Aeneid

do lift us safe to shore. If aid come not

from Diomed in Arpi, our allies

shall be Mezentius and Tolumnius,

auspicious name, and many a chieftain sent

from many a tribe; not all inglorious

are Latium's warriors from Laurentian land!

Hither the noble Volscian stem sends down

Camilla with her beauteous cavalry

in glittering brass arrayed. But if, forsooth,

the Trojans call me singly to the fight,

if this be what ye will, and I so much

the public weal impair—when from this sword

has victory seemed to fly away in scorn?

I should not hopeless tread in honor's way

whate'er the venture. Dauntless will I go

though equal match for great Achilles, he,

and though he clothe him in celestial arms

in Vulcan's smithy wrought. I, Turnus, now,

not less than equal with great warriors gone,

vow to Latinus, father of my bride,

and to ye all, each drop of blood I owe.

Me singly doth Aeneas call? I crave

that challenge. Drances is not called to pay

the debt of death, if wrath from Heaven impend;

nor his a brave man's name and fame to share.”

Thus in their doubtful cause the chieftains strove.

Meanwhile Aeneas his assaulting line

moved forward. The ill tidings wildly sped

from royal hall to hall, and filled the town

with rumors dark: for now the Trojan host

o'er the wide plains from Tiber's wave was spread

in close array of war. The people's soul

was vexed and shaken, and its martial rage

rose to the stern compulsion. Now for arms

their terror calls; the youthful soldiery

clamor for arms; the sires of riper days

weep or repress their tears. On every side

loud shouts and cries of dissonant acclaim

trouble the air, as when in lofty grove

legions of birds alight, or by the flood

of Padus' fishy stream the shrieking swans

far o'er the vocal marish fling their song.

Then, seizing the swift moment, Turnus cried:

“Once more, my countrymen,—ye sit in parle,

lazily praising peace, while yonder foe

speeds forth in arms our kingdom to obtain.”

He spoke no more, but hied him in hot haste,

and from the housetop called, “Volusus, go!

Equip the Volscian companies! Lead forth

my Rutules also! O'er the spreading plain,

ye brothers Coras and Messapus range

our host of cavalry! Let others guard

the city's gates and hold the walls and towers:

I and my followers elsewhere oppose

the shock of arms.” Now to and fro they run

to man the walls. Father Latinus quits—

the place of council and his large design,

vexed and bewildered by the hour's distress.

He blames his own heart that he did not ask

Trojan Aeneas for his daughter's Iord,

and gain him for his kingdom's lasting friend.

They dig them trenches at the gates, or lift

burden of stakes and stones. The horn's harsh note

sounds forth its murderous signal for the war;

striplings and women, in a motley ring,

defend the ramparts; the decisive hour

lays tasks on all. Upon the citadel

a train of matrons, with the doleful Queen,

toward Pallas' temple moves, and in their hand

are gifts and offerings. See, at their side

the maid Lavinia, cause of all these tears,

drops down her lovely eyes! The incense rolls

in clouds above the altar; at the doors

with wailing voice the women make this prayer:

“Tritonian virgin, arbitress of war!

Break of thyself yon Phrygian robber's spear!

Hurl him down dying in the dust! Spill forth

his evil blood beneath our lofty towers!”

Fierce Turnus girds him, emulous to slay:

a crimson coat of mail he wears, with scales

of burnished bronze; beneath his knees are bound

the golden greaves; upon his naked brow

no helm he wears; but to his thigh is bound

a glittering sword. Down from the citadel

runs he, a golden glory, in his heart

boldly exulting, while impatient hope

fore-counts his fallen foes. He seemed as when,

from pinfold bursting, breaking his strong chain,

th' untrammelled stallion ranges the wide field,

or tries him to a herd of feeding mares,

or to some cooling river-bank he knows,

most fierce and mettlesome; the streaming mane

o'er neck and shoulder flies. Across his path

Camilla with her Volscian escort came,

and at the city-gate the royal maid

down from her charger leaped; while all her band

at her example glided to the ground,

their horses leaving. Thus the virgin spoke:

“Turnus, if confidence beseem the brave,

I have no fear; but of myself do vow