LVI .   "Ours, too, is brave Camilla, noble maid,
The pride of Volscians, and she leads a band
Of horsemen fierce, in brazen arms arrayed.
If me the foe to single fight demand,
And so ye will, and I alone withstand
The common good, come danger as it may,
Not so hath victory fled this hated hand,
Not yet so weak is Turnus, as to stay 		496
With such a prize unsnatched, and falter from the fray.


LVII .   "Though greater than the great Achilles he,
Though, like Achilles, Vulcan's arms he wear,
Fain will I meet him. Lo, to you, to thee,
Latinus, father of the bride so fair,
I, Turnus, I, in prowess past compare,
Devote this life. Æneas calls but me,
So let him, rather than that Drances bear
The smart, if death the wrathful gods decree, 		505
Or, if 'tis glory's field, usurp the victor's fee."


LVIII .   While thus, with wrangling and contentious doubt,
They urged debate, Æneas his array
Moved from the camp. Behold, a trusty scout
Back, through Latinus' palace, speeds his way,
And fills the town with tumult and dismay.
The Trojans—see!—the Trojans,—down they swarm
From Tiber. See the meadows far away
Alive with foes! Rage, turmoil and alarm 		514
In turns distract the town. "Arm," cry the young men, "arm!"


LIX .   The old men weep and mutter. Clamours rend
The startled skies, and discord reigns supreme,
E'en as when birds on lofty woods descend
In flocks, or in Padusa's fishful stream
The swans sing hoarsely, and the wild-fowl scream
Along the babbling waters. Turnus straight
The moment snatched. "Ah! townsmen, sooth, ye deem
This hour an hour to chatter and debate; 		523
Sit on, and praise sweet peace, while foemen storm the gate."


LX .   He spake, and from the council dashed with speed.
"Go, Volusus," he cries, "and arm amain
The Volscians; hither the Rutulians lead.
Messapus, go, with horsemen in thy train,
And Coras, with thy brother scour the plain.
Let these all entrance at the gate forestall,
And man the turrets; let the rest remain
In arms, and wait my bidding." One and all, 		532
The townsmen throng the streets, and hurry to the wall.


LXI .   Then, sore distrest, the aged king proclaims
The council closed, and for a happier tide
Puts off debate; and oft himself he blames,
Who welcomed not Æneas to his side,
Nor graced his city with a Dardan's bride.
But hark! to battle peals the clarion's call.
These by the gate dig trenches, those provide
Sharp stakes and stones. Along the girdling wall 		541
Pale boys and matrons stand: the last hour cries for all.


LXII .   To Pallas' rock-built temple rides the queen,
Bearing her gifts. The matrons march in line,
And by her side is fair Lavinia seen,
The war's sad authoress, with down-dropt eyne.
They, entering in, with incense fume the shrine,
And from the threshold pour the mournful strain:
"O strong in arms, Tritonian maid divine!
Break thou the Phrygian robber's spear in twain, 		550
And 'neath the gates strike down and stretch him on the plain."


LXIII .   Now in hot haste fierce Turnus dons the mail,
Eager for battle. On his breast he laced
The corselet, rough with many a brazen scale.
Around his legs the golden greaves he placed,
His brow yet bare, and at his side he braced,
The trusty sword. All golden is the glow
Of burnished arms, as down the height in haste
He flies exulting to the field below. 		559
High leaps his heart, and hope anticipates the foe.


LXIV .   So, free at length, his tether snapt in twain,
Swift from his stall, in eager joy, the steed
Bounds forth and, master of the open plain,
Now seeks the mares that in the pastures feed,
Now towards the well-known river scours the mead,
Wont there to cool his glowing sides, and neighs
With head erect and glories in his speed,
While o'er his collar and his shoulders plays 		568
The waving mane, flung loose in many a wandering maze.


LXV .   Him meets Camilla, with her Volscian train,
And by the gate dismounting then and there
(Down likewise leap her followers to the plain),
"Turnus," she cries, "if confidence can e'er
Befit the brave, I venture and I swear
Singly to face yon Trojans in the fray,
And stem the Tuscan cavalry. My care
Shall be the war's first hazards to essay; 		577
Thou guard the walls afoot, and by the ramparts stay."


LXVI .   Then he, with eyes fixt on the wondrous maid,
"O glory of Italia, virgin bright!
What praise can match thee? how shall thanks be paid?
But now, since naught can daunt thee nor affright,
Share thou my labour, and divide the fight.
Yonder Æneas, so the news hath flown,
So spies report, hath sent his horsemen light
To scour the fields, while o'er the mountains' crown 		586
Himself through devious ways is marching to the town.


LXVII .   "Deep in a hollow, where the wood's dark shade
Two cross-ways hides, an ambush I prepare,
And armed men shall the double pass blockade.
Thou take the shock of battle, and o'erbear
The Tuscan horse. Messapus shall be there,
Tiburtus' band, and Latins in array
To aid, and thine shall be the leader's care."
He spake, and cheered Messapus to the fray, 		595
And Latium's federate chiefs, and spurred upon his way.


