by Virgil
Ripped from his mother, dying in her pain,
To Phoebus, freed from perils of the knife.
Huge Gyas, brawny Cisseus press the plain,
As, club in hand, they strew the Tuscan train.
Naught now avail those stalwart arms, that plied
The weapons of Alcides; all in vain
They boast their sire Melampus, comrade tried 379
Of Hercules, while earth his toilsome tasks supplied.
XLIV . Lo, full at Pharus, in his bawling mouth
He plants a dart. Thou, Cydon, too, in quest
Of Clytius, blooming with the down of youth,
Thy latest joy, had’st laid thy loves to rest,
Slain by the Dardan; but around thee pressed
Old Phorcus’ sons. Seven brethren bold are there,
Seven darts they throw. These helm and shield arrest,
Those, turned aside by Venus’ gentle care 388
Just graze the Dardan’s frame, and, grazing, glance in air.
XLV . Then cried Æneas to Achates true,
“Quick, hand me store of weapons; none in vain
This arm shall hurl at yon Rutulian crew,
Not one of all that whilom knew the stain
Of Argive blood upon the Trojan plain.”
So saying, he snatched, and in a moment threw
His mighty spear, that, hurtling, rent in twain
The brazen plates of Mæon’s shield, and through 397
The breastplate pierced the breast, nor faltered as it flew.
XLVI . Up ran, and raised his brother, as he lay,
Alcanor. Shrill another javelin sung,
And pierced his arm, and, reddening, held its way,
And from his shoulders by the sinews hung
The dying hand. Then straight, the dart outwrung,
His brother Numitor the barb let fly
Full at Æneas. In his face he flung,
But failed to smite. The weapon, turned awry, 406
Missed the intended mark, and grazed Achates’ thigh.
XLVII . Up Clausus came, of Cures, in the pride
Of youth. His stark spear, urged with forceful sway,
Through Dryops’ throat, beneath the chin, he plied,
And voice and life forsook him, as he lay,
Spewing thick gore, his forehead in the clay.
Three Thracians next, three sons of Idas bleed.
Ismarians these. Halæsus to the fray
Brings his Auruncan bands, and Neptune’s seed, 415
Messapus, too, comes up, the tamer of the steed.
XLVIII . Each side strives hard the other’s ground to win.
E’en on Ausonia’s threshold raves the fray.
As in the broad air warring winds begin
The battle, matched in strength and rage, nor they,
The winds themselves, nor clouds nor sea give way,
All locked in strife, and struggling as they can,
And long in doubtful balance hangs the day,
So meet the ranks, and mingle in the van, 424
And foot clings close to foot, and man is massed with man.
XLIX . Where, in another quarter, stones and trees,
Torn from its banks, a torrent at its height
Had strewn with wide-wrought ravage, Pallas sees
His brave Arcadians break the ranks of fight,
And turn before their Latin foes in flight.
Strange to foot-combat, from his trusty horse
The rough ground lured each rider to alight.
Now with entreaties— ’tis his last resource — 433
And now with bitter words he fires their flagging force.
L . “Shame on ye, comrades! whither do ye run?
By your brave deeds, and by the name ye bear,
And great Evander’s, by the wars ye won,
By these my hopes, which even now bid fair
E’en with my father’s honours to compare.
Trust not your feet; the sword, the sword must hew
A pathway through the foemen. See, ’tis there,
Where foes press thickest, and our friends are few, 442
Our noble country calls for Pallas and for you.
LI . “No gods assail us; mortals fight to-day
With mortals. Lives as many as theirs have we,
As many hands, to match them in the fray.
Earth fails for flight, and yonder lies the sea.
Seaward or Troyward — whither shall we flee?”
So saying, he plunged amid the throng. First foe,
Fell Lagus, doomed an evil fate to dree.
Him, toiling hard a ponderous stone to throw, 451
Between the ribs and spine a whistling dart laid low.
LII . Scarce from his marrow could the victor tear
The steel, so tightly clung it to the bone.
Forth Hisbo leaped, to smite him unaware.
Rash hope! brave Pallas caught him, rushing on,
And through the lung his sword a passage won.
Then Sthenius he slew; beside him bled
Anchemolus, of Rhoetus’ stock the son,
The lewd defiler of his stepdame’s bed. 460
Fate stopped his lewdness now, and stretched him with the dead.
LIII . Ye, too, young Thymber and Larides fair,
Twin sons of Daucus, did the victor quell.
So like in form and features were the pair,
That e’en their doting parents failed to tell
This one from that. Alas! the sword too well
Divides them now. Here, tumbled on the sward,
At one fierce swoop, the head of Thymber fell.
Thy severed hand, Larides, seeks its lord; 469
The fingers, half alive and quivering, clutch the sword.
LIV . Fired by his words, his deeds the Arcadians view,
And shame and anger arm them to the fray.
Rhoeteus, as past his two-horsed chariot flew
He pierced,— ’twas Ilus Pallas meant to slay,
And Ilus gained that moment of delay.
