Aeneid

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Scarce had the rosy Morning rais'd her head

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Above the waves, and left her wat'ry bed;

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The pious chief, whom double cares attend

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For his unburied soldiers and his friend,

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Yet first to Heav'n perform'd a victor's vows:

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He bar'd an ancient oak of all her boughs;

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Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac'd,

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Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac'd.

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The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,

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Now on a naked snag in triumph borne,

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Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar,

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A trophy sacred to the God of War.

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Above his arms, fix'd on the leafless wood,

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Appear'd his plumy crest, besmear'd with blood:

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His brazen buckler on the left was seen;

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Truncheons of shiver'd lances hung between;

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And on the right was placed his corslet, bor'd;

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And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.

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A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,

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Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began:

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"Our toils, my friends, are crown'd with sure success;

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The greater part perform'd, achieve the less.

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Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;

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Press but an entrance, and presume it won.

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Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies,

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As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.

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Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,

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And, in this omen, is already slain.

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Prepar'd in arms, pursue your happy chance;

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That none unwarn'd may plead his ignorance,

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And I, at Heav'n's appointed hour, may find

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Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.

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Meantime the rites and fun'ral pomps prepare,

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Due to your dead companions of the war:

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The last respect the living can bestow,

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To shield their shadows from contempt below.

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That conquer'd earth be theirs, for which they fought,

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And which for us with their own blood they bought;

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But first the corpse of our unhappy friend

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To the sad city of Evander send,

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Who, not inglorious, in his age's bloom,

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Was hurried hence by too severe a doom."

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Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,

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Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.

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Acoetes watch'd the corpse; whose youth deserv'd

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The father's trust; and now the son he serv'd

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With equal faith, but less auspicious care.

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Th' attendants of the slain his sorrow share.

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A troop of Trojans mix'd with these appear,

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And mourning matrons with dishevel'd hair.

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Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry;

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All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky.

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They rear his drooping forehead from the ground;

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But, when Aeneas view'd the grisly wound

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Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore,

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And the fair flesh distain'd with purple gore;

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First, melting into tears, the pious man

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Deplor'd so sad a sight, then thus began:

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"Unhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest

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Of my full wishes, she refus'd the best!

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She came; but brought not thee along, to bless

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My longing eyes, and share in my success:

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She grudg'd thy safe return, the triumphs due

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To prosp'rous valor, in the public view.

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Not thus I promis'd, when thy father lent

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Thy needless succor with a sad consent;

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Embrac'd me, parting for th' Etrurian land,

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And sent me to possess a large command.

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He warn'd, and from his own experience told,

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Our foes were warlike, disciplin'd, and bold.

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And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return,

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Rich odors on his loaded altars burn,

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While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare

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To send him back his portion of the war,

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A bloody breathless body, which can owe

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No farther debt, but to the pow'rs below.

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The wretched father, ere his race is run,

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Shall view the fun'ral honors of his son.

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These are my triumphs of the Latian war,

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Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care!

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And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see

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A son whose death disgrac'd his ancestry;

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Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev'd:

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Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv'd.

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He died no death to make thee wish, too late,

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Thou hadst not liv'd to see his shameful fate:

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But what a champion has th' Ausonian coast,

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And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!"

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Thus having mourn'd, he gave the word around,

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To raise the breathless body from the ground;

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And chose a thousand horse, the flow'r of all

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His warlike troops, to wait the funeral,

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To bear him back and share Evander's grief:

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A well-becoming, but a weak relief.

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Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier,

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Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear.

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The body on this rural hearse is borne:

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Strew'd leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn.

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All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow'r,

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New cropp'd by virgin hands, to dress the bow'r:

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Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below,

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No more to mother earth or the green stern shall owe.

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Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost,

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Of purple woven, and with gold emboss'd,

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For ornament the Trojan hero brought,

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Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought.

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One vest array'd the corpse; and one they spread

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O'er his clos'd eyes, and wrapp'd around his head,

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That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall,

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The catching fire might burn the golden caul.

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Besides, the spoils of foes in battle slain,

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When he descended on the Latian plain;

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Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse are led

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In long array- th' achievements of the dead.

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Then, pinion'd with their hands behind, appear

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Th' unhappy captives, marching in the rear,

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Appointed off'rings in the victor's name,

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To sprinkle with their blood the fun'ral flame.

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Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne;

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Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn;

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And fair inscriptions fix'd, and titles read

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Of Latian leaders conquer'd by the dead.

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Acoetes on his pupil's corpse attends,

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With feeble steps, supported by his friends.

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Pausing at ev'ry pace, in sorrow drown'd,

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Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground;

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Where grov'ling while he lies in deep despair,

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He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair.

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The champion's chariot next is seen to roll,

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Besmear'd with hostile blood, and honorably foul.

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To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state,

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Is led, the fun'rals of his lord to wait.

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Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace

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He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face.

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The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest,

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Are borne behind: the victor seiz'd the rest.

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The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound;

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The pikes and lances trail along the ground.

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Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse

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To Pallantean tow'rs direct their course,

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In long procession rank'd, the pious chief

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Stopp'd in the rear, and gave a vent to grief:

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"The public care," he said, "which war attends,

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Diverts our present woes, at least suspends.

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Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell!

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Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!"

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He said no more, but, inly thro' he mourn'd,

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Restrained his tears, and to the camp return'd.

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Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand

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A truce, with olive branches in their hand;

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Obtest his clemency, and from the plain

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Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain.

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They plead, that none those common rites deny

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To conquer'd foes that in fair battle die.

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All cause of hate was ended in their death;

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Nor could he war with bodies void of breath.

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A king, they hop'd, would hear a king's request,

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Whose son he once was call'd, and once his guest.

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Their suit, which was too just to be denied,

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The hero grants, and farther thus replied:

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"O Latian princes, how severe a fate

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In causeless quarrels has involv'd your state,

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And arm'd against an unoffending man,

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Who sought your friendship ere the war began!

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You beg a truce, which I would gladly give,

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Not only for the slain, but those who live.

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I came not hither but by Heav'n's command,

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And sent by fate to share the Latian land.

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Nor wage I wars unjust: your king denied

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My proffer'd friendship, and my promis'd bride;

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Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try

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His cause in arms, to conquer or to die.

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My right and his are in dispute: the slain

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Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain.

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In equal arms let us alone contend;

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And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend.

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This is the way (so tell him) to possess

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The royal virgin, and restore the peace.

