Aeneid

or, swinging round her head the polished thong

of her good sling, she fetched from distant sky

Strymonian cranes or swans of spotless wing.

From Tuscan towns proud matrons oft in vain

sought her in marriage for their sons; but she

to Dian only turned her stainless heart,

her virgin freedom and her huntress' arms

with faithful passion serving. Would that now

this Iove of war had ne'er seduced her mind

the Teucrians to provoke! So might she be

one of our wood-nymphs still. But haste, I pray,

for bitter is her now impending doom.

Descend, dear nymph, from heaven, and explore

the country of the Latins, where the fight

with unpropitious omens now begins.

These weapons take, and from this quiver draw

a vengeful arrow, wherewith he who dares

to wound her sacred body, though he be

a Trojan or Italian, shall receive

bloody and swift reward at my command.

Then, in a cloud concealed, I will consign

her corpse, ill-fated but inviolate

unto the sepulchre, restoring so

the virgin to her native land.” Thus spake

the goddess; but her handmaid, gliding down,

took her loud pathway on the moving winds,

and mantled in dark storm her shape divine.

Meanwhile the Teucrian legions to the wall

draw near, with Tuscan lords and cavalry

in numbered troops arrayed. Loud-footed steeds

prance o'er the field, to manage of the rein

rebellious, but turned deftly here or there.

The iron harvest of keen spears spreads far,

and all the plain burns bright with lifted steel.

Messapus and swift Latin cavalry,

Coras his brother, and th' attending train

of the fair maid Camilla, form their lines

in the opposing field. Their poised right hands

point the long lances forward, and light shafts

are brandished in the air; the warrior hosts

on steeds of fire come kindling as they ride.

One instant, at a spear-throw's space, each line

its motion stays; then with one sudden cry

they rush forth, spurring on each frenzied steed.

From-every side the multitudinous spears

pour down like snowflakes, mantling heaven in shade.

Now with contending spears and straining thews,

Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, champion bold,

ride forward; with the onset terrible

loudly their armor rings; their chargers twain

crash breast to breast, and like a thunderbolt

Aconteus drops, or like a ponderous stone

hurled from a catapult; full length he falls,

surrend'ring to the winds his fleeting soul.

Now all is panic: holding their light shields

behind their backs, the Latin horse wheel round,

retreating to the wall, the Trojan foe

in close pursuit. Asilas, chieftain proud,

led on th' assault. Hard by the city gates

the Latins wheeled once more and pressed the rein

strong on the yielding neck; the charging foe

took flight and hurried far with loose-flung rein.

'T was like the shock and onset of the sea

that landward hurls the alternating flood

and hides high cliffs in foam,—the tawny sands

upflinging as it rolls; then, suddenly

whirled backward on the reingulfing waves,

it quits the ledges, and with ebbing flow

far from the shore retires. The Tuscans twice

drive back the flying Rutules to the town;

and twice repulsed, with shields to rearward thrown,

glare back at the pursuer; but conjoined

in the third battle-charge, both armies merge

confusedly together in grim fight

of man to man; then follow dying groans,

armor blood-bathed and corpses, and strong steeds

inextricably with their masters slain,

so fierce the fray. Orsilochus—afraid

to front the warrior's arms—launched forth a spear

at Remulus' horse, and left the fatal steel

clinging below its ear; the charger plunged

madly, and tossed its trembling hoofs in air,

sustaining not the wound; the rider fell,

flung headlong to the ground. Catillus slew

Iollas; and then struck Herminius down,

great-bodied and great-hearted, who could wield

a monster weapon, and whose yellow hair

from naked head to naked shoulder flowed.

By wounds unterrified he dared oppose

his huge bulk to the foe: the quivering spear

pierced to his broad back, and with throes of pain

bowed the man double and clean clove him through.

Wide o'er the field th' ensanguined horror flowed,

where fatal swords were crossed and cut their way

through many a wound to famous death and fair.

Swift through the midmost slaughter proudly strides

the quiver-girt Camilla, with one breast

thrust naked to the fight, like Amazon.

Oft from her hand her pliant shafts she rains,

or whirls with indefatigable arm