Aeneid

Virgil

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

  1. But lo! Aeneas—though the arrow's wound
  2. still slackens him and oft his knees refuse
  3. their wonted step—pursues infuriate
  4. his quailing foe, and dogs him stride for stride.
  5. As when a stag-hound drives the baffled roe
  6. to torrent's edge (or where the flaunting snare
  7. of crimson feathers fearfully confines)
  8. and with incessant barking swift pursues;
  9. while through the snared copse or embankment high
  10. the frightened creature by a thousand ways
  11. doubles and turns; but that keen Umbrian hound
  12. with wide jaws, undesisting, grasps his prey,
  13. or, thinking that he grasps it, snaps his teeth
  14. cracking together, and deludes his rage,
  15. devouring empty air: then peal on peal
  16. the cry of hunters bursts; the lake and shore
  17. reecho, and confusion fills the sky:—
  18. such was the flight of Turnus, who reviled
  19. the Rutules as he fled, and loudly sued
  20. of each by name to fetch his own lost sword.
  21. Aeneas vowed destruction and swift death
  22. to all who dared come near, and terrified
  23. their trembling souls with menace that his power
  24. would raze their city to the ground. Straightway,
  25. though wounded, he gave chase, and five times round
  26. in circles ran; then winding left and right
  27. coursed the swift circles o'er. For, lo! the prize
  28. is no light laurel or a youthful game:
  29. for Turnus' doom and death their race is run.
  1. But haply in that place a sacred tree,
  2. a bitter-leaved wild-olive, once had grown,
  3. to Faunus dear, and venerated oft
  4. by mariners safe-rescued from the waves,
  5. who nailed their gifts thereon, or hung in air
  6. their votive garments to Laurentum's god.
  7. But, heeding not, the Teucrians had shorn
  8. the stem away, to clear the field for war.
  9. 'T was here Aeneas' lance stuck fast; its speed
  10. had driven it firmly inward, and it clave
  11. to the hard, clinging root. Anchises' son
  12. bent o'er it, and would wrench his weapon free,
  13. and follow with a far-flung javelin
  14. the swift out-speeding foe. But Turnus then,
  15. bewildered and in terror, cried aloud:
  16. “O Faunus, pity me and heed my prayer!
  17. Hold fast his weapon, O benignant Earth!
  18. If ere these hands have rendered offering due,
  19. where yon polluting Teucrians fight and slay.”
  20. He spoke; invoking succor of the god,
  21. with no Iost prayer. For tugging valiantly
  22. and laboring long against the stubborn stem,
  23. Aeneas with his whole strength could but fail
  24. to Ioose the clasping tree. While fiercely thus
  25. he strove and strained, Juturna once again,
  26. wearing the charioteer Metiscus' shape,
  27. ran to her brother's aid, restoring him
  28. his own true sword. But Venus, wroth to see
  29. what license to the dauntless nymph was given,
  30. herself came near, and plucked from that deep root
  31. the javelin forth. So both with lofty mien
  32. strode forth new-armed, new-hearted: one made bold
  33. by his good sword, the other, spear in hand,
  34. uptowered in wrath, and with confronting brows
  35. they set them to the war-god's breathless game.