Aeneid

Virgil

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

Now to the Latins Mars, the lord of war,
gave might and valor, and to their wild hearts
his spur applied, but on the Teucrians breathed
dark fear and flight. From every quarter came
auxiliar hosts, where'er the conflict called,
and in each bosom pulsed the god of war.
When Pandarus now saw his brother's corse
low Iying, and which way the chance and tide
of battle ran, he violently moved
the swinging hinges of the gate, and strained
with both his shoulders broad. He shut outside
not few of his own people, left exposed
in fiercest fight but others with himself
he barred inside and saved them as they fled;
nor noted, madman, how the Rutule King
had burst in midmost of the line, and now
stood prisoned in their wall, as if he were
some monstrous tiger among helpless kine.
His eyeballs strangely glared; his armor rang
terrific, his tall crest shook o'er his brows
blood-red, and lightnings glittered from his shield
familiar loomed that countenance abhorred
and frame gigantic on the shrinking eyes
of the Aeneadae. Then Pandarus
sprang towering forth, all fever to revenge
his brother's slaughter. “Not this way,” he cried
“Amata's marriage-gift! No Ardea here
mews Turnus in his fathers' halls. Behold
thy foeman's castle! Thou art not allowed
to take thy leave.” But Turnus looked his way,
and smiled with heart unmoved. “Begin! if thou
hast manhood in thee, and meet steel with steel!
Go tell dead Priam thou discoverest here
Achilles!” For reply, the champion tall
hurled with his might and main along the air
his spear of knotted wood and bark untrimmed.
But all it wounded was the passing wind,
for Saturn's daughter turned its course awry,
and deep in the great gate the spear-point drove.
“Now from the stroke this right arm means for thee
thou shalt not fly. Not such the sender of
this weapon and this wound.” He said, and towered
aloft to his full height; the lifted sword
clove temples, brows, and beardless cheeks clean through
with loudly ringing blow; the ground beneath
shook with the giant's ponderous fall, and, lo,
with nerveless limbs, and brains spilt o'er his shield,
dead on the earth he lay! in equal halves
the sundered head from either shoulder swung.

In horror and amaze the Trojans all
dispersed and fled; had but the conqueror thought
to break the barriers of the gates and call
his followers through, that fatal day had seen
an ending of the Teucrians and their war.
But frenzied joy of slaughter urged him on,
infuriate, to smite the scattering foe.
First Phaleris he caught; then cut the knees
of Gyges; both their spears he snatched away
and hurled them at the rout; 't was Juno roused
his utmost might of rage. Now Halys fell,
and Phegeus, whom he pierced right through the shield:
next, at the walls and urging reckless war,
Alcander, Halius, and Noemon gave
their lives, and Prytanis went down. In vain
Lynceus made stand and called his comrades brave:
for Turnus from the right with waving sword
caught at him and lopped off with one swift blow
the head, which with its helmet rolled away.
Next Amycus, destroyer of wild beasts,
who knew full well to smear a crafty barb
with venomed oil; young Clytius he slew,
son of the wind-god; then on Cretheus fell,
a follower of the muses and their friend:
Cretheus, whose every joy it was to sing,
and fit his numbers to the chorded Iyre;
steeds, wars, armed men were his perpetual song.

At last the Teucrian chiefs had heard the tale
of so much slaughter; and in council met
are Mnestheus and Serestus bold, who see
their comrades routed and the conquering foe
within the gates. Cries Mnestheus, “Whither fly?
What open way is yonder or what wall?
Beyond these ramparts lost what stronger lie?
Shall one lone man here in your walls confined,
make havoc unavenged and feed the grave
with your best warriors? 0 cowards vile!
For your sad country and her ancient gods
and for renowned Aeneas, can ye feel
no pity and no shame?” Enflamed to fight
by words like these, they close the line, and stand
in strong array. So Turnus for a space
out of the battle step by step withdrew
to make the river-bank his rearguard strong;
whereat the Teucrians, shouting loud, swept on
the fiercer, and in solid mass pressed round.
as when a troop of hunters with keen spears
encircle a wild lion, who in fear,
but glaring grim and furious, backward falls,
valor and rage constrain him ne'er to cease
fronting the foe; yet not for all his ire
can he against such serried steel make way:
so Turnus backward with a lingering step
unwilling drew, and wrath his heart oterflowed.
for twice already had he cloven a path
into the foe's mid-press, and twice had driven
their flying lines in panic through the town.
But now the whole throng from the camp he sees
massed to the onset. Nor will Juno now
dare give him vigor to withstand, for Jove
had sent aerial Iris out of heaven
with stern commandment to his sister-queen
that Turnus from the Teucrian walls retire.
Therefore the warrior's shield avails no more,
nor his strong arm; but he is overthrown
by general assault. Around his brows
his smitten helmet rings; the ponderous mail
cracks under falling stones; the haughty plumes
are scattered from his head, nor can the boss
of his stout shield endure; the Trojans hurl
redoubled rain of spears; and with them speeds
Mnestheus like thunderbolt. The hero's flesh
dissolves in sweat; no room to breathe has he;
his limbs are spent and weary; his whole frame
shakes with his gasping breath: then bounding fort
with all his harness on, headlong he plunged
into the flowing stream; its yellow tide
embraced him as he fell, and gentle waves
restored him smiling to his friends in arms,
with all the gore and carnage washed away.

