Aeneid

The gates of heav'n unfold: Jove summons all

The gods to council in the common hall.

Sublimely seated, he surveys from far

The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,

And all th' inferior world. From first to last,

The sov'reign senate in degrees are plac'd.

Then thus th' almighty sire began: "Ye gods,

Natives or denizens of blest abodes,

From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,

This backward fate from what was first design'd?

Why this protracted war, when my commands

Pronounc'd a peace, and gave the Latian lands?

What fear or hope on either part divides

Our heav'ns, and arms our powers on diff'rent sides?

A lawful time of war at length will come,

(Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),

When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome,

Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,

And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.

Then is your time for faction and debate,

For partial favor, and permitted hate.

Let now your immature dissension cease;

Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace."

Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge;

But lovely Venus thus replies at large:

"O pow'r immense, eternal energy,

(For to what else protection can we fly?)

Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare

In fields, unpunish'd, and insult my care?

How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train,

In shining arms, triumphant on the plain?

Ev'n in their lines and trenches they contend,

And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:

The town is fill'd with slaughter, and o'erfloats,

With a red deluge, their increasing moats.

Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence,

Has left a camp expos'd, without defense.

This endless outrage shall they still sustain?

Shall Troy renew'd be forc'd and fir'd again?

A second siege my banish'd issue fears,

And a new Diomede in arms appears.

One more audacious mortal will be found;

And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.

Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave,

The Latian lands my progeny receive,

Bear they the pains of violated law,

And thy protection from their aid withdraw.

But, if the gods their sure success foretell;

If those of heav'n consent with those of hell,

To promise Italy; who dare debate

The pow'r of Jove, or fix another fate?

What should I tell of tempests on the main,

Of Aeolus usurping Neptune's reign?

Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat

T' inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet?

Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends,

Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends.

That new example wanted yet above:

An act that well became the wife of Jove!

Alecto, rais'd by her, with rage inflames

The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames.

Imperial sway no more exalts my mind;

(Such hopes I had indeed, while Heav'n was kind;)

Now let my happier foes possess my place,

Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race;

And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace.

Since you can spare, from all your wide command,

No spot of earth, no hospitable land,

Which may my wand'ring fugitives receive;

(Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;)

Then, father, (if I still may use that name,)

By ruin'd Troy, yet smoking from the flame,

I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care,

Be freed from danger, and dismiss'd the war:

Inglorious let him live, without a crown.

The father may be cast on coasts unknown,

Struggling with fate; but let me save the son.

Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow'rs:

In those recesses, and those sacred bow'rs,

Obscurely let him rest; his right resign

To promis'd empire, and his Julian line.

Then Carthage may th' Ausonian towns destroy,

Nor fear the race of a rejected boy.

What profits it my son to scape the fire,

Arm'd with his gods, and loaded with his sire;

To pass the perils of the seas and wind;

Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind;

To reach th' Italian shores; if, after all,

Our second Pergamus is doom'd to fall?

Much better had he curb'd his high desires,

And hover'd o'er his ill-extinguish'd fires.

To Simois' banks the fugitives restore,

And give them back to war, and all the woes before."

Deep indignation swell'd Saturnia's heart:

"And must I own," she said, "my secret smart-

What with more decence were in silence kept,

And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept?

Did god or man your fav'rite son advise,

With war unhop'd the Latians to surprise?

By fate, you boast, and by the gods' decree,

He left his native land for Italy!

Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more

Than Heav'n inspir'd, he sought a foreign shore!

Did I persuade to trust his second Troy

To the raw conduct of a beardless boy,

With walls unfinish'd, which himself forsakes,

And thro' the waves a wand'ring voyage takes?

When have I urg'd him meanly to demand

The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land?

Did I or Iris give this mad advice,

Or made the fool himself the fatal choice?

You think it hard, the Latians should destroy

With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy!

Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw

Their native air, nor take a foreign law!

That Turnus is permitted still to live,

To whom his birth a god and goddess give!

But yet is just and lawful for your line

To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join;

Realms, not your own, among your clans divide,

And from the bridegroom tear the promis'd bride;

Petition, while you public arms prepare;

Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war!

'T was giv'n to you, your darling son to shroud,

To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd,

And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud.

From flaming fleets you turn'd the fire away,

And chang'd the ships to daughters of the sea.