LXVIII .   There lies a winding valley, fit for snares
And stratagems, shut in on either hand
By wooded slopes. A narrow pathway fares
Along the gorge, and on the hill-tops, planned
For safety, flat but hidden spreads the land.
Rightward or leftward there is room to bear
The shock of arms, or on the ridge to stand,
And roll down rocks upon the foe. 'Twas there 		604
Young Turnus, screened by woods, lies crouching in his lair.


LXIX .   Meanwhile Latonia in the realms of air
Fleet Opis, sister of her sacred train,
Addressed in sorrowing accents, "Maiden fair,
See how Camilla to the fatal plain
Goes forth, in quest of battle. See, in vain
Our arms she wears, the quiver and the bow.
Dearest is she of all that own my reign,
Nor new-born is Diana's love, I trow; 		613
No fit of fondness this, or fancy known but now


LXX .   "When tyrant Metabus his people's hate
Drove from Privernum, for his deeds of shame.
His babe he bore, the partner of his fate,
Through war and battle, and, her mother's name
Casmilla changed, Camilla she became.
To lonely woods and hill-tops fain to fly,
Fierce swords and Volscians all around, he came
Where Amasenus, with its waves bank-high, 		622
Athwart him foamed; so vast a deluge rent the sky.


LXXI .   "Prepared to plunge, he pauses, sore assailed
By love, and terror for a charge so dear.
All means revolving, this at last prevailed.
Fire-dried and knotted, an enormous spear
Of seasoned oak the warrior chanced to bear.
To the mid shaft the tender babe he ties,
Swathed in the covering of a cork-tree near,
Then lifts the load, and, poising, ere it flies, 		631
The ponderous lance, looks up, and thus invokes the skies:


LXXII .   "'O Queen of woods, Latonia, virgin fair!
To thee my daughter I devote this day,
Thy handmaid. See, thus early through the air
She bears thy weapons. Make her thine, I pray,
And safely through the doubtful air convey.'
So prayed the sire, and nerved him for the throw,
Then aimed, and launched the missile on its way.
The babe forlorn, while roars the stream below, 		640
Link'd to the shaft, is borne across the current's flow.


LXXIII .   "In plunges Metabus, the foemen near,
And Trivia's gift, safe landing from the wave,
Plucks from the grass,—the maiden and the spear.
No town is his, to shelter and to save,
His savage mood no shelter deigns to crave.
A shepherd's life on lonely hills he leads,
In tangled covert, or in woodland cave.
The milk of beasts supplies his daughter's needs, 		649
And from the wild-mare's teats her tender lips he feeds.


LXXIV .   "And when the tottering infant first essayed
To plant her footsteps, to her hands he strung
A lance, and o'er the shoulders of the maid
The light-wing'd arrows and the bow he slung.
For golden coif and trailing mantle, hung
A tiger's spoils. Her tiny hand e'en then
Hurled childish darts; e'en then the tough hide, swung
Around her temples, as she roamed the plain, 		658
Brought down the snowy swan, or swift Strymonian crane.


LXXV .   "Full many a Tuscan mother far and near
Has wooed Camilla for her son in vain.
Contented with Diana year by year,
She loves her silvan weapon, free and fain
To live a maiden-huntress, pure of stain.
And O! had battle, and the toils of fight
Not lured her thus to combat on the plain,
And match her prowess with the Teucrians' might, 		667
Mine were the maiden still, my darling and delight.


LXXVI .   "Now, since well-nigh the fatal threads are spun,
Go, Nymph, to Latin frontiers wing thy way,
Where evil omens mark the fight begun.
Take, too, this quiver; who the maid shall slay,—
Trojan or Latin—with his blood shall pay
Myself the armour and the corpse will bear,
Wrapt in a cloud, and in her country lay."
She spake, and, girt with whirlwind, and the blare 		676
Of sounding arms, the Nymph glides down the yielding air.


LXXVII .   Meanwhile, the Trojans and the Tuscan train,
In marshalled squadrons, to the walls draw near,
Steeds neigh, and chafe, and prance upon the plain,
And lances bristling o'er the field appear.
Messapus, too, and Latium's hosts are here,
Coras, Catillus, and Camilla leads
Her troops to aid. All couch the levelled spear,
And whirl the dart. Hot waxes on the meads 		685
The tramp of hurrying hosts, the snorting of the steeds.


LXXVIII .   Each halts within a spear-cast of the foe,
Then, spurring, forward with a shout they dash,
And, darkening heaven, shower the darts like snow.
In front, Tyrrhenus and Aconteus rash
Cross spears, the first to grapple. With a crash,
Steed against steed, went ruining. Breast and head
Shocked and were shattered. Like the lightning's flash,
And loud as missile from an engine sped, 		694
Hurled far, Aconteus falls, and with a gasp lies dead.


LXXIX .   This breaks the line; the Latins turn and fly,
Their shields behind them. On the Trojans go,
Asilas first. And now the gates are nigh;
Once more, with shouts, the Latins face the foe;
These, scared in turn, the slackened reins forego.
So shifts the fight, as on the winding strand
The swelling ocean, with alternate flow,
Foams on the rocks, and curls along the sand, 		703
Now sucks the shingle back, and, ebbing, leaves the land.


