Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  Prop of our falling house! one boon I pray;

  Forbear the fight. What fate awaiteth thee,

  Awaits me too. If Trojans win the day,

  With thee I’ll leave the loathèd light, nor see 64

  Æneas wed my child, a captive slave, as she.”

  IX . With tears Lavinia heard her mother speak.

  A crimson blush her glowing face o’erspread,

  And hot fires kindled on her burning cheek.

  As Indian ivory, when stained with red,

  Or lilies, mixt with roses in a bed,

  So flushed the maid, with varying thoughts distrest.

  He, wild with love, upon Lavinia fed

  His constant gaze, but maddening with unrest, 73

  Burned for the fight still more, and thus the Queen addressed:

  X . “Vex me not, mother, marching to the fray,

  With these thy tears and bodings of despair.

  ’Tis not in me the fatal hour to stay.

  Thou, Idmon, to the Phrygian tyrant bear

  The unwelcome word: to-morrow let him spare

  To lead his Teucrians to the fight. Each side

  Shall rest awhile; when morning shines in air,

  His blood or mine the quarrel shall decide, 82

  And he or I shall win, whose prowess earns, the bride.”

  XI . Thus speaking, to his home the chieftain hies

  And bids his steeds be harnessed for the fight:

  Soon for the pleasure of their master’s eyes

  They stand before him, neighing in their might.

  In days of old from Orithyia bright

  To King Pilumnus came those coursers twain,

  Swifter than breezes and than snow more white;

  His ready grooms attend, a nimble train, 91

  And clap the sounding breast and comb the abundant mane.

  XII . Himself the shining corselet, stiff with gold

  And orichalcum, on his shoulders laid.

  His sword and shield he fitted to his hold,

  And donned the helm, with crimson plumes arrayed,

  The sword the Fire-King for his sire had made,

  And dipped still glowing in the Stygian flood,

  Last, the strong spear-beam in his hand he swayed

  (Against a pillar in the house it stood), 100

  Auruncan Actor’s spoils, and shook the quivering wood,

  XIII . And shouted, “Now, O never known to fail

  Thy master’s call, my trusty spear, I trow

  The hour is come. Once, mightiest under mail,

  Did Actor wield thee; Turnus wields thee now.

  Grant this strong hand to lay the foeman low,

  This Phrygian eunuch of his arms to spoil,

  And rend his shattered breastplate with a blow;

  Dragged in the dust, his dainty curls to soil, 109

  Hot from the crisping tongs, and wet with myrrh and oil.”

  XIV . Such furies urge him, and, ablaze with ire,

  His hot face sparkles, and his eyes burn bright,

  And from his eye-balls leaps the living fire;

  As when a bull, in prelude for the fight,

  Roars terribly, and fills the hinds with fright,

  And, butting at a chance-met tree, would try

  To vent his fury on his horns of might,

  And with his fierce hoofs flings the sand on high, 118

  And gores the empty air, and challenges the sky.

  XV . Nor less, meanwhile, and terrible in arms, —

  The arms that Venus to her son doth lend, —

  Æneas rages, and the War-God warms.

  Pleased with the challenge, singly to contend,

  And bring the weary warfare to an end,

  His friends he cheers, and calms Iulus’ care,

  Unfolding Fate, then heralds hastes to send,

  His answer to the Latin King to bear: 127

  The challenge he accepts, the terms of peace are fair.

  XVI . Scarce Morning glimmered on the mountains grey,

  And Phoebus’ steeds, uprising from the main,

  With lifted nostrils breathed approaching day.

  Mixt with the Trojans, the Rutulian train,

  Beneath the lofty town-walls on the plain

  Mark out the lists, and mid-way in the ring,

  Their braziers set, as common rites ordain.

  These, apron-girt and crowned with vervain, bring 136

  Fire for the turf-piled hearths, and water from the spring.

