Aeneid

Virgil

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

  1. On restless pinions to the trembling town
  2. had voiceful Rumor hied, and to the ears
  3. of that lone mother of Euryalus
  4. relentless flown. Through all her feeble frame
  5. the chilling sorrow sped. From both her hands
  6. dropped web and shuttle; she flew shrieking forth,
  7. ill-fated mother! and with tresses torn,
  8. to the wide ramparts and the battle-line
  9. ran frantic, heeding naught of men-at-arms,
  10. nor peril nor the rain of falling spears;
  11. and thus with loud and lamentable cry
  12. filled all the air: “Is it in yonder guise,
  13. Euryalus, thou comest? Art thou he,
  14. last comfort of my life? O cruel one!
  15. Couldst thou desert me? When they thrust thee forth
  16. to death and danger, did they dare refuse
  17. a wretched mother's last embrace? But now —
  18. O woe is me!—upon this alien shore
  19. thou liest for a feast to Latin dogs
  20. and carrion birds. Nor did thy mother lead
  21. the mourners to thy grave, nor shut those eyes,
  22. nor wash the dreadful wounds, nor cover thee
  23. with the fair shroud, which many a night and day
  24. I swiftly wove, and at my web and loom
  25. forgot my years and sorrows. Whither now
  26. to seek and follow thee? What spot of earth
  27. holds the torn body and the mangled limbs?
  28. Is all the gift thou bringest home, dear child,
  29. this? O, was this the prize for which I came
  30. o'er land and sea? O, stab me very deep,
  31. if ye have any pity; hurl on me
  32. your every spear, Rutulians; make of me
  33. your swords' first work. Or, Father of the gods!
  34. Show mercy, thou! and with thy lightning touch
  35. this head accurst, and let it fall by thee
  36. down to the dark. For else what power is mine
  37. my tortured life to end?” Her agony
  38. smote on their listening souls; a wail of woe
  39. along the concourse ran. Stern men-at-arms
  40. felt valor for a moment sleep, and all
  41. their rage of battle fail. But while she stirred
  42. the passion of her grief, Ilioneus
  43. and young Iulus, weeping filial tears,
  44. bade Actor and Idaeus, lifting her
  45. in both their reverent arms, to bear her home.
  1. But now the brazen trumpet's fearsome song
  2. blares loud, and startled shouts of soldiery
  3. spread through the roaring sky. The Volscian band
  4. press to the siege, and, locking shield with shield,
  5. fill the great trenches, tear the palisades,
  6. or seek approach by ladders up the walls,
  7. where'er the line of the defenders thins, and light
  8. through their black circle shines. The Trojans pour
  9. promiscuous missiles down, and push out hard
  10. with heavy poles—so well have they been schooled
  11. to fight against long sieges. They fling down
  12. a crushing weight of rocks, in hope to break
  13. th' assailing line, where roofed in serried shields
  14. the foe each charge repels. But not for long
  15. the siegers stand; along their dense array
  16. the crafty Teucrians down the rampart roll
  17. a boulder like a hill-top, laying low
  18. the Rutule troop and crashing through their shields.
  19. Nor may the bold Rutulian longer hope
  20. to keep in cover, but essays to storm
  21. only with far-flung shafts the bastion strong.
  22. Here grim Mezentius, terrible to see,
  23. waved an Etrurian pine, and made his war
  24. with smoking firebrands; there, in equal rage,
  25. Messapus, the steed-tamer, Neptune's son,
  26. ripped down the palisade, and at the breach
  27. strung a steep path of ladders up the wall.