ページの画像
PDF
ePub

If Turnus' death a lasting peace can give,
Why should not I procure it whilst you live?
Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray,
What would my kinsmen, the Rutulians, say?
And should you fall in fight, (which Heaven de-
fend)

How curse the cause, which hasten'd to his end,
The daughter's lover, and the father's friend!
Weigh in your mind the various chance of war,
Pity your parent's age and ease his care."

Such baliny words he pour'd, but all in vain; The proffer'd medicine but provok'd the pain. The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief, With intermitting sobs, thus vents his grief:

66

Thy care, O best of fathers, which you take For my concerns, at my desire forsake. Permit me not to languish out my days; But make the best exchange of life for praise. This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize; And the blood follows, where the weapon flies: His goddess mother is not near, to shrowd The flying coward with an empty cloud."

But now the queen, who fear'd for Turnus' life, And loath'd the hard conditions of the strife, Held him by force; and, dying in his death, In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath: "O Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears; And whate'er price Amata's honour bears Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope, My sickly mind's repose, my sinking age's prop; Since on the safety of thy life alone Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne: Refuse me not this one, this only prayer, To wave the combat, and pursue the war. Whatever chance attends this fatal strife, Think it concludes in thine Amata's life: I cannot live a slave; or see my throne Usurp'd by strangers, or a Trojan son."

At this a flood of tears Lavinia shed;
A crimson blush her beautcous face o'erspread,
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.
The driving colours, never at a stay,

Run here and there, and flush, and fade away.
Delightful change! thus Indian ivory shows,
Which with the bordering paint of purple glows;
Or lilies damask'd by the neighbouring rose.
The lover gaz'd, and, burning with desire,
The more he look'd, the more he fed the fire:
Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite,
Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight.
Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,
Firm to his first intent, he thus replies:
"O, mother, do not, by your tears, prepare
Such boding omens, and prejudge the war.
Resolv'd on fight, I am no longer free

[ocr errors]

To shun my death, if Heaven my death decree."
Then, turning to the herald, thus pursnes;
Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news.
Denounce from me, that when to morrow's light
Shall gild the heavens, he need not urge the fight:
The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more
Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore:
Our single swords the quarrel shall decide,
And to the victor be the beauteous bride."

He said, and striding on, with speedy pace
He sought bis coursers of the Thracian race.
At his approach, they toss their heads on high;
And, proudly neighing, promise victory.
The sires of these Orithia sent from far,
To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war,

The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white, Nor northern winds in fleetness match'd their flight.

Officious grooms stand ready by his side;
And some with combs their flowing manes divide;
And others stroke their chests, and gently sooth
their pride.

He sheath'd his limbs in arms; a temper'd mass
Of golden metal those, and mountain brass.
Then to his head his glittering helm he try'd;
And girt his faithful falchion by his side.
In his Etnean forge, the god of fire
That falchion labour'd for the hero's sire:
Immorial keenness on the blade bestow'd,
And plung'd it hissing in the Stygian flood.
Propp'd on a pillar, which the cicling bore,
Was plac'd the lance Auruncan Actor wore:
Which with such force he brandish'd in his hand,
The tough ash trembled like an osier wand.
Then cry'd, "O ponderous spoil of Actor slain,
And never yet by Turnus tost in vain,
Fail not, this day, thy wonted force: but go,
Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe:
Give me to tear his corslet from his breast,
And from that eunuch head, to rend the crest :
Dragg'd in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil,
Hot from the vexing ir'n, and smear'd with fra-
grant oil."

Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies
A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes.
So fares the bull in his lov'd female's sight;
Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight:
He tries his goring horns against a tree;
And meditates his absent enemy.

He pushes at the winds, he digs the strand
With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand.

Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms,
To future fight his manly courage warms:
He whets his fury, and with joy prepares
To terminate at once the lingering wars.
To cheer his chiefs, and tender son, relates
What Heaven had promis'd, and expounds the
Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease [fates.
The rage of arms, and ratify the peace.

The morn, ensuing from the mountain's height,
Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light;
Th' ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea,
From out their flaming nostrils breath'd the day:
When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard,
In friendly labour join'd, the list prepar'd.
Beneath the walls, they measure out the space;
Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass;
Where, with religious rites, their common gods
they place.

