Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  Turned shoreward; yea, a sea of ships onsetting toward the shore.

  Yea, and the helm is all ablaze, beams from the crest outpour,

  The golden shield-boss wide about a world of flame doth shed.

  E’en so, amid the clear of night, the comets bloody-red

  Blush woeful bright; nor otherwise is Sirius’ burning wrought,

  When drought and plagues for weary men the birth of him hath wrought,

  And that unhappy light of his hath saddened all the heaven.

  But nought from Turnus’ hardy heart was high hope ever driven

  To take the strand of them and thrust those comers from the shore:

  Eager he chid, hot-heart, with words men’s courage he upbore:

  “Lo, now your prayers have come about, that hand meet hand in strife,

  And Mars is in the brave man’s hand: let each one’s home and wife

  Be in his heart! Call ye to mind those mighty histories,

  The praises of our father-folk! Come, meet them in the seas,

  Amid their tangle, while their feet yet totter on the earth:

  For Fortune helpeth them that dare.”

  So saying, he turneth in his mind with whom on these to fall,

  And unto whom to leave meanwhile the leaguering of the wall.

  Meanwhile Æneas from his ships high-built his folk doth speed

  Ashore by bridges: many men no less the back-draught heed

  Of the spent seas, and, trusting shoals, they make the downward leap;

  And others slide adown the oars. Tarchon the shore doth sweep,

  Espying where the waves break not, nor back the sea doth roar,

  But where the sea-flood harmlessly with full tide swims ashore,

  And thither straight he lays his keels, and prays unto his folk:

  “O chosen, on the stark oars lay! now up unto the stroke;

  Bear on the ships, and with your beaks cleave ye this foeman’s earth;

  And let the very keels themselves there furrow them their berth.

  On such a haven nought I heed, though ship and all we break,

  If once we gain the land.”

  Therewith, as such a word he spake,

  His fellows rise together hard on every shaven tree,

  In mind to bear their ships befoamed up on the Latin lea,

  Until their tynes are high and dry, and fast is every keel

  Unhurt: save, Tarchon, thine alone, that winneth no such weal;

  For on the shallows driven aground, on evil ridge unmeet,

  She hangeth balanced a long while, and doth the waters beat;

  Then, breaking, droppeth down her men amidmost of the waves,

  Entangled in the wreck of oars, and floating thwarts and staves;

  And in the back-draught of the seas their feet are caught withal.

  No dull delay holds Turnus back; but fiercely doth he fall,

  With all his host, on them of Troy, and meets them on the strand.

  The war-horns sing. Æneas first breaks through the field-folk’s band,

  — Fair omen of the fight — and lays the Latin folk alow.

  Thero he slays, most huge of men, whose own heart bade him go

  Against Æneas: through the links of brass the sword doth fare,

  And through the kirtle’s scaly gold, and wastes the side laid bare.

  Then Lichas smites he, ripped erewhile from out his mother dead,

  And hallowed, Phoebus, unto thee, because his baby head

  Had ‘scaped the steel: nor far from thence he casteth down to die

  Hard Cisseus, Gyas huge, who there beat down his company

  With might of clubs; nought then availed that Herculean gear,

  Nor their stark hands, nor yet their sire Melampus, though he were

  Alcides’ friend so long as he on earth wrought heavy toil.

  Lo Pharo! while a deedless word he flingeth mid the broil,

  The whirring of the javelin stays within his shouting mouth.

  Thou, Cydon, following lucklessly thy new delight, the youth

  Clytius, whose first of fallow down about his cheeks is spread

  Art well-nigh felled by Dardan hand, and there hadst thou lain dead,

  At peace from all the many loves wherein thy life would stray,

  Had not thy brethren’s serried band now thrust across the way

  E’en Phorcus’ seed: sevenfold of tale and sevenfold spears they wield:

  But some thereof fly harmless back from helm-side and from shield,

  The rest kind Venus turned aside, that grazing past they flew;

  But therewithal Æneas spake unto Achates true:

  “Reach me my shafts: not one in vain my right hand now shall speed

  Against Rutulians, of all those that erst in Ilian mead

  Stood in the bodies of the Greeks.”

