aeneas, in the front of men, lifts hand unto the walls, And in a great and mighty voice guilt on Latinus calls, 580 And bids the G.o.ds to witness him twice to the battle driven, Italians twice become his foes, and twice the treaty riven.

But mid the turmoiled city-folk arose the bickering then, Some bade unbar and open gates unto the Dardan men; Yea, some unto the walls would drag their very king and lord; But some bear arms and go their ways the walls of war to ward: E'en as the shepherd finds the bees shut in, a fenced folk, In c.h.i.n.ky pumice rock, and fills their house with bitter smoke; But they, all busy-fearful grown within their waxen wall, Run here and there and whet their wrath with mighty humming call: 590 The black stink rolleth through their house, and with a murmuring blind The stony hollows moan: the reek the empty air doth find.

Here on the weary Latins fell another stroke of fate, That moved the city deep adown with sorrow sore and great; For when the Queen from house aloft beheld the foe draw nigh, The walls beset, the flaming brands unto the house-roofs fly, And nowhere the Rutulian ranks or Turnus' warring host, The hapless woman deems the youth in stress of battle lost, And, all bewildered in her mind by these so sudden woes, Curses herself for head and spring whence all the evil flows; 600 And crying many a bitter word, and mad with sorrow grown, She riveth with her dying hand the queenly purple gown, And knits the knot of loathly death from lofty beam on high.

But when the wretched Latin wives know all this misery, Her daughter first, Lavinia, wastes the blossom of her hair, And wounds her rosy cheeks; then they that stood about her there Run wild about, and all the house resoundeth with their wail.

Thence through the city flies the sound of that unhappy tale, And all hearts sink: Latinus goes with raiment rent and torn, Stunned by his wife's unhappy lot, and city lost and lorn, 610 And scattering o'er his h.o.a.riness defilement of the dust; And often he upbraids himself that he took not to trust That Dardan lord, nor willingly had hallowed him his son.

Meanwhile across the outer plain war-Turnus followeth on The last few stragglers, duller grown, and less and less his heart Rejoices in his hurrying steed and their victorious part.

The air bore to him noise of men with doubtful terror blent, And round about his hearkening ears confused murmur sent; The noise of that turmoiled town, a sound of nought but woe: "Ah, me!" he cried, "what mighty grief stirs up the city so? 620 Why from the walls now goeth up this cry and noise afar?"

He spake, and, wildered, drew the rein and stayed the battle-car: His sister met his questioning, as she in seeming clad Of that Metiscus, all the rule of battle-chariot had, And steeds and bridle: "Hereaway, O Turnus, drive we on The sons of Troy; where victory shows a road that may be won: For other hands there are, belike, the houses to defend.

aeneas falls on Italy, and there doth battle blend; So let our hands give cruel death to Teucrian men this day, No less in tale: so shalt thou hold thine honour in the fray." 630

But Turnus sayeth thereunto: "Sister, I knew thee long ago, when first by art and craft Thou brok'st the troth-plight, and therewith amidst the battle went; And now thou hidest G.o.d in vain. But whose will thee hath sent From high Olympus' house to bear such troubles, and so great?

Was it to see thy brother's end and most unhappy fate?

For what do I? What heal is left in aught that may befall?

Mine eyes beheld Murra.n.u.s die, on me I heard him call: No dearer man in all the world is left me for a friend: Woe's me I that mighty man of men a mighty death must end. 640 Ufens is dead, unhappy too lest he our shame behold; E'en as I speak the Teucrians ward his arms and body cold.

And now--the one shame wanting yet--shall I stand deedless by Their houses' wrack, nor let my sword cast back that Drances' lie?

Shall I give back, and shall this land see craven Turnus fled?

Is death, then, such a misery? O rulers of the dead, Be kind! since now the high G.o.d's heart is turned away from me; A hallowed soul I go adown, guiltless of infamy, Not all unworthy of the great, my sires of long ago."

Scarce had he said when, here behold, from midmost of the foe, 650 Comes Saces on his foaming steed, an arrow in his face, Who, crying prayers on Turnus' name, onrusheth to the place: "Turnus, in thee our last hope lies! pity thy wretched folk!

aeneas thundereth battle there, and threateneth with his stroke The overthrow of tower and town, and wrack of Italy.

The flames are flying toward the roofs; all mouths of Latins cry On thee; all eyes are turned to thee: yea, the king wavereth there, Whom shall he call his son-in-law, to whom for friendship fare.

