Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  Post to and fro, the narrow cells around,

  And whet their stings in fury and despair:

  With stifled hum the caverned crags resound,

  The black fumes search the windings of their lair, 685

  And the dark smoke rolls up, and mingles with the air.

  LXXVIII . A new mischance now smote with further woe

  The Latin town, and fainting hearts dismayed.

  As queen Amata sees the coming foe,

  The ramparts stormed, their flames the roofs invade,

  And nowhere Turnus nor his troops to aid,

  Him dead she deems, herself the cause declares,

  Herself alone she spares not to upbraid.

  She wails, — she raves, — her purple robe she tears, 694

  And from a lofty beam the hideous noose prepares.

  LXXIX . The women heard; Lavinia first of all,

  Her golden locks, her rosy cheeks doth tear.

  All rave around, and wailings fill the hall.

  Fast flies the news, and shakes the town with fear.

  Then rends his robes Latinus in despair,

  His town in ruins and his consort dead,

  And, scattering dust upon his hoary hair,

  Himself he blames, that ne’er in Turnus’ stead 703

  The Dardan prince he chose, his dear-lov’d child to wed.

  LXXX . Meanwhile, in chase of distant stragglers, speeds

  Fierce Turnus. Slacker is his car’s career,

  And less he glories in his conquering steeds,

  When lo, the breezes from Laurentum bear

  The sound of shouting, and the shrieks of fear,

  And a dull murmur, as of men that groan, —

  The city’s roar — strikes on his listening ear.

  “Ah me! what clamour on the winds is blown? 712

  What noise of grief,” he cries, “comes rolling from the town?”

  LXXXI . He spake, and madly pulled the rein. Then she,

  His sister, like Metiscus changed in view,

  Who ruled the chariot, “Forward, Turnus! See

  The path that victory points thee to pursue.

  This way — this way to chase the Trojan crew!

  Others there are, who can the walls defend,

  See here Æneas, how he storms. We, too,

  Our foes, Troy’s varlets, to their graves can send, 721

  Nor thee less tale of slain, nor scantier praise attend.”

  LXXXII . Then quickly answered Turnus, glancing round,

  “Sister, long since I knew thee — knew thee plain,

  When first thy cunning did the league confound,

  And sent thee forth, fierce battle to darrain;

  And now thou think’st to cheat me, but in vain,

  Albeit a goddess. But what power on high

  Hath willed thee, sent from the Olympian reign,

  Such toils to suffer, and such tasks to try? 730

  Cam’st thou, forsooth, to see thy wretched brother die?

  LXXXIII . “What can I do? What pledge of safety more

  Doth Fortune give? what better hopes remain?

  Myself beheld, these very eyes before,

  Murranus die, the dearest of our train,

  Stretched by a huge wound hugely on the plain.

  I saw, how, backward as his comrades reeled,

  Poor Ufens, sooner than behold such stain,

  Sank low in death; himself, his sword and shield 739

  The Teucrian victors hold, their trophies of the field.

  LXXXIV . “What, shall I see our houses wrapt in flame, —

  Last wrong of all — and coward-like, stand by,

  Nor make this arm put Drances’ taunts to shame?

  Shall Turnus run, and Latins see him fly?

  And is it then so terrible to die?

  Be kind, dread spirits of the world below!

  To you, since envious are the powers on high,

  Worthy my ancestors of long ago, 748

  Free from the coward’s blame, a sacred shade I go.”

  LXXXV . Scarce spake he; through the midmost foes apace

  Comes Saces, borne upon his foaming steed,

  A flying shaft had scored him in the face.

  “Turnus,” he cries, “sole champion in our need,

  Help us, have pity on thy friends who bleed.

  See there, Æneas threatens in his ire

  To raze our towers, and with a storm-cloud’s speed

  Thunders in arms, and roofward flies the fire, 757

  To thee the Latins turn, thee Latin hopes require.

