O’er the huge frame, and from afar with stern eyes meets it all,

  And ‘gainst the words the tyrant spake such words from him there fall:

  “Now shall I win me praise of men for spoiling of a King,

  Or for a glorious death: my sire may outface either thing: 450

  Forbear thy threats.”

  He spake, and straight amid the war-field drew;

  But cold in that Arcadian folk therewith the heart-blood grew;

  While Turnus from his war-wain leapt to go afoot to fight:

  And as a lion sees afar from off his watch burg’s height

  A bull at gaze amid the mead with battle in his thought,

  And flies thereto, so was the shape of coming Turnus wrought.

  But now, when Pallas deemed him come within the cast of spear,

  He would be first, if Fate perchance should help him swift to dare,

  And his less might, and thus he speaks unto the boundless sky:

  “Now by my father’s guesting-tide and board thou drew’st anigh, 460

  A stranger, O Alcides, help this great deed I begin!

  His bloody gear from limbs half-dead let Turnus see me win;

  And on the dying eyes of him be victor’s image pressed.”

  Alcides heard the youth, and ‘neath the inmost of his breast

  He thrust aback a heavy groan, and empty tears he shed:

  But to his son in kindly wise such words the Father said:

  “His own day bideth every man; short space that none may mend

  Is each man’s life: but yet by deeds wide-spreading fame to send,

  Man’s valour hath this work to do: ‘neath Troy’s high-builded wall

  How many sons of God there died: yea there he died withal, 470

  Sarpedon my own progeny. Yea too and Turnus’ Fates

  Are calling him: he draweth nigh his life’s departing-gates.”

  He spake and turned his eyes away from fields of Rutuli:

  But Pallas with great gathered strength the spear from him let fly,

  And drew therewith from hollow sheath his sword all eager-bright.

  The spear flew gleaming where the arms rise o’er the shoulder’s height,

  Smote home, and won its way at last through the shield’s outer rim,

  And Turnus’ mighty body reached and grazed the flesh of him.

  Long Turnus shook the oak that bore the bitter iron head,

  Then cast at Pallas, and withal a word he cast and said: 480

  “Let see now if this shaft of mine may better win a pass!”

  He spake; for all its iron skin and all its plates of brass,

  For all the swathing of bull-hides that round about it went,

  The quivering spear smote through the shield and through its midmost rent

  And through the mailcoat’s staying fence the mighty breast did gain.

  Then at the spear his heart-blood warmed did Pallas clutch in vain;

  By one way and the same his blood and life, away they fare;

  But down upon the wound he rolled, and o’er him clashed his gear,

  And dying there his bloody mouth sought out the foeman’s sod:

  Whom Turnus overstrides and says: 490

  “Hearken Arcadians, bear ye back Evander words well learned:

  Pallas I send him back again, dealt with as he hath earned,

  If there be honour in a tomb, or solace in the earth,

  I grudge it not — Ænean guests shall cost him things of worth.”

  So spake he, and his left foot then he set upon the dead,

  And tore the girdle thence away full heavy fashionèd,

  And wrought with picture of a guilt; that youthful company

  Slain foully on one wedding-night: bloody the bride-beds lie.

  This Clonus son of Eurytus had wrought in plenteous gold,

  Now Turnus wears it triumphing, merry such spoil to hold. — 500

  — O heart of man, unlearned in Fate and what the days may hide,

  Unlearned to be of measure still when swelled with happy tide!

  The time shall come when Turnus wealth abundantly would pay

  For Pallas whole, when he shall loathe that spoil, that conquering day.

  But Pallas’ folk with plenteous groans and tears about him throng,

  And laid upon his battle-shield they bear the dead along.

  O thou, returning to thy sire, great grief and glory great,

  Whom one same day gave unto war and swept away to fate,

  Huge heaps of death Rutulian thou leav’st the meadow still.