The Queen to wit, thy faithfullest, is dead by her own hand, And, fearful of the things to come, hath left the daylight land. 660 Messapus and Atinas keen alone upbear our might Before the gates: round each of them are gathered hosts of fight Thick-thronging, and a harvest-tide that bristles with the sword; While here thou wendest car about the man-deserted sward."

Bewildered then with images of diverse things he stood In silent stare; and in his heart upswelled a mighty flood Of mingled shame and maddening grief: the Furies goaded sore With bitter love and valour tried and known from time of yore.

But when the cloud was shaken off and light relit his soul, His burning eyeb.a.l.l.s toward the town, fierce-hearted, did he roll, 670 And from the wheels of war looked back unto the mighty town; And lo, behold, a wave of flame into a tongue-shape grown Licked round a tower, and 'twixt its floors rolled upward unto heaven: A tower that he himself had reared with timbers closely driven, And set beneath it rolling-gear, and dight the bridges high.

"Now, sister, now the Fates prevail! no more for tarrying try.

Nay, let us follow where the G.o.d, where hard Fate calleth me!

Doomed am I to aeneas' hand; doomed, howso sore it be, To die the death; ah, sister, now thou seest me shamed no more: Now let me wear the fury through ere yet my time is o'er." 680

He spake, and from the chariot leapt adown upon the mead, And left his sister lone in grief amidst the foe to speed, Amidst the spears, and breaketh through the midmost press of fight, E'en as a headlong stone sweeps down from off the mountain-height, Torn by the wind; or drifting rain hath washed it from its hold, Or loosed, maybe, it slippeth down because the years grow old: Wild o'er the cliffs with mighty leap goes down that world of stone, And bounds o'er earth, and woods and herds and men-folk rolleth on Amidst its wrack: so Turnus through the broken battle broke Unto the very city-walls, where earth was all a-soak 690 With plenteous blood, and air beset with whistling of the shafts; There with his hand he maketh sign, and mighty speech he wafts:

"Forbear, Rutulians! Latin men, withhold the points of fight!

Whatever haps, the hap is mine; I, I alone, of right Should cleanse you of the broken troth, and doom of sword-edge face."

So from the midst all men depart, and leave an empty s.p.a.ce; But now the Father aeneas hath hearkened Turnus' name, And backward from the walls of war and those high towers he came.

He casts away all tarrying, sets every deed aside, And thundering in his battle-gear rejoicing doth he stride: 700 As Athos great, as Eryx great, great as when roaring goes Amid the quaking oaken woods and glory lights the snows, And Father Apennine uprears his head amidst the skies.

Then Trojan and Rutulian men turn thither all their eyes, And all the folk of Italy, and they that hold the wall, And they that drive against its feet the battering engines' fall All men do off their armour then. Amazed Latinus stands To see two mighty heroes, born in such wide-sundered lands.

Meet thus to try what deed of doom in meeting swords may be.

But they, when empty s.p.a.ce is cleared amid the open lea, 710 Set each on each in speedy wise, and with their war-spears hurled Amid the clash of shield and bra.s.s break into Mavors' world; Then groaneth earth; then comes the hail of sword-strokes thick and fast, And in one blended tangle now are luck and valour cast: As when on mighty Sila's side, or on Taburnus height, Two bulls with pushing h.o.r.n.y brows are mingled in the fight: The frighted herdsmen draw aback, and all the beasts are dumb For utter fear; the heifers too mis...o...b.. them what shall come, Who shall be master of the grove and leader of the flock; But each on each they mingle wounds with fearful might of shock, 720 And gore and push home fencing horns, and with abundant blood Bathe neck and shoulder, till the noise goes bellowing through the wood; E'en so aeneas out of Troy, and he, the Daunian man, Smite shield on shield; and mighty clash through all the heavens there ran.

'Tis Jupiter who holds the scales 'twixt even-poised tongue; There in the balance needfully their sundered fates he hung, Which one the battle-pain shall doom, in which the death shall lie.

Now Turnus deems him safe, and forth with sword upreared on high, He springs, and all his body strains, and rises to the stroke, And smites: the Trojans cry aloud, and eager Latin folk, 730 And both hosts hang 'twixt hope and fear: but lo, the treacherous sword Breaks in the middle of the blow and leaves its fiery lord:-- And if the flight shall fail him now!--Swift as the East he flees When in his right hand weaponless an unknown hilt he sees.