In purest white the priests their heads attire,
And living waters bear, and holy fire:
And o'er their linen hoods, and shaded hair,
Long twisted wreaths of sacred vervain wear.
In order issuing from the town appears
The Iatin legion, arm'd with pointed spears;
And from the fields, advancing on a line,
The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join ;
Their various arms afford a pleasing sight: [fight.
A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar'd for
Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride,
Glittering with gold, and vests in purple dy'd.
Here Muestheus, author of the Memmian line,
And there Messapns born of seed divine.
The sign is given, and round the listed space
Each man in order fills his proper place.

Reclining on their ample shields, they stand;
And fix their pointed lances in the sand.
Now, studious of the sight, a numerous throng
Of either sex promiscuous, old and young,
Swarm from the town: by those who rest behind,
The gates and walls, and houses' tops are lin'd.
Meantime the queen of Heaven beheld the
sight,

With eyes unpleas'd, from Mount Albano's height:
(Since call'd Albano, by succeeding fame,
But then an empty hill, without a name )
She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan powers,
The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine towers.
Then thus the goddess of the skies bespake,
With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake;
King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid,
Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray'd,
Comprest by force, but by the grateful god,
Now made the Naïs of the neighbouring flood.
"O nymph, the pride of living lakes," said she,
"O most renown'd, and most belov'd by me,
Long hast thou known, nor need I to record
The wanton sallies of my wandering lord:
Of every Latian fair, whom Jove misled,
To mount by stealth my violated bed,
To thee alone I grudg'd not his embrace;
But gave a part of Heaven, and an unenvy'd place.
Now learn from me thy near approaching grief,
Nor think my wishes want to thy relief.
While fortune favour'd, nor Heaven's king deny'd,
To lend my succour to the Latian side,

1 sav'd thy brother, and the sinking state;
But now he struggles with unequal fate;

And goes with gods averse, o'ermatch'd in might,
To meet inevitable death in fight:

Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain

the sight.

Thou, if thou dar'st, thy present aid supply;
It well becomes a sister's care to try."

At this the lovely nymph, with grief opprest,
Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.
To whom Saturnia thus; " Thy tears are late:
Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch'd, from fate.
New tumults kindle, violate the truce;
Who knows what changeful fortune may produce?
'Tis not a crime t' attempt what I decree,
Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me."
She said, and, sailing on the winged wind,
Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind.

And now in pomp the peaceful kings appear:
Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear:
Twelve golden beams around his temples play,
To mark his lineage from the god of day.
Two snowy coursers Turnus' chariot yoke,
And in his hand two massy spears he shook:
Then issued from the camp, in arms divine,
Eneas, author of the Roman line:
And by his side Ascanius took his place,
The second hope of Rome's immortal race.
Adorn'd in white, a reverend priest appears;
And offerings to the flaming altars bears;
A porket, and a lamb, that never suffer'd shears.
Then to the rising Sun he turns his eyes,
And shows the beasts design'd for sacrifice,
With salt and meal: with like officious care
He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair,
Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds,
With the same generous juice the flame he feeds.
Æneas then unsheath'd his shining sword,
And thus with pious prayers the gods ador'd:

"Allseeing Sun, and thou Ausonian soil,
For which I have sustain'd so long a toil,
Thou king of Heaven, and thou the queen of air,
(Propitious now, and reconcil'd by prayer)
Thou god of war, whose unresisted sway
The labours and events of arins obey;
Ye living fountains, and ye running floods,
All powers of ocean, all ethereal gods,
Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field,
Or recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield,
My Trojans shall increase Evander's town;
Ascanius shall renounce th' Ausonian crown:
All claims, all questions of debate shall cease;
Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace.
But if my juster arms prevail in fight
As sure they shall, if I divine aright,

My Trojans shall not o'er th' Italians reign:
Both equal, both unconquer'd, shall remain :
Join'd in their laws, their lands, and their abodes;
I ask but altars for my weary gods.

The care of those religious rites be mine:
The crown to king Latinus I resign;

His be the sovereign sway. Nor will I share
His power in peace, or his command in war.
For me, my friends another town shall frame,
And bless the rising towers, with fair Lavinia's
name."

Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands,
The Latian king before his altar stands. [main,
"By the same Heaven," said he, " and earth, and
And all the powers, that all the three contain;
By Hell below, and by that upper god,
Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with
So let Latona's double offspring hear, [his nod;
And double-fronted Janus what I swear:
I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames,
And all those powers attest, and all their names:
Whatever chance befal on either side,

No term of time this union shall divide:
No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind,
Or shake the stedfast tenour of my mind:
Not though the circling seas should break their
bound,

O'erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground:
Not though the lamps of Heaven their spheres for-
Hurl'd down, and hissing in the nether lake: [sake,
Ev'n as this royal sceptre (for he bore
A sceptre in his hand) shall never more
Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth;
(An orphan now, cut from the mother earth
By the keen axe, dishonour'd of its hair,
And cas'd in brass, for Latian kings to bear)."

When thus in public view the peace was ty'd
With solemn vows, and sworn on either side,
All dues perform'd which holy rites require;
The victim beasts are slain before the fire:
The trembling entrails from their bodies torn,
And to the fatten'd flames in chargers borne.

Already the Rutulians deem their man
O'ermatch'd in arms, before the fight began.
First rising fears are whisper'd through the crowd;
Then, gathering sound, they murmur more aloud.
Now side to side, they measure with their eyes
The champions' bulk, their sinews, and their size:
The nearer they approach, the more is known
Th' apparent disadvantage of their own.
Turuus himself appears in public sight
Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight.
Slowly he moves; and at his altar stands
With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands:

And, while he mutters undistinguish'd prayers,
A livid deadness in his cheeks appears.

With anxious pleasure when Juturna view'd
Th' increasing fright of the mad multitude;
When their short sighs and thickening sobs she
heard,

And found their ready minds for change prepar'd;
Dissembling her immortal form, she took
Camertus' mien, his habit, and his look,
A chief of ancient blood: in arms well known
Was his great sire, and he, his greater son.
His shape assum'd, amid the ranks she ran,
And, humouring their first motions, thus began:
"For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight
Of one expos'd for all, in single fight?
Can we, before the face of Heaven, confess
Our courage colder, or our numbers less?
View all the Trojan host, th' Arcadian band,
And Tuscan army; count them as they stand:
Undaunted to the battle if we go,
Scarce every second man will share a foe.
Turnus, 'tis true, in this unequal strife
Shall lose, with honour, his devoted life:
Or change it rather for immortal fame,
Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came :
But you, a servile, and inglorious band,
For foreign lords shall sow your native land :
Those fruitful fields, your fighting fathers gain'd,
Which have so long their lazy sons sustain'd."

With words like these, she carry'd her design;
A rising murmur runs along the line.
Then ev'n the city troops, and Latins, tir'd
With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir'd:
Their champion's fate with pity they lament;
And of the league, so lately sworn, repent.

Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage
With lying wonders, and a false presage :
But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes,
Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise.
For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above,
Appears in pomp th' imperial bird of Jove:
A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes;
And o'er their heads his sounding pinions shakes.
Then stooping on the fairest of the train,
In his strong talons truss'd a silver swan.
Th' Italians wonder at th' unusual sight;
But while he lags, and labours in his flight,
Behold the dastard fowl return anew ;
And with united force the foe pursue:
Clamorous around the royal hawk they fly;
And thickening in a cloud, o'ershade the sky.
They cuff, they scratch, they cross their airy
course;

Nor can th' encumber'd bird sustain their force:
But vex'd, not vanquish'd, drops the ponderous
And, lighten'd of his burden, wings his way. [prey;
Th' Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight:
Eager of action, and demand the fight.
Then king Tolumnius, vers'd in augurs' arts,
Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts:
"At length 'tis granted, what I long desir'd ;
This, this is what my frequent vows requir'd,
Ye gods, I take your omen, and obey:
Advance, my friends, and charge; I lead the way.
These are the foreign foes, whose impious band,
Like that rapacious bird, infest our land:
But soon, like him, they shall be fore'd to sea
By strength united, and forego the prey;
Your timely succour to your country bring;
Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king."