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Bear this message back, with ample leave,

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That your slain friends may fun'ral rites receive."

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Thus having said- th' embassadors, amaz'd,

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Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz'd.

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Drances, their chief, who harbor'd in his breast

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Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess'd,

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Broke silence first, and to the godlike man,

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With graceful action bowing, thus began:

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"Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name,

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But yet whose actions far transcend your fame;

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Would I your justice or your force express,

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Thought can but equal; and all words are less.

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Your answer we shall thankfully relate,

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And favors granted to the Latian state.

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If wish'd success our labor shall attend,

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Think peace concluded, and the king your friend:

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Let Turnus leave the realm to your command,

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And seek alliance in some other land:

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Build you the city which your fates assign;

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We shall be proud in the great work to join."

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Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade

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The rest impower'd, that soon a truce is made.

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Twelve days the term allow'd: and, during those,

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Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes,

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Mix'd in the woods, for fun'ral piles prepare

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To fell the timber, and forget the war.

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Loud axes thro' the groaning groves resound;

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Oak, mountain ash, and poplar spread the ground;

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First fall from high; and some the trunks receive

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In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave.

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And now the fatal news by Fame is blown

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Thro' the short circuit of th' Arcadian town,

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Of Pallas slain- by Fame, which just before

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His triumphs on distended pinions bore.

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Rushing from out the gate, the people stand,

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Each with a fun'ral flambeau in his hand.

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Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze:

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The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze,

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That cast a sullen splendor on their friends,

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The marching troop which their dead prince attends.

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Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry;

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The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply,

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And their mix'd mourning rends the vaulted sky.

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The town is fill'd with tumult and with tears,

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Till the loud clamors reach Evander's ears:

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Forgetful of his state, he runs along,

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With a disorder'd pace, and cleaves the throng;

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Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies,

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With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes.

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Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks

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A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks:

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"O Pallas! thou hast fail'd thy plighted word,

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To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword!

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I warn'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew

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What perils youthful ardor would pursue,

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That boiling blood would carry thee too far,

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Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war!

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O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom,

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Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come!

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Hard elements of unauspicious war,

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Vain vows to Heav'n, and unavailing care!

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Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed,

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Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled,

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Praescious of ills, and leaving me behind,

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To drink the dregs of life by fate assign'd!

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Beyond the goal of nature I have gone:

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My Pallas late set out, but reach'd too soon.

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If, for my league against th' Ausonian state,

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Amidst their weapons I had found my fate,

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(Deserv'd from them,) then I had been return'd

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A breathless victor, and my son had mourn'd.

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Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid,

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Nor grudge th' alliance I so gladly made.

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'T was not his fault, my Pallas fell so young,

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But my own crime, for having liv'd too long.

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Yet, since the gods had destin'd him to die,

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At least he led the way to victory:

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First for his friends he won the fatal shore,

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And sent whole herds of slaughter'd foes before;

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A death too great, too glorious to deplore.

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Nor will I add new honors to thy grave,

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Content with those the Trojan hero gave:

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That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design'd,

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In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join'd.

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Great spoils and trophies, gain'd by thee, they bear:

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Then let thy own achievements be thy share.

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Even thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood,

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Whose mighty trunk had better grac'd the wood,

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If Pallas had arriv'd, with equal length

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Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength.

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But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain

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These troops, to view the tears thou shedd'st in vain?

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Go, friends, this message to your lord relate:

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Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate,

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And, after Pallas' death, live ling'ring on,

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'T is to behold his vengeance for my son.

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I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head

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Is owing to the living and the dead.

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My son and I expect it from his hand;

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'T is all that he can give, or we demand.

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Joy is no more; but I would gladly go,

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To greet my Pallas with such news below."

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The morn had now dispell'd the shades of night,

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Restoring toils, when she restor'd the light.

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The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command

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To raise the piles along the winding strand.

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Their friends convey the dead fun'ral fires;

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Black smold'ring smoke from the green wood expires;

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The light of heav'n is chok'd, and the new day retires.

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Then thrice around the kindled piles they go

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(For ancient custom had ordain'd it so)

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Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led;

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And thrice, with loud laments, they hail the dead.

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Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground,

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And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound.

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Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw

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The spoils, in battle taken from the foe:

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Helms, bits emboss'd, and swords of shining steel;

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One casts a target, one a chariot wheel;

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Some to their fellows their own arms restore:

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The fauchions which in luckless fight they bore,

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Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in vain,

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And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plain.

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Whole herds of offer'd bulls, about the fire,

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And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire.

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Around the piles a careful troop attends,

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To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends;

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Ling'ring along the shore, till dewy night

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New decks the face of heav'n with starry light.

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The conquer'd Latians, with like pious care,

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Piles without number for their dead prepare.

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Part in the places where they fell are laid;

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And part are to the neighb'ring fields convey'd.

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The corps of kings, and captains of renown,

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Borne off in state, are buried in the town;

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The rest, unhonor'd, and without a name,

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Are cast a common heap to feed the flame.

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Trojans and Latians vie with like desires

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To make the field of battle shine with fires,

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And the promiscuous blaze to heav'n aspires.

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Now had the morning thrice renew'd the light,

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And thrice dispell'd the shadows of the night,

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When those who round the wasted fires remain,

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Perform the last sad office to the slain.

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They rake the yet warm ashes from below;

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These, and the bones unburn'd, in earth bestow;

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These relics with their country rites they grace,

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And raise a mount of turf to mark the place.

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But, in the palace of the king, appears

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A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears.

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Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans;

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Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons.

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All in that universal sorrow share,

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And curse the cause of this unhappy war:

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A broken league, a bride unjustly sought,

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A crown usurp'd, which with their blood is bought!

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These are the crimes with which they load the name

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Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim:

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"Let him who lords it o'er th' Ausonian land

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Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand:

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His is the gain; our lot is but to serve;

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'T is just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve."

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This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite:

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"His foe expects, and dares him to the fight."

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Nor Turnus wants a party, to support

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His cause and credit in the Latian court.

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His former acts secure his present fame,

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And the queen shades him with her mighty name.

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While thus their factious minds with fury burn,

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The legates from th' Aetolian prince return:

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Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost

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And care employ'd, their embassy is lost;

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That Diomedes refus'd his aid in war,

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Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to pray'r.

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Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought,

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Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought.

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Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late,

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A foreign son is pointed out by fate;

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And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed,

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The wrath of Heav'n is hov'ring o'er his head.

