Complete Works of Virgil
Page 192
smote both on Teucrian and Rutulian ear:
“O Teucrians, fear not for the sure defence
of all the ships, nor arm your mortal hands.
Yon impious Turnus shall burn up the seas
before my pine-trees blest. Arise! Be free,
ye goddesses of ocean, and obey
your mother’s mighty word.” Then instant broke
the hawsers of the sterns; the beaked prows
went plunging like great dolphins from the shore
down to the deeps, and, wonderful to tell,
the forms of virgin goddesses uprose,
one for each ship, and seaward sped away.
The hearts of the Rutulian host stood still
in panic, and Messapus terrified
his trembling horses reined; the sacred stream
of Father Tiber, harshly murmuring,
held back his flood and checked his seaward way.
But Turnus’ courage failed not; he alone
his followers roused, and with reproachful words
alone spoke forth: “These signs and prodigies
threaten the Trojan only. Jove himself
has stripped them of their wonted strength: no more
can they abide our deadly sword and fire.
The Trojan path to sea is shut. What hope
of flight is left them now? The half their cause
is fallen. The possession of this land
is ours already; thousands of sharp swords
Italia’s nations bring. Small fear have I
of Phrygia’s boasted omens. What to me
their oracles from heaven? The will of Fate
and Venus have achieved their uttermost
in casting on Ausonia’s fruitful shore
yon sons of Troy. I too have destinies:
and mine, good match for theirs, with this true blade
will spill the blood of all the baneful brood,
in vengeance for my stolen wife. Such wrongs
move not on Atreus’ sons alone, nor rouse
only Mycenae to a righteous war.
Say you, ‘Troy falls but once?’ One crime, say I,
should have contented them; and now their souls
should little less than loathe all womankind.
These are the sort of soldiers that be brave
behind entrenchment, where the moated walls
may stem the foe and make a little room
betwixt themselves and death. Did they not see
how Troy’s vast bulwark built by Neptune’s hand
crumbled in flame? Forward, my chosen brave!
Who follows me to cleave his deadly way
through yonder battlement, and leap like storm
upon its craven guard? I have no need
of arms from Vulcan’s smithy; nor of ships
a thousand strong against our Teucrian foes,
though all Etruria’s league enlarge their power.
Let them not fear dark nights, nor coward theft
of Pallas’ shrine, nor murdered sentinels
on their acropolis. We shall not hide
in blinding belly of a horse. But I
in public eye and open day intend
to compass their weak wall with siege and fire.
I’ll prove them we be no Pelasgic band,
no Danaan warriors, such as Hector’s arm
ten years withstood. But look! this day hath spent
its better part. In what remains, rejoice
in noble deeds well done; let weary flesh
have rest and food. My warriors, husband well
your strength against to-morrow’s hopeful war.”
Meanwhile to block their gates with wakeful guard
is made Messapus’ work, and to gird round
their camp with watchfires. Then a chosen band,
twice seven Rutulian chieftains, man the walls
with soldiery; each leads a hundred men
crested with crimson, armed with glittering gold.
Some post to separate sentries, and prepare
alternate vigil; others, couched on grass,
laugh round the wine and lift the brazen bowls.
The camp-fires cheerly burn; the jovial guard
spend the long, sleepless night in sport and game.
The Trojans peering from the lofty walls
survey the foe, and arm for sure defence
of every point exposed. They prove the gates
with fearful care, bind bridge with tower, and bring
good store of javelins. Serestus bold
and Mnestheus to their labors promptly fly,
whom Sire Aeneas bade in time of stress
to have authority and free command
over his warriars. Along the walls
the legions, by the cast of lots, divide
the pain and peril, giving each his due
of alternating vigil and repose.
Nisus kept sentry at the gate: a youth
of eager heart for noble deeds, the son
of Hyrtacus, whom in Aeneas’ train
Ida the huntress sent; swift could he speed
the spear or light-winged arrow to its aim.
Beside him was Euryalus, his friend:
of all th’ Aeneadae no youth more fair
wore Trojan arms; upon his cheek unshorn
the tender bloom of boyhood lingered still.
Their loving hearts were one, and oft in war
they battled side by side, as in that hour
a common sentry at the gate they shared.
Said Nisus: “Is it gods above that breathe
this fever in my soul, Euryalus?
or is the tyrant passion of each breast
the god it serves? Me now my urgent mind
to battles or some mighty deed impels,
and will not give me rest. Look yonder, where
the Rutuli in dull security
the siege maintain. Yet are their lights but few.
