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Here, orer-match'd in fight, in heaps they lie, He grios, and opens wide his greedy jaws,
There, scatter'd o'er the fields, ignobly fly.

The prey lies panting underneath his paws;
Gape wide, O Earth! and draw me down alive, He fills his famish'd maw, his mouth rups o'er
Or, oh, ye pitying winds! a wretcb relieve; With unchew'd morsels, while he churns the gore :
On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive : So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes,
Or set ve shipwreck'd on some desert shore, And first unhappy Acron overthrows :
Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more;

Stretch'd at his length, he spurns the swarthy Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious fame,

ground,

(wound. Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim "" The lance, besmear'd with blood, lies broken in the

Thus Turnus rav'd, and various fates revolv'd, Then with disdain the haughty victor viewid The choice was doustful, but the death resolv'd. Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursu'd : And now the sword, and now the sea took place : Nor thought the dastard's back deserv'd a wound, That to rerenge, and this to purge disgrace. But running gain'd th' advantage of the ground Sometimes he thourht to swim the stormy main, Then, turning short, he met him face to face, Ry stretch of arms the distant shore to gain : To give his victory the better grace. Thrice he the sword assay'd, and thrice the flood; Orodes falls, in equal fight opprest: But Juno, mov'd with pity, both withstood ; Mezentius tix'd his foot upon his breast, And thrice repress'd his rage: strong gales supply'd, And rested lance: and thus aloud he cries, And push'al the vessel o'er the swelling tide. “ Lo, here the champion of my rebels lies !" At length she lands him on his native shores, The fields around with lö Pæan ring, And to his father's longing arms restores.

And peals of shouts applaud the couqu’ring king. Meantime, by Jove's impulse, Mezentius arm’d, At this the vanquish'd, with his dying breath, Succeeding Turnus, with his ardour warm’d Thus faintly spoke, and prophesy'd in death : His fainting friends, reproach'd their shameful “ Nor thou, proud man, unpunish'd shalt remain ; flight,

Like death attends thee on this fatal plain.” Repell'd the victors, and renew'd the fight. Tben, sourly smiling, thus the king reply'd: Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire, “For what belongs to me, let Jove provide; Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire But die thou first, whatever chance ensue. Of wish'd revenge: on him, and him alone, He said, and from the wound the weapon drew: All hands employ'd, and all their darts are thrown. A hovering mist came swimming o'er his sight, He, like a solid rock by seas enclos'd,

And seal'd his eyes in everlasting night. To raging winds and roaring waves oppos'd ;

By Cadicus, Alcathous was slain ; From his proud summit looking down, disdains Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain : Their empty menace, and unmov'd remains. Orses the strong to greater strength must yield:

Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead, He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill'd. Then Latagus; and Palinus, as he fled:

Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew, At Latag'is a weighty stone he flung,

Who from Lycaon's blood his lineage drew. His face was flatted, and his helmet rung.

But from his headstrong horse his fate he found, But Palmus from behind receives his wound, Who threw his master as he made a bound; Hamstring'd he falls, and grovels on the ground : The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground. His crest and armour, from bis body torn,

Then Clonius hand in hand, on foot assails, Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn. The Trojan sinks, and Neptune's son prevails. Evas and Mymas, both of Troy, he slew;

Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride, Mymas his birth from fair Theano drew:

To single tight the boldest foe defy'd; Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire, Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o'ercame, The queen produc'd young Paris to bis sire. And not bely'd his mighty father's fame. But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain; Salius to death the great Antronius sent, Unthinking Mymas, on the Latian plain.

But the same fate the victor underwent; And as a savage boar on mountains bred, Slain by Nealces' hand, well skill'd to throw With forest mast and fattening marshes fed ; The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow. When once he sees himself in toils enclos'd,

Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance; By huntsmen and their eager hounds opposid, By turns they quit their ground, by turns advances He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war; Victors, and vanquish’d, in the various field, Th’invaders dart their javelins from afar;

Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield. All keep aloof, and safely shout around,

The gods from Heaven survey the fatal strife, But none presumes to give a nearer wound. And mourn the miseries of human life. He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide, Above the rest two goddesses appear And shakes a grove of lances from his side: Concern'd for each: here Venus, Juno there: Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir'd Amidst the crowd infernal Atè shakes And just revenge, against the tyrant tird; Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes. Their darts with clamour at a distance drive, Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain, And only keep the languish'd war alive.

