Aeneid

one noble swan, which with keen, curving claws

he ruthless bore away: th' Italians all

watched eagerly, while the loud-screaming flock

wheeled upward (wondrous sight!), with host of wings

shadowed the sky, and in a legion-cloud

chased through the air the foe; till, overborne

by heavier odds, the eagle from his claws

flung back his victim to the waves, and fled

to the dim, distant heaven. The Rutules then

hailed the good omen with consenting cry,

and grasped the sword and shield. Tolumnius

the augur spake first: “Lo, the sign I sought

with many a prayer! I welcome and obey

the powers divine. Take me for captain, me!

And draw your swords, ye wretches, whom th' assault

of yonder foreign scoundrel puts in fear

like feeble birds, and with his violence

lays waste your shore. He too shall fly away,

spreading his ships' wings on the distant seas.

Close up your ranks—one soul in all our breasts!

Defend in open war your stolen King.”

So saying, he hurled upon th' opposing foe

his javelin, running forward. The strong shaft

of corner whistled shrill, and clove the air

unerring. Instantly vast clamor rose,

and all th' onlookers at the spectacle

leaped up amazed, and every heart beat high.

The spear sped flying to the foeman's line,

where stood nine goodly brethren, pledges all

of one true Tuscan mother to her lord,

Gylippus of Arcadia; it struck full

on one of these at his gold-belted waist,

and where the clasp clung, pierced the rib clean through.

And stretched the fair youth in his glittering arms

full length and lifeless on the yellow sand.

His brothers then, bold band to wrath aroused

by sorrow, seize the sword or snatch the spear

and blindly charge. Opposing them, the host

Laurentine makes advance, and close-arrayed

the Trojans like a torrent pour, enforced

by Tuscans and the gay-accoutred clans

of Arcady. One passion moved in all

to try the judgment of the sword. They tore

the altars down: a very storm of spears

rose angrily to heaven, in iron rain

down-pouring: while the priests bore far away

the sacrificial bowls and sacred fires.

Even Latinus fled; his stricken gods

far from his violated oath he bore.

Some leaped to horse or chariot and rode

with naked swords in air. Messapus, wild

to break the truce, assailed the Tuscan King,

Aulestes, dressed in kingly blazon fair,

with fearful shock of steeds; the Tuscan dropped

helplessly backward, striking as he fell

his head and shoulders on the altar-stone

that lay behind him. But Messapus flew,

infuriate, a javelin in his hand,

and, towering o'er the suppliant, smote him strong

with the great beam-like spear, and loudly cried:

“Down with him! Ah! no common victim he

to give the mighty gods!” Italia's men

despoiled the dead man ere his limbs were cold.

Then Corynaeus snatched a burning brand

out of the altar, and as Ebysus

came toward him for to strike, he hurled the flame

full in his face: the big beard quickly blazed

with smell of singeing; while the warrior bold

strode over him, and seized with firm left hand

his quailing foe's Iong hair; then with one knee

he pushed and strained, compelled him to the `ground—

and struck straight at his heart with naked steel.

The shepherd Alsus in the foremost line

came leaping through the spears; when o'er him towered

huge Podalirius with a flashing sword

in close pursuit; the mighty battle-axe

clove him with swinging stroke from brow to chin,

and spilt along his mail the streaming gore:

so stern repose and iron slumber fell

upon that shepherd's eyes, and sealed their gaze

in endless night. But good Aeneas now

stretched forth his unarmed hand, and all unhelmed

thus Ioudly to his people called: “What means

this frantic stir, this quarrel rashly bold?

Recall your martial rage! The pledge is given

and all its terms agreed. 'T is only I

do lawful battle here. So let me forth,

and tremble not. My own hand shall confirm

the solemn treaty. For these rites consign

Turnus to none but me.” Yet while he spoke,

behold, a winged arrow, hissing loud,

the hero pierced; but what bold hand impelled

its whirling speed, none knew; nor if it were

chance or some power divine that brought this fame

upon Rutulia; for the glorious deed

was covered o'er with silence: none would boast

an arrow guilty of Aeneas' wound.

When Turnus saw Aeneas from the line

retreating, and the captains in dismay,

with sudden hope he burned: he called for steeds,