LXXX .   Twice the fierce Tuscans, spurring o'er the fields,
Drive the Rutulians to their walls in flight.
Twice, driven backward, from behind their shields
The victors see the rallying foes unite.
But when the third time, in the fangs of fight,
Man singling man, both armies met to close,
Loud were the groans, and fearful was the sight,
Arms splashed with gore, steeds, riders, friends and foes, 		712
Blent in the deadly broil, and fierce the din uprose.


LXXXI .   Lo, here, Orsilochus, too faint with fear
To meet fierce Remulus, a distant dart
Hurls at his steed. Beneath the charger's ear
The shaft stands fixt; the beast, with sudden start,
His breast erect, and maddened by the smart,
Rears up, and flings his rider to the ground.
Here brave Iolas, from his friends apart,
Catillus slew; Herminius next he found, 		721
Large-hearted, large of limb, and eke in arms renowned.


LXXXII .   Bare is his head, with auburn locks aglow,
And bare his shoulders. Wounds to him are vain;
Tower-like he stands, defenceless to the foe.
Through his broad chest the javelin, urged amain,
Pierced him, and quivered, and he writhed with pain,
His giant form bent double. Far and nigh
The dark blood pours in torrents on the plain,
As, dealing havoc with the sword, they vie, 		730
And, courting wounds, rush on, a warrior's death to die.


LXXXIII .   There, quiver-girt, the Amazonian maid,
One bosom bare, amidst the carnage wheeled,
Camilla, glorying in the war's grim trade.
Her limber darts she scatters o'er the field,
Her arms untired the ponderous axe can wield.
Diana's arrows and the golden bow
Sound at her back. She too, if forced to yield,
Fights as she flies, and well the maid doth know 		739
With flying shafts hurled back to stay the following foe.


LXXXIV .   Around her, Tulla and Larinia stand,
Tarpeia too, with brazen axe bedight,
Italians all, the choicest of her band,
In peace or war her glory and delight.
So, battling round Hippolyte, unite
Her Thracians, when Thermodon's banks afar
Ring with their arms. So rides the maid of might,
Penthesilea, in her conquering car, 		748
And hosts, with moon-shaped shields, exulting hail the war.


LXXXV .   Whom first, dread maiden, did thy javelin quell?
Whom last? how many in the dust lay low?
Eunæus first, the son of Clytius, fell.
Sheer through his breast, left naked to the blow,
Ploughed the long fir-shaft, as he faced his foe.
Prone falls the warrior, and in deadly stound
Gasps out his life-blood, and the crimson flow
Spouts forth in torrents, as he bites the ground, 		757
And, dying, grasps the spear, and writhes upon the wound.


LXXXVI .   Liris anon and Pagasus she slew,
One, flung to earth, and gathering up the rein,
His charger stabbed, the other, as he flew
To aid, and reached his helpless hands in vain,
Amastrus, son of Hippotas, was slain;
Harpalycus, Demophoon, as they fled,
The dread spear caught, and stretched upon the plain,
Tereus and Chromis. For each shaft that sped, 		766
Launched from her maiden hand, a Phrygian foe lay dead.


LXXXVII .   On Iapygian steed, in arms unknown,
Rode Ornytus, the huntsman. A rough hide,
Stript from a bullock, o'er his back was thrown.
A wolf's huge jaws, with glittering teeth, supplied
His helmet, and a rustic pike he plied.
Him, as he towered, the tallest in the fray,
Wheeling his steed, Camilla unespied
Caught—in the rout 'twas easy—and her prey 		775
Pinned, with unpitying spear, and jeered him as he lay.


LXXXVIII .   "Ha, Tuscan! thought'st thou 'twas the chase? Thy day
Hath come; a woman shall thy vaunts belie.
Yet take this glory to the grave, and say
'Twas I, the great Camilla, made thee die."
She spake, and smote Orsilochus close by,
And Butes, hugest of the Trojan crew.
First Butes falls; just where the neck doth lie,
'Twixt casque and corslet, naked to the view, 		784
And leftward droops the shield, the fatal barb goes through.


LXXXIX .   Chased by Orsilochus, afar she wheels
Her seeming flight, wide-circling to and fro,
Till, doubling in a narrower ring, she steals
Inside, and follows on the following foe.
Then, rising steep, while vainly in his woe
He pleads for pity, and entreats her grace,
She swings the battle-axe, and blow on blow
On head and riven helmet heaps apace, 		793
And the hot brains and blood are spattered o'er his face.


XC .   Next crossed her path, but stood aghast to see,
The son of Aunus, from the mountain-seat
Of Apennine. No mean Ligurian he,
While Fate was kind, and prospered his deceit.
Fearful of death, and hopeless to retreat,
He tries if cunning can avail his need,
And cries aloud, "Good sooth, a wondrous feat!
A woman trusts for glory to her steed. 		802
Come down; fight fair afoot, and take the braggart's meed!"


