by Virgil
They slay — Evander and his Trojan friends.
Then to his comrades and the shore he wends,
Arrays the crews, and takes the bravest there
To follow him in fight. The rest he sends
To young Ascanius down the stream, to bear 640
News of his absent sire, and how the cause doth fare.
LXXIII . With steeds, to aid the Tuscans, they provide
The Teucrians. For Æneas forth is led
The choicest, with a tawny lion’s hide,
All glittering with gilded claws, bespread.
Now rumour through the little town hath sped,
Of horsemen for the Tuscan king, with spear
And shield for battle. Mothers, pale with dread,
Heap vows on vows. The War-god, drawing near, 649
Looms larger, and more close to danger draws the fear.
LXXIV . Then cries Evander, clinging, and with tears
Insatiate, loth to see his Pallas go,
“Ah! would but Jove bring back the bygone years,
As when beneath Præneste long ago
I strowed the van, and laid their mightiest low,
And burned their shields, and with this hand to Hell
Hurled down King Erulus, the monstrous foe,
To whom Feronia, terrible to tell, 658
Three lives had given, and thrice to battle ere he fell.
LXXV . “Twice up he rose, but thrice I slew the slain,
Thrice of his life I robbed him, till he died,
Thrice stripped his arms. O, were I such again,
Danger, nor death, nor aught of ill beside,
Sweet son, should ever tear me from thy side.
Ne’er had Mezentius then, the neighbouring lord,
Dared thus to flout me, nor this arm defied.
Nor wrought such havoc and such crimes abhorred, 667
Nor made a weeping town thus widowed by the sword.
LXXVI . “O Gods, and thou, who rulest earth and air,
Great Jove, their mightiest, pity, I implore,
Arcadia’s King, and hear a father’s prayer.
If Fate this happiness reserve in store,
To gaze upon my Pallas’ face once more,
If living means to meet my son again,
Then let me live; how hard soe’er and sore
My trials, gladly will I count them gain. 676
Sweet will the suffering seem, and light the load of pain.
LXXVII . “But O, if Fortune, with malignant spite,
Some blow past utterance for my life prepare,
Now, now this moment rid me of the light,
While fears are vague, nor hoping breeds despair,
While, dearest boy, my late and only care,
Thus — thus I fold thee in my arms to-day.
Nor wound with news too sorrowful to bear
A father’s ears!” He spake, and swooned away; 685
Back to his home the slaves their fainting lord convey.
LXXVIII . Forth troop the horsemen from the gates. First ride
Æneas and Achates; in the rear
Troy’s nobles, led by Pallas, in the pride
Of broidered scarf and figured arms, appear.
As when bright Lucifer, to Venus dear
Beyond all planets and each starry beam,
High up in heaven his sacred head doth rear,
Bathed in the freshness of the Ocean stream, 694
And melts the dark, so fair the gallant youth doth seem.
LXXIX . The matrons stand upon the walls, distraught,
And mark the dust-cloud and the mail-clad train.
These through the brushwood, where the road lies short,
Move on in arms. The war-shout peals again,
The hard hoofs clattering shake the crumbling plain.
And now, where, cold with crystal waves, is found
Fair Cære’s stream, a spreading grove they gain.
Ages have spread its sanctity, and, crowned 703
With pine-woods dark as night, the hollow hills stand round.
LXXX . This grove, ’tis said, the tribes Pelasgian — they,
Who first in Latin marches dwelt of old —
Kept sacred to Silvanus, and the day
Vowed to the guardian of the field and fold.
Hard by, brave Tarchon and his Tuscans bold
Lay camped. His legions, stretching o’er the meads,
The Trojans from a rising ground behold.
Æneas here his toil-worn warriors leads; 712
Food for themselves they bring, and forage for their steeds.
LXXXI . Meanwhile fair Venus through the clouds came down,
Bearing her gifts. Couched in a secret glade,
By a cool river, she espies her son,
And hails him: “See the promised gifts displayed,
Wrought by my husband’s cunning for thine aid.
Thy prowess now let proud Laurentum taste,
Nor fear with Turnus to contend.” So said
Cythera’s goddess, and her child embraced, 721
And on an oak in front the radiant arms she placed.
LXXXII . Joy fills Æneas; with insatiate gaze
He views the gifts, and marvels at the sight.
In turn he handles, and in turn surveys
The helmet tall with fiery crest bedight,
The fateful sword, the breastplate’s brazen might,
Blood-red, and huge, and glorious to behold
As some dark cloud, far-blazing with the light
Of sunset; then the polished greaves of gold, 730
The spear, the mystic shield, too wondrous to be told.
LXXXIII . There did the Fire-king, who the future cons,
The tale of ancient Italy portray,
Rome’s triumphs, and Ascanius’ distant sons,
Their wars in order, and each hard-fought fray.
There, in the cave of Mars all verdurous, lay
The fostering she-wolf with the twins; they hung
About her teats, and licked in careless play
Their mother. She, with slim neck backward flung, 739
In turn caressed them both, and shaped them with her tongue.