But is my crime- the Queen of Heav'n offends,

If she presume to save her suff'ring friends!

Your son, not knowing what his foes decree,

You say, is absent: absent let him be.

Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow'rs,

The soft recesses, and the sacred bow'rs.

Why do you then these needless arms prepare,

And thus provoke a people prone to war?

Did I with fire the Trojan town deface,

Or hinder from return your exil'd race?

Was I the cause of mischief, or the man

Whose lawless lust the fatal war began?

Think on whose faith th' adult'rous youth relied;

Who promis'd, who procur'd, the Spartan bride?

When all th' united states of Greece combin'd,

To purge the world of the perfidious kind,

Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate:

Your quarrels and complaints are now too late."

Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix'd applause,

Just as they favor or dislike the cause.

So winds, when yet unfledg'd in woods they lie,

In whispers first their tender voices try,

Then issue on the main with bellowing rage,

And storms to trembling mariners presage.

Then thus to both replied th' imperial god,

Who shakes heav'n's axles with his awful nod.

(When he begins, the silent senate stand

With rev'rence, list'ning to the dread command:

The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain;

And the hush'd waves lie flatted on the main.)

"Celestials, your attentive ears incline!

Since," said the god, "the Trojans must not join

In wish'd alliance with the Latian line;

Since endless jarrings and immortal hate

Tend but to discompose our happy state;

The war henceforward be resign'd to fate:

Each to his proper fortune stand or fall;

Equal and unconcern'd I look on all.

Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me;

And both shall draw the lots their fates decree.

Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend;

And, if she favors those, let those defend:

The Fates will find their way." The Thund'rer said,

And shook the sacred honors of his head,

Attesting Styx, th' inviolable flood,

And the black regions of his brother god.

Trembled the poles of heav'n, and earth confess'd the nod.

This end the sessions had: the senate rise,

And to his palace wait their sov'reign thro' the skies.

Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes

Within their walls the Trojan host inclose:

They wound, they kill, they watch at ev'ry gate;

Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate.

Th' Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief,

Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief.

Thin on the tow'rs they stand; and ev'n those few

A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew.

Yet in the face of danger some there stood:

The two bold brothers of Sarpedon's blood,

Asius and Acmon; both th' Assaraci;

Young Haemon, and tho' young, resolv'd to die.

With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join'd;

Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind.

From Acmon's hands a rolling stone there came,

So large, it half deserv'd a mountain's name:

Strong-sinew'd was the youth, and big of bone;

His brother Mnestheus could not more have done,

Or the great father of th' intrepid son.

Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send;

And some with darts, and some with stones defend.

Amid the press appears the beauteous boy,

The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy.

His lovely face unarm'd, his head was bare;

In ringlets o'er his shoulders hung his hair.

His forehead circled with a diadem;

Distinguish'd from the crowd, he shines a gem,

Enchas'd in gold, or polish'd iv'ry set,

Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet.

Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war,

Directing pointed arrows from afar,

And death with poison arm'd- in Lydia born,

Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn;

Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands,

And leaves a rich manure of golden sands.

There Capys, author of the Capuan name,

And there was Mnestheus too, increas'd in fame,

Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame.

Thus mortal war was wag'd on either side.

Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide:

For, anxious, from Evander when he went,

He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon's tent;

Expos'd the cause of coming to the chief;

His name and country told, and ask'd relief;

Propos'd the terms; his own small strength declar'd;

What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar'd:

What Turnus, bold and violent, design'd;

Then shew'd the slipp'ry state of humankind,

And fickle fortune; warn'd him to beware,

And to his wholesome counsel added pray'r.

Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs,

And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins.

They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand;

Their forces trusted with a foreign hand.

Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear

Two lions carv'd, which rising Ida bear-

Ida, to wand'ring Trojans ever dear.

Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate,

Revolving war's events, and various fate.

His left young Pallas kept, fix'd to his side,

And oft of winds enquir'd, and of the tide;

Oft of the stars, and of their wat'ry way;

And what he suffer'd both by land and sea.

Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring!

The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing,

Which follow'd great Aeneas to the war:

Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare.

A thousand youths brave Massicus obey,

Borne in the Tiger thro' the foaming sea;

From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care:

For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear.

Fierce Abas next: his men bright armor wore;

His stern Apollo's golden statue bore.

Six hundred Populonia sent along,

All skill'd in martial exercise, and strong.

Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins,

An isle renown'd for steel, and unexhausted mines.

Asylas on his prow the third appears,

Who heav'n interprets, and the wand'ring stars;

From offer'd entrails prodigies expounds,

And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds.

A thousand spears in warlike order stand,

Sent by the Pisans under his command.

Fair Astur follows in the wat'ry field,

Proud of his manag'd horse and painted shield.

Gravisca, noisome from the neighb'ring fen,

And his own Caere, sent three hundred men;

With those which Minio's fields and Pyrgi gave,

All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave.

Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew,

And brave Cupavo follow'd but by few;

Whose helm confess'd the lineage of the man,

And bore, with wings display'd, a silver swan.

Love was the fault of his fam'd ancestry,

Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly.

For Cycnus lov'd unhappy Phaeton,

And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone,

Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief.

Heav'n heard his song, and hasten'd his relief,

And chang'd to snowy plumes his hoary hair,

And wing'd his flight, to chant aloft in air.

His son Cupavo brush'd the briny flood:

Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood,

Who heav'd a rock, and, threat'ning still to throw,

With lifted hands alarm'd the seas below:

They seem'd to fear the formidable sight,

And roll'd their billows on, to speed his flight.

Ocnus was next, who led his native train

Of hardy warriors thro' the wat'ry plain:

The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream,

From whence the Mantuan town derives the name-

An ancient city, but of mix'd descent:

Three sev'ral tribes compose the government;

Four towns are under each; but all obey

The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway.

Hate to Mezentius arm'd five hundred more,

Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore:

Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover'd o'er.

These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep

With stretching oars at once the glassy deep.

Him and his martial train the Triton bears;

High on his poop the sea-green god appears:

Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound,

And at the blast the billows dance around.

A hairy man above the waist he shows;

A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows;

And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides,

And froth and foam augment the murm'ring tides.

Full thirty ships transport the chosen train

For Troy's relief, and scour the briny main.

Now was the world forsaken by the sun,

And Phoebe half her nightly race had run.

The careful chief, who never clos'd his eyes,

Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies.

A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood,

Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida's wood;

But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep,

As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep.

They know him from afar; and in a ring

Inclose the ship that bore the Trojan king.

Cymodoce, whose voice excell'd the rest,

Above the waves advanc'd her snowy breast;

Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides

The curling ocean, and corrects the tides.

She spoke for all the choir, and thus began

With pleasing words to warn th' unknowing man:

"Sleeps our lov'd lord? O goddess-born, awake!

Spread ev'ry sail, pursue your wat'ry track,

And haste your course. Your navy once were we,

From Ida's height descending to the sea;

Till Turnus, as at anchor fix'd we stood,

Presum'd to violate our holy wood.

Then, loos'd from shore, we fled his fires profane

(Unwillingly we broke our master's chain),

And since have sought you thro' the Tuscan main.

The mighty Mother chang'd our forms to these,

And gave us life immortal in the seas.

But young Ascanius, in his camp distress'd,

By your insulting foes is hardly press'd.

Th' Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host,

Advance in order on the Latian coast:

To cut their way the Daunian chief designs,

Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines.

Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light,

First arm thy soldiers for th' ensuing fight:

Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield,

And bear aloft th' impenetrable shield.

To-morrow's sun, unless my skill be vain,

Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain."

Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force

Push'd on the vessel in her wat'ry course;

For well she knew the way. Impell'd behind,

The ship flew forward, and outstripp'd the wind.

The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause,

The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws.

Then thus he pray'd, and fix'd on heav'n his eyes:

"Hear thou, great Mother of the deities.

With turrets crown'd! (on Ida's holy hill

Fierce tigers, rein'd and curb'd, obey thy will.)

Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight;

And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right."

He said no more. And now renewing day

Had chas'd the shadows of the night away.

He charg'd the soldiers, with preventing care,

Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare;

Warn'd of th' ensuing fight, and bade 'em hope the war.

Now, his lofty poop, he view'd below

His camp incompass'd, and th' inclosing foe.

His blazing shield, imbrac'd, he held on high;

The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply.

Hope arms their courage: from their tow'rs they throw

Their darts with double force, and drive the foe.

Thus, at the signal giv'n, the cranes arise

Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies.