XCI .   Down leaps the maid in fury, and her steed
Hands to a comrade, and with arms matched fair,
And dauntless heart, confronts him on the mead,
Her shield unblazoned, and her falchion bare.
He, vainly glorying in his fancied snare,
Reins round in haste, and, spurring, strives to flee.
"Fool," cries Camilla, "let thy pride beware.
Think not to palm thy father's tricks on me, 		811
Nor hope with craft like this thy lying sire to see."


XCII .   So spake she, and on flying feet afire
Outruns his steed, and stands athwart the way,
Then grasps the reins, and deals the wretch his hire,
Doomed with his life-blood for his craft to pay.
So on a dove, amid the clouds astray,
Down swoops the sacred falcon through the sky
From some tall cliff, and fastens on his prey,
And grips, and rends, and sucks the life-blood dry; 		820
The feathers, foul with blood, come, fluttering down from high.


XCIII .   Nor Jove meanwhile with unregarding ken,
Throned on Olympus, doth the scene survey.
Watchful of all, the Sire of gods and men
Stirs up the Tuscan Tarchon to the fray,
And plies the war-goad with no gentle sway.
He through the squadrons on his steed aflame
Rides 'mid the carnage, where the ranks give way;
Now chides, now cheers, and calling each by name, 		829
Re-forms the broken lines, and reinspires the tame.


XCIV .   "Cowards, why faint ye, Tuscans but in name?
Fie! shall a woman scatter you in flight?
O, slack! O, never to be stung to shame!
What use of weapons, if ye fear to fight?
No laggards ye for amorous jousts at night,
Or Bacchic revels, when the fife ye hear.
The feast and wine-cup—these are your delight;
For these ye linger, till the approving seer 		838
Calls to the grove's deep shade, where bleeds the fattened steer."


XCV .   Then, spurring forth, himself prepared to die,
He dashed at Venulus, unhorsed his prize,
And bore him on his saddle-bow. A cry
Goes up, and all the Latins turn their eyes.
Swift with his prey the fiery Tarchon flies,
And, while the steel-head from his spear he rends,
Each chink and crevice in his armour tries,
To deal the death-blow. He, as fierce, contends, 		847
And, countering force with force, his naked throat defends.


XCVI .   As when a golden eagle, high in air,
Wreathed with a serpent, fastens, as she flies,
With feet that clutch, and taloned claws that tear.
Coil writhed in coil, the roughening scales uprise,
The crest points up, the hissing tongue defies.
She with sharp beak still rends the struggling prey,
And beats the air. So Tarchon with his prize
Through Tibur's host exulting speeds away. 		856
With cheers the Tuscans charge, and hail their chief's essay.


XCVII .   Now, due to fate, aloof with lifted lance,
The crafty Aruns round Camilla wheels,
And tries where fortune lends the readiest chance.
Oft as she charges, where the war-shout peals,
He slips unseen, and follows on her heels.
When back she runs, triumphant from the foe,
He shifts the rein, and from the conflict steals.
Now here, now there, he doubles to and fro, 		865
And shakes his felon spear, but hesitates to throw.


XCVIII .   Lo, Chloreus, priest of Cybele, aglow
In Phrygian armour, gorgeous to behold,
Urges his foaming charger at the foe,
All decked in feathered chain-work, linked with gold.
Cretan his shafts, his bow of Lycian mould.
Dark blue and foreign purple clothed his breast,
Golden his casque and bow; his mantle's fold
Of yellow saffron knots of gold compressed, 		874
And buskins bound his knees, and broidered was his vest.


XCIX .   Him the fierce huntress, whether fain the shrine
To deck with trophies, or with envious eyes
Wishful herself in Trojan arms to shine,
Marks in the strife; at him alone she flies,
Proud, like a woman, of her fancied prize.
Blindly she runs, uncautious of the snare,
When, darting from the ambush, where he lies,
The moment snatched, false Aruns shakes his spear, 		883
And thus, with measured aim, invokes the Gods with prayer.


C .   "O Phoebus, guardian of Soracte's steep,
Whom first we honour, to whose sacred name,
Thy votaries, we, the blazing pine-wood heap,
And, firm in faith, pass through the smouldering flame,
Grant that our arms may wipe away this shame.
Trophies, nor spoils, nor plunder from the prey
Be mine; I look to other deeds for fame.
If wound of mine this hateful pest shall slay, 		892
Home will I gladly go, and fameless quit the fray."


CI .   Apollo heard, and granted half his prayer,
And half he scattered to the winds. To slay
With sudden stroke Camilla unaware
He gave, but gave not his returning day;
The breezes puffed the bootless wish away.
Shrill sang the lance; each Volscian eye and heart
Turned to the queen. The weapon on its way,—
The rush of air she heeds not, till the dart 		901
Strikes home, and, staying, draws the life-blood from her heart.


CII .   Up run her friends, the fainting queen to aid,
More scared than all, in fear and joy amain,
False Aruns flies, nor dares to face the maid,
Or trust the venture of his spear again.
As guilty wolf, some steer or shepherd slain,
Slinks to the hills, ere hostile darts pursue,
And clasps his tail between his thighs, full fain
To seek the woods, so Aruns shrank from view, 		910
Sore scared and glad to fly, and in the crowd withdrew.