  XVII . Forth, as to war, Ausonia’s spear-armed host,

  Trojans and Tuscans, to the field proceed,

  And to and fro, in gold and purple, post

  Asilas brave, Assaracus’s seed,

  Mnestheus, Messapus, tamer of the steed.

  Back step both armies at the trumpet’s call,

  Their spears in earth, their shields upon the mead.

  An unarmed crowd, old men and matrons, all 145

  Stand by the lofty gates, and throng the towers and wall.

  XVIII . But Juno, seated on a neighbouring height,

  Now Alban called, then nameless and unknown,

  Gazed from its summit on the field of fight,

  And, musing, on the marshalled hosts looked down

  Of Troy and Latium, and Latinus’ town,

  Then straight — a goddess to a goddess — spake

  To Turnus’ sister, who the sway doth own

  Of sounding river and of stagnant lake, 154

  Raised by the King of air, as yielding for his sake.

  XIX . “Nymph, pride of rivers, darling of my love,

  Thou know’st, Juturna, how to all whoe’er

  Of Latin maidens climbed the couch of Jove,

  I thee preferred, and gave his courts to share.

  Learn now thy woe, lest I the blame should bear.

  While Fate and Fortune smiled on Latium’s sway,

  Thy walls I saved, and Turnus was my care.

  Now in ill hour I see him tempt the fray; 163

  Fate and the foe speed on the inevitable day.

  XX . “Not I this fight, this wager can behold.

  Thou, if thou durst, thy brother’s doom arrest.

  Go; luck perchance may follow thee.” Fast rolled

  Juturna’s tears, and thrice she smote her breast.

  “No time to weep,” said Juno, “speed thy quest,

  And save thy brother, if thou canst, ere dead,

  Or wake the war, and rend the league unblest;

  ’Tis I who bid thee to be bold.” She said, 172

  And left her, tost with doubt, and full of wildering dread.

  XXI . Forth come the Kings; Latinus, proudly borne

  High in his four-horse chariot, shines afar.

  Twelve gilded rays the monarch’s brows adorn,

  His Sire’s, the Sun-God’s. Wielding as for war

  Two spears, comes Turnus in his two-horse car.

  There, Rome’s great founder, doth Æneas ride,

  With dazzling shield, bright-shining as a star,

  And arms divine, and at his father’s side 181

  Ascanius takes his place, Rome’s second hope and pride.

  XXII . And clad in robes of purest white, the priest

  Leads forth the youngling of a bristly swine,

  And two-year sheep, by shearer’s hands unfleec’d.

  And they, with eyes turned to the dawn divine,

  Bared the bright steel, the victim’s brow to sign,

  And strewed the cakes of salted meal, and poured

  On blazing altars bowls of sacred wine;

  And good Æneas drew his glittering sword, 190

  And thus, with pious prayer, the immortal gods adored:

  XXIII . “Witness, O Sun, thou Earth attest my prayer,

  For whom I toil. Thou, Jove, supreme in sway,

  And thou, great Juno, pleased at length to spare.

  O mighty Mars, whose nod directs the fray
;

  Springs, Streams, and Powers whom Air and Sea obey.

  If Turnus win — O let the vow remain —

  Humbly to King Evander, as they may,

  Troy’s sons shall fly, Iulus quit the reign, 199

  Nor seed of mine e’er vex the Latin field again.

  XXIV . “But else, if victory smile upon my sword

  (As rather deem I, and may Heaven decree),

  I wish not Troy to be Italia’s lord,

  Nor claim the crown; let each, unquelled and free,

  In deathless league on equal terms agree.

  Arms, empire let Latinus keep; I claim

  To bring our rites and deities. For me

  My Teucrian friends another town shall frame, 208

  And bless the rising towers with fair Lavinia’s name.”