King Turnus wonder'd at the fight renew'd,

Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view'd,

The seas with swelling canvas cover'd o'er,

And the swift ships descending on the shore.

The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes,

The radiant crest that seem'd in flames to rise,

And dart diffusive fires around the field,

And the keen glitt'ring the golden shield.

Thus threat'ning comets, when by night they rise,

Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies:

So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights,

Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright:

Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent

To man the shores, and hinder their descent,

And thus awakes the courage of his friends:

"What you so long have wish'd, kind Fortune sends;

In ardent arms to meet th' invading foe:

You find, and find him at advantage now.

Yours is the day: you need but only dare;

Your swords will make you masters of the war.

Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands,

And dearest wifes, are all within your hands.

Be mindful of the race from whence you came,

And emulate in arms your fathers' fame.

Now take the time, while stagg'ring yet they stand

With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand:

Fortune befriends the bold." Nor more he said,

But balanc'd whom to leave, and whom to lead;

Then these elects, the landing to prevent;

And those he leaves, to keep the city pent.

Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore:

Some are by boats expos'd, by bridges more.

With lab'ring oars they bear along the strand,

Where the tide languishes, and leap aland.

Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes,

And, where no ford he finds, no water fries,

Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar,

But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore,

That course he steer'd, and thus he gave command:

"Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land:

Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound

This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground.

Let me securely land- I ask no more;

Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore."

This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends:

They tug at ev'ry oar, and ev'ry stretcher bends;

They run their ships aground; the vessels knock,

(Thus forc'd ashore,) and tremble with the shock.

Tarchon's alone was lost, that stranded stood,

Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood:

She breaks her back; the loosen'd sides give way,

And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea.

Their broken oars and floating planks withstand

Their passage, while they labor to the land,

And ebbing tides bear back upon th' uncertain sand.

Now Turnus leads his troops without delay,

Advancing to the margin of the sea.

The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assail'd

The clowns new-rais'd and raw, and soon prevail'd.

Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight;

Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height.

He first in open field defied the prince:

But armor scal'd with gold was no defense

Against the fated sword, which open'd wide

His plated shield, and pierc'd his naked side.

Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born,

Was from his wretched mother ripp'd and torn;

Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee;

For his beginning life from biting steel was free.

Not far from him was Gyas laid along,

Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong:

Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail'd,

Nor valor nor Herculean arms avail'd,

Nor their fam'd father, wont in war to go

With great Alcides, while he toil'd below.

The noisy Pharos next receiv'd his death:

Aeneas writh'd his dart, and stopp'd his bawling breath.

Then wretched Cydon had receiv'd his doom,

Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom,

And sought with lust obscene polluted joys:

The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys,

Had not his sev'n bold brethren stopp'd the course

Of the fierce champions, with united force.

Sev'n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound

From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound:

The rest had reach'd him; but his mother's care

Prevented those, and turn'd aside in air.

The prince then call'd Achates, to supply

The spears that knew the way to victory-

"Those fatal weapons, which, inur'd to blood,

In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood:

Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain

Against our foes, on this contended plain."

He said; then seiz'd a mighty spear, and threw;

Which, wing'd with fate, thro' Maeon's buckler flew,

Pierc'd all the brazen plates, and reach'd his heart:

He stagger'd with intolerable smart.

Alcanor saw; and reach'd, but reach'd in vain,

His helping hand, his brother to sustain.

A second spear, which kept the former course,

From the same hand, and sent with equal force,

His right arm pierc'd, and holding on, bereft

His use of both, and pinion'd down his left.

Then Numitor from his dead brother drew

Th' ill-omen'd spear, and at the Trojan threw:

Preventing fate directs the lance awry,

Which, glancing, only mark'd Achates' thigh.

In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came,

And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim.

The spear flew hissing thro' the middle space,

And pierc'd his throat, directed at his face;

It stopp'd at once the passage of his wind,

And the free soul to flitting air resign'd:

His forehead was the first that struck the ground;

Lifeblood and life rush'd mingled thro' the wound.

He slew three brothers of the Borean race,

And three, whom Ismarus, their native place,

Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace.

Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads:

The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds,

Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand,

These fight to keep, and those to win, the land.

With mutual blood th' Ausonian soil is dyed,

While on its borders each their claim decide.

As wintry winds, contending in the sky,

With equal force of lungs their titles try:

They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav'n

Stands without motion, and the tide undriv'n:

Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield,

They long suspend the fortune of the field.

