To stem the foe’s advancing tide;
But vain that brief delay;
Æneas caught him on the side,
And, opening ribs and bosom wide
With the fell sword his fury plied,
Brought death the swiftest way.
By Turnus’ hand Diores bleeds;
His brother Amycus succeeds;
One from his steed by spear brought low,
One, hand to hand, by falchion’s blow:
Their severed heads the victor bore
Fixed to his car, distilling gore.
That sends down Talos to the grave
With Tanais and Cethegus brave,
Three chiefs at once struck dead,
And sad Onites, him who came
From Peridia, noble dame,
Born in Echion’s bed.
This lays in death the brethren twain
From Lycia, Phœbus’ own domain,
And young Menœtes, who in vain
Had shunned the battle’s roar:
An Arcad he by Lerna’s side
His fisher craft obscurely plied,
Contented to be poor:
In honest penury his sire
Tilled scanty ground let out to hire,
Nor knocked at rich man’s door.
As fires that launched on different ways
Stream through a wood of crackling bays,
Or torrents that from mountain steep
Tumbling and thundering toward the deep
Plough each his own wild path;
Æneas thus and Turnus fly
Through the wild field; now, now ’tis nigh,
The boiling-point of wrath;
Their fierce hearts burst with rage; they throw
A giant’s force on every blow.
Murranus that, whose boastful tongue
With high-born sires and grandsires rung,
And pedigrees of long renown
Through Latian monarchs handed down,
Smites with a stone of mountain size
And tumbles on the sward:
By reins and harness caught, the wheels
Still drag him on: the horses’ heels
Beat down and crush him as he lies,
Unmindful of their lord.
While this, as Hyllus overbold
In furious onset springs,
Full at his brows, encased in gold,
A bitter javelin flings;
Through the bright helm the weapon passed,
And rooted in the brain stood fast.
Nor could thy prowess, Cretheus brave,
’Gainst Turnus’ coming stand,
Nor those his gods Cupencus save
From out Æneas’ hand:
His bosom met the impetuous blade,
Nor long the shield its fury stayed.
Thou too, great Æolus, the plains
Of Latium saw thee dead;
They saw thy giant-like remains
Wide o’er their surface spread:
Fallen, fallen art thou, whom not the bands
Of Argos could destroy,
Nor those unconquerable hands
Which wrought the doom of Troy:
’Twas here thy sepulchre was made,
Thy palace high ’neath Ida’s shade:
Lyrnesus reared thy palace high,
Laurentum gave thee room to die.
So turning, rallying, front to front,
Face the two hosts the battle’s brunt:
The Latian and the Dardan throng,
Brave Mnestheus and Serestus strong,
Messapus, tamer of the horse,
Asilas with his Tuscan force,
Evander’s Arcad train,
Each for himself, make desperate fight—
No stint, no stay—and all their might
With fierce contention strain.
To lead his forces to the town,
And with a sudden stroke and brief
On the scared foe come down.
As tracking Turnus’ truant car
He sweeps his vision round and round
The town he sees in peace profound,
Unscathed by all that war,
At once upon his inward sight
The image dawns of grander fight:
Sergestus and Serestus tried
He calls with Mnestheus to his side,
And on a mound takes stand:
Round in dense ranks the Trojans swarm,
The shield still cleaving to their arm,
The javelin in their hand.
Then from the height he thus began:
‘Now hearken and obey, each man:
Our cause is Jove’s own cause:
Nor, sudden though the change of plan,
Let any plead for pause.
This town, the source of all the fray,
The centre of Latinus’ sway,
Unless they bow them to the yoke
And own my conquering power,
In ruin on the ground shall smoke
From base to topmost tower.
What, I forsooth to stand and wait
Till Turnus deign to end debate,
And humbled by his old defeat,
Prepare once more my call to meet?
Here, here it stands, the foul spring-head
Of all this blood so basely shed:
Quick with your torches, and demand
Our rightful treaty, fire in hand.’
He said: with emulous speed they form,
And rush in mass the walls to storm.
Forth come the ladders swift as thought,
Fire, faggot, pitch at once are brought;
Some to the gates impetuous crowd,
And guard and sentry slay;
Some hurl their javelins, and o’ercloud
With darts the face of day.
Æneas, foremost of the band,
Lifts up to heaven the appealing hand,
Beneath the rampart’s shade,
Upbraids Latinus loud and long,
And bids the Gods attest his wrong,
Forced on another war, though loth,
The Italians twice his foes, their troth
A second time betrayed.
Among the citizens within
Rises a wild discordant din:
Some to the foe would ope the town,
The portals backward fling,
And to the city walls bring down
The venerable king;
Some, all on fire, for weapons call,
And hasten to defend the wall.
As when some venturous swain has tracked
The bees, in hollow rock close packed,
With fumes of pungent smoke,
They through their waxen quarters course,
And murmuring passionate and hoarse
Their patriot rage provoke:
The dusk scent
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