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The gods, he saw, espous'd the juster side,

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When late their titles in the field were tried:

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Witness the fresh laments, and fun'ral tears undried.

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Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all

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The Latian senate to the council hall.

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The princes come, commanded by their head,

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And crowd the paths that to the palace lead.

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Supreme in pow'r, and reverenc'd for his years,

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He takes the throne, and in the midst appears.

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Majestically sad, he sits in state,

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And bids his envoys their success relate.

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When Venulus began, the murmuring sound

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Was hush'd, and sacred silence reign'd around.

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"We have," said he, "perform'd your high command,

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And pass'd with peril a long tract of land:

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We reach'd the place desir'd; with wonder fill'd,

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The Grecian tents and rising tow'rs beheld.

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Great Diomede has compass'd round with walls

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The city, which Argyripa he calls,

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From his own Argos nam'd. We touch'd, with joy,

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The royal hand that raz'd unhappy Troy.

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When introduc'd, our presents first we bring,

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Then crave an instant audience from the king.

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His leave obtain'd, our native soil we name,

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And tell th' important cause for which we came.

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Attentively he heard us, while we spoke;

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Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look,

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Made this return: 'Ausonian race, of old

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Renown'd for peace, and for an age of gold,

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What madness has your alter'd minds possess'd,

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To change for war hereditary rest,

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Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword,

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A needless ill your ancestors abhorr'd?

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We- for myself I speak, and all the name

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Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came,

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Omitting those who were in battle slain,

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Or borne by rolling Simois to the main-

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Not one but suffer'd, and too dearly bought

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The prize of honor which in arms he sought;

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Some doom'd to death, and some in exile driv'n.

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Outcasts, abandon'd by the care of Heav'n;

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So worn, so wretched, so despis'd a crew,

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As ev'n old Priam might with pity view.

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Witness the vessels by Minerva toss'd

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In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast;

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Th' Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led

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Our armies to revenge his injur'd bed,

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In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men

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Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops' den.

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Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain

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Restor'd to scepters, and expell'd again?

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Or young Achilles, by his rival slain?

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Ev'n he, the King of Men, the foremost name

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Of all the Greeks, and most renown'd by fame,

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The proud revenger of another's wife,

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Yet by his own adult'ress lost his life;

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Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy

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The foul polluters of his bed enjoy.

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The gods have envied me the sweets of life,

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My much lov'd country, and my more lov'd wife:

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Banish'd from both, I mourn; while in the sky,

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Transform'd to birds, my lost companions fly:

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Hov'ring about the coasts, they make their moan,

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And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own.

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What squalid specters, in the dead of night,

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Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight!

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I might have promis'd to myself those harms,

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Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms,

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Presum'd against immortal pow'rs to move,

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And violate with wounds the Queen of Love.

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Such arms this hand shall never more employ;

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No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy.

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I war not with its dust; nor am I glad

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To think of past events, or good or bad.

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Your presents I return: whate'er you bring

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To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king.

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We met in fight; I know him, to my cost:

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With what a whirling force his lance he toss'd!

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Heav'ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw!

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How high he held his shield, and rose at ev'ry blow!

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Had Troy produc'd two more his match in might,

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They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight:

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Th' invasion of the Greeks had been return'd,

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Our empire wasted, and our cities burn'd.

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The long defense the Trojan people made,

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The war protracted, and the siege delay'd,

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Were due to Hector's and this hero's hand:

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Both brave alike, and equal in command;

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Aeneas, not inferior in the field,

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In pious reverence to the gods excell'd.

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Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care

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Th' impending dangers of a fatal war.'

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He said no more; but, with this cold excuse,

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Refus'd th' alliance, and advis'd a truce."

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Thus Venulus concluded his report.

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A jarring murmur fill'd the factious court:

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As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force,

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And dashes o'er the stones that stop the course,

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The flood, constrain'd within a scanty space,

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Roars horrible along th' uneasy race;

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White foam in gath'ring eddies floats around;

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The rocky shores rebellow to the sound.

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The murmur ceas'd: then from his lofty throne

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The king invok'd the gods, and thus begun:

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"I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate

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Had been resolv'd before it was too late.

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Much better had it been for you and me,

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Unforc'd by this our last necessity,

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To have been earlier wise, than now to call

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A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.

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O citizens, we wage unequal war,

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With men not only Heav'n's peculiar care,

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But Heav'n's own race; unconquer'd in the field,

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Or, conquer'd, yet unknowing how to yield.

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What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down:

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Our hopes must center on ourselves alone.

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Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain,

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You see too well; nor need my words explain.

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Vanquish'd without resource; laid flat by fate;

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Factions within, a foe without the gate!

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Not but I grant that all perform'd their parts

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With manly force, and with undaunted hearts:

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With our united strength the war we wag'd;

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With equal numbers, equal arms, engag'd.

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You see th' event.- Now hear what I propose,

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To save our friends, and satisfy our foes.

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A tract of land the Latins have possess'd

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Along the Tiber, stretching to the west,

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Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till,

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And their mix'd cattle graze the fruitful hill.

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Those mountains fill'd with firs, that lower land,

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If you consent, the Trojan shall command,

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Call'd into part of what is ours; and there,

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On terms agreed, the common country share.

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There let'em build and settle, if they please;

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Unless they choose once more to cross the seas,

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In search of seats remote from Italy,

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And from unwelcome inmates set us free.

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Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed,

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Or twice as many more, if more they need.

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Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood

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Runs equal with the margin of the flood:

Primary

Let them the number and the form assign;

Primary

The care and cost of all the stores be mine.

Primary

To treat the peace, a hundred senators

Primary

Shall be commission'd hence with ample pow'rs,

Primary

With olive the presents they shall bear,

Primary

A purple robe, a royal iv'ry chair,

Primary

And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear,

Primary

And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate

Primary

This great affair, and save the sinking state."

Primary

Then Drances took the word, who grudg'd, long since,

Primary

The rising glories of the Daunian prince.

Primary

Factious and rich, bold at the council board,

Primary

But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword;

Primary

A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord.

Primary

Noble his mother was, and near the throne;

Primary

But, what his father's parentage, unknown.

Primary

He rose, and took th' advantage of the times,

Primary

To load young Turnus with invidious crimes.

Primary

"Such truths, O king," said he, "your words contain,

Primary

As strike the sense, and all replies are vain;

Primary

Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek

Primary

What common needs require, but fear to speak.