Both armies thus perform what courage can;

Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man.

But, in another part, th' Arcadian horse

With ill success ingage the Latin force:

For, where th' impetuous torrent, rushing down,

Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown,

They left their coursers, and, unus'd to fight

On foot, were scatter'd in a shameful flight.

Pallas, who with disdain and grief had view'd

His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued,

Us'd threat'nings mix'd with pray'rs, his last resource,

With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force

"Which way, companions? whether would you run?

By you yourselves, and mighty battles won,

By my great sire, by his establish'd name,

And early promise of my future fame;

By my youth, emulous of equal right

To share his honors- shun ignoble flight!

Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way

Thro' yon black body, and that thick array:

'T is thro' that forward path that we must come;

There lies our way, and that our passage home.

Nor pow'rs above, nor destinies below

Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go,

With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.

See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore,

The sea behind, our enemies before;

No passage left, unless we swim the main;

Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain."

This said, he strode with eager haste along,

And bore amidst the thickest of the throng.

Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe,

Had heav'd a stone of mighty weight, to throw:

Stooping, the spear descended on his chine,

Just where the bone distinguished either loin:

It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay,

That scarce the victor forc'd the steel away.

Hisbon came on: but, while he mov'd too slow

To wish'd revenge, the prince prevents his blow;

For, warding his at once, at once he press'd,

And plung'd the fatal weapon in his breast.

Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust,

Who stain'd his stepdam's bed with impious lust.

And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain,

Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain;

So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size,

As caus'd an error in their parents' eyes-

Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides

The nice distinction, and their fate divides:

For Thymbrus' head was lopp'd; and Laris' hand,

Dismember'd, sought its owner on the strand:

The trembling fingers yet the fauchion strain,

And threaten still th' intended stroke in vain.

Now, to renew the charge, th' Arcadians came:

Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame,

And grief, with anger mix'd, their minds inflame.

Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain,

Who chanc'd, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain:

The flying spear was after Ilus sent;

But Rhoeteus happen'd on a death unmeant:

From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled,

The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead:

Roll'd from his chariot with a mortal wound,

And intercepted fate, he spurn'd the ground.

As when, in summer, welcome winds arise,

The watchful shepherd to the forest flies,

And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads,

And catching flames infect the neighb'ring heads;

Around the forest flies the furious blast,

And all the leafy nation sinks at last,

And Vulcan rides in triumph o'er the waste;

The pastor, pleas'd with his dire victory,

Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky:

So Pallas' troops their scatter'd strength unite,

And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight.

Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood;

But first collected in his arms he stood:

Advancing then, he plied the spear so well,

Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell.

Around his head he toss'd his glitt'ring brand,

And from Strymonius hew'd his better hand,

Held up to guard his throat; then hurl'd a stone

At Thoas' ample front, and pierc'd the bone:

It struck beneath the space of either eye;

And blood, and mingled brains, together fly.

Deep skill'd in future fates, Halesus' sire

Did with the youth to lonely groves retire:

But, when the father's mortal race was run,

Dire destiny laid hold upon the son,

And haul'd him to the war, to find, beneath

Th' Evandrian spear, a memorable death.

Pallas th' encounter seeks, but, ere he throws,

To Tuscan Tiber thus address'd his vows:

"O sacred stream, direct my flying dart,

And give to pass the proud Halesus' heart!

His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear."

Pleas'd with the bribe, the god receiv'd his pray'r:

For, while his shield protects a friend distress'd,

The dart came driving on, and pierc'd his breast.

But Lausus, no small portion of the war,

Permits not panic fear to reign too far,

Caus'd by the death of so renown'd a knight;

But by his own example cheers the fight.

Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay

Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day.

The Phrygian troops escap'd the Greeks in vain:

They, and their mix'd allies, now load the plain.

To the rude shock of war both armies came;

Their leaders equal, and their strength the same.

The rear so press'd the front, they could not wield

Their angry weapons, to dispute the field.

Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there:

Of equal youth and beauty both appear,

But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air.

Their congress in the field great Jove withstands:

Both doom'd to fall, but fall by greater hands.

Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief

Of Lausus' danger, urging swift relief.

With his driv'n chariot he divides the crowd,

And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud:

"Let none presume his needless aid to join;

Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine:

To this right hand is Pallas only due;

O were his father here, my just revenge to view!"

