Aeneid

That self-same day with aspect terrible

Aeneas girt him in the wondrous arms

his mother gave; made sharp his martial steel,

and roused his heart to ire; though glad was he

to seal such truce and end the general war.

Then he spoke comfort to his friends; and soothed

Iulus' fear, unfolding Heaven's intent;

but on Latinus bade his heralds lay

unyielding terms and laws of peace impose.

Soon as the breaking dawn its glory threw

along the hills, and from the sea's profound

leaped forth the horses of the sun-god's car,

from lifted nostrils breathing light and fire,

then Teucrian and Rutulian measured out

a place for duel, underneath the walls

of the proud city. In the midst were set

altars of turf and hearth-stones burning bright

in honor of their common gods. Some brought

pure waters and the hallowed flame, their thighs

in priestly skirt arrayed, and reverend brows

with vervain bound. Th' Ausonians, spear in hand,

out from the city's crowded portals moved

in ordered column: next the Trojans all,

with Tuscan host in various martial guise,

equipped with arms of steel, as if they heard

stern summons to the fight. Their captains, too,

emerging from the multitude, in pride

of gold and purple, hurried to and fro:

Mnestheus of royal stem, Asilas brave;

and Neptune's offspring, tamer of the steed,

Messapus. Either host, at signal given,

to its own ground retiring, fixed in earth

the long shafts of the spears and stacked the shields.

Then eagerly to tower and rampart fly

the women, the infirm old men, the throng

of the unarmed, and sit them there at gaze,

or on the columned gates expectant stand.

But Juno, peering from that summit proud

which is to-day the Alban (though that time

nor name nor fame the hallowed mountain knew),

surveyed the plain below and fair array

of Trojan and Laurentine, by the walls

of King Latinus. Whereupon straightway

with Turnus' sister she began converse,

goddess with goddess; for that nymph divine

o'er Alba's calm lakes and loud rivers reigns;

Jove, the high monarch of th' ethereal sky,

gave her such glory when he stole away

her virgin zone. “O nymph“, she said, “who art

the pride of flowing streams, and much beloved

of our own heart! thou knowest thou alone

hast been my favorite of those Latin maids

that to proud Jove's unthankful bed have climbed;

and willingly I found thee place and share

in our Olympian realm. So blame not me,

but hear, Juturna, what sore grief is thine:

while chance and destiny conceded aught

of strength to Latium's cause, I shielded well

both Turnus and thy city's wall; but now

I see our youthful champion make his war

with fates adverse. The Parcae's day of doom

implacably impends. My eyes refuse

to Iook upon such fight, such fatal league.

If for thy brother's life thou couldst be bold

to venture some swift blow, go, strike it now!

'T is fit and fair! Some issue fortunate

may tread on sorrow's heel.” She scarce had said,

when rained the quick tears from Juturna's eyes.

Three times and yet again her desperate hand

smote on her comely breast. But Juno cried,

“No tears to-day! But haste thee, haste and find

what way, if way there be, from clutch of death

to tear thy brother free; arouse the war;

their plighted peace destroy. I grant thee leave

such boldness to essay.” With this command

she left the nymph dismayed and grieving sore.

Meanwhile the kings ride forth: Latinus first,

looming tall-statured from his four-horse car;

twelve rays of gold encircle his bright brow,

sign of the sun-god, his progenitor;

next Turnus, driving snow-white steeds, is seen,—

two bread-tipped javelins in his hand he bears;

Aeneas, of Rome's blood the source and sire,

with star-bright shield and panoply divine,

far-shining comes; Ascanius by his side—

of Roman greatness the next hope is he.

To camp they rode, where, garbed in blameless white,

with youngling swine and two-year sheep unshorn,

the priest before the flaming altars drove

his flock and offering: to the rising sun

all eyes are lifted, as with careful hand

the salted meal is scattered, while with knives

they mark each victim's brow, outpouring wine

from shallow bowls, the sacrifice to bless.

Then good Aeneas, his sword drawn, put forth

this votive prayer: “O Sun in heaven; and thou,

Italia, for whom such toils I bear,

be witness of my orison. On thee,

Father omnipotent, I call; on thee,

his Queen Saturnia,—now may she be