  And now no rumour, but sure word of such a mighty ill 510

  Flies to Æneas, how his folk within the deathgrip lie,

  And how time pressed that he should aid the Teucrians turned to fly.

  So all things near with sword he reaps, and wide he drives the road

  Amid the foe with fiery steel, seeking thee, Turnus proud,

  Through death new wrought; and Pallas now, Evander, all things there

  Live in his eyes: the boards whereto that day he first drew near,

  A stranger, and those plighted hands. Four youths of Sulmo wrought,

  And the like tale that Ufens erst into the world’s life brought,

  He takes alive to slay them — gifts for that great ghost’s avail,

  And with a shower of captive blood to slake the dead men’s bale. 520

  Then next at Magus from afar the shaft of bane he sent;

  Deftly he cowered, and on above the quivering weapon went,

  And clasping both Æneas’ knees thus spake the suppliant one:

  “O by thy father’s ghost, by hope Iulus hath begun,

  I pray thee for my sire and son my life yet let me win:

  I have a high house, silver wrought is dug adown therein,

  A talent’s weight, and store therewith of wrought and unwrought gold:

  This will not snatch the victory from out the Teucrian’s hold,

  Nor can the life of one alone such mighty matter make.”

  So he, but answering thereunto this word Æneas spake: 530

  “Thy gold and silver talent’s weight, whereof thou tell’st such store,

  Spare for thy sons! thy Turnus slew such chaffering of war

  When Pallas’ death he brought about a little while ago;

  So deems my sire Anchises’ ghost, Iulus deemeth so.”

  Then with his left he caught the helm and hilt-deep thrust the blade

  Into the back-bent throat of him e’en as the prayer he prayed.

  Not far hence was Hæmonides, Phoebus’ and Trivia’s priest,

  The holy fillets on his brow, his glory well increased

  With glorious arms, and glittering gear shining on every limb.

  Him the King chaseth o’er the field, and, standing over him, 540

  Hides him in mighty dusk of death; whose gleanèd battle-gear,

  A gift to thee, O battle-god, back doth Serestus bear.

  Then Cæculus of Vulcan’s stem the hedge of battle fills,

  And Umbro cometh unto fight down from the Marsian hills.

  On them his rage the Dardan child let slip. But next his blade

  Anxur’s left hand and orbèd shield upon the meadow laid.

  Proud things had Anxur said, and deemed his word was matched by might,

  And so perchance he raised his soul up to the heavenly height,

  And hoary eld he looked to see, and many a peaceful year.

  Tarquitius, proud of heart and soul, in glittering battle-gear, 550

  Whom the nymph Dryope of yore to woodland Faunus gave,

  Came thrusting thwart his fiery way; his back-drawn spear he drave,

  Pinning his mail-coat unto him, and mighty mass of shield:

  His vainly-praying head, that strove with words, upon the field

  He swept therewith, and rolling o’er his carcase warm with death,

  Above him from the heart of hate such words as this he saith:

  “Lie there, fear-giver! no more now thy mother most of worth

  Shall load thee with thy father’s tomb, or lay thee in the earth:

  Thou shalt be left to birds of prey, or deep adown the flood

  The waves shall bear thee, and thy wounds be hungry fishes’ food.” 560

  Next Lucas and Antæus stout, foremost of Turnus’ men,

  He chaseth: Numa staunch of heart and yellow Camers then;

  A man from high-souled Volscens sprung, field-wealthiest one of all

  Ausonian men, and lord within the hushed Amyclæ’s wall.

  E’en as Ægæon, who they say had arms an hundred-fold,

  And hundred hands, from fifty mouths and maws the wildfire rolled,

  What time in arms against the bolts from Jove of Heaven that flew

  He clashed upon the fifty shields and fifty sword-points drew:

  So conquering, over all the mead Æneas’ fury burns 569

  When once his sword is warm with death: and now, behold, he turns

  Upon Niphæus’ four-yoked steeds, and breasts their very breath.