CIII .   With dying hand she strives to pluck the spear:
Deep 'twixt the rib-bones in the wound it lies.
Bloodless she faints; her features, late so fair,
Fade, as the crimson from the pale cheeks flies,
And cold and misty wax the drooping eyes.
Then, with quick gasps, and groaning from her breast,
She calls to faithful Acca, ere she dies,—
Acca, her truest comrade and her best, 		919
The partner of her cares,—and breathes a last request.


CIV .   "Sister, 'tis past; the bitter shaft apace
Consumes me; all is growing dark. Go, tell
This news to Turnus; bid him take my place,
And keep these Trojans from the town. Farewell."
So saying, she dropped the bridle, as she fell.
Death's creeping chills the loosened limbs o'erspread.
Down dropped the weapons she had borne so well,
The neck drooped, slackened; and she bowed her head, 		928
And the disdainful soul went groaning to the dead.


CV .   Up rose a shout, Camilla fall'n, that beat
The golden stars, and fiercer waxed the fray.
On press the host, in serried ranks complete,
Trojans, Arcadians, Tuscans in array.
High on a hill, fair Opis watched the day,
Set there by Trivia, undisturbed till now,
When, lo, amid the tumult far away
She sees Camilla, in the dust laid low, 		937
Deep from her breast she sighs, and thus in words of woe:


CVI .   "Cruel, too cruel, is thy forfeit paid,
Poor maiden, who the Trojan arms would'st dare;
Nor aught availed thee, in the woodland glade
To serve Diana, and her arms to wear.
Yet not unhonoured in thy death, nor bare
Of fame she leaves thee; nor in after day
Shall vengeance fail thy prowess to declare.
Whoso hath dared thy sacred form to slay, 		946
His blood shall rue the deed, and fit atonement pay."


CVII .   Beneath the hill a barrow chanced to stand,
Heaped there of old, and holm-oaks frowned beside
Dercennus' tomb, who ruled Laurentum's land.
Here, lightning swift, the lovely Nymph espied,
In shining arms, and puffed with empty pride,
False Aruns. "Caitiff! dost thou think to flee?
Why keep aloof? Turn hitherward!" she cried,
"Come here, and die! Camilla claims her fee. 		955
Must Cynthia waste her shafts on worthless knaves like thee?"


CVIII .   Plucking the arrow from her case, she drew
The bow, full-stretched, till both the horns unite.
Both arms raised level, ere the missile flew,
Her left hand touched the iron point, the right,
Pressed to her nipple, strained the bow-string tight.
He hears the arrow whistle as it flies,
And feels the wound. Sweeping on amain, [word missing]
Forsakes him. Groaning, with a gasp, he dies. 		964
Upsoars the gladdening Nymph, and seeks the Olympian skies.


CIX .   First flies Camilla's troop, their mistress slain,
Then, routed, the Rutulian ranks give way,
And fierce Atinas gallops from the plain,
And scattered chiefs and squadrons in dismay
Spur towards the town for shelter from the fray.
None dares that murderous onset of the foe
To stem with javelins, nor their charge to stay.
Slack from their fainting shoulders hangs the bow, 		973
The clattering horse-hoofs shake the crumbling ground below.


CX .   Dark rolls the dust-cloud, to the town-walls driven,
And mothers on the watch-towers, pale with fear,
Smite on their breasts, and shriek aloud to heaven.
These, bursting in, their foemen in the rear
Crush in the crowd, and slaughter with the spear,
Slain in the gateway—miserably slain!—
Their walls in sight, their happy homes so near.
Those bar the gates, while comrades on the plain 		982
Stretch their imploring hands, and call to them in vain.


CXI .   Then piteous waxed the carnage by the gate,
Some storming, some defending. These without,
In sight of parents, weeping at their fate,
Roll down the moat, swept headlong by the rout,
Or charge the battered doorposts with a shout.
The very matrons, at their country's call,
Their javelins hurl. Charr'd stakes and oak-staves stout
Serve them for swords. Forth rush they, one and all, 		991
Fir'd by Camilla's deeds, to save the town or fall.


CXII .   Meanwhile to Turnus, in the woods afar,
Came Acca, and the bitter news made plain,
And told the chief the tumult of the war,—
The panic and the rout—the Volscian train
Swept from the battle, and Camilla slain.
The foemen, flushed with conquest, far and near
In hot pursuit, and sweeping on amain,
And all the city now aghast with fear:— 		1000
Such was the dolorous tale that filled the warrior's ear.


CXIII .   Then, mad with fury, in revengeful mood
(For Jove is stern, and so the Fates ordain),
He quits his mountain-ambush and the wood.
Scarce, out of sight, had Turnus reached the plain,
When, issuing forth, Æneas hastes to gain
The pass, left open, climbs the neighbouring height,
And leaves the tangled forest. Thus the twain,
Each near to each,—the middle space is slight,— 		1009
Townward their troops lead on, and hail the proffered fight.