Brandish'd his spear, and rush'd into the plain : From Coritus came Acron to the sight, [night. Where towering in the midmost ranks be stood, Who left his spouse betroth'd and unconsuininate Like tall Orion stalking o'er the flool: Mezentius sees him through the squadrons ride, When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves, Proud of the purple favours of his bride.

His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves. Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds

Or like a mountain-ash, whose roots are spread, A gamesoine goat who frisks about the folds, Deep fixt in earth, in clouds he hides his head. Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain;

The Trojan prince beheld him from afar, He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane; And dauntless undertook the doubtful was i

Collected in his strength, and like a rock, The purple streams throngh the thin armour strove Poisid on his base, Mezentjus stood the shock. And drench'd th' embroider'd coat his mother He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes

wove; The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries: And life at length forsook his heaving heart,

My strong right-hand, and sword, assist my Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart. (Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.) [stroke; But when, with blood and paleness all o'erspread, His armour, from the Trojan pirate torn,

The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead; By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn." He griev'd, he wept, the sight an image brought He said, and with his utmost force he threw Of his own filial love; a sadly pleasing thought! The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew, Then stretch'd his hand to hold him up, and said, Reach'd the celestial shield that stopp'd the course; “ Poor halpless youth! wbat praises can be paid But glancing thence, the yet-unbroken force To love so great, to such transcendent store Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt

Of early worth, and sure presage of more! The sides and bowels fam'd Anthores fix'd.

Accept whate'er Æneas can afford : Anthores had from Argos travellid far,

Untouch'd thy arms, untaken be thy sword! Alcides' friend, and brother of the war:

And all that pleas'd thee living, still remain Till, tir'd with toils, fair Italy he chose,

Inviolate, and sacred to the slain! And in Evander's palace sought repose:

Thy body on thy parents I bestow Now falling by another wound, his eyes

To rest thy soul, at least if shadows know, He cast to Heaven, on Argos thinks, and dies. Or have a sense of human things below. The pious Trojan then his javelin sent;

There to thy fellow-ghosts with glory tell, The shield gave way: through treble plates it went 'Twas by the great Æneas' hand I fell."" Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll'd,

With this his distant friends he beckons near, And three bull-hides, which round the buckler rollid. Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear: All these it pass'd, resistless in the course,

Himself assists to lift him from the ground, Transpierc'd his thigh, and spent its dying force. With clotted locks, and blood that well'd from ou The gaping wound gush'd out a crimson flood;

the wound. The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood,

Meantime his father, now no father, stood, His falchion drew, to closer fight addressid, And wash'd his wounds by Tiber's yellow flood : And with new force bis fainting foe oppress’d. Opprest with anguish, panting, and o'erspent,

His father's peril Lausus view'd with grief, His fainting limbs against an oak he leant. He sigh'd, he wept, he ran to his relief :

A bough his brazen helmet did sustain, And here, heroic youth, 'tis here I must

His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain : To thy immortal memory be just ;

A chosen train of youth around him stand, And sing an act so noble and so new,

His drooping head was rested on his band : Posterity will scarce believe 'tis true.

His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought, Pain'd with his wound, and useless for the fight, And all on Lausus ran his restless thought. The father sought to save himself by flight: Careful, cancero'd his danger to prevent, Encumber'd, slow he dragg'd the spear along, He much inquir’d, and many a message sent Which pierc'd bis thigh, and in his buckler hung. To warn him from the field : alas ! in vain; The pious youth, resolvid on death, below

Behold his mournful followers bear him slain : The lifted sword springs forth, to face the foe; O’er his broad shield still gush'd the yawning Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.

wound, Shouts of applause ran ringing through the field, And drew a bloody trail along the ground. To see the son the vanquish'd father shield :

Far off he heard their cries, far off divin'd All fir'd with generous indignation strive;

The dire event with a forebodiny mind And, with a storm of darts, at distance drive With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head, The Trojan chief: who, held at bay from far, Then both his lifted hands to Heaven he spread; On his Vulcanian orb sustain’d the war.

