Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- The Rutules seized the spoils of victory,
- and slowly to their camp, with wail and cry,
- bore Volscens' corse; and in the eamp they made
- like wailing over Rhamnes lifeless found,
- o'er Numa and Serranus, and a throng
- of princes dead. The gazing people pressed
- around the slain, the dying, where the earth
- ran red with slaughter and full many a stream
- of trickling gore; nor did they fail to know
- Messapus' glittering helm, his baldric fair,
- recaptured now with lavish sweat and pain.
- Now, from Tithonus' saffron couch set free,
- Aurora over many a land outpoured
- the rising morn; the sun's advancing beam
- unveiled the world; and Turnus to his host
- gave signal to stand forth, while he arrayed
- himself in glorious arms. Then every chief
- awoke his mail-clad company, and stirred
- their slumbering wrath with tidings from the foe.
- Tumultuously shouting, they impaled
- on lifted spears—O pitiable sight! —
- the heads of Nisus and Euryalus.
- Th' undaunted Trojans stood in battle-line
- along the wall to leftward (for the right
- the river-front defended) keeping guard
- on the broad moat; upon the ramparts high
- sad-eyed they stood, and shuddered as they saw
- the hero-faces thrust aloft; too well
- their loyal grief the blood-stained features knew.
- On restless pinions to the trembling town
- had voiceful Rumor hied, and to the ears
- of that lone mother of Euryalus
- relentless flown. Through all her feeble frame
- the chilling sorrow sped. From both her hands
- dropped web and shuttle; she flew shrieking forth,
- ill-fated mother! and with tresses torn,
- to the wide ramparts and the battle-line
- ran frantic, heeding naught of men-at-arms,
- nor peril nor the rain of falling spears;
- and thus with loud and lamentable cry
- filled all the air: “Is it in yonder guise,
- Euryalus, thou comest? Art thou he,
- last comfort of my life? O cruel one!
- Couldst thou desert me? When they thrust thee forth
- to death and danger, did they dare refuse
- a wretched mother's last embrace? But now —
- O woe is me!—upon this alien shore
- thou liest for a feast to Latin dogs
- and carrion birds. Nor did thy mother lead
- the mourners to thy grave, nor shut those eyes,
- nor wash the dreadful wounds, nor cover thee
- with the fair shroud, which many a night and day
- I swiftly wove, and at my web and loom
- forgot my years and sorrows. Whither now
- to seek and follow thee? What spot of earth
- holds the torn body and the mangled limbs?
- Is all the gift thou bringest home, dear child,
- this? O, was this the prize for which I came
- o'er land and sea? O, stab me very deep,
- if ye have any pity; hurl on me
- your every spear, Rutulians; make of me
- your swords' first work. Or, Father of the gods!
- Show mercy, thou! and with thy lightning touch
- this head accurst, and let it fall by thee
- down to the dark. For else what power is mine
- my tortured life to end?” Her agony
- smote on their listening souls; a wail of woe
- along the concourse ran. Stern men-at-arms
- felt valor for a moment sleep, and all
- their rage of battle fail. But while she stirred
- the passion of her grief, Ilioneus
- and young Iulus, weeping filial tears,
- bade Actor and Idaeus, lifting her
- in both their reverent arms, to bear her home.
- But now the brazen trumpet's fearsome song
- blares loud, and startled shouts of soldiery
- spread through the roaring sky. The Volscian band
- press to the siege, and, locking shield with shield,
- fill the great trenches, tear the palisades,
- or seek approach by ladders up the walls,
- where'er the line of the defenders thins, and light
- through their black circle shines. The Trojans pour
- promiscuous missiles down, and push out hard
- with heavy poles—so well have they been schooled
- to fight against long sieges. They fling down
- a crushing weight of rocks, in hope to break
- th' assailing line, where roofed in serried shields
- the foe each charge repels. But not for long
- the siegers stand; along their dense array
- the crafty Teucrians down the rampart roll
- a boulder like a hill-top, laying low
- the Rutule troop and crashing through their shields.
- Nor may the bold Rutulian longer hope
- to keep in cover, but essays to storm
- only with far-flung shafts the bastion strong.
- Here grim Mezentius, terrible to see,
- waved an Etrurian pine, and made his war
- with smoking firebrands; there, in equal rage,
- Messapus, the steed-tamer, Neptune's son,
- ripped down the palisade, and at the breach
- strung a steep path of ladders up the wall.
- Aid, O Calliope, the martial song!
- Tell me what carnage and how many deaths
- the sword of Turnus wrought: what peer in arms
- each hero to the world of ghosts sent down.
- Unroll the war's great book before these eyes.