by Virgil
Our joy is in the foray, day by day
To reap fresh plunder, and to live by prey.
Ye love to dance, and dally with the fair,
In saffron robes with purple flounces gay.
Your toil is ease, and indolence your care, 703
And tunics hung with sleeves, and ribboned coifs ye wear.
LXXX . “Go Phrygian women, for ye are not men!
Hence, to your Dindymus, and roam her heights
With Corybantian eunuchs! Get ye, then,
And hear the flute, harsh-grating, that invites
With twy-mouthed music to her lewd delights,
Where boxen pipe and timbrel from afar
Shriek forth the summons to her sacred rites.
Put by the sword, poor dotards as ye are, 712
Leave arms to men, like us, nor meddle with the war.”
LXXXI . Such taunts Ascanius brooked not. Stung with pride,
A shaft he fitted to the horse-hair twine,
And, turning, stood with outstretched arms, and cried:
“Bless, Jove omnipotent, this bold design:
Aid me, and yearly offerings shall be thine.
A milk-white steer — I bind me to the vow —
Myself will lead, the choicest, to thy shrine,
Tall as his mother, and with gilded brow, 721
And butting horns, and hoofs, that spurn the sand e’en now.”
LXXXII . Jove heard, and leftward, where the sky was blue,
Thundered aloud. At once the fateful bow
Twanged; with a whirr the fateful arrow flew,
And pierced the head of Remulus. “Now go,
And teach thy proud tongue to insult a foe,
And scoff at Trojan valour. This reply
Twice-captured Phrygians to thy taunts bestow.”
Ascanius spoke; the Teucrians with a cry, 730
Press on, their joyous hearts uplifting to the sky.
LXXXIII . Meanwhile, Apollo from his cloudy car
The Ausonian host, and leaguered town descries,
And calls the youthful conqueror from afar:
“Hail to thy maiden prowess; yonder lies
Thy path, brave boy, to glory and the skies.
O sons of Gods, and sire of Gods to be,
All wars shall cease beneath the race to rise
From great Assaracus. Nor thine, nor thee 739
Shall narrow Troy contain; so stands the Fate’s decree.”
LXXXIV . He spake, and through the breathing air shot down,
And sought Ascanius, now a god no more,
But shaped like aged Butes, whilom known
The servant of the Dardan king, who bore
Anchises’ shield, and waited at his door,
Then left to guard Ascanius. Such in view
Apollo seemed; such clanging arms he wore;
Such were his hoary tresses, voice, and hue, 748
And these his words, as near the fiery youth he drew:
LXXXV . “Enough, to live, and see Numanus bleed,
Child of Æneas! This, thy valour’s due,
Great Phoebus grants, nor stints a rival’s meed.
Now cease.” — He spake, and vanished from their view.
His arms divine the Dardan chieftains knew,
And heard the quiver rattle in his flight.
So, warned by Phoebus’ presence, back they drew
The fiery youth, then plunged into the fight. 757
Death seems a welcome risk, and danger a delight.
LXXXVI . Shouts fill the walls and outworks; casque and shield
Clash; bows are bent, and javelins hurled amain:
Fierce grows the fight, and weapons strew the field.
So fierce what time the Kid-star brings the rain,
The storm, from westward rising, beats the plain:
So thick with hail, the clouds, asunder riven,
Pour down a deluge on the darkened main,
When Jove, upon his dreaded south-wind driven 766
Stirs up the watery storm, and rends the clouds of heaven.
LXXXVII . Pandarus and Bitias, whom in Ida’s grove
The nymph Iæra to Alcanor bare,
Tall as their mountains or the pines of Jove,
Fling back the gate committed to their care,
And bid the foemen enter, if they dare.
With waving plumes, and armed from top to toe,
In front, beside the gateway, stand the pair,
Tall as twin oaks, with nodding crests, that grow 775
Where Athesis’ sweet stream or Padus’ waters flow.
LXXXVIII . Up rush the foemen to the open gate,
Quercens, Aquicolus, in armour bright,
Brave Hæmon, Tmarus, eager and elate,
In troops they come, in troops they turn in flight,
Or fall upon the threshold, slain outright.
Now fiercer swells the discord, louder grows
The noise of strife, as, hastening to unite,
The sons of Troy their banded ranks oppose, 784
And battle hand to hand and, sallying, charge the foes.
LXXXIX . Elsewhere to Turnus, as he raged, and marred
The ranks, came tidings of the foe, elate
With new-wrought carnage, and the gates unbarred.
Forth from his work he rushes, grim with hate,
To seek the brothers, and the Dardan gate.
Here brave Antiphates, the first in view
(The bastard offspring of Sarpedon great,
Borne by a Theban) with his dart he slew; 793
Swift through the yielding air the Italian cornel flew.
XC . Down through his throat into the chest it passed.
Out from the dark pit gushed a foaming tide;
The cold steel, warming in the lung, stood fast.
Then Merops, Erymas, Aphidnus died,
And Bitias, fierce with flaming eyes of pride.
No dart for him; no dart his life had ta’en.
A spear phalaric, thundering, pierced his side.