  Then caught he a great spear

  And cast it, and it flew its ways the brazen shield to shear

  Of Mæon, breaking through his mail, breaking his breast withal:

  Alcanor is at hand therewith, to catch his brother’s fall

  With his right hand; but through his arm the spear without a stay

  Flew hurrying on, and held no less its straight and bloody way,

  And by the shoulder-nerves the hand hung down all dead and vain.

  Then Numitor, his brother’s spear caught from his brother slain,

  Falls on Æneas; yet to smite the mighty one in face

  No hap he had, but did the thigh of great Achates graze.

  Clausus of Cures, trusting well in his young body’s might,

  Now cometh, and with stiff-wrought spear from far doth Dryops smite

  Beneath the chin; home went its weight, and midst his shouting’s birth

  From rent throat snatched both voice and life, and prone he smote the ear

  And from his mouth abundantly shed forth the flood of gore.

  Three Thracians also, men whose stem from Boreas came of yore,

  Three whom their father Idas sent, and Ismara their land,

  In various wise he fells. And now Halesus comes to hand,

  And his Aruncans: Neptune’s seed now cometh thrusting in,

  Messapus, excellent of horse. Hard strife the field to win!

  On this side and on that they play about Ausonia’s door.

  As whiles within the mighty heaven the winds are making war,

  And equal heart they have thereto, and equal might they wield:

  Yields none to none, nor yields the rack, nor aught the waters yield;

  Long hangs the battle; locked they stand, all things are striving then:

  Not otherwise the Trojan host and host of Latin men

  Meet foot to foot, and man to man, close pressing in the fray.

  But in another place, where erst the torrent in its way

  Had driven the rolling rocks along and torn trees of the banks,

  Did Pallas see the Arcadian folk, unused to fight in ranks

  Of footmen, turn their backs before the Latins in the chase,

  Since they forsooth had left their steeds for roughness of the place:

  Wherefore he did the only deed that failing Fortune would,

  Striving with prayers and bitter words to make their valour good:

  “Where flee ye, fellows? Ah, I pray, by deeds that once were bold,

  By name of King Evander dear, by glorious wars of old,

  By my own hope of praise that springs to mate my father’s praise,

  Trust not your feet! with point and edge ye needs must cleave your ways

  Amidst the foe. Where yon array of men doth thickest wend,

  Thither our holy fatherland doth you and Pallas send:

  No Gods weigh on us; mortal foes meet mortal men today;

  As many hands we have to use, as many lives to pay.

  Lo, how the ocean shuts us in with yonder watery wall!

  Earth fails for flight — what! seaward then, or Tr
oyward shall we fall?”

  Thus said, forthwith he breaketh in amid the foeman’s press,

  Whom Lagus met the first of all, by Fate’s unrighteousness

  Drawn thitherward: him, while a stone huge weighted he upheaves,

  He pierceth with a whirling shaft just where the backbone cleaves

  The ribs atwain, and back again he wrencheth forth the spear

  Set mid the bones: nor him the more did Hisbo take unware,

  Though that he hoped; for Pallas next withstood him, rushing on

  All heedless-wild at that ill death his fellow fair had won,

  And buried all his sword deep down amid his wind-swelled lung.

  Then Sthenelus he meets, and one from ancient Rhoetus sprung,

  Anchemolus, who dared defile his own stepmother’s bed.

  Ye also on Rutulian lea twin Daucus’ sons lay dead,

  Larides, Thymber; so alike, O children, that by nought

  Your parents knew you each from each, and sweet the error thought.

  But now to each did Pallas give a cruel marking-sign;

  For, Thymber, the Evandrian sword smote off that head of thine:

  And thy lopped right, Larides, seeks for that which was its lord,

  The half-dead fingers quiver still and grip unto the sword.