Last the dear corpse embracing, thus he said : As when thick hail comes rattling in the wind, “ What joys, alas! could this frail being give, The ploughman, passenger, and labouring hind, That I have been so covetous to live? For shelter to the neighbouring covert fly; To see my son, and such a son, resign Or hous'd, or safe in hollow caverns lie;

His life, a ransom for preserving mine? But, that o'erblown, when Heaven above them And am I then preserv'd, and art thou lost? Retarn to travel, and renew their toils; (smiles, How much too dear has that redemption cost | Æneas, thus, o'erwhelm'd on every side,

'Tis now my bitter banishment I feel; The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide ; (cry'd: This is a wound too deep for time to heal. And thus to Lausus loud, with friendly threatening, My guilt thy growing virtues did defame,

Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd name. In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age,

Chas'd from a throne, abandon'd, and exil'd, Betray'd by pions love ?” Nor, thus foreborn, For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild: The youth desists, but with insulting scorn I ow'd my people these, and from their bate. Provokes the lingering prince, whose patience, With less resentment could have borne my fate. tir'd,

And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight Gare place, and all his breast with fury Gr'd. Of hated men, and of more hated light: Por now the Fates prepar'd their sharpen’d sheers; But will not long.” With that he rais'd from And, lifted high, the flaming sword appears,

ground Which full descending, with a frightful sway, His fainting limbs, that stagger'd with his wound. Thro shield and corslet forc'd th' impetuous way, Yet with a mind resolv'd, and unappall'd And buried deep in his fair bosom lay.

With pains or perils, for his courser call'd &

Well-mouth'd, well-manag'd, whom himself did * Why these insulting words, this waste of breat
With daily care, and mounted with success : [dress To souls undaunted, and secure of death?
His aid in arms, his ornament in peace.

'Tis no Jishonour for the brave to die, Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke,

Nor came I here with hope of victory. The steed seem'd sensible while thus he spoke :

Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design: "O Rhæbus, we have liv'd too long for me As I had us d my fortune, use thou thine. (If life and long were terms that could agree); My dying son contracted no such band; This day thou either shalt bring back the head The gift is hateful from his murderer's bande And blondy trophies of the Trojan dead;

For this, this only favour let me sue: This day thou either shalt revenge my woe

If pity can to conquer'd foes be due, For murder'd Lausus, on his cruel foe;

Refuse it not : but let my body bare Or, if inexorable fate deny

The last retreat of human kind, a grave. Our conquest, with thy conquer'd master die : Too well I know th' insulting people's hate; For, after such a lord, I rest secure,

Protect me from their vengeance after fate : Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load, endure." This refuge for my poor remains provide, He said: and straight th' officious courser kneels And lay my much-lov'd Lausus by my side.” To take his wonted weighit. His hands he fills He said, and to the throat his sword apply d. With pointed javelins : on his head he lac'd The crimson stream distain'd his arms around, His glittering helm, which terribly was grac'd

And the disdainful soul came rushing through the With waving horse-hair, nodding from afar;

wound, Theu spurr'd his thundering steed amidst the war. Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness

THE ELEVENTH BOOK OP
wrought,
Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought

THE ÆNE IS.
Qf inborn worth, his labouring soul oppress’d,
Roll'd in his eyes, and rag'd within his breast.
Then loud be call'd Æneas thrice by name,

THE ARGUMENT.
The loud repeated voice to glad Æneas came.
Great Jove," he said, “and the far shooting god, Æneas erects a trophy of the spoils of Mezentius ;
Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good.” grants a truce for burving the dead ; and sends
He spuke no more, but hasten'd, void of fear, home the body of Pallas with great solemnity;
And threaten'd with his long protended spear.