They are asleep or drunk, and in their line
is many a silent space. O, hear my thought,
and what my heart is pondering. To recall
Aeneas is the dearest wish to-night
of all, both high and low. They need true men
to find him and bring tidings. If our chiefs
but grant me leave to do the thing I ask
(Claiming no reward save what honor gives),
methinks I could search out by yonder hill
a path to Pallanteum.” The amazed
Euryalus, flushed warm with eager love
for deeds of glory, instantly replied
to his high-hearted friend: “Dost thou refuse,
my Nisus, to go with me hand in hand
when mighty deeds are done? Could I behold
thee venturing alone on danger? Nay!
Not thus my sire Opheltes, schooled in war,
taught me his true child, ‘mid the woes of Troy
and Argive terrors reared; not thus with thee
have I proved craven, since we twain were leal
to great Aeneas, sharing all his doom.
In this breast also is a heart which knows
contempt of life, and deems such deeds, such praise,
well worth a glorious death.” Nisus to him:
“I have not doubted thee, nor e’er could have
one thought disloyal. May almighty Jove,
or whatsoe’er good power my purpose sees,
bring me triumphant to thy arms once more!
But if, as oft in doubtful deeds befalls,
some stroke of chance, or will divine, should turn
to adverse, ‘t is my fondest prayer that thou
shouldst live the longer of us twain. Thy years
suit better with more life. Oh! let there be
one mourner true to carry to its grave
my corpse, recaptured in the desperate fray,
or
ransomed for a price. Or if this boon
should be— ‘t is Fortune’s common way — refused,
then pay the debt of grief and loyal woe
unto my far-off dust, and garlands leave
upon an empty tomb. No grief I give
to any sorrowing mother; one alone,
of many Trojan mothers, had the heart
to follow thee, her child, and would not stay
in great Acestes’ land.” His friend replied:
“Thou weavest but a web of empty words
and reasons vain, nor dost thou shake at all
my heart’s resolve. Come, let us haste away!”
He answered so, and summoned to the gate
a neighboring watch, who, bringing prompt relief,
the sentry-station took; then quitted he
his post assigned; at Nisus’ side he strode,
and both impatient sped them to the King.
Now in all lands all creatures that have breath
lulled care in slumber, and each heart forgot
its load of toil and pain. But they who led
the Teucrian cause, with all their chosen brave,
took counsel in the kingdom’s hour of need
what action to command or whom dispatch
with tidings to Aeneas. In mid-camp
on long spears leaning and with ready shield
to leftward slung, th’ assembled warriors stood.
Thither in haste arrived the noble pair,
brave Nisus with Euryalus his friend,
and craved a hearing, for their suit, they said,
was urgent and well-worth a patient ear.
Iulus to the anxious striplings gave
a friendly welcome, bidding Nisus speak.
The son of Hyrtacus obeyed: “O, hear,
Princes of Teucria, with impartial mind,
nor judge by our unseasoned youth the worth
of what we bring. Yon Rutule watch is now
in drunken sleep, and all is silent there.
With our own eyes we picked out a good place
to steal a march, that cross-road by the gate
close-fronting on the bridge. Their lines of fire
are broken, and a murky, rolling smoke
fills all the region. If ye grant us leave
by this good luck to profit, we will find
Aeneas and the walls of Palatine,
and after mighty slaughter and huge spoil
ye soon shall see us back. Nor need ye fear
we wander from the way. Oft have we seen
that city’s crest loom o’er the shadowy vales,
where we have hunted all day long and know
each winding of yon river.” Then uprose
aged Aletes, crowned with wisdom’s years:
“Gods of our fathers, who forevermore
watch over Troy, ye surely had no mind
to blot out Teucria’s name, when ye bestowed
such courage on young hearts, and bade them be
so steadfast and so leal.” Joyful he clasped
their hands in his, and on their shoulders leaned,
his aged cheek and visage wet with tears.
“What reward worthy of such actions fair,
dear heroes, could be given? Your brightest prize
will come from Heaven and your own hearts. The rest
Aeneas will right soon bestow; nor will
Ascanius, now in youth’s unblemished prime,
ever forget your praise.” Forthwith replied
Aeneas’ son, “By all our household gods,
by great Assaracus, and every shrine
of venerable Vesta, I confide
my hopes, my fortunes, and all future weal
to your heroic hearts. O, bring me back
my father! Set him in these eyes once more!
That day will tears be dry; and I will give
two silver wine-cups graven and o’erlaid
with clear-cut figures, which my father chose
out of despoiled Arisbe; also two
full talents of pure gold, and tripods twain,
and ancient wine-bowl, Tyrian Dido’s token.