He said: and pressing onward, through the crew,
Pois'd in his lifted arm, his lance he threw.
The winged weapon, whistling in the wind,
Came driving on, nor miss'd the mark design'd.
At once the cornel rattled in the skies;
At once tumultuous shouts and clamours rise.
Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood,
Born of Arcadian mix'd with Tuscan blood:
Gylippus' sons: the fatal javelin flew,
Aim'd at the midmost of the friendly crew.
A passage through the jointed arms is found,
Just where the belt was to the body bound,
And struck the gentle youth extended on the
ground.

Then, fir'd with pious rage, the generous train
Run madly forward to revenge the slain.
And some with eager haste their javelins throw;
And some with sword in hand assault the foe.

The wish'd insult the Latin troops embrace;
And meet their ardour in the middle space.
The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line,
With equal courage obviate their design.
Peace leaves the violated fields; and bate
Both armies urges to their mutual fate.
With impious haste their altars are o'erturn'd,
The sacrifice half broil'd, and half-unburn'd.
Thick storms of steel from either army fly,
And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky:
Brands from the fire are missive weapons made:
With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade.
Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray,
And bears his unregarded gods away.
These on their horses vault, those yoke the car;
The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the

Messapus, eager to confound the peace, [war.
Spurr'd his hot courser through the fighting press,
At king Aulestes: by his purple known
A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown;
And with a shock encountering, bore him down.
Backward he fell; and, as his fate design'd,
The ruins of an altar were behind:
There pitching on his shoulders, and his head,
Amid the scattering fires he lay supinely spread.
The beamy spear descending from above,
His cuirass pierc'd, and through his body drove.
Then, with a scornful smile, the victor crics;
"The gods have found a fitter sacrifice."
Greedy of spoils, th' Italians strip the dead
Of his rich armour, and uncrown his head.
Priest Chorinæus arm'd his better hand,
From his own altar, with a blazing brand:
And, as Ebusus with a thundering pace,
Advanc'd to battle, dash'd it on his face:
His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires,
The crackling crop a noisome scent expires.
Following the blow, he seiz'd his curling crown
With his left hand; his other cast him down.
The prostrate body with his knees he press'd,
And plunged his holy poinard in his breast.

While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued
The shepherd Alsus through the flying crowd,
Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow,
Full on the front of his unwary foe.
The broad axe enters with a crashing sound,
Apd cleaves the chin with one continued wound:
Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms
An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress'd, [around
And seal'd their heavy lids in endless rest.
But good neas rush'd amid the bands,
Bare was his head, and naked were his hands,

In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud,
"What sudden rage, what new desire of blood
Inflames your alter'd minds? O Trojans, cease
From impious arms, nor violate the peace.
By human sanctions, and by laws divine,
The terms are all agreed, the war is mine.
Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue;
This hand alone shall right the gods and you:
Our injur'd aitars, and their broken vow,
To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe."
Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defence,
A winged arrow struck the pious prince,
But whether from some human hand it came,
Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame:
No human hand, or hostile god was found,
To boast the triumph of so base a wound.

When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain,
His chiefs dismay'd, his troops a fainting train:
Th' unhop'd event his heighten'd soul inspires,
At once his arms and coursers he requires.
Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains,
And with a ready hand assumes the reins.
He drives impetuous, and where'er he goes.
He leaves behind a lane of slaughter'd foes.
These his lance reaches, over those he rolls
His rapid car, and crushes out their souls:
In vain the vanquish'd fly; the victor sends
The dead mens' weapons at their living friends,

Thus on the banks of Hebrus' freezing flood
The god of battles, in his angry mood,
Clashing his sword against his brazen shield,
Let loose the reins, and scours along the field:
Before the wind his fiery coursers fly,

Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky.
Wrath, terrour, treason, tumult, and despair,
Dire faces, and deform'd, surround the car:
Friends of the god, and followers of the war.
With fury not unlike, nor less disdain,
Exulting Turnus flies along the plain :
His smoking horses, at their utmost speed,
He lashes on; and urges o'er the dead. [bound,
Their fetlocks run with blood; and when they,
The gore, and gathering dust, are dash'd around.
Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war,
He kill'd at hand, but Sthelenus afar:
From far the sons of Imbracus he slew,
Glaucus, and Ladles, of the Lycian crew:
Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join'd;
Or mount the courser that out-strips the wind.
Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field,
New fir'd the Trojans, and their foes repell'd.
This son of Dolon bore his grandsire's name;
But emulated more his father's fame.