CXIV .   At once Æneas on the dusty plain
Marks the Laurentine columns far away.
At once, in arms, fierce Turnus knows again
The dread Æneas, and he hears the neigh
Of steeds, and tramp of footmen in array.
Then each the fight had ventured, as they stood,
But rosy Phoebus, with declining day,
His steeds was bathing in the Iberian flood; 		1018
So by the walls they camp, and make the ramparts good.

BOOK TWELVE

ARGUMENT

Turnus realises that he must now redeem his promise to meet Æneas in single combat, and refuses to be dissuaded either by Latinus or by Amata (1-90). The challenge is sent, and the two make ready. Lists are prepared and spectators gather (91-153). Juno warns the Nymph Juturna to aid her brother Turnus (154-180). After the terms of combat have been ratified by oath and sacrifice, Juturna, in disguise, by an opportune omen induces one of the assembled Latins to break the truce and kill a Trojan (181-310). Æneas is wounded while endeavouring to restrain his men from reprisals, and the fray becomes general. Turnus deals death among the Trojans (311-441). Æneas is miraculously healed, and at first pursues only Turnus—who is carried off by Juturna (442-561), but presently gives rein to his anger and slays indiscriminately, until by Venus' advice he attacks the city. Amata kills herself, believing Turnus dead (562-702). Turnus' eyes are opened. Seeing the city outworks in flames, he returns and proclaims himself ready to meet Æneas, who, welcoming the challenge, rushes forward. All eyes are riveted on the two, when Turnus' sword breaks, and once more he flees, pursued by Æneas. Juturna gives Turnus another sword, and Venus restores to Æneas his spear (703-918). Follows a colloquy between Jupiter and Juno.—Turnus must die. Æneas shall marry Lavinia and be king. But the new nation must keep the ancient rites and names of Latium, and be called not Trojans but Latins. Juno yields, and Jupiter warns Juturna to leave the battle (919-1026). Turnus, being beside himself, after a last superhuman effort, is struck down. Æneas is about to spare his life, when he sees upon his shoulder the spoils of Pallas, and kills him (1027-1107).


I .   When Turnus saw the Latins faint and fly,
Crushed by the War-God, and his pledge reclaimed,
Himself the mark of every scornful eye,
Rage unappeasable his pride inflamed.
As when a lion, in the breast sore maimed
In Punic fields, uprousing, shakes his mane,
And snaps the shaft that felon hands had aimed,
His mouth all bloody, as he roars with pain, 		1
So Turnus blazed with wrath, as thus in scornful strain


II .   He hailed the king: "Not Turnus stops the way;
No cause have these their challenge to forego,
Poor Trojan cowards; I accept the fray,
Sire, be the compact hallowed; be it so.
Or I, while Latins sit and see the show,
Will hurl to Hell this Dardan thief abhorred,
This Asian runaway, and on the foe
Refute the common slander with the sword, 		10
Or he, as victor, reign and be Lavinia's lord."


III .   Then, calm of soul, Latinus made reply,
"O gallant youth, the more thy heart is fain
In fierceness to excel, the more should I
Weigh well the risks and measure loss with gain.
To thee belong thy father Daunus' reign
And captured towns. Good will have I and gold,
And other maids our Latin homes contain,
Of noble birth and lovely to behold. 		19
Hear now, and let plain speech the thankless truth unfold.


IV .   "To none of former suitors was I free
To wed my daughter, so the voice ordained
Of gods and men consenting. Love for thee,
And sympathy for kindred blood hath gained
The mastery, and a weeping wife constrained.
I robbed the husband of the bride he wooed,
Took impious arms, and plighted faith disdained.
Ah me! what wars, what bitter fates ensued, 		28
Thou, Turnus, know'st too well, who first hast felt the feud.


V .   "Scarce now, twice worsted in the desperate fray,
Our walls can guard what Latin hopes remain,
And, choked with Latin corpses, day by day,
Old Tiber's stream runs purple to the main,
And Latin bones are whitening all the plain.
Why shifts my frenzied purpose to and fro?
Why change and change? If, maugre Turnus slain,
I deign to welcome as a friend his foe, 		37
Why not, while Turnus lives, the needless strife forego?


VI .   "What will Rutulian kinsmen, what will all
Italia say, if (Chance the deed forefend!)
I leave thee, cheated of my care, to fall,
The daughter's lover, and the father's friend?
O, weigh the risks that on the war attend;
Pity the parent in his sad, old age,
Left at far Ardea to lament thine end."
Thus he; but naught fierce Turnus can assuage; 		46
The healing hand but chafes, and words augment his rage.


VII .   Then he, scarce gathering utterance, spake again,
"Good Sire, thy trouble for my sake forego;
Leave me the price of glory—to be slain.
I too can hurl, nor feeble is my blow,
The whistling shaft, that lays the foeman low,
And drinks his life-blood. Vain shall be his prayer.
No goddess mother shall be there, to throw
Her mist around him, with a woman's care, 		55
And screen her darling son with empty shades of air."