They say, that when all eager-hot he clomb his yoked car In first of fight, that then he left his father's blade of war, And caught in hand his charioteer Metiscus' battle-glaive; And that was well while Trojan fleers backs to the smiting gave, But when they meet Vulcanian arms, the very G.o.d's device, Then shivereth all the mortal blade e'en as the foolish ice; 740 And there upon the yellow sand the glittering splinters lie.

So diversely about the field doth wildered Turnus fly, And here and there in winding ways he doubleth up and down, For thick all round about the lists was drawn the Teucrian crown: By wide marsh here, by high walls there, his fleeing was begirt.

Nor less aeneas, howsoe'er, hampered by arrow-hurt, His knees might hinder him at whiles and fail him as he ran, Yet foot for foot all eagerly followed the hurrying man; As when a hound hath caught a hart hemmed by the river's ring, Or hedged about by empty fear of crimson-feathered string, 750 And swift of foot and baying loud goes following up the flight; But he, all fearful of the snare and of the flood-bank's height, Doubles and turns a thousand ways, while open-mouthed and staunch The Umbrian keen sticks hard at heel, and now, now hath his haunch, Snapping his jaws as though he gripped, and, mocked, but biteth air.

Then verily the cry arose; the bank, the spreading mere, Rang back about, and tumult huge ran shattering through the sky.

But Turnus as he fled cried out on all his Rutuli, And, calling each man by his name, craved his familiar blade.

Meanwhile aeneas threateneth death if any come to aid, 760 And swift destruction: and their souls with fearful threats doth fill Of city ruined root and branch; and, halting, followeth still.

Five rings of flight their running fills, and back the like they wend: Nought light nor gamesome is the prize for which their feet contend, For there they strive in running-game for Turnus' life and blood.

By hap hard by an olive wild of bitter leaves there stood, Hallowed to Faunus, while agone a most well-worshipped tree, Whereon to that Laurentian G.o.d the sailors saved from sea Would set their gifts, and hang therefrom their garments vowed at need.

But now the Teucrian men of late had lopped with little heed 770 That holy stem, that they might make the lists of battle clear: And there aeneas' war-spear stood; his might had driven it there, And held it now, set hard and fast in stubborn root and stout: The Dardan son bent o'er it now to pluck the weapon out, That he might follow him with shot whom running might not take.

But Turnus, wildered with his fear, cried out aloud and spake:

"O Faunus, pity me, I pray! and thou, O kindest Earth, Hold thou the steel for me, who still have worshipped well thy worth, Which ever those aenean folk with battle would profane!"

He spake, and called the G.o.d to aid with vows not made in vain; 780 For o'er the tough tree tarrying long, struggling with utter might, No whit aeneas could undo the gripping woody bite.

But while he struggleth hot and hard, and hangeth o'er the spear, Again the Daunian G.o.ddess, clad in shape of charioteer Metiscus, Turnus' trusty sword unto his hand doth speed.

But Venus, wrathful that the Nymph might dare so bold a deed, Came nigh, and from the deep-set root the shaft of battle drew.

So they, high-hearted, stored with hope and battle-gear anew, One trusting in his sword, and one fierce with his spear on high, Stand face to face, the glorious game of panting Mars to try. 790

Meanwhile the King of Heaven the great thus unto Juno saith, As from a ruddy cloud she looked upon the game of death: "What then shall end it, O my wife? what deed is left thine hand?

That Heaven shall gain aeneas yet, a G.o.dhead of the land, That Fate shall bear him to the stars thou know'st and hast allowed: What dost thou then, or hoping what hang'st thou in chilly cloud?

What! was it right that mortal wound a G.o.d's own flesh should wrong?

Right to give Turnus--but for thee how was Juturna strong?-- The sword he lost? or vanquished men, to give their might increase?

I prithee yield unto my prayers, and from thy troubling cease. 800 Let not thine hushed grief eat thine heart, or bitter words of care So often from thy sweetest mouth the soul within me wear.

The goal is reached: thou hast availed o'er earth and sea to drive The Trojan men; to strike the spark of wicked war alive; To foul their house, and woe and grief mid wedding-feast to bear, And now I bid thee hold thine hand."