From the forbidden space his men retir'd.

Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir'd;

Survey'd him o'er and o'er with wond'ring sight,

Struck with his haughty mien, and tow'ring height.

Then to the king: "Your empty vaunts forbear;

Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear;

Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name;

Jove is impartial, and to both the same."

He said, and to the void advanc'd his pace:

Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face.

Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light,

Address'd himself on foot to single fight.

And, as a lion- when he spies from far

A bull that seems to meditate the war,

Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand-

Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand:

Imagine eager Turnus not more slow,

To rush from high on his unequal foe.

Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance

Within due distance of his flying lance,

Prepares to charge him first, resolv'd to try

If fortune would his want of force supply;

And thus to Heav'n and Hercules address'd:

"Alcides, once on earth Evander's guest,

His son adjures you by those holy rites,

That hospitable board, those genial nights;

Assist my great attempt to gain this prize,

And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes,

His ravish'd spoils." 'T was heard, the vain request;

Alcides mourn'd, and stifled sighs within his breast.

Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began:

"Short bounds of life are set to mortal man.

'T is virtue's work alone to stretch the narrow span.

So many sons of gods, in bloody fight,

Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light:

My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe;

Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow.

Ev'n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath,

And stands already on the verge of death."

This said, the god permits the fatal fight,

But from the Latian fields averts his sight.

Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw,

And, having thrown, his shining fauchion drew

The steel just graz'd along the shoulder joint,

And mark'd it slightly with the glancing point,

Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew,

And pois'd his pointed spear, before he threw:

Then, as the winged weapon whizz'd along,

"See now," said he, "whose arm is better strung."

The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay'd

By plates of ir'n, which o'er the shield were laid:

Thro' folded brass and tough bull hides it pass'd,

His corslet pierc'd, and reach'd his heart at last.

In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood;

The soul comes issuing with the vital blood:

He falls; his arms upon his body sound;

And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground.

Turnus bestrode the corpse: "Arcadians, hear,"

Said he; "my message to your master bear:

Such as the sire deserv'd, the son I send;

It costs him dear to be the Phrygians' friend.

The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow,

Unask'd, to rest his wand'ring ghost below."

He said, and trampled down with all the force

Of his left foot, and spurn'd the wretched corse;

Then snatch'd the shining belt, with gold inlaid;

The belt Eurytion's artful hands had made,

Where fifty fatal brides, express'd to sight,

All in the compass of one mournful night,

Depriv'd their bridegrooms of returning light.

In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore

Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore.

O mortals, blind in fate, who never know

To bear high fortune, or endure the low!

The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain,

Shall wish untouch'd the trophies of the slain;

Shall wish the fatal belt were far away,

And curse the dire remembrance of the day.

The sad Arcadians, from th' unhappy field,

Bear back the breathless body on a shield.

O grace and grief of war! at once restor'd,

With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor'd!

One day first sent thee to the fighting field,

Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill'd;

One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield.

This dismal news, not from uncertain fame,

But sad spectators, to the hero came:

His friends upon the brink of ruin stand,

Unless reliev'd by his victorious hand.

He whirls his sword around, without delay,

And hews thro' adverse foes an ample way,

To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud:

Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow'd

To large deserts, are present to his eyes;

His plighted hand, and hospitable ties.

Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred,

He took in fight, and living victims led,

To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire,

In sacrifice, before his fun'ral fire.

At Magus next he threw: he stoop'd below

The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow;

Then, creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and pray'd:

"By young Iulus, by thy father's shade,

O spare my life, and send me back to see

My longing sire, and tender progeny!

A lofty house I have, and wealth untold,

In silver ingots, and in bars of gold:

All these, and sums besides, which see no day,

The ransom of this one poor life shall pay.

If I survive, will Troy the less prevail?

A single soul's too light to turn the scale."

He said. The hero sternly thus replied:

"Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside,

Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke

All rules of war by one relentless stroke,

When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone

My father's shadow, but my living son."

Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft,

He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left;

Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath'd,

Up to the hilts his shining fauchion sheath'd.

Apollo's priest, Emonides, was near;

His holy fillets on his front appear;

Glitt'ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd;

Much of his god, more of his purple, proud.