  But now the Arcadians cheered by words, beholding his great deed,

  The mingled shame and sorrow arm and ‘gainst the foeman lead.

  Then Pallas thrusteth Rhoeteus through a-flitting by in wain;

  And so much space, so much delay, thereby did Ilus gain,

  For ’twas at Ilus from afar that he his spear had cast

  But Rhoeteus met it on the road fleeing from you full fast,

  Best brethren, Teuthras, Tyres there: down from the car rolled he,

  And with the half-dead heel of him beat the Rutulian lea.

  As when amidst the summer-tide he gains the wished-for breeze,

  The shepherd sets the sparkled flame amid the thicket trees,

  The wood’s heart catches suddenly, the flames spread into one,

  And fearful o’er the meadows wide doth Vulcan’s army run,

  While o’er the flames the victor sits and on their joy looks down.

  No less the valour of thy folk unto a head was grown

  To help thee, Pallas: but behold, Halesus, fierce in field,

  Turns on the foe, and gathers him ‘neath cover of his shield.

  Ladon, Pheres, Demodocus, all these he slaughtered there;

  With gleaming sword he lopped the hand Strymonius did uprear

  Against his throat: in Thoas’ face withal a stone he sent,

  And drave apart the riven bones with blood and brains all blent

  Halesus’ sire, the wise of Fate, in woods had hidden him;

  But when that elder’s whitening eyes at last in death did swim,

  Fate took Halesus, hallowing him to King Evander’s blade:

  For Pallas aimeth at him now, when such wise he had prayed:

  “O Father Tiber, grant this spear, that herewithal I shake,

  Through hard Halesus’ breast forthwith a happy way may take;

  So shall thine oak-tree have the arms, the warrior’s battle-spoil.”

  The God heard: while Halesus shields Imaon in the broil,

  To that Arcadian shaft he gives his luckless body bared.

  But nought would Lausus, lord of war, let all his host be scared,

  E’en at the death of such a man: first Abas doth he slay,

  Who faces him, the very knot and holdfast of the play.

  Then fall Arcadia’s sons to field; felled is Etruria’s host,

  And ye, O Teucrian bodies, erst by Grecian death unlost.

  Then meet the hosts with lords well-matched and equal battle-might;

  The outskirts of the battle close, nor ‘mid the press of fight

  May hand or spear move: busy now is Pallas on this side,

  Lausus on that; nor is the space between their ages wide,

  Those noble bodies: and both they were clean forbid of Fate

  Return unto their lands: but he who rules Olympus great

  Would nowise suffer them to meet themselves to end the play,

  The doom of each from mightier foe abideth each today.

  But Turnus’ sister warneth him to succour Lausus’ war,

  The gracious Goddess: straight he cleaves the battle in his car,

  And when he sees his folk, cries out: “’Tis time to leave the fight!

  Lone against Pallas do I fare, Pallas is mine of right;

  I would his sire himself were here to look upon the field.”

  He spake, and from the space forbid his fellow-folk did yield,

  But when the Rutuli were gone, at such a word of pride

  Amazed, the youth on Turnus stares, and lets his gaze go wide

  O’er the huge frame, and from afar with stern eyes meets it all,

  And ‘gainst the words the tyrant spake such words from him there fall:

  “Now shall I win me praise of men for spoiling of a King,

  Or for a glorious death: my sire may outface either thing:

  Forbear thy threats.”

  He spake, and straight amid the war-field drew;

  But cold in that Arcadian folk therewith the heart-blood grew;

  While Turnus from his war-wain leapt to go afoot to fight:

  And as a lion sees afar from off his watch burg’s height

  A bull at gaze amid the mead with battle in his thought,

  And flies thereto, so was the shape of coming Turnus wrought.

  But now, when Pallas deemed him come within the cast of spear,

  He would be first, if Fate perchance should help him swift to dare,

  And his less might, and thus he speaks unto the boundless sky:

  “Now by my father’s guesting-tide and board thou drew’st anigh,

  A stranger, O Alcides, help this great deed I begin!