Latins calls a council to propose offers of peace To whom Mizentius thus: “ • Thy yaunts are to Æneas, which occasions great animosity beMy Lausus lies extended on the plain : [vain, twixt Turnus and Drances : in the mean time He's lost! thy conquest is already won,

there is a sharp engagement of the horse ; where. The wretched sire is murder'd in the son.

in Camilla signalizes herself; is killed : and the Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy,

Latine troops are entirely defeated. Forbear thy threats, my business is to die; But first receive this parting legacy." He said : and straight a whirling dart he sent: SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais'd her head Another after, and another went.

Above the waves, and left her watery bed ; Round in a spacious ring he rides the field, The pious chief, whom double cares attend And vainly plies th' impenetrable shield:

For his unbury'd soldiers, and his friend : Thrice rode hc round, and thrice Æneas wheel'd, Yet first to Heaven perform'd a victor's vows: Turn'd as he turn'd; the golden orb withstood He bar'd an ancient oak of all her boughs : The strokes ; and bore about an iron wood.

Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac'd; Impatient of delay, and weary grown,

Which with the poils of his dead foe he grac'd. Still to defend, and to defend alone ;

The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn, To wrench the darts which in his truckler light, Now on a naked sbag in triumph borne, Urg'd and o'erlabour'd in unequal fight :

Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar: At length resolv'), he throws with all bis force A trophy sacred to the god of war. Full at the temples of the warrior-horse.

Above his arms, fixt on the leadless wood, Just where he stroke was aim'd, th’unerring spear Appear'd bis plumy crest, besmeard with blood;

i Made way, and stood transfixt through either ear. His brazen buckler on the left was seen ; Seiz'd with unwonted pain, surpris'd wjth fright, Trunch-ons of shiver'd lances hung between : The wounded steer curvets; and, rais d upright, And on the right was plac'd his corslet, bord; Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind And to the neck was ty'd his unavailing sword. Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind.

A crowd of chiefs enclose the godlike man; Down comes the rider headlong from his height, Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began : His horse came after with unwieldy weight;

“ Our toils, my friends, are crown'd with sure And, foundering forward, pitching on his head, His lord's encumber'd shoulder overlaid :

The greater part perform'd, achieve the less. From either host the mingled shouts and cries Now follow cheerful to the trembling town; Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies.

Press but an entrance, and presume it won. Æneas, hastening, wav'd his fatal sword

Fear is no more: for fierce Mezentius lies,
High o'er his head, with this reproachful word: As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
“Now, where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain Turnus shall stand extended on the plain;
Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain ?" And in this omen is already slain.

Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies, Prepard in arms, pursue your happy chance; With scarce recover'd sight, he thus replies; That none, unwarn'd, may plead his ignorance:

success:

And I, at Heaven's appointed hour, may find All pale he lies, and looks a lovely power,
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.

New cropt by virgin hands, to dress the bower: Meantime the rites and funeral pomps prepare, Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below,

(owe. Due to your lead companions of the war:

No more to mother earth or the green stem shall The last r spect the living can bestow,

Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cust, To shield their shadows from contempt below. Of purple wosen, and with gold embost, That conquer'd earth be theirs for which they Fur ornament the Trojan hero brought, fought ;

Which with her hands Sidonian Di io wrought. And which for us with their own blood they bought. One rest array'd the corpse, and one they spread But first the corpse of our unhappy friend, O'er his clos'd eyes, and wrapp'd around his beads To the sarl city of Evander send :

That when the yellow hair in flame should fall, Who, not inglorious in his age's bloom,

The catching fire might burn the gilden caul. Was hurry'd hence by too severe a dooin." Besides the spoils of foes in battle slain,

Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way, When he descended on the latian plain : Where, now in dath, lamented Pallas lay : Arms, trappings, horses, by the bearse be led Acætes watch'd the corpse; whose youth des In long array (th' achievements of the dead). serv'd

Then, pinion'd with their hands behind, appear The father's trust, and now the son he serv'd Th’ unhappy captives, marching in the rear: With equal faith, but less auspicious care: Appointed off rings in the victor's name, Th' attendants of the slain his sorrow share. To sprinkle with their blood the funeral flame. A troop of Trojans mix'd with these appear, Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne; And mourning matrons with dishevell d hair. Gauntlets and helms, their loaded hands adorn; Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry; And fair inscriptions fixt, and titles read, All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky. Of Latian leaders conquer'd by the dead. They rear bis drooping forehead from the ground; | Acætes on bis pupil's corpse attends, But when Æneas viewd the grisly wound

