- in flashing fragments scattered. Turnus now
- takes mad flight o'er the distant plain, and winds
- in wavering gyration round and round;
- for Troy's close ring confines him, and one way
- a wide swamp lies, one way a frowning wall.