  But when they see him striding far, and threatening doom and death,

  In utter dread they turn about, and rushing back again,

  They shed their master on the earth and shoreward drag the wain.

  Meanwhile with twi-yoked horses white fares Lucagus midst men,

  His brother Liger by his side, who holdeth rein as then,

  And turneth steed, while Lucagus the drawn sword whirleth wide.

  Them and their war-rage in no wise Æneas might abide,

  But on he rushes, showing huge with upheaved threatening shaft.

  Then Liger cast a word at him: 580

  “No steeds of Diomede thou seest, and no Achilles’ car

  Or Phrygian fields: this hour shall end thy life-days and the war

  Here on this earth.”

  Such words as these from witless Liger stray,

  But nought in bandying of words the man of Troy would play;

  Rather his mighty battle-shaft he hurled against the foe,

  While Lucagus his horses drives with spear-butt, bending low

  Over the lash, and setteth forth his left foot for the fight.

  Beneath the bright shield’s nether rim the spear-shaft takes its flight,

  Piercing his groin upon the left: then shaken from his wain,

  He tumbleth down and rolleth o’er in death upon the plain. 590

  To whom a fierce and bitter word godly Æneas said:

  “Ho, Lucagus! no dastard flight of steeds thy car betrayed,

  No empty shadow turned them back from facing of the foe,

  But thou thyself hast leapt from wheel and let the yoke-beasts go.”

  He spake, and caught the reins withal; slipped down that wretched one

  His brother, and stretched forth the hands that little deed had done:

  “By thee, by those that brought thee forth so glorious unto day,

  O Trojan hero, spare my life, and pity me that pray!”

  Æneas cut athwart his speech: “Not so erewhile ye spake.

  Die! ill it were for brother thus a brother to forsake.” 600

  And in his breast the sword he drave home to the house of breath.

  Thus through the meads the Dardan Duke set forth the tale of death,

  With rage as of the rushing flood, or whirl-storm of the wind.

  At last they break forth into field and leave their camp behind,

  Ascanius and the lads of war in vain beleaguerèd.

  Meanwhile to Juno Jupiter set forth the speech and said:

  “O thou who art my sister dear and sweetest wife in one,

  ’Tis Venus as thou deemedst, (nought thy counsel is undone),

  Who upholds Trojan might forsooth: they lack fight-eager hand,

  They lack fierce heart and steady soul the peril to withstand!” 610

  To whom spake Juno, meek of mood: “And why, O fairest lord,

  Dost thou so vex me sad at heart, fearing thy heavy word?

  But in my soul were love as strong as once it used to be,

  And should be, thou though all of might wouldst ne’er deny it me,

  That Turnus I should draw away from out the midst of fight,

  That I might keep him safe to bless his father Daunus’ sight.

  Now let him die, let hallowed blood the Teucrian hate atone:

  And yet indeed his name and race from blood of ours hath grown;

  He from Pilumnus is put forth: yea, good gifts furthermore

  His open hand full oft hath piled within thine holy door.” 620

  To whom air-high Olympus’ king short-worded answer made:

  “If for the youth who soon must fall respite of death is prayed,

  And tarrying-time, nor aught thou deem’st but that my doom must stand,

  Then carry Turnus off by flight, snatch him from fate at hand.

  So far thy longing may I please: but if a greater grace

  Lurk ‘neath thy prayers, and thou hast hope to change the battle’s face,

  And turmoil everything once more, thou feedest hope in vain.”

  Then Juno weeping: “Ah, but if thy heart should give the gain

  Thy voice begrudgeth! if ‘twere doomed that he in life abide —

  But ill-end dogs the sackless man, unless I wander wide 630

  Away from sooth — Ah, yet may I be mocked of fear-wrought lies,

  And may thy rede as thou hast might be turned to better wise.”

  She spake the word and cast herself adown from heaven the high,

  Girt round with rain-cloud, driving on a storm amid the sky,

  And that Laurentian leaguer sought and Ilium’s hedge of fight.