VIII .   The Queen, with death before her, filled with fears,
Wept sore and checked the fiery suitor's way.
"O Turnus! if thou heed'st me, by these tears;—
Hope of my age, Latinus' strength and stay,
Prop of our falling house! one boon I pray;
Forbear the fight. What fate awaiteth thee,
Awaits me too. If Trojans win the day,
With thee I'll leave the loathèd light, nor see 		64
Æneas wed my child, a captive slave, as she."


IX .   With tears Lavinia heard her mother speak.
A crimson blush her glowing face o'erspread,
And hot fires kindled on her burning cheek.
As Indian ivory, when stained with red,
Or lilies, mixt with roses in a bed,
So flushed the maid, with varying thoughts distrest.
He, wild with love, upon Lavinia fed
His constant gaze, but maddening with unrest, 		73
Burned for the fight still more, and thus the Queen addressed:


X .   "Vex me not, mother, marching to the fray,
With these thy tears and bodings of despair.
'Tis not in me the fatal hour to stay.
Thou, Idmon, to the Phrygian tyrant bear
The unwelcome word: to-morrow let him spare
To lead his Teucrians to the fight. Each side
Shall rest awhile; when morning shines in air,
His blood or mine the quarrel shall decide, 		82
And he or I shall win, whose prowess earns, the bride."


XI .   Thus speaking, to his home the chieftain hies
And bids his steeds be harnessed for the fight:
Soon for the pleasure of their master's eyes
They stand before him, neighing in their might.
In days of old from Orithyia bright
To King Pilumnus came those coursers twain,
Swifter than breezes and than snow more white;
His ready grooms attend, a nimble train, 		91
And clap the sounding breast and comb the abundant mane.


XII .   Himself the shining corselet, stiff with gold
And orichalcum, on his shoulders laid.
His sword and shield he fitted to his hold,
And donned the helm, with crimson plumes arrayed,
The sword the Fire-King for his sire had made,
And dipped still glowing in the Stygian flood,
Last, the strong spear-beam in his hand he swayed
(Against a pillar in the house it stood), 		100
Auruncan Actor's spoils, and shook the quivering wood,


XIII .   And shouted, "Now, O never known to fail
Thy master's call, my trusty spear, I trow
The hour is come. Once, mightiest under mail,
Did Actor wield thee; Turnus wields thee now.
Grant this strong hand to lay the foeman low,
This Phrygian eunuch of his arms to spoil,
And rend his shattered breastplate with a blow;
Dragged in the dust, his dainty curls to soil, 		109
Hot from the crisping tongs, and wet with myrrh and oil."


XIV .   Such furies urge him, and, ablaze with ire,
His hot face sparkles, and his eyes burn bright,
And from his eye-balls leaps the living fire;
As when a bull, in prelude for the fight,
Roars terribly, and fills the hinds with fright,
And, butting at a chance-met tree, would try
To vent his fury on his horns of might,
And with his fierce hoofs flings the sand on high, 		118
And gores the empty air, and challenges the sky.


XV .   Nor less, meanwhile, and terrible in arms,—
The arms that Venus to her son doth lend,—
Æneas rages, and the War-God warms.
Pleased with the challenge, singly to contend,
And bring the weary warfare to an end,
His friends he cheers, and calms Iulus' care,
Unfolding Fate, then heralds hastes to send,
His answer to the Latin King to bear: 		127
The challenge he accepts, the terms of peace are fair.


XVI .   Scarce Morning glimmered on the mountains grey,
And Phoebus' steeds, uprising from the main,
With lifted nostrils breathed approaching day.
Mixt with the Trojans, the Rutulian train,
Beneath the lofty town-walls on the plain
Mark out the lists, and mid-way in the ring,
Their braziers set, as common rites ordain.
These, apron-girt and crowned with vervain, bring 		136
Fire for the turf-piled hearths, and water from the spring.


XVII .   Forth, as to war, Ausonia's spear-armed host,
Trojans and Tuscans, to the field proceed,
And to and fro, in gold and purple, post
Asilas brave, Assaracus's seed,
Mnestheus, Messapus, tamer of the steed.
Back step both armies at the trumpet's call,
Their spears in earth, their shields upon the mead.
An unarmed crowd, old men and matrons, all 		145
Stand by the lofty gates, and throng the towers and wall.


XVIII .   But Juno, seated on a neighbouring height,
Now Alban called, then nameless and unknown,
Gazed from its summit on the field of fight,
And, musing, on the marshalled hosts looked down
Of Troy and Latium, and Latinus' town,
Then straight—a goddess to a goddess—spake
To Turnus' sister, who the sway doth own
Of sounding river and of stagnant lake, 		154
Raised by the King of air, as yielding for his sake.


XIX .   "Nymph, pride of rivers, darling of my love,
Thou know'st, Juturna, how to all whoe'er
Of Latin maidens climbed the couch of Jove,
I thee preferred, and gave his courts to share.
Learn now thy woe, lest I the blame should bear.
While Fate and Fortune smiled on Latium's sway,
Thy walls I saved, and Turnus was my care.
Now in ill hour I see him tempt the fray; 		163
Fate and the foe speed on the inevitable day.