Primary

Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man,

Primary

Whose pride this unauspicious war began;

Primary

For whose ambition (let me dare to say,

Primary

Fear set apart, tho' death is in my way)

Primary

The plains of Latium run with blood around.

Primary

So many valiant heroes bite the ground;

Primary

Dejected grief in ev'ry face appears;

Primary

A town in mourning, and a land in tears;

Primary

While he, th' undoubted author of our harms,

Primary

The man who menaces the gods with arms,

Primary

Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight,

Primary

And sought his safety in ignoble flight.

Primary

Now, best of kings, since you propose to send

Primary

Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend;

Primary

Add yet a greater at our joint request,

Primary

One which he values more than all the rest:

Primary

Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride;

Primary

With that alliance let the league be tied,

Primary

And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide.

Primary

Let insolence no longer awe the throne;

Primary

But, with a father's right, bestow your own.

Primary

For this maligner of the general good,

Primary

If still we fear his force, he must be woo'd;

Primary

His haughty godhead we with pray'rs implore,

Primary

Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore.

Primary

O cursed cause of all our ills, must we

Primary

Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee!

Primary

What right hast thou to rule the Latian state,

Primary

And send us out to meet our certain fate?

Primary

'T is a destructive war: from Turnus' hand

Primary

Our peace and public safety we demand.

Primary

Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain;

Primary

If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain.

Primary

Turnus, I know you think me not your friend,

Primary

Nor will I much with your belief contend:

Primary

I beg your greatness not to give the law

Primary

In others' realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.

Primary

Pity your own, or pity our estate;

Primary

Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate.

Primary

Your interest is, the war should never cease;

Primary

But we have felt enough to wish the peace:

Primary

A land exhausted to the last remains,

Primary

Depopulated towns, and driven plains.

Primary

Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow'r,

Primary

A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow'r,

Primary

So fire your mind, in arms assert your right,

Primary

And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight.

Primary

Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone;

Primary

We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne:

Primary

A base ignoble crowd, without a name,

Primary

Unwept, unworthy, of the fun'ral flame,

Primary

By duty bound to forfeit each his life,

Primary

That Turnus may possess a royal wife.

Primary

Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew

Primary

Should share such triumphs, and detain from you

Primary

The post of honor, your undoubted due.

Primary

Rather alone your matchless force employ,

Primary

To merit what alone you must enjoy."

Primary

These words, so full of malice mix'd with art,

Primary

Inflam'd with rage the youthful hero's heart.

Primary

Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast,

Primary

He heav'd for wind, and thus his wrath express'd:

Primary

"You, Drances, never want a stream of words,

Primary

Then, when the public need requires our swords.

Primary

First in the council hall to steer the state,

Primary

And ever foremost in a tongue-debate,

Primary

While our strong walls secure us from the foe,

Primary

Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow:

Primary

But let the potent orator declaim,

Primary

And with the brand of coward blot my name;

Primary

Free leave is giv'n him, when his fatal hand

Primary

Has cover'd with more corps the sanguine strand,

Primary

And high as mine his tow'ring trophies stand.

Primary

If any doubt remains, who dares the most,

Primary

Let us decide it at the Trojan's cost,

Primary

And issue both abreast, where honor calls-

Primary

Foes are not far to seek without the walls-

Primary

Unless his noisy tongue can only fight,

Primary

And feet were giv'n him but to speed his flight.

Primary

I beaten from the field? I forc'd away?

Primary

Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say?

Primary

Had he but ev'n beheld the fight, his eyes

Primary

Had witness'd for me what his tongue denies:

Primary

What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain,

Primary

And how the bloody Tiber swell'd the main.

Primary

All saw, but he, th' Arcadian troops retire

Primary

In scatter'd squadrons, and their prince expire.

Primary

The giant brothers, in their camp, have found,

Primary

I was not forc'd with ease to quit my ground.

Primary

Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos'd,

Primary

I singly their united arms oppos'd:

Primary

First forc'd an entrance thro' their thick array;

Primary

Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way.

Primary

'T is a destructive war? So let it be,

Primary

But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee!

Primary

Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears

Primary

With false reports, their minds with panic fears:

Primary

Extol the strength of a twice-conquer'd race;

Primary

Our foes encourage, and our friends debase.

Primary

Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town

Primary

Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o'erthrown;

Primary

Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies,

Primary

And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies.

Primary

Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread

Primary

Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head,

Primary

When the great Trojan on his bank appears;

Primary

For that's as true as thy dissembled fears

Primary

Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity:

Primary

Thou, Drances, art below a death from me.

Primary

Let that vile soul in that vile body rest;

Primary

The lodging is well worthy of the guest.

Primary

"Now, royal father, to the present state

Primary

Of our affairs, and of this high debate:

Primary

If in your arms thus early you diffide,

Primary

And think your fortune is already tried;

Primary

If one defeat has brought us down so low,

Primary

As never more in fields to meet the foe;

Primary

Then I conclude for peace: 't is time to treat,

Primary

And lie like vassals at the victor's feet.

Primary

But, O! if any ancient blood remains,

Primary

One drop of all our fathers', in our veins,

Primary

That man would I prefer before the rest,

Primary

Who dar'd his death with an undaunted breast;

Primary

Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound,

Primary

To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw'd the ground.

Primary

But, if we still have fresh recruits in store,

Primary

If our confederates can afford us more;

Primary

If the contended field we bravely fought,

Primary

And not a bloodless victory was bought;

Primary

Their losses equal'd ours; and, for their slain,

Primary

With equal fires they fill'd the shining plain;

Primary

Why thus, unforc'd, should we so tamely yield,

Primary

And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field?

Primary

Good unexpected, evils unforeseen,

Primary

Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene:

Primary

Some, rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain;

Primary

Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again.

Primary

If Diomede refuse his aid to lend,

Primary

The great Messapus yet remains our friend:

Primary

Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours;

Primary

Th' Italian chiefs and princes join their pow'rs:

Primary

Nor least in number, nor in name the last,

Primary

Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac'd

Primary

Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon

Primary

Contains an army in herself alone,

Primary

And heads a squadron, terrible to sight,

Primary

With glitt'ring shields, in brazen armor bright.

Primary

Yet, if the foe a single fight demand,

Primary

And I alone the public peace withstand;

Primary

If you consent, he shall not be refus'd,

Primary

Nor find a hand to victory unus'd.