  XXV . Thus first Æneas; then with uplift eyes,

  His right hand stretching to the stars in prayer,

  “Hear me, Æneas,” old Latinus cries,

  “By the same Earth, and Sea and Stars I swear,

  By the twin offering of Latona fair,

  And two-faced Janus, and Hell’s powers malign,

  And Dis unpitying; let Jove give ear,

  The Sire whose bolt the solemn league doth sign, 217

  Witness these fires and gods, — my hand is on the shrine, —

  XXVI . “No time with Latins shall this league unbind,

  Whate’er the issue, or the peace confound,

  No force shall shake the purpose of my mind.

  Nay — though the circling Ocean burst its bound,

  And all the Earth were in a deluge drowned,

  And Heaven with Hell should mingle. Sure as now

  This sceptre” (haply in his hand was found

  The Royal sceptre) “nevermore, I trow, 226

  Shall bourgeon with fresh leaves, or spread a shadowing bough,

  XXVII . “Since once in forests, from its parent tree

  Lopped clean away, the woodman stripped it bare

  Of boughs and leaves, now fashioned, as ye see,

  And cased in brass by cunning craftsman’s care,

  For fathers of the Latin realm to bear.”

  So they, amid their chiefest, Sire with Sire,

  Confirm the league. These o’er the flames prepare

  To slay the victims, and, as rites require, 235

  The living entrails tear, and feed the sacred fire.

  XXVIII . Long while unequal to Rutulian eyes

  The combat seemed, and trouble tossed them sore,

  Now more, beholding nearer, how in size

  And strength the champions differed, yea, and more,

  Beholding Turnus, as he moved before

  The altars, sad and silently, and seeks

  With downcast eyes Heaven’s favour to implore,

  The wanness of his youthful frame, that speaks 244

  Of health and hope now fled, the pallor of his cheeks.

  XXIX . Soon as Juturna saw the whispers grow

  From tongue to tongue, and marked the changing tone,

  The hearts of people wavering to and fro,

  Amidst them, — now in form of Camers known,

  Great Camers, sprung from grandsires of renown,

  His father famed for many a brave emprise,

  Himself as famed for exploits of his own, —

  Amidst them, mistress of her part, she flies, 253

  And scatters words of doubt, and many a dark surmise.

  XXX . “Shame, will ye risk, Rutulians, for his host

  The life of one? In number, strength and show

  Do we not match them? Those are all they boast,

  Trojans, Arcadians and Etruscans. Lo,

  Fight we by turns, each scarce can find a foe.

  He to his gods, whose shrines he dies to shield,

  Will rise, and praised will be his name below.

  We, reft of home, to tyrant lords shall yield, 262

  And toil as slaves, who sit so slackly on the field.”

  XXXI . So saying, Juturna to the youths imparts

  Fresh rage, and murmurs through the concourse run,

  And changed are Latin and Laurentian hearts,

  And they, who lately sought the strife to shun,

  And longed for rest, now wish the league undone,

  And, pitying Turnus, wrongly doomed to die,

  Call out for arms. And now, her work begun,

  Juturna shows a lying sign on high, 271

  That shakes Italian hearts, and cheats the wondering eye.

  XXXII . Jove’s golden eagle through the crimson skies

  In chase of clanging marsh-fowl, swooped in flight

  Down on a swan, and trussed the noble prize.

  The Latins gaze, when lo, a wondrous sight!

  Back wheels the flock, and all with screams unite,

  And darkening, as a cloud, in dense array

  Press on the foe, till, overborne by might,

  And yielding to sheer weight, he drops the prey 280

  Into the stream below, and cloudward soars away.

  XXXIII . With shouts the glad Rutulians hail the sign,

  And lift their hands. Then spake the seer straightway,

  Tolumnius: “Welcome, welcome, powers divine!

  ’Twas this— ’twas this I longed for, day by day.

  To arms! ’Tis I, Tolumnius, lead the way.

  Poor souls! whom yon strange pirate would enslave,

  Like feeble birds, and make your coast a prey.

  He too shall fly, and vanish o’er the wave. 289

  Stand close and fight as one, your captive king to save.”

