by Virgil
And fast at flying hosts the fliers’ spears are thrown.
XLIII . As when grim Mars, by Hebrus’ icy flood,
Clashing his brazen buckler, drives apace
His fierce steeds, maddening with the lust of blood;
They o’er the plain the flying winds outrace,
And with their trampling groan the fields of Thrace;
And round the War-God his attendants throng,
Hatred, and Treachery and Fear’s dark face;
So Turnus drove the battling ranks among, 379
And lashed his smoking steeds, and waved the whistling thong.
XLIV . In piteous sort he tramples on the slain;
The flying horse-hoofs spirt the crimson dew,
And tread the gore down in the sandy plain.
Now, man to man, at Thamyris he flew,
And Pholus. Sthenelus aloof he slew;
Aloof the two Imbracidæ lay dead,
Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew,
Both armed alike, whom Imbracus had bred 388
To fight, or on swift steeds the flying winds to head.
XLV . Elsewhere afield, amid the foremost, fought
The brave Eumedes. (From the loins he came
Of noble Dolon, and to war he brought
The borrowed lustre of his grandsire’s name,
The strength and spirit of his sire of fame,
Who for his meed, when offering to explore
The Danaan camp, Pelides’ car would claim.
Poor fool! Tydides paid the boaster’s score, 397
And for Achilles’ steeds he hankers now no more.)
XLVI . Him Turnus sees, and through the void afar
Speeds a light lance, then bids the coursers stand,
And, lightly leaping from his two-horsed car,
Stamps on his neck, fall’n breathless on the sand,
And wrests the shining dagger from his hand.
Deep in his throat he deals a deadly wound,
And cries, “Now, Trojan, take the wished-for land.
Lie there, and measure the Hesperian ground; 406
Their meed, who tempt my sword; thus city-walls they found.”
XLVII . Asbutes, Sybaris and Chloreus bleed,
Dares the bold, Orsilochus the brave,
Thymoetes, pitched from off his plunging steed.
As on the Ægean when the North-winds rave,
And the fierce gale rolls shoreward wave on wave,
And drives the cloud-rack through the sky; so these
Shrank back from Turnus, as his path he clave,
Urged by his impulse, and each turns and flees; 415
Loose streams his horsehair crest, blown backward by the breeze.
XLVIII . His fiery onset, and his shouts of pride
Bold Phlegeus brooked not, but himself he flung
Before the car, and caught and turned aside
The foaming steeds. But while, thus dragged along,
Grasping the bridle, on the yoke he hung,
His shieldless side the broad-tipt javelin found,
And pierced, and, staying, to the corslet clung,
With linen folds and brazen links twice bound. 424
And lightly scored the skin, and grazed him with the wound.
XLIX . His shield before him, at the foe he made,
And drew his short sword, turning sharply round,
And trusted to the naked steel for aid,
When wheel and axle, urged with onward bound,
Struck down and dashed him headlong to the ground,
And Turnus, reaching forward, sword in hand,
Room ‘twixt the hauberk and the helmet found
And lopped the head with his avenging brand, 433
And left the bleeding trunk to welter on the sand.
L . While Turnus thus dealt havoc as he flew,
Back with Æneas from the combat went
Ascanius, Mnestheus, and Achates true,
And helped the bleeding hero to his tent.
Faltering and pale, as on the spear he leant,
Fretting, and tugging at the shaft in vain,
Quick help he summons, — with the broadsword’s rent
The wound to widen, and the lurking bane 442
Cut out, and send him back to battle on the plain.
LI . Iapis, son of Iasus, was there,
The best-beloved of Phoebus. Long ago
Apollo, fired to see a youth so fair,
His arts and gifts had offered to bestow,
His augury, his lyre, his sounding bow.
But he, in hope a bed-rid parent’s days
To lengthen, sought the leech’s craft to know,
The power of simples, and the silent praise 451
Of healing arts, and scorned the great Apollo’s bays.
LII . Dark-frowning stands, still propt upon his spear,
Æneas, heedless of his friends around
And young Iulus, weeping in his fear.
Tight-girt like Pæon, with the robes upbound,
Beside him kneels the aged leech renowned.
With busy haste Apollo’s salves he tries,
In vain, in vain he coaxes in the wound
The stubborn steel, the pincer’s teeth he plies: 460
Fate bides averse, his help the healing god denies;
LIII . And more and more, along the echoing wold,
The war’s wild horror thickens on the ear,
And storm-like, in the darkened skies uprolled,
The driving dust-clouds show the danger near.
Now horsemen, galloping in haste, appear,
And darts and arrows, as the foe draw nigh,
Fall in the tents, and fill the camp with fear,
And a grim clamour mounts the vaulted sky, 469
The shouts of those that fight, the groans of those that die.
LIV . Then, Venus, for her darling filled with grief,
A stalk of dittany on Ida’s crown
Seeks out, and gathers, for his wound’s relief,
The flower of purple and the leaves of down.