  LXXXVI . “Himself, the king, is wavering, whom to call

  His new allies, and whom his kingdom’s heir.

  Dead is the queen, thy faithfullest of all,

  Self-plunged from light, in terror and despair.

  Scarce fierce Atinas and Messapus there,

  Beside the town-gates standing, hold their own.

  Dense hosts surround them, and with falchions bare,

  War’s harvest bristles, by the walls upgrown; 766

  Thou on the empty sward art charioting alone.”

  LXXXVII . Stunned and bewildered by the changeful scene

  Stood Turnus, gazing speechless and oppressed.

  Shame, rage, and sorrow, and revengeful spleen,

  And frenzied love, and conscious worth confessed

  Boil from the depths of his tumultuous breast.

  Now, when the shadows from his mind withdrew,

  And light, returning, to his thoughts gave rest,

  Back from his chariot towards the walls he threw 775

  His eyes, aflame with wrath, and grasped the town in view.

  LXXXVIII . From floor to floor, behold, a tower upblazed, —

  The tower, with bridge above and wheels below,

  Himself with beams and mortised planks had raised.

  “Sister,” he cries, “Fate conquers; let us go

  The way which Heaven and cruel fortune show.

  I stand to meet Æneas in the fray,

  And die; if death be bitter, be it so.

  No more dishonoured shalt thou see me, nay, 784

  O sister, let me vent this fury, while I may.”

  LXXXIX . He spake, and quickly vaulting from his car,

  Through foes, through darts, his sister left to mourn,

  Rushed headlong forth, and broke the ranks of war.

  As when a boulder, from a hill-top borne,

  Which rains have washed, or blustering winds have torn,

  Or creeping years have loosened, down the steep,

  From crag to crag, leaps headlong, and in scorn

  Goes bounding on, and with resistless sweep 793

  Lays waste the woods, and whelms the shepherd and his sheep;

  XC . So Turnus through the broken ranks doth fly

  On to the town-walls, where the crimson plain

  Is soaked, and shrill with javelins shrieks the sky,

  Then shouts, with hand uplifted, to his train,

  “Rutulians, hold! Ye Latin men refrain!

  Mine are the risks of Fortune, mine of right,

  The truce thus torn, to expiate the stain,

  And let the sword give judgment.” At the sight 802

  The hostile ranks divide, and clear the lists of fight.

  XCI . But when the Sire Æneas heard the name

  Of Turnus, and his foeman’s form espied,

  Down from the ramparts and the towers he came,

  And scorned delay, and put all else aside,

  Thundering in arms, and glorying in his pride.

  As Athos huge, as Eryx huge he shows,

  Or huge as Father Apennine, whose side

  Roars with his nodding oaks, when drifted snows 811

  Shine on his joyous crest, and lighten on his brows.

  XCII . Rutulians, Trojans, Latins, — each and all

  Look wondering on, both they who man the height,

  And t
hey who batter at the base. Down fall

  Their arms. Amazed Latinus views the sight,

  Two chiefs from distant countries, matched in might.

  The lists set wide, they dash into the fray.

  Each hurls a spear, then, hand to hand, they fight.

  Loud ring the shields, and quick the broadswords play. 820

  Earth groans, and chance contends with courage for the day.

  XCIII . As on Taburnus, or in Sila’s shade

  Two bulls, with butting foreheads, mix in fray:

  Pale fly the hinds, mute stands the herd dismayed:

  The heifers low, unknowing who shall sway

  The grove, what lord and leader to obey;

  They, with horns locked, their mutual rage outpour,

  And thrust for thrust, and wound for wound repay,

  Fast from their necks and dewlaps streams the gore, 829

  And all the neighbouring wood rebellows to the roar;

  XCIV . So, when both champions on the listed field,

  The Trojan and the Daunian, eye to eye,

  Met in the deadly conflict, shield to shield

  Clanged, and a loud crash shattered through the sky.