Rhoeteus, in flight from Teuthras and from thee,
His brother Tyres, met the spear midway.
Down from his chariot in the dust rolled he, 478
And, dying, with his heels beat the Rutulian lea.
LV . As when a shepherd, on a summer’s day,
The wished-for winds arising, hastes to cast
The flames amid the stubble: far away,
The mid space seized, the line of fire runs fast
From field to field, and broadens with the blast:
And, sitting down, the victor from a height
Surveys the triumph, as the flames rush past.
So all Arcadia’s chivalry unite, 487
And round thee, Pallas, throng, and aid thee in the fight.
LVI . But lo, from out the foemen’s ranks, athirst
For battle, fierce Halesus charged, and drew
His covering shield before him. Ladon first,
Then Pheres, then Demodocus he slew.
Next, at his throat as bold Strymonius flew,
The glittering falchion severed at a blow
The lifted hand. At Thoas’ face he threw
A stone, that smashed the forehead of his foe, 496
And bones, and blood, and brains the spattered earth bestrow.
LVII . Halesus, when a boy, in woods concealed,
His sire, a seer, had reared with tender care.
But soon as death the old man’s eyes had sealed,
Fate marked the son for the Evandrian spear.
Him Pallas sought; “O Tiber!” was his prayer,
“True to Halesus let this javelin go.
His arms and spoils thy sacred oak shall bear.”
’Twas heard: Halesus, shielding from the foe 505
Imaon, leaves his breast unguarded to the blow.
LVIII . Firm Lausus stands, bearing the battle’s brunt,
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Nor lets Halesus’ death his friends dismay.
Dead falls the first who meets him front to front,
Brave Abas, knot and holdfast of the fray.
Down go Arcadia’s chivalry that day,
Down go the Etruscans, and the Teucrians, those
Whom Grecian conquerors had failed to slay.
Man locked with man, amid the conflict’s throes, 514
With strength and leaders matched, the rival armies close.
LIX . On press the rearmost, crowding on the van,
So thick, that neither hand can stir, nor spear
Be wielded; each one struggles as he can.
Here Pallas, there brave Lausus, charge and cheer,
Two foes, in age scarce differing by a year.
Both fair of form. Stern Fate to each forbade
His home return. But Jove allowed not here
A meeting; he who great Olympus swayed, 523
Awhile for mightier foes their destined doom delayed.
LX . Warned by his gracious sister, Turnus flies
To take the place of Lausus. Driving through
The ranks, “Stand off,” he shouts to his allies,
“I fight with Pallas; Pallas is my due.
Would that his sire were here himself to view!”
All clear the field. Then, pondering with surprise
The proud command, as back the crowd withdrew,
The youth, amazed at Turnus, rolls his eyes 532
And scans his giant foe, and thus in scorn replies:
LXI . “Or kingly spoils shall make me famed to-day,
Or glorious death. Whatever end remain,
My sire can bear it. Put thy threats away.”
Then forth he stepped; cold horror chills his train.
Down from his car, close combat to darrain,
Leapt Turnus. As a lion, who far away
Has marked a bull, that butts the sandy plain
For battle, springs to grapple with his prey; 541
So dreadful Turnus looks, advancing to the fray.
LXII . Him, deemed within his spear-throw, undismayed
The youth prevents, if chance the odds should square,
And aid his daring. To the skies he prayed,
“O thou, my father’s guest-friend, wont whilere
A stranger’s welcome at his board to share,
Aid me, Alcides, prosper my emprise;
Let Turnus fall, and, falling, see me tear
His blood-stained arms, and may his swooning eyes 550
Meet mine, and bear the victor’s image, when he dies.”
LXIII . Alcides heard, and, stifling in his breast
A deep groan, poured his unavailing grief.
Whom thus the Sire with kindly words addressed:
“Each hath his day; irreparably brief
Is mortal life, and fading as the leaf.
’Tis valour’s part to bid it bloom anew
By deeds of fame. Dead many a godlike chief,
Dead lies my son Sarpedon. Turnus too 559
His proper Fates demand; his destined hour is due.”
LXIV . So saying, he turned, and shunned the scene of death.
Forth Pallas hurled the spear with all his might,
And snatched the glittering falchion from the sheath.
Where the shield’s top just matched the shoulders’ height,
Clean through the rim, the javelin winged its flight,
And grazed the flesh. Then Turnus, poising slow
His oakbeam, tipt with iron sharp and bright,
Took aim, and, hurling, shouted to his foe, 568
“See, now, if this my lance can deal a deadlier blow.”
LXV . He spake, and through the midmost shield, o’erlaid
With bull-hide, brass, and iron, welded hard,
Whizzed the keen javelin, nor its course delayed,
But pierced the broad breast through the corslet’s guard.
He the warm weapon, in the wound embarred,
Wrenched, writhing in his agony; in vain;
Out gushed the life and life-blood. O’er him jarred
His clanging armour, as he rolled in pain. 577
Dying, with bloody mouth he bites the hostile plain.
LXVI . Then Turnus, standing o’er the dead, “Go to,
Arcadians, hear and let Evander know,
I send back Pallas, handled as was due.