Nor bulls’ tough hides, nor corselet’s twisted chain, 802
Twice linked with golden scales the monstrous blow sustain.
XCI . Prone falls the giant in a heap. Earth groans,
His shield above him thunders. Such the roar,
When falls the solid pile of quarried stones,
Sunk in the sea off Baiæ’s echoing shore;
So vast the ruin, when the waves close o’er,
And the black sands mount upward, as the block,
Dashed headlong, settles on the deep-sea floor,
And Prochyta and Arime’s steep rock, 811
Piled o’er Typhoeus, quake and tremble with the shock.
XCII . Now Mars armipotent the Latins lends
Fresh heart and strength, but Fear and black Dismay
And Flight upon the Teucrian troops he sends.
From right and left they hurry to the fray,
And o’er each spirit comes the War-God’s sway.
But when brave Pandarus saw his brother’s fate,
And marked the swerving fortune of the day,
He set his broad-built shoulders to the gate; 820
The groaning hinges yield, and backward rolls the weight.
XCIII . Full many a friend without the camp he leaves,
Sore straitened in the combat; these, the rest,
Saved like himself, he rescues and receives.
Madman! who, blind to Turnus, as he pressed
Among them, made the dreaded foe his guest.
Fierce as a tiger in the fold, he preys.
Loud ring his arms; his helmet’s blood-red crest
Waves wide; strange terrors from his eyes outblaze, 829
And on his dazzling shield the living lightning plays.
XCIV . That hated form, those giant limbs too plain
The Trojans see, and stand aghast with fear.
Then, fired with fury
for his brother slain,
Forth leaping, shouts huge Pandarus with a jeer,
“No Queen Amata’s bridal halls are here;
No Ardea this; around the camps the foe.
No flight for thee.” He, smiling, calm of cheer,
“Come, if thou durst; full soon shall Priam know 838
Thou too hast found a new Achilles to thy woe.”
XCV . He spake. Then Pandarus a javelin threw,
Cased in its bark, with hardened knots and dried.
The breezes caught the missile as it flew;
Saturnian Juno turned the point aside,
And fixed it in the gate. “Ha! bravely tried!
Not so this dart shalt thou escape; not so
Send I the weapon and the wound.” He cried,
And, sword in hand, uprising to the blow, 847
Between the temples clave the forehead of his foe.
XCVI . The beardless cheeks, so fearful was the gash,
Gape wide. Aloud his clanging arms resound.
Earth groans beneath, as prone, amid the splash
Of blood and brains, he sprawls upon the ground,
And right and left hangs, severed by the wound,
His dying head. In terror, strewn afar,
The Trojans fly. Then, then had Turnus found
Time and the thought to burst the town-gate’s bar, 856
That day had seen the last of Trojans and the war.
XCVII . But lust of death, and vengeance unappeased
Urged on the conqueror. Phalaris he slew,
Then hamstrung Gyges, and their javelins seized,
And hurled them at their comrades, as they flew,
For Juno nerved and strengthened him anew.
Here Halys fell, and hardy Phlegeus there,
Pierced through his shield. Alcander down he threw,
Prytanis, Noëmon, Halius unaware, 865
As on the walls they stood, and roused the battle’s blare.
XCVIII . Slain, too, was Lynceus, as he ran for aid,
Cheering his friends. Back-handed, with fierce sway,
His right knee bent, he swung the sweeping blade,
And head and helmet tumbled far away.
Fell Clytius, Amycus expert to slay
The wood-deer, and the venomed barb to wing,
And Creteus, too, who loved the minstrel’s lay,
The Muses’ friend, whose joy it was to sing 874
Of steeds, and arms and men, and wake the lyre’s sweet string.
XCIX . Then meet at length, their kinsmen’s slaughter known,
Brave Mnestheus, and Serestus fierce, and see
Their friends in flight, and foemen in the town.
Then Mnestheus cries: “Friends, whither would ye flee?
What other walls, what further town have we?
Shame on the thought, shall then a single foe,
One man alone, O townsmen! ay, and he
Cooped thus within your ramparts, work such woe, 883
Such deaths — and unavenged? and lay your choicest low?
C . “Is yours no pity, sluggard souls? no shame
For Troy’s old gods, and for your native land,
And for the great Æneas, and his name?”
Fired by his words, they gather heart, and stand,
Shoulder to shoulder, rallying in a band.
Backward, but slowly he retreats, too proud
To turn, and seeks the ramparts hard at hand,
Girt by the stream; while, clamouring aloud, 892
Fiercer the foe press on, and larger grows the crowd.
CI . As when an angry lion, held at bay,
And pressed with galling javelins, half in fright,
But grim and glaring, step by step gives way,
Too wroth to turn, too valorous for flight,
And fain, but impotent, to wreak his spite
Against his armed assailants; even so,
Slowly and wavering, Turnus quits the fight,
Boiling with rage; yet twice he charged the foe, 901
Twice round the walls in rout they fled before his blow.
CII . But now new hosts come swarming from the town,
Nor Juno dares his failing force to stay,
For Jove in wrath sent heavenly Iris down,
Stern threats to bear, should Turnus disobey,
And longer in the Trojan camp delay.
