Aeneid

Virgil

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

  1. Above his faltering terror gleams in air
  2. Aeneas' fatal spear; whose eye perceived
  3. the moment of success, and all whose strength
  4. struck forth: the vast and ponderous rock outflung
  5. from engines which make breach in sieged walls
  6. not louder roars nor breaks in thunder-sound
  7. more terrible; like some black whirlwind flew
  8. the death-delivering spear, and, rending wide
  9. the corselet's edges and the heavy rim
  10. of the last circles of the seven-fold shield,
  11. pierced, hissing, through the thigh. Huge Turnus sinks
  12. o'erwhelmed upon the ground with doubling knee.
  13. Up spring the Rutules, groaning; the whole hill
  14. roars answering round them, and from far and wide
  15. the lofty groves give back an echoing cry.
  16. Lowly, with suppliant eyes, and holding forth
  17. his hand in prayer: “I have my meed,” he cried,
  18. “Nor ask for mercy. Use what Fate has given!
  19. But if a father's grief upon thy heart
  20. have power at all,—for Sire Anchises once
  21. to thee was dear,—I pray thee to show grace
  22. to Daunus in his desolate old age;
  23. and me, or, if thou wilt, my lifeless clay,
  24. to him and his restore. For, lo, thou art
  25. my conqueror! Ausonia's eyes have seen
  26. me suppliant, me fallen. Thou hast made
  27. Lavinia thy bride. Why further urge
  28. our enmity?”With swift and dreadful arms
  29. Aeneas o'er him stood, with rolling eyes,
  30. but his bare sword restraining; for such words
  31. moved on him more and more: when suddenly,
  32. over the mighty shoulder slung, he saw
  33. that fatal baldric studded with bright gold
  34. which youthful Pallas wore, what time he fell
  35. vanquished by Turnus' stroke, whose shoulders now
  36. carried such trophy of a foeman slain.
  37. Aeneas' eyes took sure and slow survey
  38. of spoils that were the proof and memory
  39. of cruel sorrow; then with kindling rage
  40. and terrifying look, he cried, “Wouldst thou,
  41. clad in a prize stripped off my chosen friend,
  42. escape this hand? In this thy mortal wound
  43. 't is Pallas has a victim; Pallas takes
  44. the lawful forfeit of thy guilty blood!”
  45. He said, and buried deep his furious blade
  46. in the opposer's heart. The failing limbs
  47. sank cold and helpless; and the vital breath
  48. with moan of wrath to darkness fled away.