  XXXIV . He spake and hurled his javelin at the foes,

  Advancing. Shrill the cornel hissed, and flew

  True to its quarry. Then a shout uprose,

  And the ranks wavered, and hearts throbbed anew

  With ardour, as the gathering tumult grew.

  On went the missile to where, side by side,

  Nine brethren stood, of comely form, whom, true

  To her Gylippus, bare a Tuscan bride, 298

  Nine tall Arcadian sons, in bloom of youthful pride.

  XXXV . One, where the belt chafes, and the strong clasp bites

  The broidered edges, — comeliest of the band,

  And sheathed in shining mail — the steel-head smites,

  And rives the ribs, and rolls him on the sand.

  Blind with hot rage, his brethren, sword in hand,

  Or snatching missiles, to avenge the slain,

  Rush to the charge. Laurentum’s ranks withstand

  Their onset, and a deluge sweeps the plain, 307

  Trojans, Agylla’s bands, Arcadia’s glittering train.

  XXXVI . One passion burns, — to let the sword decide.

  Stript stand the altars, and the shrines are bare;

  Dark drives the storm of javelins far and wide,

  The iron tempest hurtles in the air,

  And bowls and censers from the hearths they tear.

  Himself Latinus, flying, bears afar

  His home-gods, outraged by the league’s misfare.

  Some leap to horse, and others yoke the car, 316

  Or bare the glittering sword, and hurry to the war.

  XXXVII . Aulestes first, a king with kingly crown,

  Messapus scares, and, spurring forward, fain

  To break the treaty, rides the Tuscan down.

  He, bating ground, falls back, and hurled amain

  Against the altars, pitches on the plain.

  Up comes Messapus, with his beam-like spear,

  And smites him, pleading sorely but in vain,

  Steep-rising heavily smites him, with a jeer, 325

  “He hath it; Heaven hath gained a better victim here.”

  XXXVIII . Up Latins rush, and strip the limbs yet warm,

  A brand half-burnt fierce Corynoeus there

  Flings full at Ebusus, as with lifted arm
<
br />   He nears him, and the long beard, all aflare,

  Shines crackling, with a smell of burning hair.

  He with his left hand, following up the throw,

  Grasps the long locks, and, planting firm and fair

  His knee, beneath him pins the prostrate foe, 334

  And drives the stark sword home, so deadly is the blow.

  XXXIX . Then, fired with fury, Podalirius flew

  At shepherd Alsus, as he rushed among

  The foremost. With his naked sword he drew

  Behind him close, and o’er his foeman hung.

  He turning round his broad axe backward swung,

  And clave the chin and forehead. Left and right

  The dark blood o’er the spattered arms outsprung.

  Hard rest and iron slumber seal his sight, 343

  The drooping eyelids close on everlasting night.

  XL . Unarmed, Æneas, with uncovered brow,

  Stretched out his hands, and shouted to his train:

  “Where rush ye, men? what sudden discord now

  Is this? Be calm; your idle wrath refrain.

  The truce is struck; the treaty’s terms are plain.

  To me belongs the battle, not to you.

  Give way to me, nor fret and fume in vain.

  This hand shall make the treaty firm and true. 352

  These rites, this solemn pact give Turnus for my due.”

  XLI . So spake he, fain the tumult to allay,

  And scarce had ceased, when, whistling as it flew,

  A feathered shaft came hurtling on its way,

  And smote the good Æneas; whose, and who

  That shaft had sped, what wind had borne it true,

  What chance with fame Ausonia’s host had crowned,

  What God, perhaps, had aided them — none knew.

  The glory of that noble deed was drowned, 361

  And none was found to boast of great Æneas’ wound.

  XLII . When Turnus saw the Trojan prince retire,

  The chiefs bewildered, and their hearts unstrung,

  Hope unexpected set his soul on fire,

  And, calling for his steeds and arms, he sprung

  Upon his chariot, and the reins outflung.

  On drives he; many a hero of renown

  Sinks, crushed to death; the dying roll among

  The dead; whole ranks beneath his wheels go down, 370