Primary

This new Achilles, let him take the field,

Primary

With fated armor, and Vulcanian shield!

Primary

For you, my royal father, and my fame,

Primary

I, Turnus, not the least of all my name,

Primary

Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand,

Primary

And I alone will answer his demand.

Primary

Drances shall rest secure, and neither share

Primary

The danger, nor divide the prize of war."

Primary

While they debate, nor these nor those will yield,

Primary

Aeneas draws his forces to the field,

Primary

And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed

Primary

Return, and thro' the frighted city spread

Primary

Th' unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried,

Primary

In battle marching by the river side,

Primary

And bending to the town. They take th' alarm:

Primary

Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm.

Primary

Th' impetuous youth press forward to the field;

Primary

They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield:

Primary

The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry;

Primary

Old feeble men with fainter groans reply;

Primary

A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky,

Primary

Like that of swans remurm'ring to the floods,

Primary

Or birds of diff'ring kinds in hollow woods.

Primary

Turnus th' occasion takes, and cries aloud:

Primary

"Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd:

Primary

Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls,

Primary

And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls."

Primary

He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace,

Primary

Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place:

Primary

"Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command

Primary

To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band.

Primary

Messapus and Catillus, post your force

Primary

Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse.

Primary

Some guard the passes, others man the wall;

Primary

Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call."

Primary

They swarm from ev'ry quarter of the town,

Primary

And with disorder'd haste the rampires crown.

Primary

Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late,

Primary

The gath'ring storm just breaking on the state,

Primary

Dismiss'd the council till a fitter time,

Primary

And own'd his easy temper as his crime,

Primary

Who, forc'd against his reason, had complied

Primary

To break the treaty for the promis'd bride.

Primary

Some help to sink new trenches; others aid

Primary

To ram the stones, or raise the palisade.

Primary

Hoarse trumpets sound th' alarm; around the walls

Primary

Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labor calls.

Primary

A sad procession in the streets is seen,

Primary

Of matrons, that attend the mother queen:

Primary

High in her chair she sits, and, at her side,

Primary

With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride.

Primary

They mount the cliff, where Pallas' temple stands;

Primary

Pray'rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands,

Primary

With censers first they fume the sacred shrine,

Primary

Then in this common supplication join:

Primary

"O patroness of arms, unspotted maid,

Primary

Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid!

Primary

Break short the pirate's lance; pronounce his fate,

Primary

And lay the Phrygian low before the gate."

Primary

Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast

Primary

Well-temper'd steel and scaly brass invest:

Primary

The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold

Primary

Are mingled metal damask'd o'er with gold.

Primary

His faithful fauchion sits upon his side;

Primary

Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide:

Primary

But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends,

Primary

With godlike grace, he from the tow'r descends.

Primary

Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare

Primary

His absent rival, and to promise war.

Primary

Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins,

Primary

The wanton courser prances o'er the plains,

Primary

Or in the pride of youth o'erleaps the mounds,

Primary

And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds.

Primary

Or seeks his wat'ring in the well-known flood,

Primary

To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood:

Primary

He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain,

Primary

And o'er his shoulder flows his waving mane:

Primary

He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high;

Primary

Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly.

Primary

Soon as the prince appears without the gate,

Primary

The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait

Primary

His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien,

Primary

Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen:

Primary

Her squadron imitates, and each descends;

Primary

Whose common suit Camilla thus commends:

Primary

"If sense of honor, if a soul secure

Primary

Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure,

Primary

Can promise aught, or on itself rely

Primary

Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die;

Primary

Then, I alone, sustain'd by these, will meet

Primary

The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat.

Primary

Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown:

Primary

You, gen'ral, stay behind, and guard the town:"

Primary

Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise,

Primary

And on the fierce virago fix'd his eyes;

Primary

Then thus return'd: "O grace of Italy,

Primary

With what becoming thanks can I reply?

Primary

Not only words lie lab'ring in my breast,

Primary

But thought itself is by thy praise oppress'd.

Primary

Yet rob me not of all; but let me join

Primary

My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine.

Primary

The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill'd,

Primary

Sends his light horse before to scour the field:

Primary

Himself, thro' steep ascents and thorny brakes,

Primary

A larger compass to the city takes.

Primary

This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare

Primary

To foil his cunning, and his force to dare;

Primary

With chosen foot his passage to forelay,

Primary

And place an ambush in the winding way.

Primary

Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse;

Primary

The brave Messapus shall thy troops inforce

Primary

With those of Tibur, and the Latian band,

Primary

Subjected all to thy supreme command."

Primary

This said, he warns Messapus to the war,

Primary

Then ev'ry chief exhorts with equal care.

Primary

All thus encourag'd, his own troops he joins,

Primary

And hastes to prosecute his deep designs.

Primary

Inclos'd with hills, a winding valley lies,

Primary

By nature form'd for fraud, and fitted for surprise.

Primary

A narrow track, by human steps untrode,

Primary

Leads, thro' perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode.

Primary

High o'er the vale a steepy mountain stands,

Primary

Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands.

Primary

The top is level, an offensive seat

Primary

Of war; and from the war a safe retreat:

Primary

For, on the right and left, is room to press

Primary

The foes at hand, or from afar distress;

Primary

To drive 'em headlong downward, and to pour

Primary

On their descending backs a stony show'r.

Primary

Thither young Turnus took the well-known way,

Primary

Possess'd the pass, and in blind ambush lay.

Primary

Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies,

Primary

Beheld th' approaching war with hateful eyes,

Primary

And call'd the light-foot Opis to her aid,

Primary

Her most belov'd and ever-trusty maid;

Primary

Then with a sigh began: "Camilla goes

Primary

To meet her death amidst her fatal foes:

Primary

The nymphs I lov'd of all my mortal train,

Primary

Invested with Diana's arms, in vain.

Primary

Nor is my kindness for the virgin new:

Primary

'T was born with her; and with her years it grew.

Primary

Her father Metabus, when forc'd away

Primary

From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway,

Primary

Snatch'd up, and sav'd from his prevailing foes,

Primary

This tender babe, companion of his woes.

Primary

Casmilla was her mother; but he drown'd

Primary

One hissing letter in a softer sound,

Primary

And call'd Camilla. Thro' the woods he flies;

Primary

Wrapp'd in his robe the royal infant lies.

Primary

His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace;

Primary

With shout and clamors they pursue the chase.

