Aeneid

for arms, and, leaping to his chariot,

rode insolently forth, the reins in hand.

Many strong heroes he dispatched to die,

as on he flew, and many stretched half-dead,

or from his chariot striking, or from far

raining his javelins on the recreant foe.

As Mars, forth-speeding by the wintry stream

of Hebrus, smites his sanguinary shield

and whips the swift steeds to the front of war,

who, flying past the winds of eve and morn,

scour the wide champaign; the bounds of Thrace

beneath their hoof-beats thunder; the dark shapes

of Terror, Wrath, and Treachery move on

in escort of the god: in such grim guise

bold Turnus lashed into the fiercest fray

his streaming steeds, that pitiful to see

trod down the slaughtered foe; each flying hoof

scattered a bloody dew; their path was laid

in mingled blood and sand. To death he flung

Pholus and Sthenelus and Thamyris:

two smitten in close fight and one from far:

also from far he smote with fatal spear

Glaucus and Lades, the Imbrasidae,

whom Imbrasus himself in Lycia bred,

and honored them with arms of equal skill

when grappling with a foe, or o'er the field

speeding a war-horse faster than the wind.

Elsewhere Eumedes through a throng of foes

to battle rode, the high-born Dolon's child,

famous in war, who bore his grandsire's name,

but seemed in might and courage like his sire:

that prince, who reconnoitring crept so near

the Argive camp, he dared to claim for spoil

the chariot of Achilles; but that day

great Diomed for such audacious deed

paid wages otherwise,—and he no more

dreamed to possess the steeds of Peleus' son.

When Turnus recognized in open field

this warrior, though far, he aimed and flung

his javelin through the spacious air; then stayed

his coursers twain, and, leaping from his car,

found the wretch helpless fallen; so planted he

his foot upon his neck, and from his hand

wrested the sword and thrust it glittering

deep in the throat, thus taunting as he slew:

“There's land for thee, thou Trojan! Measure there

th' Hesperian provinces thy sword would find.

Such reward will I give to all who dare

draw steel on me; such cities they shall build.”

To bear him company his spear laid low

Asbutes, Sybaris, Thersilochus,

Chloreus and Dares, and Thymoetes thrown

sheer off the shoulders of his balking steed.

As when from Thrace the north wind thunders down

the vast Aegean, flinging the swift flood

against the shore, and where his blasts assail

the cloudy cohorts vanish out of heaven:

so before Turnus, where his path he clove,

the lines fell back, the wheeling legions fled.

The warrior's own wild impulse swept him on,

and every wind that o'er his chariot blew

shook out his plume in air. But such advance

so bold, so furious, Phegeus could not brook,

but, fronting the swift chariot's path, he seized

the foam-flecked bridles of its coursers wild,

while from the yoke his body trailed and swung;

the broad lance found his naked side, and tore

his double corselet, pricking lightly through

the outer flesh; but he with lifted shield

still fought his foe and thrust with falchion bare;

but the fierce pace of whirling wheel and pole

flung him down prone, and stretched him on the plain.

Then Turnus, aiming with relentless sword

between the corselet's edge and helmet's rim

struck off his whole head, leaving on the sands

the mutilated corpse. While thus afield

victorious Turnus dealt out death and doom,

Mnestheus, Achates true, and by their side

Ascanius, have carried to the camp

Aeneas, gashed and bleeding, whose long lance

sustained his limping step. With fruitless rage

he struggled with the spear-head's splintered barb,

and bade them help him by the swiftest way

to carve the wound out with a sword, to rip

the clinging weapon forth, and send him back

to meet the battle. Quickly to his side

came Iapyx, dear favorite and friend

of Phoebus, upon whom the god bestowed

his own wise craft and power, Iove-impelled.

The gifts of augury were given, and song,

with arrows of swift wing: he when his sire

was carried forth to die, deferred the doom

for many a day, by herbs of virtue known

to leechcraft; and without reward or praise

his silent art he plied. Aeneas stood,

bitterly grieving, propped upon his spear;

a throng of warriors were near him, and

Iulus, sorrowing. The aged man

gathered his garments up as leeches do,

and with skilled hand and Phoebus' herbs of power