His guileful father, sent a nightly spy,
The Grecian camp and order to descry:
Hard enterprise, and well he might require
Achilles' car, and horses for his hire;
But, met upon the scout, th' Etolian prince
In death bestow'd a juster recompense.

Fierce Turnus view'd the Trojan from afar ;
And lanch'd his javelin from his lofty car:
Then lightly leaping down, pursued the blow,
And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe,
Wrench'd from his feeble hold the shining sword;
And plung'd it in the bosom of its lord.

Possess, said he, the fruit of all thy pains,
And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains.
Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand,

Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land.

Then Daris, Butis, Sybaris, he slew,
Whom o'er his neck the floundering courser threw.
As when loud Boreas, with his blustering train,
Stoops from above, incumbent on the main;
Where'er he flies, he drives the rack before,
And rolls the billows on the Ægean shore:
So where resistless Turnus takes his course,
The scatter'd squadrons bend before his force:
His crest of horses' hair is blown behind,
By adverse air, and rustles in the wind,

This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain,
And as the chariot roll'd along the plain,
Light from the ground he leapt, and seiz'd the rein.
Thus hung in air, he still retain'd his hold;
The coursers frighted, and their course control'd
The lance of Turnus reach'd him as he hung,
And pierc'd his plated arms; but pass'd along,
And only raz'd the skin: he turn'd, and held
Against his threatening foe his ample shield;
Then call'd for aid: but, while he cry'd in vain,
The chariot bore him backward on the plain.
He lies revers'd; the victor-king descends,
And strikes so justly where his helmet ends,
He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk,
With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk.
While he triumphs, and while the Trojans
yield,

The wounded prince is forc'd to leave the field:
Strong Mnestheus and Achates often try'd,
And young Ascanius weeping by his side,
Conduct him to his tent: scarce can he rear
His limbs from earth, supported on his spear.
Resolv'd in mind, regardless of the smart,
He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart.
The steel remains. No readier way he found
To draw the weapon, than t' inlarge the wound.
Fager of fight, impatient of delay,
He begs; and his unwilling friends obey.
Jäpis was at hand to prove his art,
Whose blooming youth so fir'd Apollo's heart,
That for his love he proffer'd to bestow
His tuneful harp, and his unerring bow:
The pious youth, more studious how to save
His aged sire, now sinking to the grave,
Preferr'd the power of plants, and silent praise
Of healing arts, before Phoebeian bays.

Propp'd on his lance the pensive hero stood,
And heard, and saw unmov'd, the mourning crowd.
The fam'd physician tucks his robes around
With ready hands, and hastens to the wound.
With gentle touches he performs his part,
This way and that, soliciting the dart,
And exercises all his heavenly art.
All softening simples, known of sovereign use,
He presses out, and pours their noble juice;
These first infus'd, to lenify the pain,
He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain.
Then to the patron of his art he pray'd;
The patron of his art refus'd his aid.

Meantime the war approaches to the tents:
Th' alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments:
The driving dust proclaims the danger near,
And first their friends, and then their foes appear;
Their friends retreat, their foes pursue the rear.
The camp is fill'd with terrour and affright;
The hissing shafts within the trench alight;
An undistinguish'd noise ascends the sky;
The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those whe
But now the goddess-mother mov'd with grief,
And pierc'd with pity, hastens her relief.

[die.

A branch of healing dittany she brought,
Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought: ;
Rough is the stem, which woolly leaves surround;
The leaves with flowers, the flowers with purple
crown'd:

Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief
To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief.
This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd; and brews
Th' extracted liquor with ambrosial dews,
And odorous panacee: unseen she stands,
Tempering the mixture with her heavenly hands:
And pours it in a bowl, already crown'd

With juice of med'c'nal herbs prepar'd to bathe the wound.

The leech, unknowing of superior art,
Which aids the cure, with this foments the part,
And in a moment ceas'd the raging smart.
Stanch'd is the blood, and in the bottom stands :
The steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender bands,
Moves up, and follows of its own accord ;
And health and vigour are at once restor❜d.
läpis first perceiv'd the closing wound;
And first the footsteps of a god he found.

Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain
(All fam'd in arms, and of the Latian train);
By Gyas, Mnestheus, and Achates' hand:
The fatal augur falls, by whose command
The truce was broken, and whose lance embrued
With Trojan blood, th' unhappy fight renew'd.
Loud shouts and clamours rend the liquid sky;
Aud o'er the field the frighted Latins fly.
The prince disdains the dastards to pursue,
Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few;
Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain,
He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain.
Juturna heard, and, seiz'd with mortal fear,
Forc'd from the beam her brother's charioteer;
Assumes his shape, his armour, and his mien ;
And like Metiscus in his seat is seen.

[ocr errors]

As the black swallow near the palace plies; O'er empty courts and under arches flies; Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood, To furnish her loquacious nest with food: So drives the rapid goddess o'er the plains; The smoking horses run with loosen'd reins. She steers a various course among the foes;

"Arms, arins," he cries, "the sword and shield Now here, now there, her conquering brother

prepare,

And send the willing chief, renew'd to war.
This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,
Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine:
Some god our general to the battle sends;
Some god preserves his life for greater ends."
The hero arms in haste: his hands enfold
His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold:
Inflam'd to fight, and rushing to the field,
That hand sustaining the celestial shield,
This gripes the lance; and with such vigour
shakes,

That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes.
Then, with a close embrace, he strain'd his son ;
And, kissing through his helmet, thus begun :
“My son, from my example learn the war,
In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare:
But happier chance than mine attend thy care!
This day my hand thy tender age shall shield,
And crown with honours of the conquer'd field:
Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth,
To toils of war, be mindful of my worth,
Assert thy birthright; and in arms be known,
For Hector's nephew, and Æneas' son."

He said; and, striding, issued on the plain;
Anteus, and Mnestheus, and a numerous train,
Attend his teps: the rest their weapons take,
And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake.
A cloud of blinding dust is rais'd around;
Labours beneath their feet the trembling ground.
Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far
Beheld the progress of the moving war:
With him the Latins view'd the cover'd plains;
And the chill blood ran backward in their veins.
Juturna saw th' advancing troops appear;
And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear.
Eneas leads; and draws a sweeping train,
Clos'd in their ranks, and pouring on the plain.
As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore,
From the mid ocean drives the waves before:
The painful hind, with heavy heart, foresees
The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees;
With such impetuous rage the prince appears,
Before his double front; nor less destruction bears.
And now both armies shock, in open field;
Osyris is by strong Thymbræus kill'd.

shows:

Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight,
She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight.
Eneas, fir'd with fury, breaks the crowd,
And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud:
He runs within a narrower ring, and tries
To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies.
If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears,
And far away the Daunian hero bears.

What should he do? Nor arts nor arms avail
And various cares in vain his unind assail;
The great Messapus thundering through the field,
In his left hand two pointed javelins held :
Encountering on the prince, one dart he drew,
And with unerring aim and utmost vigour threw.
Eneas saw it come, and stooping low
Beneath his buckler, shunn'd the threatening blow.
The weapon hiss'd above his head, and tore
The waving plume, which on his helm he wore.
Forc'd by this hostile act, and fir'd with spite,
That flying Turnus still declin'd the fight:
The prince, whose piety had long repell'd
His inborn ardour, now invades the field:
Invokes the powers of violated peace,
Their rites and injur'd altars to redress:
Then, to his rage abandoning the rein,
With blood and slaughter'd bodies fills the plain.
What god can tell, what numbers can display,
The various labours of that fatal day?
What chiefs and champions fell on either side,
In combat slain, or by what deaths they dy'd?
Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill'd:
Who shar'd the fame and fortune of the field?
Jove, could'st thou view, and not avert thy sight,
Two jarring nations join'd in cruel fight,
Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite!
Æneas first Rutulian Sucro found,
Whose valour made the Trojans quit their ground.
Betwixt his ribs the javelin drove so just,

It reach'd his heart, nor needs a second thrust.
Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew;
First from his horse fierce Amicus he threw ;
Then leaping on the ground, on foot assail'd
Diores, and in equal fight prevail'd.
Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place;
Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace.

f

« 前へ次へ »