XX .   "Not I this fight, this wager can behold.
Thou, if thou durst, thy brother's doom arrest.
Go; luck perchance may follow thee." Fast rolled
Juturna's tears, and thrice she smote her breast.
"No time to weep," said Juno, "speed thy quest,
And save thy brother, if thou canst, ere dead,
Or wake the war, and rend the league unblest;
'Tis I who bid thee to be bold." She said, 		172
And left her, tost with doubt, and full of wildering dread.


XXI .   Forth come the Kings; Latinus, proudly borne
High in his four-horse chariot, shines afar.
Twelve gilded rays the monarch's brows adorn,
His Sire's, the Sun-God's. Wielding as for war
Two spears, comes Turnus in his two-horse car.
There, Rome's great founder, doth Æneas ride,
With dazzling shield, bright-shining as a star,
And arms divine, and at his father's side 		181
Ascanius takes his place, Rome's second hope and pride.


XXII .   And clad in robes of purest white, the priest
Leads forth the youngling of a bristly swine,
And two-year sheep, by shearer's hands unfleec'd.
And they, with eyes turned to the dawn divine,
Bared the bright steel, the victim's brow to sign,
And strewed the cakes of salted meal, and poured
On blazing altars bowls of sacred wine;
And good Æneas drew his glittering sword, 		190
And thus, with pious prayer, the immortal gods adored:


XXIII .   "Witness, O Sun, thou Earth attest my prayer,
For whom I toil. Thou, Jove, supreme in sway,
And thou, great Juno, pleased at length to spare.
O mighty Mars, whose nod directs the fray;
Springs, Streams, and Powers whom Air and Sea obey.
If Turnus win—O let the vow remain—
Humbly to King Evander, as they may,
Troy's sons shall fly, Iulus quit the reign, 		199
Nor seed of mine e'er vex the Latin field again.


XXIV .   "But else, if victory smile upon my sword
(As rather deem I, and may Heaven decree),
I wish not Troy to be Italia's lord,
Nor claim the crown; let each, unquelled and free,
In deathless league on equal terms agree.
Arms, empire let Latinus keep; I claim
To bring our rites and deities. For me
My Teucrian friends another town shall frame, 		208
And bless the rising towers with fair Lavinia's name."


XXV .   Thus first Æneas; then with uplift eyes,
His right hand stretching to the stars in prayer,
"Hear me, Æneas," old Latinus cries,
"By the same Earth, and Sea and Stars I swear,
By the twin offering of Latona fair,
And two-faced Janus, and Hell's powers malign,
And Dis unpitying; let Jove give ear,
The Sire whose bolt the solemn league doth sign, 		217
Witness these fires and gods,—my hand is on the shrine,—


XXVI .   "No time with Latins shall this league unbind,
Whate'er the issue, or the peace confound,
No force shall shake the purpose of my mind.
Nay—though the circling Ocean burst its bound,
And all the Earth were in a deluge drowned,
And Heaven with Hell should mingle. Sure as now
This sceptre" (haply in his hand was found
The Royal sceptre) "nevermore, I trow, 		226
Shall bourgeon with fresh leaves, or spread a shadowing bough,


XXVII .   "Since once in forests, from its parent tree
Lopped clean away, the woodman stripped it bare
Of boughs and leaves, now fashioned, as ye see,
And cased in brass by cunning craftsman's care,
For fathers of the Latin realm to bear."
So they, amid their chiefest, Sire with Sire,
Confirm the league. These o'er the flames prepare
To slay the victims, and, as rites require, 		235
The living entrails tear, and feed the sacred fire.


XXVIII .   Long while unequal to Rutulian eyes
The combat seemed, and trouble tossed them sore,
Now more, beholding nearer, how in size
And strength the champions differed, yea, and more,
Beholding Turnus, as he moved before
The altars, sad and silently, and seeks
With downcast eyes Heaven's favour to implore,
The wanness of his youthful frame, that speaks 		244
Of health and hope now fled, the pallor of his cheeks.


XXIX .   Soon as Juturna saw the whispers grow
From tongue to tongue, and marked the changing tone,
The hearts of people wavering to and fro,
Amidst them,—now in form of Camers known,
Great Camers, sprung from grandsires of renown,
His father famed for many a brave emprise,
Himself as famed for exploits of his own,—
Amidst them, mistress of her part, she flies, 		253
And scatters words of doubt, and many a dark surmise.


XXX .   "Shame, will ye risk, Rutulians, for his host
The life of one? In number, strength and show
Do we not match them? Those are all they boast,
Trojans, Arcadians and Etruscans. Lo,
Fight we by turns, each scarce can find a foe.
He to his gods, whose shrines he dies to shield,
Will rise, and praised will be his name below.
We, reft of home, to tyrant lords shall yield, 		262
And toil as slaves, who sit so slackly on the field."


XXXI .   So saying, Juturna to the youths imparts
Fresh rage, and murmurs through the concourse run,
And changed are Latin and Laurentian hearts,
And they, who lately sought the strife to shun,
And longed for rest, now wish the league undone,
And, pitying Turnus, wrongly doomed to die,
Call out for arms. And now, her work begun,
Juturna shows a lying sign on high, 		271
That shakes Italian hearts, and cheats the wondering eye.