  And there she fashioned of the cloud a shadow lacking might:

  With image of Æneas’ shape the wondrous show is drest,

  She decks it with the Dardan spear and shield, and mocks the crest

  Of that all-godlike head, and gives a speech that empty flows,

  Sound without soul, and counterfeits the gait wherewith he goes, — 640

  As dead men’s images they say about the air will sweep,

  Or as the senses weary-drenched are mocked with dreams of sleep.

  But in the forefront of the fight war-merry goes the thing,

  And cries the warrior on with words and weapons brandishing:

  On whom falls Turnus, and afar hurleth his whizzing spear:

  Then turns the phantom back about and fleeth as in fear.

  Then verily when Turnus deemed he saw Æneas fled.

  With all the emptiness of hope his headlong heart he fed:

  “Where fleest thou, Æneas, then? why leave thy plighted bride? 649

  This hand shall give thee earth thou sought’st so far across the tide.”

  So cries he following, brandishing his naked sword on high,

  Nor sees what wise adown the wind his battle-bliss goes by.

  By hap a ship was moored anear unto a ledgy stone,

  With ladders out and landing-bridge all ready to let down,

  That late the King Orsinius bore from Clusium o’er the sea;

  And thereinto the hurrying lie, Æneas’ shape, did flee,

  And down its lurking-places dived: but Turnus none the more

  Hangs back, but beating down delay swift runs the high bridge o’er.

  Scarce on the prow, ere Juno brake the mooring-rope atwain,

  And rapt the sundered ship away o’er back-draught of the main. 660

  And there afar from fight is he on whom Æneas cries,

  Still sending down to death’s abode an host of enemies;

  Nor any more the image then will seek his shape to shroud,

  But flying upward blendeth him amid the mirky cloud.

  Meanwhile, as midmost of the sea the flood bore Turnus on,

  Blind to the deed that was in hand, thankless for safety won,

  He looketh round, and hands and voice starward he reacheth forth:

  “Almighty Father, deemedst thou my guilt so much of worth?

  And wouldst thou have me welter through such woeful tide of pain?

  Whence? whither? why this flight? what man shall I come back again?

  Ah, shall I see Laurentum’s walls, or see my camp once more? 671

  What shall betide the fellowship that followed me to war,

  Whom I have left? O misery to die the death alone!

  I see them scattered even now, I hear the dying groan.

  What do I? what abyss of earth is deep enough to hide

  The wretched man? But ye, O winds, be merciful this tide,

  On rocks, on stones — I, Turnus, thus adore you with good will —

  Drive ye the ship, or cast it up on Syrtes’ shoals of ill,

  Where Rutuli and tell-tale Fame shall never find me out!”

  Hither and thither as he spake his spirit swam in doubt, 680

  Shall he now fall upon the point, whom shame hath witless made,

  Amid most of his very ribs driving the bitter blade;

  Or casting him amid the waves swim for the hollow strand,

  And give his body back again to sworded Teucrian band?

  Thrice either deed he fell to do, and thrice for very ruth

  The mightiest Juno stayed his hand and held aback his youth.

  So ‘neath a fair and following wind he glideth o’er the sea,

  And to his father’s ancient walls is ferried presently.

  Meanwhile, by Jupiter’s command, Mezentius props the fight,

  And all ablaze he falleth on the gladdened Teucrian might: 690

  The Tuscan host rush up, and all upon one man alone

  Press on with hatred in their hearts and cloud of weapons thrown.

  Yet is he as a rock thrust out amid the mighty deep

  To meet the raging of the winds, bare to the water’s sweep.

  All threats of sea and sky it bears, all might that they may wield,

  Itself unmoved. Dolichaon’s son he felleth unto field,

  One Hebrus; Latagus with him, and Palmus as he fled.

  But Latagus with stone he smites, a mighty mountain-shred,

  Amid the face and front of him, and Palmus, slow to dare,

 

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