LXXXIV . There, later Rome, and there, the Sabine dames
Amid the crowded theatre he viewed,
Raped by the Romans at the Circus games;
The sudden war, that from the deed ensued,
With aged Tatius and his Cures rude.
There stand the kings, still armed, but foes no more,
Beside Jove’s altar, and abjure the feud.
Goblet in hand, the sacred wine they pour, 748
And o’er the slaughtered swine the plighted peace restore.
LXXXV . Next, Mettus, by the four-horsed chariot torn.
(‘Twere better, perjured Alban, to be true!)
Fierce Tullus dragged the traitor’s limbs in scorn
Through brambles, dripping with the crimson dew.
Porsenna there around the city drew
His ‘leaguering host. But freedom fired the blood
Of Romans. Idle was his rage, to view
How Cocles on the battered bridge withstood, 757
And Cloelia burst her bonds, and singly stemmed the flood.
LXXXVI . Next, Manlius guards the Capitol; see here
The straw-thatched palace. Silvered in the gold,
The fluttering goose proclaims the Gauls are near.
They, screened by darkness, thread the woods, and hold
With arms the slumbering citadel. Behold
Their beards all golden, and their golden hair,
Their white necks gleaming with the twisted gold,
Their chequered plaids. Each hand an Alpine spear 766
Waves, and an oblong shield their stalwart arms upbear.
LXXXVII . There danced the Salians, the Luperci reeled
Half-naked. See them sculptured in array,
&
nbsp; With caps wool-tufted, and the sky-dropt shield.
Chaste dames, in cushioned chariots, lead the way
Through the glad city. Elsewhere, far away,
Loom Dis and Tartarus, where the guilty pine,
And Catiline, upon a rock for aye
Hangs, shuddering at the Furies. Distant shine 775
The just, where Cato stands, dealing the law divine.
LXXXVIII . The swelling ocean in the midst is seen,
All golden, but the billow’s hoary spray
Foams o’er the blue. Dolphins of silvery sheen
Lash the white eddies with their tails in play,
Cleaving the surges. In the centre lay
The brazen fleets, all panoplied for war,
’Tis Actium’s fight; Leucate’s headland grey
Boils with the tumult of the distant jar, 784
And golden glow the waves, effulgent from afar.
LXXXIX . Augustus his Italians leads from home,
High on the stern. The Senators stand round,
The people, and the guardian gods of Rome.
With double flame his joyous brows are crowned;
The constellation of his sire renowned
Beams o’er his head. There too, his ships in line,
With winds and gods to prosper him, is found
Agrippa. Radiant on his head doth shine 793
The crown of golden beaks, the battle’s glorious sign.
XC . Here, late from Parthia and the Red-sea coast,
With motley legions and barbaric pride,
Comes Anthony. From Egypt swarms his host,
From India and far Bactra. At his side
Stands — shame to tell it — an Egyptian bride.
See now the fight; prows churn and oar-blades lash
The foam. ’Twould seem the Cyclads swim the tide,
Torn from his moorings, or the mountains clash, 802
So huge the tower-crowned ships, so terrible the crash.
XCI . Winged darts are hurled, and flaming tow; the leas
Of Neptune redden. There the queen stands by,
And sounds the timbrel for the fray, nor sees
The asps behind. All monsters of the sky
With Neptune, Venus, and Minerva vie.
In vain Anubis barks; Mars raves among
The combatants; the Furies frown on high.
With mantle rent, glad Discord joins the throng; 811
Behind, with bloody scourge, Bellona stalks along.
XCII . There Actian Phoebus, gazing on the scene,
Bent his dread bow. Egypt, Arabia fled,
And India turned in terror. There, the queen
Calls to the winds; behold, the sails are spread.
Her, pale with thoughts of dying, through the dead
The waves and zephyrs — so the gold expressed —
Bear onward. Yonder, to his sheltering bed
Nile, sorrowing, calls the fugitives to rest, 820
Unfolds his winding robes, and bares his azure breast.
XCIII . There, Cæsar sacred to his gods proclaims
Three hundred temples, each a stately fane.
Behold his triple triumph. Shouts and games
Gladden the streets; glad matrons chant the strain
At every altar, and the steers are slain.
He takes the offerings, and reviews the throng,
Throned in the portal of Apollo’s fane.
Below, the captive nations march along, 829
Diverse in arms and garb, and each of different tongue.
XCIV . Wild Nomads, Africans uncinctured came,
Carians, Gelonian bowmen, and behind
The Leleges, the Dahæ, hard to tame,
The Morini, extreme of human-kind.
Last, proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind,
Euphrates humbled, and the horned Rhine.
All this, by Vulcan on the shield designed,
He sees, and, gladdening at the gift divine, 838
Upbears aloft the fame and fortunes of his line.
