Aeneid

to meet yon squadrons of Aeneadae

alone, and front me to the gathered charge

of Tuscan cavalry. Let me alone

the war's first venture-prove. Take station, thou,

here at the walls, this rampart to defend.”

With fixed eyes on the terror-striking maid,

Turnus replied, “O boast of Italy,

O virgin bold! What praise, what gratitude

can words or deeds repay? But since thy soul

so large of stature shows, I bid thee share

my burden and my war. Our spies bring news

that now Aeneas with pernicious mind

sends light-armed horse before him, to alarm

the plains below, while through the wilderness

he climbs the steep hills, and approaches so

our leaguered town. But I in sheltered grove

a stratagem prepare, and bid my men

in ambush at a mountain cross-road lie.

Meet thou the charge of Tuscan cavalry

with all thy banners. For auxiliar strength

take bold Messapus with his Latin troop

and King Tiburtus' men: but the command

shall be thy task and care.” He spoke, and urged

with like instruction for the coming fray

Messapus and his captains; then advanced

to meet the foe. There is a winding vale

for armed deception and insidious war

well fashioned, and by interlacing leaves

screened darkly in; a small path thither leads,

through strait defile-a passage boding ill.

Above it, on a mountain's lofty brow,

are points of outlook, level spaces fair,

and many a safe, invisible retreat

from whence on either hand to challenge war,

or, standing on the ridges, to roll down

huge mountain boulders. Thither Turnus fared,

and, ranging the familiar tract, chose out

his cunning ambush in the dangerous grove.

But now in dwellings of the gods on high,

Diana to fleet-footed Opis called,

a virgin from her consecrated train,

and thus in sorrow spoke: “O maiden mine!

Camilla now to cruel conflict flies;

with weapons like my own she girds her side,

in vain, though dearest of all nymphs to me.

Nor is it some new Iove that stirs to-day

with sudden sweetness in Diana's breast:

for long ago, when from his kingdom driven,

for insolent and envied power, her sire

King Metabus, from old Privernum's wall

was taking flight amidst opposing foes,

he bore a little daughter in his arms

to share his exile; and he called the child

(Changing Casmilla, her queen-mother's name)

Camilla. Bearing on his breast the babe,

he fled to solitary upland groves.

But hovering round him with keen lances, pressed

the Volscian soldiery. Across his path,

lo, Amasenus with full-foaming wave

o'erflowed its banks—so huge a rain had burst

but lately from the clouds. There would he fain

swim over, but the love of that sweet babe

restrained him, trembling for his burden dear.

In his perplexed heart suddenly arose

firm resolve. It chanced the warrior bore

huge spear in his brawny hand, strong shaft

of knotted, seasoned oak; to this he lashed

his little daughter with a withe of bark

pulled from a cork-tree, and with skilful bonds

fast bound her to the spear; then, poising it

high in his right hand, thus he called on Heaven:

‘Latona's daughter, whose benignant grace

protects this grove, behold, her father now

gives thee this babe for handmaid! Lo, thy spear

her infant fingers hold, as from her foes

she flies a suppliant to thee! Receive,

O goddess, I implore, what now I cast

upon the perilous air.’—He spoke, and hurled

with lifted arm the whirling shaft. The waves

roared loud, as on the whistling javelin

hapless Camilla crossed th' impetuous flood.

But Metabus, his foes in hot pursuit,

dared plunge him in mid-stream, and, triumphing,

soon plucked from grass-grown river-bank the spear,

the child upon it,—now to Trivia vowed,

a virgin offering. Him nevermore

could cities hold, nor would his wild heart yield

its sylvan freedom, but his days were passed

with shepherds on the solitary hills.

His daughter too in tangled woods he bred:

a brood-mare from the milk of her fierce breast

suckled the child, and to its tender lips

.Her udders moved; and when the infant feet

their first firm steps had taken, the small palms

were armed with a keen javelin; her sire

a bow and quiver from her shoulder slung.

Instead of golden combs and flowing pall,

she wore, from her girl-forehead backward thrown,

the whole skin of a tigress; with soft hands

she made her plaything of a whirling spear,