Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- But lo! Aeneas—though the arrow's wound
- still slackens him and oft his knees refuse
- their wonted step—pursues infuriate
- his quailing foe, and dogs him stride for stride.
- As when a stag-hound drives the baffled roe
- to torrent's edge (or where the flaunting snare
- of crimson feathers fearfully confines)
- and with incessant barking swift pursues;
- while through the snared copse or embankment high
- the frightened creature by a thousand ways
- doubles and turns; but that keen Umbrian hound
- with wide jaws, undesisting, grasps his prey,
- or, thinking that he grasps it, snaps his teeth
- cracking together, and deludes his rage,
- devouring empty air: then peal on peal
- the cry of hunters bursts; the lake and shore
- reecho, and confusion fills the sky:—
- such was the flight of Turnus, who reviled
- the Rutules as he fled, and loudly sued
- of each by name to fetch his own lost sword.
- Aeneas vowed destruction and swift death
- to all who dared come near, and terrified
- their trembling souls with menace that his power
- would raze their city to the ground. Straightway,
- though wounded, he gave chase, and five times round
- in circles ran; then winding left and right
- coursed the swift circles o'er. For, lo! the prize
- is no light laurel or a youthful game:
- for Turnus' doom and death their race is run.