But if indeed our destiny shall be
to vanquish Italy in prosperous war,
to seize the sceptre and divide the spoil, —
saw you that steed of Turnus and the arms
in which he rode, all golden? That same steed,
that glittering shield and haughty crimson crest
I will reserve thee, e’er the lots are cast,
and, Nisus, they are thine. Hereto my sire
will add twelve captive maids of beauty rare,
and slaves in armor; last, thou hast the fields
which now Latinus holds. But as for thee,
to whom my youth but binds me closer still,
thee, kingly boy, my whole heart makes my own,
and through all changeful fortune we shall be
inseparable peers: nor will I seek
renown and glory, or in peace or war,
forgetting thee: but trust thee from this day
in deed and word.” To him in answer spoke
euryalus, “O, may no future show
this heart unworthy thy heroic call!
And may our fortune ever prosperous prove,
not adverse. But I now implore of thee
a single boon worth all beside. I have
a mother, from the venerated line
of Priam sprung, whom not the Trojan shore
nor King Acestes’ city could detain,
alas! from following me. I leave her now
without farewell; nor is her love aware
of my supposed peril. For I swear
by darkness of this night and thy right hand,
that all my courage fails me if I see
a mother’s tears. O, therefore, I implore,
be thou her sorrow’s comfort and sustain
her solitary day. Such grace from thee
equip me for my war, and I shall face
with braver heart whatever fortune brings.”
With sudden sorrow thrilled, the veteran lords
of Teucria showed their tears. But most of all
such likeness of his own heart’s filial love
on fair Iulus moved, and thus he spoke:
“Promise thyself what fits thy generous deeds.
Thy mother shall be mine, Creusa’s name
alone not hers; nor is the womb unblest
that bore a child like thee. Whate’er success
may follow, I make oath immutable
by my own head, on which my father swore,
that all I promise thee of gift or praise
if home thou comest triumphing, shall be
the glory of thy mother and thy kin.”
Weeping he spoke, and from his shoulder drew
the golden sword, well-wrought and wonderful,
which once in Crete Lycaon’s cunning made
and sheathed in ivory. On Nisus then
Mnestheus bestowed a shaggy mantle torn
from a slain lion; good Aletes gave
exchange of crested helms. In such array
they hastened forth; and all the princely throng,
young men and old, ran with them to the gates,
praying all gods to bless. Iulus then,
a fair youth, but of grave, heroic soul
beyond his years, gave them in solemn charge
full many a message for his sire, but these
the hazard of wild winds soon scattered far,
and flung them fruitless on the darkening storm.
Forth through the moat they climb, and steal away
through midnight shades, to where their foemen lie
encamped in arms; of whom, before these fall,
a host shall die. Along the turf were seen,
laid low in heavy slumber and much wine,
a prostra
te troop; the horseless chariots
stood tilted on the shore, ‘twixt rein and wheel
the drivers dozed, wine-cups and idle swords
strewn round them without heed. The first to speak
was Nisus. “Look, Euryalus,” he cried,
“Now boldly strike. The hour to do the deed
is here, the path this way. Keep wide-eyed watch
that no man smite behind us. I myself
will mow the mighty fieid, and lead thee on
in a wide swath of slaughter.” With this word
he shut his lips; and hurled him with his sword
on haughty Rhamnes, who lay propped at ease
on pillows huge, and from his heaving breast
poured slumber loud: of royal stem was he
and honored of King Turnus for his skill
in augury; yet could no augur’s charm
that bloody stroke forefend. And Nisus slew
three slaves near by, that lay in reckless sleep
upon their spears; then him that bore the shield
of Remus, then the driver of his car
close to the horses caught; his sword cut through
their prostrate necks; then their great master’s head
he lifted high, and left decapitate
the huge corpse spilling forth its crimson gore
o’er couch and ground. Like stroke on Lamus fell
and Lamyrus, with young Serranus, who
had gamed the midnight through and sleeping lay,
his fair young body to the wine-god given;
but happier now had that long-revelling night
been merry till the dawn! Thus round full folds
of sheep a famished lion fiercely prowls;
mad hunger moves him; he devours and rends
with bloody, roaring mouth, the feeble flock
that trembles and is dumb. Nor was the sword
of fair Euryalus less fatal found;
but fiercely raging on his path of death,
he pressed on through a base and nameless throng,
Rhoetus, Herbesus, Fadus, Abaris;
surprising all save Rhoetus, who awake
saw every stroke, and crouched in craven fear
behind a mighty wine-bowl; but not less
clean through his bare breast as he started forth
the youth thrust home his sword, then drew it back
death-dripping, while the bursting purple stream
of life outflowed, with mingling blood and wine.
Then, flushed with stealthy slaughter, he crept near
the followers of Messapus, where he saw
their camp-fire dying down, and tethered steeds
upon the meadow feeding. Nisus then
knew the hot lust of slaughter had swept on
too far, and cried, “Hold off! For, lo,
the monitory dawn is nigh. Revenge
has fed us to the full. We have achieved