(To wounded wild-goats ’twas a plant well-known)
This brings the Goddess, veiled in mist, and brews
In a bright bowl a mixture of her own,
And, steeped in water from the stream, she strews 478
Soft balm of fragrant scent, and sweet ambrosial dews.
LV . Therewith the leech, unwitting, rinsed the wound,
And the pain fled, and all the blood was stayed.
Out came the dart, and he again was sound.
“Arms! bring his arms! Why stand ye thus afraid?”
Iapis cries, and, foremost to upbraid,
Inflames them to the fight. “No hand of mine,
No power of leech-craft, nor a mortal’s aid
This healing wrought; a greater power divine, 487
Æneas, sends thee back, by greater deeds to shine.”
LVI . He, hot for fight, the golden cuishes bound,
And shook the spear, then put his corslet on,
And strung the shield, and in his arms enwound,
And gently through the helmet kissed his son.
“Learn, boy, of me, how gallant deeds are done,
Fortune of others. I will guard thee now,
And lead to fame. Let riper manhood con
Thy kinsmen’s deeds. Remember, and be thou 496
What uncle Hector was, and what thy sire is now.”
LVII . He spake, and swinging his tremendous spear,
Swept through the gate; then Antheus, with his train,
Rushed forth, and Mnestheus. With a general cheer
Forth pours the host; a dust-cloud hides the plain;
Earth, startled by their trampling, throbs in pain.
Pale Turnus saw them from a distant height,
The Ausonians saw, and terror chilled each vein.
Juturna heard, and knew the noise of fight, 505
; And from the van drew back, and shuddered with affright.
LVIII . On swept he, and the blackening host behind.
As when from sea a storm-cloud sweeps to shore,
The weather breaking, and the trembling hind
Foresees afar the ruin and the roar,
The shattered orchards, and the crops no more,
While, landward borne, the muttering winds betray
The coming storm; so down the Trojan bore
Against the foemen, and in firm array 514
All knit their serried ranks, and gladden at the fray.
LIX . Thymbræus smites Osiris, Mnestheus fells
Archetius; by Achates smitten sheer,
Falls Epulo, and Gyas Ufens quells.
Falls, too, Tolumnius, the sacred seer,
Who first against the foemen hurled his spear.
Uprose a shout, and the Rutulians reeled
And fled. Æneas, on the dusty rear
Close-trampling, scorns to follow them afield, 523
Or fight with those that stand, or slaughter those that yield.
LX . Turnus alone, amid the blinding gloom,
He tracks and traces, searching far and near,
Turnus alone he summons to his doom.
Juturna sees, and smit with sudden fear,
Unseats Metiscus, Turnus’ charioteer,
And flings him down, and leaves him on the plain,
Then takes his place, and, urging their career,
Loose o’er the coursers shakes the waving rein; 532
Metiscus’ voice and form, Metiscus’ arms remain.
LXI . Like a black swallow, as she flies among
A rich man’s halls, or in the courts is found
In quest of dainties for her twittering young.
And now in empty cloisters, now around
The fishpools circles, while the shrill notes sound.
So now Juturna, through the midmost foes,
Whirled in the rapid chariot, scours the ground;
Now here, now there triumphant Turnus shows, 541
Now, flying, wheels aloof, nor suffers him to close.
LXII . So wheels in turn Æneas to and fro,
And tracks his man, and through the war’s wild tide
Calls him aloud. Oft as he marks his foe,
And, running, tries to match the coursers’ stride,
So oft Juturna wheels the team aside.
What shall he do? While wavering thus in vain,
As diverse thoughts his doubtful mind divide,
A steel-tipt dart Messapus — one of twain — 550
Aims true, and hurls it forth, uprunning on the plain.
LXIII . Æneas paused, behind his buckler bent.
On came the javelin, and the cone was shorn
From off his helmet, and the plume was rent.
Foiled by this treachery, as he marked with scorn
The steeds and chariot from the combat borne,
He blazed with ire, and, calling on again
Jove and the altars of the truce forsworn,
Rushed on, thrice terrible, and o’er the plain 559
Dealt indiscriminate death, and gave his wrath the rein.
LXIV . What heavenly muse can sing, what god can say
The scenes of horror wrought on either side,
The varied slaughter of that fatal day,
What chiefs were chased along the field, and died,
As Turnus now, and now the Trojan plied
His murderous sword? Jove, could’st thou deem it right
So dire a broil such peoples should divide,
Two jarring nations met in deadly fight, 568
Whom leagues of lasting love were destined to unite?
LXV . Æneas first (that fight ’twas first that stayed
The Teucrian rout) caught Suero on the side.
Where death is quickest, ‘twixt the ribs his blade,
Deep in the framework of the breast, he plied.
Then Turnus slew Diores; close beside,
His brother Amycus from his steed he tore;
One by the spear, one by the sword-cut died.
Their severed heads the ruthless victor bore, 577
Fixt to his flying car, and dripping with the gore.