  And now great Jove, the Sire of gods on high,

  Holds up the scales, and sets the long beam straight,

  And in the balance lays their fates, to try

  Each champion’s fortune in the stern debate, 838

  Whom battle’s toil shall doom, where sinks the deathful weight.

  XCV . Forth springs, in fancied safety, at his foe

  Fierce Turnus, rising to his utmost height,

  And planting all his body in the blow,

  Strikes. A loud shout, of terror and delight

  Goes up from Troy and Latium at the sight.

  When lo, the falchion, as the stroke he plies,

  Snaps short, and leaves him helpless. Naught but flight

  Can aid him; swifter than the wind he flies, 847

  As in his hand disarmed an unknown hilt he spies.

  XCVI . When first his steeds were harnessed for the war,

  In haste he snatched Metiscus’ sword, ’tis said,

  His sire’s forgotten, as he climbed the car,

  And well enough that weapon served his stead,

  To smite the stragglers, while the Trojans fled;

  But when it met, and countered in the fray

  The arms of Vulcan, then the mortal blade,

  Found faithless, like the brittle ice, gave way, 856

  And in the yellow sand the sparkling fragments lay.

  XCVII . So Turnus flies, and, doubling, but in vain,

  Now here, now there, weaves many an aimless round;

  For all about him, as he scours the plain,

  The swarming legions of the foe are found,

  And here the marsh, and there the bulwarks bound.

  Nor less Æneas, though his stiff knee feels

  The rankling arrow, and the hampering wound

  Retards his pace, pursues him, as he wheels, 865

  And dogs the flying foe, and presses on his heels.

  XCVIII . As when some stag, a river in his face,

  Or toils with scarlet feathers, set to scare,

  A huntsman with his braying hounds doth chase.

  Awed by the steep bank and the threatening snare,

  A thousand ways he doubles here and there;

  But the keen Umbrian, all agape, is by,

  Now grasps, — now holds him, — and now thinks to tear,

  And snaps his teeth on nothing; and a cry 874

  Rings back from shore and stream, and rolls along the sky.

  XCIX . Chiding by name his comrades, as he flies,

  Fierce Turnus for his trusty sword doth cry.

  Nor less Æneas with his threat defies,

  “Stand off,” he shouts, “who ventures to draw nigh,

  His town shall perish, and himself shall die.”

  Onward, though maimed, he presses to his prey.

  Twice five times circling round the field they fly;

  For no mean stake or sportive prize they play, 883

  Lo, Turnus’ life and blood are wagered in the fray.

  C . A wilding olive on the sward had stood,

  Sacred to Faunus. Mariners of yore

  In worship held the venerable bough,

  When to Laurentum’s guardian, safe on shore

  Their votive raiment and their gifts they bore.

  That sacred tree, the lists of fight to clear,

  Troy’s sons had lopped. There, in the trunk’s deep core,

  The Dardan javelin, urged with impulse sheer, 892

  Stuck fast; the stubborn root, retentive, grasped the spear.

  CI . Stooping, Æneas with his hands essayed

  To pluck the steel, and follow with the spear

  The foe his feet o’ertook not. Sore dismayed

  Then Turnus cried, “O Faunus, heed and hear,

  And thou, kind Earth, hold fast the steel, if dear

  I held the plant, which Trojan hands profaned.”

  He prayed, nor Heaven refused a kindly ear.

  Long while Æneas at the tough root strained; 901

  Vain was his utmost strength; the biting shaft remained.

  CII . While thus he stooped and struggled, prompt to aid,

  Juturna, to Metiscus changed anew,

  Ran forth, and to her brother reached his blade.

  Then Venus, wroth the daring Nymph to view,

  Came, and the javelin from the stem withdrew,

  Thus, armed afresh, each eager for his chance,

  The Daunian trusting to his falchion true,

  The Dardan towering with uplifted lance, 910

  High-hearted, face to face, the breathless chiefs advance.