Primary

The banks of Amasene at length he gains:

Primary

The raging flood his farther flight restrains,

Primary

Rais'd o'er the borders with unusual rains.

Primary

Prepar'd to plunge into the stream, he fears,

Primary

Not for himself, but for the charge he bears.

Primary

Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste;

Primary

Then, desp'rate in distress, resolves at last.

Primary

A knotty lance of well-boil'd oak he bore;

Primary

The middle part with cork he cover'd o'er:

Primary

He clos'd the child within the hollow space;

Primary

With twigs of bending osier bound the case;

Primary

Then pois'd the spear, heavy with human weight,

Primary

And thus invok'd my favor for the freight:

Primary

'Accept, great goddess of the woods,' he said,

Primary

'Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid!

Primary

Thro' air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine;

Primary

And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.'

Primary

He said; and with full force the spear he threw:

Primary

Above the sounding waves Camilla flew.

Primary

Then, press'd by foes, he stemm'd the stormy tide,

Primary

And gain'd, by stress of arms, the farther side.

Primary

His fasten'd spear he pull'd from out the ground,

Primary

And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound;

Primary

Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose,

Primary

Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes;

Primary

But, rough, in open air he chose to lie;

Primary

Earth was his couch, his cov'ring was the sky.

Primary

On hills unshorn, or in a desart den,

Primary

He shunn'd the dire society of men.

Primary

A shepherd's solitary life he led;

Primary

His daughter with the milk of mares he fed.

Primary

The dugs of bears, and ev'ry salvage beast,

Primary

He drew, and thro' her lips the liquor press'd.

Primary

The little Amazon could scarcely go:

Primary

He loads her with a quiver and a bow;

Primary

And, that she might her stagg'ring steps command,

Primary

He with a slender jav'lin fills her hand.

Primary

Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound;

Primary

Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground.

Primary

Instead of these, a tiger's hide o'erspread

Primary

Her back and shoulders, fasten'd to her head.

Primary

The flying dart she first attempts to fling,

Primary

And round her tender temples toss'd the sling;

Primary

Then, as her strength with years increas'd, began

Primary

To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan,

Primary

And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane.

Primary

The Tuscan matrons with each other vied,

Primary

To bless their rival sons with such a bride;

Primary

But she disdains their love, to share with me

Primary

The sylvan shades and vow'd virginity.

Primary

And, O! I wish, contented with my cares

Primary

Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars!

Primary

Then had she been of my celestial train,

Primary

And shunn'd the fate that dooms her to be slain.

Primary

But since, opposing Heav'n's decree, she goes

Primary

To find her death among forbidden foes,

Primary

Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight.

Primary

Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight.

Primary

This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath,

Primary

This chosen arrow, to revenge her death:

Primary

By whate'er hand Camilla shall be slain,

Primary

Or of the Trojan or Italian train,

Primary

Let him not pass unpunish'd from the plain.

Primary

Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid

Primary

To bear the breathless body of my maid:

Primary

Unspoil'd shall be her arms, and unprofan'd

Primary

Her holy limbs with any human hand,

Primary

And in a marble tomb laid in her native land."

Primary

She said. The faithful nymph descends from high

Primary

With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky:

Primary

Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly.

Primary

By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse,

Primary

Drawn up in squadrons, with united force,

Primary

Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound,

Primary

Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground.

Primary

Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far;

Primary

And the fields glitter with a waving war.

Primary

Oppos'd to these, come on with furious force

Primary

Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse;

Primary

These in the body plac'd, on either hand

Primary

Sustain'd and clos'd by fair Camilla's band.

Primary

Advancing in a line, they couch their spears;

Primary

And less and less the middle space appears.

Primary

Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen

Primary

The neighing coursers, and the shouting men.

Primary

In distance of their darts they stop their course;

Primary

Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse.

Primary

The face of heav'n their flying jav'lins hide,

Primary

And deaths unseen are dealt on either side.

Primary

Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear,

Primary

By mettled coursers borne in full career,

Primary

Meet first oppos'd; and, with a mighty shock,

Primary

Their horses' heads against each other knock.

Primary

Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast,

Primary

As with an engine's force, or lightning's blast:

Primary

He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last.

Primary

The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright,

Primary

And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight

Primary

Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew;

Primary

Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue,

Primary

And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase;

Primary

Till, seiz'd, with shame, they wheel about and face,

Primary

Receive their foes, and raise a threat'ning cry.

Primary

The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly.

Primary

So swelling surges, with a thund'ring roar,

Primary

Driv'n on each other's backs, insult the shore,

Primary

Bound o'er the rocks, incroach upon the land,

Primary

And far upon the beach eject the sand;

Primary

Then backward, with a swing, they take their way,

Primary

Repuls'd from upper ground, and seek their mother sea;

Primary

With equal hurry quit th' invaded shore,

Primary

And swallow back the sand and stones they spew'd before.

Primary

Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field,

Primary

Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell'd.

Primary

Asham'd at length, to the third charge they ran;

Primary

Both hosts resolv'd, and mingled man to man.

Primary

Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow'd

Primary

With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood.

Primary

Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie:

Primary

Confus'd the fight, and more confus'd the cry.

Primary

Orsilochus, who durst not press too near

Primary

Strong Remulus, at distance drove his spear,

Primary

And stuck the steel beneath his horse's ear.

Primary

The fiery steed, impatient of the wound,

Primary

Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound,

Primary

His helpless lord cast backward on the ground.

Primary

Catillus pierc'd Iolas first; then drew

Primary

His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw,

Primary

The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew.

Primary

His neck and throat unarm'd, his head was bare,

Primary

But shaded with a length of yellow hair:

Primary

Secure, he fought, expos'd on ev'ry part,

Primary

A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart.

Primary

Across the shoulders came the feather'd wound;

Primary

Transfix'd he fell, and doubled to the ground.

Primary

The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dyed,

Primary

And death with honor sought on either side.

Primary

Resistless thro' the war Camilla rode,

Primary

In danger unappall'd, and pleas'd with blood.

Primary

One side was bare for her exerted breast;

Primary

One shoulder with her painted quiver press'd.

Primary

Now from afar her fatal jav'lins play;

Primary

Now with her ax's edge she hews her way:

Primary

Diana's arms upon her shoulder sound;

Primary

And when, too closely press'd, she quits the ground,

Primary

From her bent bow she sends a backward wound.

Primary

Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side,

Primary

Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride:

Primary

Italians all; in peace, their queen's delight;

Primary

In war, the bold companions of the fight.