With feeble steps : supported by his friends : Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore,

Pausing at every pace, in sorrow drown'd, And the fair flesh distain'd with purple gore : Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground. First, melting into tears, the pious man

Where groveling, while he lies in deep despair, Deplor'd so sad a sight, then thus began :

He beats his breast, and rends his boary hair. • Unhappy youth! when Fortune gare the rest The c' ampion's chariot next is seen to roll, Of my full wishes, she refus'd the best!

Besmear d with hostile blood, and bonourably foul. She came; but brought not thee along, to bless To close the pomp, Æthon, the steed of state, My longing eyes, and share in my success : Is led, the funerals of his lord to wait. She grudg'd thy safe return, the triumphs due Stripp'rl of his trappings, with a sullen pace To prosperous valour, in the public view,

He walks, and the big tears run rolling down his face. Not thus I promis'd, when thy father lent

The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest, Thy needless succour with a sad consent ;

Are borne behind; the victor seiz'd the rest. Embrac'd me parting for th’ Etrurian land, The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound, And sent me to possess a large command.

The pikes and lances trail along the ground. He waru'd, and from his own experience told, Thus, while the 'Trojan and Arcadian horse Our foes were warlike, disciplin'd, and bold: To Pallantean towers direct their course, And now, perhaps, in hopes of thy return,

In long procession rank'd; the pious chief Rich odours on his loaded altars burn;

Stopp'd in the rear, and gave a vent to grief. While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare “ The public care," he said, " which was attends, To send him back his portion of the war:

Diverts our present woes, at least suspends ; A bloody breathless body: which can owe

Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell; No farther debt, but to the powers below.

Hail, holy relics, and a last farewell !") The wretched father, ere his race is run,

He said no more, but inly though he mourn'd, Shall view the funeral honours of his son.

Restraind his tears, and to the camp return'd. These are my triumphs of the Latian war;

Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand Fruits of my plighted faith, and boasted care. A truce, with olive branches in their hand. and yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see

Obtest his clemency, and from the plain A son, whose death disgrac'd his ancestry ;

Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain. Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev'd: They plead, that none those common rites deny Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv'd.

To conquer'd foes, that in fair battle die. He dy'd no death to make thee wish, too late, All cause of hate was ended in their death ; Thou had'st not liv'd to see his shameful fate. Nor could he war with bodies void of breath. But what a champion has th’ Ausonian coast, A king, they hop'd, would hear a king's request: And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost !” Whose son he once was call'd, and once his guest.

Thus having mourn'd, he gave the word around, Their suit, which was too just to be deny'd, To raise the breathless body from the ground; The hero grants, and fartaer thus reply'd : And chose a thousand horse, the Power of all O Latian princes, how severe a fate, His warlike troops, to wait the funeral :

In causeless quarrels, has involv'd your state ! To bear him back, and share Evander's grief Ani arm'd against an unoffending man, (A well-becoming, but a weak relief).

Who sought your friendship ere the war began ! Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier;

You beg a truce, which I would gladly give, Then on their shoulders the sad burthen rear. Not only for the slain, but those who live. 'The body on this rural hearse is borne,

I came not hither but by Heaven's command, Strew'd leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn. And sent by fate to share the Latian land.

Nor wage I vars unjust; your king denyd Hard elements of inauspicious wat,
My proffer'd friendship, and my promis'd bride. Vain vows to Heaven, and unavailing care !
Left me for Turnus ; Turous then should try Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed,
His cause in arms, to conquer or to die.

Whose holy soul the stroke of fortune tied:
My right and his are in dispute : the slain Prescious of ills, and leaving me behind,
Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain. To drink the dregs of life by fate assigo'd.
In equal arms let us alone contend ;

Beyond the goal of nature I have gone ; And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend. My Pallas late set out, but reach'd too soon. This is the way, so tell him, to possess

If, from my league against th’ Ausonian state, The royal virgin, and restore the peace.