  CIII . Then Jove, as from a saffron cloud above

  Looked Juno, pleased the doubtful strife to view,

  “When shall this end, sweet partner of my love?

  What more? Thou know’st it, and hast owned it too,

  Divine Æneas to the skies is due.

  What wilt thou, chill in cloudland? Was it right

  A god with mortal weapons to pursue?

  Or give — for thine was all Juturna’s might — 919

  Lost Turnus back his sword, and renovate the fight?

  CIV . “Desist at length, and hearken to my prayer.

  Feed not in silence on a grief so sore,

  Nor spoil those sweet lips with unlovely care.

  The end is come; ’twas thine on sea and shore

  Troy’s sons to vex, to wake the war’s uproar,

  To cloud a home, a marriage-league untie,

  And mar with grief a bridal. Cease, and more

  Attempt not.” Thus the ruler of the sky, 928

  And thus, with down-cast look, Saturnia made reply.

  CV . “E’en so, great Jove, because thy will was known,

  I left, reluctant, Turnus and his land.

  Else ne’er should’st thou behold me here alone,

  Thus shamed and suffering, but, torch in hand,

  To smite these hateful Teucrians would I stand.

  I made Juturna rescue from the foe

  Her hapless brother, — mine was the command, —

  Approved her daring for his sake, yet so 937

  As not to wield the spear, or meddle with the bow.

  CVI . “Nay, that I swear, and a dread oath will take

  (The only oath that doth the high gods bind),

  By that grim fount that feeds the Stygian lake.

  And now, great Jove, reluctant, but resigned,

  I yield, and leave the loathed fight behind.

  One boon I ask, nor that in Fate’s despite,

  For Latium, for the honour of thy kind.

  When — be it so — blest Hymen’s pact they plight, 946

  And laws and lasting league the warring folks unite,

  CVII . “Ne’er let the children of t
he soil disown

  The name of Latins; turn them not, I pray,

  To Trojan folk, to be as Teucrians known.

  Ne’er let Italia’s children put away

  The garb they wear, the language of to-day

  Let Latium flourish, and abide the same,

  And Alban kings through distant ages sway.

  Let Rome through Latin prowess wax in fame; 955

  But fall’n is Troy, and fall’n for ever be her name.”

  CVIII . Smiling, the founder of the world replied:

  “Thou, second child of Saturn, born to reign

  In heaven Jove’s sister, and his spouse beside.

  Such floods of passion can thy breast contain?

  But come, and from thy fruitless rage refrain.

  I yield, and gladly; be thy will obeyed.

  Speech, customs, name Ausonia shall retain

  Unchanged for ever, as thy lips have prayed. 964

  And in the Latin race Troy’s mingled blood shall fade.

  CIX . “All Latins will I make them, of one tongue,

  And sacred rites, as common good, assign.

  Hence shalt thou see, from blood Ausonian sprung,

  A blended race, whose piety shall shine

  Excelling man’s, and equalling divine;

  And ne’er shall other nation tell so loud

  Thy praise, or pay such homage to thy shrine.”

  Well-pleased was Juno, and assenting bowed, 973

  And straight with altered mind ascended from the cloud.

  CX . New schemes the Sire, from Turnus to repel

  Juturna’s aid, now ponders in his mind.

  Two fiends there are, called Furies. Night with fell

  Megæra bore them at one birth, and twined

  Their serpent spires, and winged them like the wind.

  These at Jove’s threshold, and beside his throne

  Await his summons, to afflict mankind,

  When death or pestilence the Sire sends down, 982

  Or shakes the world with war, and scares the guilty town.

  CXI . One, for an omen, from the skies he sends,

  To front Juturna. Down, with sudden spring,

  To earth, as in a whirlwind, she descends.

  As when a poisoned arrow from the string

  Through clouds a Parthian launches on the wing, —