Meanwhile Olympus, seat of sovereign sway,
threw wide its portals, and in conclave fair
the Sire of gods and King of all mankind
summoned th' immortals to his starry court,
whence, high-enthroned, the spreading earth he views—
and Teucria's camp and Latium's fierce array.
Beneath the double-gated dome the gods
were sitting; Jove himself the silence broke:
“O people of Olympus, wherefore change
your purpose and decree, with partial minds
in mighty strife contending? I refused
such clash of war 'twixt Italy and Troy.
Whence this forbidden feud? What fears
seduced to battles and injurious arms
either this folk or that? Th' appointed hour
for war shall be hereafter—speed it not!—
When cruel Carthage to the towers of Rome
shall bring vast ruin, streaming fiercely down
the opened Alp. Then hate with hate shall vie,
and havoc have no bound. Till then, give o'er,
and smile upon the concord I decree!”

Thus briefly, Jove. But golden Venus made
less brief reply. “O Father, who dost hold
o'er Man and all things an immortal sway!
Of what high throne may gods the aid implore
save thine? Behold of yonder Rutuli
th' insulting scorn! Among them Turnus moves
in chariot proud, and boasts triumphant war
in mighty words. Nor do their walls defend
my Teucrians now. But in their very gates,
and on their mounded ramparts, in close fight
they breast their foes and fill the moats with blood.
Aeneas knows not, and is far away.
Will ne'er the siege have done? A second time
above Troy's rising walls the foe impends;
another host is gathered, and once more
from his Aetolian Arpi wrathful speeds
a Diomed. I doubt not that for me
wounds are preparing. Yea, thy daughter dear
awaits a mortal sword! If by thy will
unblest and unapproved the Trojans came
to Italy, for such rebellious crime
give them their due, nor lend them succor, thou,
with thy strong hand! But if they have obeyed
unnumbered oracles from gods above
and sacred shades below, who now has power
to thwart thy bidding, or to weave anew
the web of Fate? Why speak of ships consumed
along my hallowed Erycinian shore?
Or of the Lord of Storms, whose furious blasts
were summoned from Aeolia? Why tell
of Iris sped from heaven? Now she moves
the region of the shades (one kingdom yet
from her attempt secure) and thence lets loose
Alecto on the world above, who strides
in frenzied wrath along th' Italian hills.
No more my heart now cherishes its hope
of domination, though in happier days
such was thy promise. Let the victory fall
to victors of thy choice! If nowhere lies
the land thy cruel Queen would deign accord
unto the Teucrian people,—O my sire,
I pray thee by yon smouldering wreck of Troy
to let Ascanius from the clash of arms
escape unscathed. Let my own offspring live!
Yea, let Aeneas, tossed on seas unknown,
find some chance way; let my right hand avail
to shelter him and from this fatal war
in safety bring. For Amathus is mine,
mine are Cythera and the Paphian hills
and temples in Idalium. Let him drop
the sword, and there live out inglorious days.
By thy decree let Carthage overwhelm
Ausonia's power; nor let defence be found
to stay the Tyrian arms! What profits it
that he escaped the wasting plague of war
and fled Argolic fires? or that he knew
so many perils of wide wilderness
and waters rude? The Teucrians seek in vain
new-born Troy in Latium. Better far
crouched on their country's ashes to abide,
and keep that spot of earth where once was Troy!
Give back, O Father, I implore thee, give
Xanthus and Simois back! Let Teucer's sons
unfold once more the tale of Ilium's woe!”