Aeneid

Virgil

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

  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.