LXVI . Talus, and Tanais, and Cethegus there
Æneas smote, and poor Onytes slew,
Whom Peridia to Echion bare.
Turnus two Lycian brethren next o’erthrew
From Phoebus’ fields, and young Menoetes too
From Arcady, who loathed the war in vain.
Poor was his home, nor rich men’s doors he knew.
By fishful Lerna he had earned his gain, 586
Hired was the scanty glebe his father sowed with grain.
LXVII . Lo, as fierce flames drive in from left and right
Through woodlands parched and groves of crackling bay,
As sweep impetuous from a mountain height
Loud, foaming torrents, that withouten stay
Cleave to the sea their devastating way:
So, while in each full tides of anger flow,
Rush Turnus and Æneas to the fray:
Their tameless breasts with bursting valour glow, 595
On, on they speed amain, nor fear the opposing blow.
LXVIII . There stands Murranus, vaunting in vain joy
His sires, and grandsires, he the princely son
Of Latin monarchs. Him the chief of Troy
Smites with the whirlwind of a monstrous stone,
Huge as a rock. Down from his chariot thrown,
‘Twixt reins and yoke, he tumbles on the sward.
The fierce wheels, thundering onward, beat him down;
His starting steeds, to shun the victor’s sword, 604
Tread on his trampled limbs, unmindful of their lord.
LXIX . Here, fronting Hyllus, as he rushed amain,
Fierce Turnus stood; his levelled spear-head clave
The golden casque, and quivered in his brain.
Nor thee, poor Creteus, though of Greeks most brave,
From Turnus had thy prowess power to save.
Nor aught availed Cupencus’ gods to aid
Against the dread Æneas, as he drave.
Squaring his breast, he met the glittering blade, 613
Nor long his brazen shield the mortal stroke delayed.
LXX . Thee, too, great Æolus, Laurentum’s plain
Saw trampled down by Turnus, as he flew,
And stretched at length among the Trojan slain.
Thou diest, whom ne’er could Argive bands subdue,
Nor Peleus’ son, who Priam’s realm o’erthrew.
Thy goal is here; beyond the distant wave,
Beneath the mount where Ida’s fir-trees grew,
High house was thine; high house Lyrnessus gave, 622
Thy home; Laurentum’s soil hath given thee a grave.
LXXI . So met the ranks, and mingled, man with man,
Latins and Dardans in promiscuous throng,
Mnestheus and fierce Serestus in the van,
Messapus, tamer of the steed, and strong
Asylas. There in tumult swept along
Arcadian horsemen, and the Tuscan train.
No rest is theirs, no respite; loud and long
The conflict rages, as with might and main, 631
Each for his own dear life, the warriors strive and strain.
LXXII . Now lovely Venus doth her son persuade
To seek the walls, and townward turn his train,
And deal swift havoc on the foe dismayed.
While here and there Æneas scans the plain,
Still tracking Turnus through the ranks in vain,
Far off the peaceful city he espies,
Unscathed, unstirred, and in his restless brain
The vision of a greater war doth rise; 640
Larger the War-God looms, and to his chiefs he cries.
LXXIII . Mnestheu
s, Sergestus and Serestus strong
He calls, and on a hillock takes his stand.
There, mustering round him, all the Teucrians throng,
Each armed with buckler, and his spear in hand,
And from the mound he thus exhorts the band:
“Hear, sons of Teucer, and let none be slack.
Jove fights for us, so hearken my command.
Though strange the venture, sudden the attack, 649
Let none for that cause faint, none loiter and hang back.
LXXIV . “This town — unless they yield them and obey —
This town, the centre of Latinus’ reign,
The cause of war, will I uproot this day,
And raze her smoking roof-tops to the plain.
What! shall I wait, and wait, till Turnus deign
To take fresh heart, and tempt the war’s rough game,
And, conquered, face his conqueror again?
See there the fount of all this blood! For shame; 658
Bring quick the torch; let fire the perjured pact reclaim!”
LXXV . So spake he, and one purpose nerves them all.
They form a wedge, and forward with a cheer
The close-knit column charges at the wall.
Here scaling ladders in a trice they rear,
And firebrands suddenly and flames appear.
These seek the gates, and lay the foremost dead;
Those flash the sword, or shake the shining spear.
Darts cloud the skies. Æneas, at their head, 667
Stands by the lofty walls, and with his hands outspread,
LXXVI . Upbraids aloud Latinus, twice untrue,
And bids heaven witness and his wrongs regard,
Thus forced reluctant to the fight anew;
How loth again with Latin foes he warred,
How twice the truce the Latin crimes had marred.
Upsprings wild discord in the town; some call
To cede the city, and have the gates unbarred,
And drag the aged monarch to the wall; 676
Some rush to arms, and strive their entrance to forestall.
LXXVII . As when within a crannied rock some hind,
Returning home, a swarm of bees hath found,
And all the nest with bitter smoke doth blind:
They, in their waxen citadel fast bound,