Thuswise said Jupiter, And with a downcast countenance spake that Satumian Queen: "Well have I known, great Jupiter, all that thy will hath been, And Turnus and the worldly land loth have I left alone, Else nowise should'st thou see me bear, sole on this airy throne, 810 Things meet and unmeet: flame-begirt the war-ranks would I gain, And drag the host of Trojans on to battle and their bane.

Juturna!--yes, I pitied her, and bade her help to bear Unto her brother; good, methought, for life great things to dare; But nought I bade her to the shaft or bending of the bow, This swear I by the ruthless well, the Stygian overflow, The only holy thing there is that weighs on G.o.dhead's oath.

And now indeed I yield the place, and leave the fight I loathe.

But one thing yet I ask of thee, held in no fateful yoke; For Latium's sake I pray therefore, and glory of thy folk: 820 When they at last--so be it now!--pledge peace mid bridal kind, When they at last join law to law, and loving treaty bind, Let them not change their ancient name, those earth-born Latin men, Nor turn them into Trojan folk, or call them Teucrians then: Let not that manfolk shift their tongue, or cast their garb aside; Let Latium and the Alban kings through many an age abide, And cherish thou the Roman stem with worth of Italy: Troy-town is dead: Troy and its name for ever let them die!"

The Fashioner of men and things spake, smiling in her face: "Yea, Jove's own sister; second branch forsooth, of Saturn's race! 830 Such are the mighty floods of wrath thou rollestin thy breast.

But this thine anger born for nought, I prithee let it rest: I give thine asking; conquered now I yield me, and am glad: The Ausonian men shall keep the tongue and ways their fathers had, And as their name is shall it be: only in body blent Amidst them shall the Teucrians sink; from me shall rites be sent, And holy things, and they shall be all Latins of one tongue.

Hence shalt thou see a blended race from blood Ausonian sprung, Whose G.o.dliness shall outgo men, outgo the G.o.ds above; Nor any folk of all the world so well thy worth shall love." 840

So gladdened Juno's heart was turned, and yea-saying she bowed, And so departed from the sky and left her watching-cloud.

Another thing the Father now within him turneth o'er, What wise Juturna he shall part from her lost brother's war: Two horrors are there that are called the Dreadful Ones by name, Whom with Megaera of the Pit at one birth and the same Untimely Night brought forth of yore, and round about them twined Like coils of serpents, giving them great wings to hold the wind: About Jove's throne, and close anigh the Stern King's threshold-stead, Do these attend, in sick-heart men to whet the mortal dread, 850 Whenso the King-G.o.d fashions forth fell death and dire disease, Or smites the guilty cities doomed with battle miseries.

Now one of these sent Jupiter swift from the heavenly place, And bade her for a sign of doom to cross Juturna's face.

So borne upon a whirl of wind to earth the swift one flies, E'en as an arrow from the string is driven amid the skies, Which headed with the venom fell a Parthian man hath shot,-- Parthian, Cydonian, it may be,--the hurt that healeth not; Its hidden whirring sweepeth through the drifting misty flow: So fared the Daughter of the Night, and sought the earth below. 860

But when she saw the Ilian hosts and Turnus' battle-rank, Then sudden into puny shape her body huge she shrank, A fowl that sits on sepulchres, and desert roofs alone In the dead night, and through the mirk singeth her ceaseless moan; In such a shape this bane of men met Turnus' face in field, And, screeching, hovered to and fro, and flapped upon his shield: Strange heaviness his body seized, consuming him with dread, His hair stood up, and in his jaws his voice lay hushed and dead.

But when afar Juturna knew the Dread One's whirring wings, The hapless sister tears her hair and loose its tresses flings, 870 Fouling her face with tearing nails, her breast with beat of hand.

"How may my help, O Turnus, now beside my brother stand?

How may I harden me 'gainst this? by what craft shall I stay Thy light of life? how cast myself in such a monster's way?

Now, now I leave the battle-field; fright not the filled with fear, O birds of ill! full well I know your flapping wings in air, And baneful sound. Thy mastering will I know it holdeth good, O Jove the great!--was this the gift thou gav'st for maidenhood?

Why give me everlasting life, and death-doom take away?

O, but for that my sorrows sore now surely might I slay, 880 And wend beside my brother now amid the nether Night.

Am I undying? ah, can aught of all my good delight Without thee, O my brother lost! O Earth, gape wide and well, And let a G.o.ddess sink adown into the deeps of h.e.l.l!"