Primary

So march'd the Tracian Amazons of old,

Primary

When Thermodon with bloody billows roll'd:

Primary

Such troops as these in shining arms were seen,

Primary

When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen:

Primary

Such to the field Penthisilea led,

Primary

From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled;

Primary

With such, return'd triumphant from the war,

Primary

Her maids with cries attend the lofty car;

Primary

They clash with manly force their moony shields;

Primary

With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields.

Primary

Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid,

Primary

On the cold earth were by thy courage laid?

Primary

Thy spear, of mountain ash, Eumenius first,

Primary

With fury driv'n, from side to side transpierc'd:

Primary

A purple stream came spouting from the wound;

Primary

Bath'd in his blood he lies, and bites the ground.

Primary

Liris and Pegasus at once she slew:

Primary

The former, as the slacken'd reins he drew

Primary

Of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch'd

Primary

His arm to prop his friend, the jav'lin reach'd.

Primary

By the same weapon, sent from the same hand,

Primary

Both fall together, and both spurn the sand.

Primary

Amastrus next is added to the slain:

Primary

The rest in rout she follows o'er the plain:

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Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon,

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And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun.

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Of all her deadly darts, not one she lost;

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Each was attended with a Trojan ghost.

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Young Ornithus bestrode a hunter steed,

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Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed.

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Him from afar she spied, in arms unknown:

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O'er his broad back an ox's hide was thrown;

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His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread

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A cov'ring for his cheeks, and grinn'd around his head,

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He clench'd within his hand an iron prong,

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And tower'd above the rest, conspicuous in the throng.

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Him soon she singled from the flying train,

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And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain:

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"Vain hunter, didst thou think thro' woods to chase

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The savage herd, a vile and trembling race?

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Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory:

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A woman warrior was too strong for thee.

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Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu'ror's name,

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Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame."

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Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew,

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The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew;

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But Butes breast to breast: the spear descends

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Above the gorget, where his helmet ends,

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And o'er the shield which his left side defends.

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Orsilochus and she their courses ply:

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He seems to follow, and she seems to fly;

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But in a narrower ring she makes the race;

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And then he flies, and she pursues the chase.

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Gath'ring at length on her deluded foe,

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She swings her ax, and rises to the blow

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Full on the helm behind, with such a sway

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The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way:

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He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace;

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Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face.

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Astonish'd Aunus just arrives by chance,

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To see his fall; nor farther dares advance;

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But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye,

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He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly;

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Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat,

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(At least while fortune favor'd his deceit,)

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Cries out aloud: "What courage have you shown,

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Who trust your courser's strength, and not your own?

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Forego the vantage of your horse, alight,

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And then on equal terms begin the fight:

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It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can,

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When, foot to foot, you combat with a man,"

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He said. She glows with anger and disdain,

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Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain,

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And leaves her horse at large among her train;

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With her drawn sword defies him to the field,

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And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield.

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The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed,

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Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed;

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Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides

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The goring rowels in his bleeding sides.

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"Vain fool, and coward!" cries the lofty maid,

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"Caught in the train which thou thyself hast laid!

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On others practice thy Ligurian arts;

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Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts

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Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire,

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With vaunting lies, to thy fallacious sire."

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At this, so fast her flying feet she sped,

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That soon she strain'd beyond his horse's head:

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Then turning short, at once she seiz'd the rein,

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And laid the boaster grov'ling on the plain.

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Not with more ease the falcon, from above,

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Trusses in middle air the trembling dove,

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Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound:

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The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground.

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Now mighty Jove, from his superior height,

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With his broad eye surveys th' unequal fight.

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He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain,

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And sends him to redeem th' abandon'd plain.

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Betwixt the broken ranks the Tuscan rides,

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And these encourages, and those he chides;

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Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight;

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Renews their ardor, and restores the fight.

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"What panic fear has seiz'd your souls? O shame,

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O brand perpetual of th' Etrurian name!

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Cowards incurable, a woman's hand

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Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band!

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Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield!

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What use of weapons which you dare not wield?

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Not thus you fly your female foes by night,

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Nor shun the feast, when the full bowls invite;

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When to fat off'rings the glad augur calls,

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And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals.

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These are your studied cares, your lewd delight:

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Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight."

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Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes,

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Not managing the life he meant to lose.

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The first he found he seiz'd with headlong haste,

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In his strong gripe, and clasp'd around the waist;

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'T was Venulus, whom from his horse he tore,

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And, laid athwart his own, in triumph bore.

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Loud shouts ensue; the Latins turn their eyes,

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And view th' unusual sight with vast surprise.

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The fiery Tarchon, flying o'er the plains,

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Press'd in his arms the pond'rous prey sustains;

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Then, with his shorten'd spear, explores around

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His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound.

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Nor less the captive struggles for his life:

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He writhes his body to prolong the strife,

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And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts

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His utmost vigor, and the point averts.

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So stoops the yellow eagle from on high,

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And bears a speckled serpent thro' the sky,

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Fast'ning his crooked talons on the prey:

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The pris'ner hisses thro' the liquid way;

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Resists the royal hawk; and, tho' oppress'd,

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She fights in volumes, and erects her crest:

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Turn'd to her foe, she stiffens ev'ry scale,

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And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat'ning tail.

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Against the victor, all defense is weak:

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Th' imperial bird still plies her with his beak;

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He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores;

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Then claps his pinions, and securely soars.

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Thus, thro' the midst of circling enemies,

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Strong Tarchon snatch'd and bore away his prize.

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The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press

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The Latins, and presume the like success.

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Then Aruns, doom'd to death, his arts assay'd,

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To murther, unespied, the Volscian maid:

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This way and that his winding course he bends,

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And, whereso'er she turns, her steps attends.

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When she retires victorious from the chase,

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He wheels about with care, and shifts his place;

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When, rushing on, she seeks her foes flight,

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He keeps aloof, but keeps her still in sight:

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He threats, and trembles, trying ev'ry way,

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Unseen to kill, and safely to betray.

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Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far,

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Glitt'ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war,

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Was by the virgin view'd. The steed he press'd

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Was proud with trappings, and his brawny chest

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With scales of gilded brass was cover'd o'er;

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A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore.

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With deadly wounds he gall'd the distant foe;

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Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow:

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A golden helm his front and head surrounds

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A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds.