Amid their weapons I had found my fate, Bear this my message back; with ample leave (Deserv'd from them) then I had been return'd That your slain friends may funeral-rites receive." A breathless victor, and my son had mourn'd.

Thus having said, th' ambassadors, amaz'd, Yet will not I my Trojan friend upbraid, Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz'd: Nor grudge th' alliance I so gladly made. Drances, their chief, who harbour'd in his breast 'Twas not his fault my Pallas fell so young, Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profest,

But my own crime for having liv'd too long. Broke silence first, and to the godlike man, Yet, since the gods had destin'd him to die, With graceful action bowing, thus began :

At least he led the way to victory: “ Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name, First for his friends he won the fatal shore, But yet whose actions far transcend your fame : And sent whole herds of slaughter'd foes before : Would I your justice or your force express, A death too great, too glorious to deplore. Thought can but equal; and all words are less : Nor will I add new honours to thy grave; Your answer we shall thankfully relate,

Content with those the 'Trojan hero gave. And favours granted to the Latian state:

That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design'd: If wish'd success your labour shall attend,

In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join'd: Think peace concluded, and the king your friend : Great spoils, and trophies, gain'd by thee, they Let Turnus leave the realm to your command :

bear : And seck alliance in some other land :

Then let thy own achievements be thy share. Build you the city which your fates assign: Ev'n thou, O Turnus ! hadst a trophy stood, We should be proud in the great work to join.” Whose mighty trunk had better grac'd the wood, Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade If Pallas had arriv'd, with equal length The rest impower'd, that soon a truce is made. Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength. Twelve days the term allow’d: and during those, But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes,

These troops to view the tears thou shedd'st in vain!
Mix'd in the woods, for funeral piles prepare, Go, friends, this message to your lord relate;
To fell the timber, and forget the war.

Tell him, that if I bear my bitter fate,
Loud axes through the groaning groves resound : And after Pallas' death, live lingering on,
Oak, mountain-ash, and poplar, spread the ground: 'Tis to behold his vengeance for my son.
Firs fall from high : and some the trunks receive, I stay for Turnus ; whose devoted head
In loaden wains, with wedges some they cleave. Is owing to the living and the dead :

And now the fatal news by Fame is blown My son and I expect it from his hand:
Through the short circuit of th’ Arcadian town, 'Tis all that he can give, or we demand.
Of Pallas slain : by Fame, which just before Joy is no more; but I would gladly go,
His triumphs on distended pinions bore.

To greet my Pallas with such news below." Rushing from out the gate, the people stand, The morn had now dispellid the shades of night: Each with a funeral flambeau in his hand :

Restoring toils, when she restor'd the light: Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze: The Trojan king, and Tuscan chief, coinmand The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze,

To raise the piles along the winding strand : That cast a sullen splendour on their friends Their friends convey the dead 10 funcral fires; (The marching troop which their dread prince at- Black smouldring smoke from the green wood extends).

pires;

(retires. Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry: The light of Heaven is chok'd, and the new day The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply : Then thrice around the kindled piles they go And their mixt mourning rends the vaulted sky. (For ancient custom had ordain'd it so). The town is fill'd with tumalt and with tears, Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led, Till the loud clamours reach Evander's ears; And thrice with loud laments they hajl the dead. Forgetful of his state, he runs along

Tears trickling down their breasts bedew the With a disorder'd pace, and cleaves the throng:

ground; Falls on the corpse, and groaning there he lies, And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes : Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw Short sighs and sobs succeed: till sorrow breaks The spoils, in battle taken from the foe; A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks. Helms, bits embost, and swords of shining steel,

* O Pallas ! thou hast fail'd thy plighted word! One casts a target, one a chariot-wheel: To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword, Some to their fellows their own arms restore: I warn'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew The falchions which in luckless fight they bore : What perils youthful ardour would pursue : Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in That boiling blood would carry thee to far:

vain, Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war! And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plain : O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom,

Whole herds of offer'd bulls about the fire, Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come ! And bristled boars, and woolly sheep, expire

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