BOOK NINE
ARGUMENT
Certified by Juno of the absence of Æneas, Turnus leads his forces against the Trojans. When they entrench themselves within their lines, he attempts to burn their ships, which are thereupon changed by Cybele into nymphs, and float away (1-144). Turnus undaunted harangues his men and beleaguers the camp (145-198). Nisus and Euryalus scheme, and petition, to sally forth to find Æneas and a rescue. Setting out with promise of rich rewards if successful, they surprise the Latin Camp but are themselves in turn surprised and slain (199-513). Their victims are buried; their heads are paraded on pikes before the Trojan Camp, to the agony of the mother of Euryalus (514-576). The allies assault the camp. Virgil invokes Calliope to describe the fray (577-603). The collapse of a tower and losses on both sides prelude Ascanius’ baptism of fire. He kills his man (604-765). The brothers Pandarus and Bitias open the camp-gates in defiance. Bitias falls, and Pandarus, retreating, shuts Turnus within the camp, who kills him, but failing to let in his friends is eventually hard pressed (766-882). The Trojans rally round Mnestheus and Serestus. Turnus plunges into the river and with difficulty escapes by swimming (883-927).
I . While thus in distant quarter moves the scene,
Down to the daring Turnus from the skies
Comes Iris, sent by the Saturnian queen.
Him seated in a hallowed vale, where lies
His father’s grove, Pilumnus’, she espies.
There straight with rosy lips the daughter fair
Of Thaumas hails the hero: “Turnus, rise.
Behold what none of all the Gods would dare 1
To promise, rolling Time hath proffered without prayer.
II . “Fleet left and friends, Æneas to the court
Of Palatine Evander speeds his way,
Nay, the far towns of Corythus hath sought,
And arms the Lydian swains to meet the fray!
Now call for steel and chariot. Why delay?
Surprise the camp and capture it.” — She said,
And straight on balanced pinions soared away,
Cleaving the bow. The warrior marked, and spread 10
His hands, and thus with prayer pursued her as she fled:
III . “O Iris, Heaven’s fair glory, who hath sent
Thee hither? whence this sudden light so clear?
I see the firmament asunder rent,
And planets wandering in the polar sphere.
Blest omens, hail! I follow thee, whoe’er
Thou art, that call’st to battle.” He arose
With joy, and stepping to the streamlet near,
Scoops up the water in his palms, and bows 19
In suppliance to the Gods, and burdens Heaven with vows.
IV . Now all the host were marching on the meads,
Well-horsed, and panoplied in golden gear,
With broidered raiment. Brave Messapus leads
The van, the sons of Tyrrheus close the rear,
And Turnus in mid column shakes his spear.
Slow moves the host, as when his seven-fold head
Great Ganges lifts in silence, calm and clear,
Or Nile, whose flood the fruitful soil hath fed, 28
Ebbs from the fattened fields, and hides him in his bed.
V . Far off, the Teucrians from their camp descried
The gathering dust-cloud on the plains appear.
Then brave Caïcus from a bastion cried,
“What dark mass, rolling towards us, have we here?
Arm, townsmen, arm! Bring quick the sword and spear,
And mount the battlements, and man the wall.
The foemen, ho!” And with a mighty cheer
The Teucrians, hurrying at the warning call, 37
Pour in through all the gates, and muster on the wall.
VI . So, parting, wise Æneas gave command,
Should chance surprise them, with their chief awa
y,
To shun the field, nor battle hand to hand,
But safe behind their sheltering earthworks stay,
And, guarding wall and rampart, stand at bay.
So now, though passion and indignant hate
Prompt to engage, his mandate they obey,
And bar each inlet, and secure each gate, 46
And, armed, in sheltering towers their enemies await.
VII . Turnus, with twenty horsemen, left the rest
To lag behind, and near the town-gate drew
All unforeseen. A Thracian steed he pressed,
Dappled with white; a crest of scarlet hue
High o’er his golden helmet flamed in view.
Loudly he shrills in anger to his train,
“Who first with me will at the foemen — who?
See there!” and, rising hurls his spear amain, 55
Sign of the fight begun, and pricks along the plain.
VIII . With shouts his comrades welcome the attack,
And clamouring fiercely follow in his train.
They marvel at the Teucrian hearts so slack,
That none will dare to trust the open plain,
And fight like men, but in the camp remain,
And safe behind their sheltering rampart stay.
Now here, now there, fierce Turnus in disdain
Rides round the walls, and, searching for a way, 64
Where way is none, still strives an entrance to essay.
IX . As wolf, in ambush by the fold, sore beat
With winds, at midnight howls amid the rain.
The lambs beneath their mothers safely bleat.
He, mad with rage, and faint with famine’s pain,
Thirsts for their blood, and ramps at them in vain;
So raves fierce Turnus, as his eyes survey
The walls and camp. Grief burns in every vein,
As round he looks for access and a way 73
To shake the Teucrians out, and strew them forth to slay.
X . The fleet, as by the flanking camp it lies,
Fenced by the river and the mounded sand,
He marks, then loudly to the burning cries,
And with a flaming pinestock fills his hand,
Himself aflame. His presence cheers the band.