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Gold, weav'd with linen, on his thighs he wore,

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With flowers of needlework distinguish'd o'er,

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With golden buckles bound, and gather'd up before.

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Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes,

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Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize,

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Or that the temple might his trophies hold,

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Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold.

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Blind in her haste, she chases him alone.

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And seeks his life, regardless of her own.

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This lucky moment the sly traitor chose:

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Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose,

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And threw, but first to Heav'n address'd his vows:

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"O patron of Socrates' high abodes,

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Phoebus, the ruling pow'r among the gods,

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Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous pine

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Are fell'd for thee, and to thy glory shine;

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By thee protected with our naked soles,

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Thro' flames unsing'd we march, and tread the kindled coals

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Give me, propitious pow'r, to wash away

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The stains of this dishonorable day:

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Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim,

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But with my future actions trust my fame.

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Let me, by stealth, this female plague o'ercome,

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And from the field return inglorious home."

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Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray'r,

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Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss'd in empty air.

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He gives the death desir'd; his safe return

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By southern tempests to the seas is borne.

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Now, when the jav'lin whizz'd along the skies,

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Both armies on Camilla turn'd their eyes,

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Directed by the sound. Of either host,

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Th' unhappy virgin, tho' concern'd the most,

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Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent

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On golden spoils, and on her prey intent;

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Till in her pap the winged weapon stood

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Infix'd, and deeply drunk the purple blood.

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Her sad attendants hasten to sustain

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Their dying lady, drooping on the plain.

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Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies,

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With beating heart, and fear confus'd with joys;

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Nor dares he farther to pursue his blow,

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Or ev'n to bear the sight of his expiring foe.

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As, when the wolf has torn a bullock's hide

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At unawares, or ranch'd a shepherd's side,

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Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies,

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And claps his quiv'ring tail between his thighs:

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So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends,

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But, spurring forward, herds among his friends.

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She wrench'd the jav'lin with her dying hands,

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But wedg'd within her breast the weapon stands;

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The wood she draws, the steely point remains;

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She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains:

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(A gath'ring mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes,

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And from her cheeks the rosy color flies:)

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Then turns to her, whom of her female train

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She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain:

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"Acca, 't is past! he swims before my sight,

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Inexorable Death; and claims his right.

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Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed,

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And bid him timely to my charge succeed,

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Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve:

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Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive."

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She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain:

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Dying, her open'd hand forsakes the rein;

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Short, and more short, she pants; by slow degrees

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Her mind the passage from her body frees.

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She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest,

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Her drooping head declining on her breast:

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In the last sigh her struggling soul expires,

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And, murm'ring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires.

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A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued;

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Despair and rage the languish'd fight renew'd.

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The Trojan troops and Tuscans, in a line,

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Advance to charge; the mix'd Arcadians join.

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But Cynthia's maid, high seated, from afar

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Surveys the field, and fortune of the war,

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Unmov'd a while, till, prostrate on the plain,

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Welt'ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain,

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And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train.

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Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew

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A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue:

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"Too dear a fine, ah much lamented maid,

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For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid!

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Nor aught avail'd, in this unhappy strife,

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Diana's sacred arms, to save thy life.

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Yet unreveng'd thy goddess will not leave

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Her vot'ry's death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve.

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Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr'd;

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But after ages shall thy praise record.

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Th' inglorious coward soon shall press the plain:

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Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain."

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High o'er the field there stood a hilly mound,

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Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around,

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Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay,

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A king that once in Latium bore the sway.

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The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight,

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To mark the traitor Aruns from the height.

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Him in refulgent arms she soon espied,

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Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried:

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"Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late;

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Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate.

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Charg'd with my message, to Camilla go,

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And say I sent thee to the shades below,

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An honor undeserv'd from Cynthia's bow."

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She said, and from her quiver chose with speed

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The winged shaft, predestin'd for the deed;

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Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied,

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Till the far distant horns approach'd on either side.

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The bowstring touch'd her breast, so strong she drew;

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Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew.

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At once the twanging bow and sounding dart

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The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart.

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Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death,

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His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath.

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The conqu'ring damsel, with expanded wings,

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The welcome message to her mistress brings.

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Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field,

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And, unsustain'd, the chiefs of Turnus yield.

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The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly,

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More on their speed than on their strength rely.

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Confus'd in flight, they bear each other down,

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And spur their horses headlong to the town.

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Driv'n by their foes, and to their fears resign'd,

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Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind.

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These drop the shield, and those the lance forego,

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Or on their shoulders bear the slacken'd bow.

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The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound,

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Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground.

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Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky,

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And o'er the darken'd walls and rampires fly.

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The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands,

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Rend heav'n with female shrieks, and wring their hands.

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All pressing on, pursuers and pursued,

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Are crush'd in crowds, a mingled multitude.

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Some happy few escape: the throng too late

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Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate.

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Ev'n in the sight of home, the wretched sire

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Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire.

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Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close,

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But leave their friends excluded with their foes.

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The vanquish'd cry; the victors loudly shout;

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'T is terror all within, and slaughter all without.

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Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall,

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Or, to the moats pursued, precipitate their fall.

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The Latian virgins, valiant with despair,

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Arm'd on the tow'rs, the common danger share:

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So much of zeal their country's cause inspir'd;

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So much Camilla's great example fir'd.

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Poles, sharpen'd in the flames, from high they throw,

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With imitated darts, to gall the foe.

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Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath,

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And crowd each other to be first in death.

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Meantime to Turnus, ambush'd in the shade,

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With heavy tidings came th' unhappy maid:

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"The Volscians overthrown, Camilla kill'd;

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The foes, entirely masters of the field,

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Like a resistless flood, come rolling on:

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The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town."

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Inflam'd with rage, (for so the Furies fire

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The Daunian's breast, and so the Fates require,)

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He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain

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Possess'd, and downward issues on the plain.

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Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed

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From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed.

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Thro' the black forest and the ferny brake,

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Unknowingly secure, their way they take;

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From the rough mountains to the plain descend,

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And there, in order drawn, their line extend.

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Both armies now in open fields are seen;

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Nor far the distance of the space between.

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Both to the city bend. Aeneas sees,

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Thro' smoking fields, his hast'ning enemies;

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And Turnus views the Trojans in array,

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And hears th' approaching horses proudly neigh.

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Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join'd;

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But westward to the sea the sun declin'd.

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Intrench'd before the town both armies lie,

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While Night with sable wings involves the sky.