Him the fierce Trojan follow'd thro' the field:

The holy coward fell; and, forc'd to yield,

The prince stood o'er the priest, and, at one blow,

Sent him an off'ring to the shades below.

His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears,

Design'd a trophy to the God of Wars.

Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight,

And Umbro, born upon the mountains' height.

The champion cheers his troops t' encounter those,

And seeks revenge himself on other foes.

At Anxur's shield he drove; and, at the blow,

Both shield and arm to ground together go.

Anxur had boasted much of magic charms,

And thought he wore impenetrable arms,

So made by mutter'd spells; and, from the spheres,

Had life secur'd, in vain, for length of years.

Then Tarquitus the field triumph trod;

A nymph his mother, his sire a god.

Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince:

With his protended lance he makes defense;

Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on,

Arrests his better hand, and drags him down;

Stands o'er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay,

Vain tales inventing, and prepar'd to pray,

Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood,

Then sunk, and roll'd along the sand in blood.

The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain:

"Lie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain;

Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb,

Far from thy mother and thy native home,

Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey,

Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea."

On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran,

Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van.

They fled for fear; with these, he chas'd along

Camers the yellow-lock'd, and Numa strong;

Both great in arms, and both were fair and young.

Camers was son to Volscens lately slain,

In wealth surpassing all the Latian train,

And in Amycla fix'd his silent easy reign.

And, as Aegaeon, when with heav'n he strove,

Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove;

Mov'd all his hundred hands, provok'd the war,

Defied the forky lightning from afar;

At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires,

And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires;

In his right hand as many swords he wields,

And takes the thunder on as many shields:

With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood;

And soon the fields with falling corps were strow'd,

When once his fauchion found the taste of blood.

With fury scarce to be conceiv'd, he flew

Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew.

They, when they see the fiery chief advance,

And pushing at their chests his pointed lance,

Wheel'd with so swift a motion, mad with fear,

They threw their master headlong from the chair.

They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before

They bear the bounding chariot to the shore.

Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains,

With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins,

And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains:

Bold brethren both. The former wav'd in air

His flaming sword: Aeneas couch'd his spear,

Unus'd to threats, and more unus'd to fear.

Then Liger thus: "Thy confidence is vain

To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain:

Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode,

Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode;

Nor Venus' veil is here, near Neptune's shield;

Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field."

Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan

Return'd his answer with his flying spear.

As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends,

Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends,

Prepar'd for fight; the fatal dart arrives,

And thro' the borders of his buckler drives;

Pass'd thro' and pierc'd his groin: the deadly wound,

Cast from his chariot, roll'd him on the ground.

Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite:

"Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight;

Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat;

But you yourself forsake your empty seat."

He said, and seiz'd at once the loosen'd rein;

For Liger lay already on the plain,

By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands,

The recreant thus his wretched life demands:

"Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man!

By her and him from whom thy breath began,

Who form'd thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare

This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant's pray'r."

Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said;

But the stern hero turn'd aside his head,

And cut him short: "I hear another man;

You talk'd not thus before the fight began.

Now take your turn; and, as a brother should,

Attend your brother to the Stygian flood."

Then thro' his breast his fatal sword he sent,

And the soul issued at the gaping vent.

As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground,

Thus rag'd the prince, and scatter'd deaths around.

At length Ascanius and the Trojan train

Broke from the camp, so long besieg'd in vain.

Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man

Held conference with his queen, and thus began:

"My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife,

Still think you Venus' aid supports the strife-

Sustains her Trojans- or themselves, alone,

With inborn valor force their fortune on?

How fierce in fight, with courage undecay'd!

Judge if such warriors want immortal aid."

To whom the goddess with the charming eyes,

Soft in her tone, submissively replies:

"Why, O my sov'reign lord, whose frown I fear,

And cannot, unconcern'd, your anger bear;

Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still

(As once I was) were mistress of your will,

From your almighty pow'r your pleasing wife

Might gain the grace of length'ning Turnus' life,

Securely snatch him from the fatal fight,

And give him to his aged father's sight.

Now let him perish, since you hold it good,

And glut the Trojans with his pious blood.

Yet from our lineage he derives his name,

And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came;

Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine,

And offers daily incense at your shrine."

Then shortly thus the sov'reign god replied:

"Since in my pow'r and goodness you confide,

If for a little space, a lengthen'd span,

You beg reprieve for this expiring man,