  His bloody gear from limbs half-dead let Turnus see me win;

  And on the dying eyes of him be victor’s image pressed.”

  Alcides heard the youth, and ‘neath the inmost of his breast

  He thrust aback a heavy groan, and empty tears he shed:

  But to his son in kindly wise such words the Father said:

  “His own day bideth every man; short space that none may mend

  Is each man’s life: but yet by deeds wide-spreading fame to send,

  Man’s valour hath this work to do: ‘neath Troy’s high-builded wall

  How many sons of God there died: yea there he died withal,

  Sarpedon my own progeny. Yea too and Turnus’ Fates

  Are calling him: he draweth nigh his life’s departing-gates.”

  He spake and turned his eyes away from fields of Rutuli:

  But Pallas with great gathered strength the spear from him let fly,

  And drew therewith from hollow sheath his sword all eager-bright.

  The spear flew gleaming where the arms rise o’er the shoulder’s height,

  Smote home, and won its way at last through the shield’s outer rim,

  And Turnus’ mighty body reached and grazed the flesh of him.

  Long Turnus shook the oak that bore the bitter iron head,

  Then cast at Pallas, and withal a word he cast and said:

  “Let see now if this shaft of mine may better win a pass!”

  He spake; for all its iron skin and all its plates of brass,

  For all the swathing of bull-hides that round about it went,

  The quivering spear smote through the shield and through its midmost rent

  And through the mailcoat’s staying fence the mighty breast did gain.

  Then at the spear his heart-blood warmed did Pallas clutch in vain;

  By one way and the same his blood and life, away they fare;

  But down upon the wound he rolled, and o’er him clashed his gear,

  And dyin
g there his bloody mouth sought out the foeman’s sod:

  Whom Turnus overstrides and says:

  “Hearken Arcadians, bear ye back Evander words well learned:

  Pallas I send him back again, dealt with as he hath earned,

  If there be honour in a tomb, or solace in the earth,

  I grudge it not — Ænean guests shall cost him things of worth.”

  So spake he, and his left foot then he set upon the dead,

  And tore the girdle thence away full heavy fashionèd,

  And wrought with picture of a guilt; that youthful company

  Slain foully on one wedding-night: bloody the bride-beds lie.

  This Clonus son of Eurytus had wrought in plenteous gold,

  Now Turnus wears it triumphing, merry such spoil to hold. —

  — O heart of man, unlearned in Fate and what the days may hide,

  Unlearned to be of measure still when swelled with happy tide!

  The time shall come when Turnus wealth abundantly would pay

  For Pallas whole, when he shall loathe that spoil, that conquering day.

  But Pallas’ folk with plenteous groans and tears about him throng,

  And laid upon his battle-shield they bear the dead along.

  O thou, returning to thy sire, great grief and glory great,

  Whom one same day gave unto war and swept away to fate,

  Huge heaps of death Rutulian thou leav’st the meadow still.

  And now no rumour, but sure word of such a mighty ill

  Flies to Æneas, how his folk within the deathgrip lie,

  And how time pressed that he should aid the Teucrians turned to fly.

  So all things near with sword he reaps, and wide he drives the road

  Amid the foe with fiery steel, seeking thee, Turnus proud,

  Through death new wrought; and Pallas now, Evander, all things there

  Live in his eyes: the boards whereto that day he first drew near,

  A stranger, and those plighted hands. Four youths of Sulmo wrought,

  And the like tale that Ufens erst into the world’s life brought,

  He takes alive to slay them — gifts for that great ghost’s avail,

  And with a shower of captive blood to slake the dead men’s bale.

  Then next at Magus from afar the shaft of bane he sent;

  Deftly he cowered, and on above the quivering weapon went,

  And clasping both Æneas’ knees thus spake the suppliant one:

  “O by thy father’s ghost, by hope Iulus hath begun,

  I pray thee for my sire and son my life yet let me win:

  I have a high house, silver wrought is dug adown therein,