If aught of honour can a tomb bestow,
If earth’s cold lap yield solace to his woe,
I grant it. Dearly will his Dardan guest
Cost him, I trow.” Then, trampling on the foe,
His left foot on the lifeless corpse he pressed, 586
And tore the ponderous belt in triumph from his breast;
LXVII . The belt, whereon the tale of guilt was told, —
The wedding night, the couches smeared with gore,
The bridegrooms slain — which Clonus in the gold,
The son of Eurytus, had grav’n of yore,
And Turnus now, exulting, seized and wore.
Vain mortals! triumphing past bounds to-day,
Blind to to-morrow’s destiny. The hour
Shall come, when gold in plenty would he pay 595
Ne’er Pallas to have touched, and curse the costly prey.
LXVIII . With tears his comrades lifted from the ground
Dead Pallas; groaning, on his shield they bore
Him homeward, and the bitter wail went round.
“O grief! O glory! fall’n to rise no more!
Thus back we bring thee, thus the son restore!
One day to battle gave thee, one hath ta’en,
Victor and vanquished in the self-same hour!
Yet fall’n with honour, for behind thee slain, 604
Heaps of Rutulian foes thou leavest on the plain!”
LXIX . Sure tidings to Æneas came apace, —
’Twas no mere rumour — of his friends in flight;
Time pressed for help, death stared them in the face.
Sweeping his foes before him, left and right
He mows a passage through the ranks of fight.
Thee, haughty Turnus, thee he burns to find,
Hot with new blood, and glorying in thy might.
The sire, the son, the welcome warm and kind, 613
The feast, the parting grasp — all crowd upon his mind.
LXX . Eight youths alive he seizes for the pyre,
Four, sons of Sulmo, four, whom Ufens bred,
Poor victims, doomed to feed the funeral fire,
And pour their blood in quittance for the dead.
Then from afar a bitter shaft he sped
At Magus. Warily he stoops below
The quivering steel, that whistles o’er his head,
And, like a suppliant, crouching to his foe, 622
Clings to Æneas’ knees, and cries in words of woe:
LXXI . “O by the promise of thy youthful heir,
By dead Anchises, pity, I implore,
My son, my father; for their sakes forbear.
Rich is my house, its cellars heaped with store
Of gold, and silver talents by the score.
’Tis not my doom, that shall the day decide.
If Trojans win, one foeman’s life the more
Mars not the triumph, nor can turn the tide.” 631
Thus he, and thus in scorn the Dardan chief replied:
LXXII . “The treasures that thou vauntest, let them be.
Thy gold, thy silver, and thy hoarded gain
Spare for thy children, for they bribe not me.
Since Pallas fell by Turnus’ hand, ‘twere vain
To think thy pelf will traffic for the slain,
So deems my son, so deems Anchises’ shade.”
He spake, and with his left hand grasped amain
His helmet. Even as the suppliant prayed, 640
Hilt-deep, the neck bent back, he drove the shin
ing blade.
LXXIII . Hard by, the son of Hæmon there was seen,
Apollo’s priest and Trivia’s, all aglow
In robe and armour of resplendent sheen,
The holy ribboned chaplet on his brow.
Him, met, afield he chases, lays him low,
And o’er him, like a storm-cloud, dark as night,
Stands, hugely shadowing the fallen foe:
And back Serestus bears his armour bright, 649
A trophy, vowed to thee, Gradivus, lord of fight.
LXXIV . Then Cæculus, to Vulcan’s race allied,
And Marsian Umbro, rally ‘gainst the foe
The wavering ranks. The Dardan on his side
Still rages. First from Anxur with a blow
His sword the shield-arm and the shield laid low.
Big things had Anxur boasted, empty jeers,
And deemed his valour with his vaunts would grow:
Perchance, with spirit lifted to the spheres, 658
Hoar hairs he looked to see, and length of peaceful years.
LXXV . Sheathed in bright arms, proud Tarquitus in scorn,
Whom Dryope the nymph, if fame be true,
To Faunus, ranger of the woods, had borne,
Leaped forth, and at the fiery Dardan flew.
He, drawing back his javelin, aimed and threw.
And through the cuirass and the ponderous shield
Pinned him. Then, vainly as he strove to sue,
Much pleading, even while the suppliant kneeled. 667
Lopt off, the lifeless head went rolling on the field.
LXXVI . His reeking trunk the victor in disdain
Spurns with his foot, and cries aloud, “Lie there,
Proud youth, and tell thy terrors to the slain.
No tender mother shall thy shroud prepare,
No father’s sepulchre be thine to share.
Thy carrion corpse shall be the vultures’ food,
And birds that batten on the dead shall tear
Thee piecemeal, and the fishes lick thy blood, 676
Drowned in the deep sea-gulfs, or drifting on the flood.”
LXXVII . Lucas, Antæus in the van were slain.
Here Numa, there the fair-haired Camers lay,
Great Volscens’ son; full many a wide domain
Was his, and mute Amyclæ owned his sway.