No more his shield, nor strength of hand avail
To ward the storm; so thick the javelins play.
Loud rings his helmet with the driving hail; 910
Rent with the volleyed stones, the solid brass-plates fail.
CIII . Reft are his plumes, and shattered by the blows
The shield-boss. Faster still the darts they pour,
And thundering Mnestheus towers amid his foes.
Trembling with pain, exhausted, sick, and sore,
He gasps for breath. Sweat streams from every pore,
And, black with dust, from all his limbs descends.
Headlong, at length, he plunges from the shore,
Clad all in arms. The yellow river bends, 919
And bears him, cleansed from blood, triumphant to his friends.
BOOK TEN
ARGUMENT
The gods meet in council. Venus pleads for the Trojans, Juno for the Latins. Jupiter as a compromise leaves the arbitrament to Fate (1-153). The siege of the Trojan camp continues. Æneas meanwhile is sailing with his Arcadian and Tuscan allies down the Tiber (154-207). Catalogue of the helpers of Æneas, who is presently warned by the nymphs in what peril Ascanius stands: comes in sight of the camp and with difficulty lands his men (208-369). A hard-fought battle by the river follows, of which Pallas and Lausus are the heroes (370-531). Pallas is killed by Turnus in single combat (532-603). Æneas in revenge gives no quarter, but slays and slays, until Juno, warned by Jupiter that if she would save Turnus even for a time she must act at once, goes down into the battle and fashions in the form of Æneas a phantom, which flees before Turnus and lures him into a ship, by which he is miraculously carried away to his father’s city (604-838). Mezentius takes up the command, but after performing prodigies of valour is wounded by Æneas (839-954). Mezentius withdraws, and his son Lausus is killed while covering his retreat. Thereupon Mezentius gets to horse and rides back to die in a vain endeavour to avenge his son. Æneas exults over Mezentius (955-1089).
I . Meanwhile, at bidding of almighty Jove,
His palace, as Olympus’ gates unfold,
Stands open. To his starry halls above
The Sire of Gods and men, whose eyes behold
The wide-wayed earth, the Dardans’ leaguered hold,
And Latium’s peoples, from his throne of state
Convokes the council. Ranged on seats of gold
Around the halls, in silence they await. 1
Himself, in measured speech, begins the grand debate.
II . “Heaven’s great inhabitants, what change hath brewed
Rebellious thoughts, my purpose thus to mar?
‘Twixt Troy and Italy I banned the feud;
My nod forbade it. Whence this impious jar?
What fear hath stirred them to provoke the war?
Fate in due course shall bring the destined hour, —
Foredate it not — when Carthage from afar
Her barbarous hordes through riven Alps shall pour, 10
To storm the towers of Rome, to ravage and devour.
III . “Then may ye rend, and ravage and destroy,
Then may ye glut your vengeance. Now forbear,
And plight this peaceful covenant with joy.”
Thus Jove; but Venus of the golden hair,
Less brief, made answer: “Lord of earth and air!
O Father! Power eternal! whom beside
We know none other, to approach with prayer,
See the Rutulians, how they swell with pride; 19
See Turnus, puffed with triumph, borne up
on the tide.
IV . “Their very walls the Teucrians shield no more.
Within the gates, amid the mounds the fray
Is raging, and the trenches float with gore,
While, ignorant, Æneas is away.
Is theirs no rest from leaguer — not a day?
Again a threatening enemy hangs o’er
A new-born Troy! New foemen in array
Swarm from Ætolian Arpi, and once more 28
A son of Tydeus comes, as dreadful as before.
V . “Ay, wounds are waiting for thine offspring still,
And mortal arms must vex her. List to me:
If maugre thee, and careless of thy will,
The Trojans sought Italia, let them be,
Nor aid them; let their folly reap its fee.
But if, oft called by many a warning sign
From Heaven and Hell, they followed thy decree,
Who then shall tamper with the doom divine, 37
Or dare to forge new Fates, or alter words of thine?
VI . “Why tell of grievances in days forepast,
The vessels burnt on Eryx’ distant shore,
The tempest’s monarch, and the raging blast
Stirred in Æolia, and the winds’ uproar,
And Iris, heaven-sent messenger? Nay more,
From Hell’s dark depths she summons her allies,
The ghosts of Hades, overlooked before.
Through Latin towns, sent sudden from the skies, 46
Alecto wings her flight, and riots as she flies.
VII . “I reck not, I, of empire; once, indeed,
While fortune smiled, I hoped for it; but now
Theirs, whom thou choosest, be the victor’s meed.
But if no land thy ruthless spouse allow
To Teucrian outcasts, hearken to me now:
O Father! by the latest hour of Troy,
By Ilion’s smoking ruins, deign to show
Thy pity for Ascanius; spare my boy; 55
Safe let him cease from arms, my darling and my joy.
VIII . “Let brave Æneas follow, as he may,
Where future leads, and wander on the brine.
Him shield, and let me snatch him from the fray.
Paphos, Cythera, Amathus are mine,
