Aeneid

bustled in vain; in vain his surgery

pried at the shaft, and with a forceps strong

seized on the buried barb. But Fortune gave

no remedy, nor did Apollo aid

his votary. So more and more grim fear

stalks o'er the field of war, and nearer hies

the fatal hour; the very heavens are dust;

the horsemen charge, and in the midmost camp

a rain of javelins pours. The dismal cry

of men in fierce fight, and of men who fall

beneath relentless Mars, rends all the air.

Then Venus, by her offspring's guiltless woe

sore moved, did cull from Cretan Ida's crest

some dittany, with downy leaf and stem

and flowers of purple bloom—a simple known

to mountain goats, when to their haunches clings

an arrow gone astray. This Venus brought,

mantling her shape in cloud; and this she steeped

in bowls of glass, infusing secretly

ambrosia's healing essence and sweet drops

of fragrant panacea. Such a balm

aged Iapyx poured upon the wound,

though unaware; and sudden from the flesh

all pain departed and the blood was staunched,

while from the gash the arrow uncompelled

followed the hand and dropped: his wonted strength

flowed freshly through the hero's frame. “Make haste!

Bring forth his arms! Why tarry any more?”

Iapyx shouted, being first to fire

their courage 'gainst the foe. “This thing is done

not of man's knowledge, nor by sovereign skill;

nor has my hand, Aeneas, set thee free.

Some mighty god thy vigor gives again

for mighty deeds.” Aeneas now put on,

all fever for the fight, his golden greaves,

and, brooking not delay, waved wide his spear.

Soon as the corselet and the shield were bound

on back and side, he clasped Ascanius

to his mailed breast, and through his helmet grim

tenderly kissed his son. “My boy", he cried,

“What valor is and patient, genuine toil

learn thou of me; let others guide thy feet

to prosperous fortune. Let this hand and sword

defend thee through the war and lead thee on

to high rewards. Thou also play the man!

And when thy riper vigor soon shall bloom,

forget not in thy heart to ponder well

the story of our line. Heed honor's call,

like Sire Aeneas and Hector thy close kin.”

After such farewell word, he from the gates

in mighty stature strode, and swung on high

his giant spear. With him in serried line

Antheus and Mnestheus moved, and all the host

from the forsaken fortress poured. The plain

was darkened with their dust; the startled earth

shook where their footing fell. From distant hill

Turnus beheld them coming, and the eyes

of all Ausonia saw: a chill of fear

shot through each soldier's marrow; in their van

Juturna knew full well the dreadful sound,

and fled before it, shuddering. But he

hurried his murky cohorts o'er the plain.

As when a tempest from the riven sky

drives landward o'er mid-ocean, and from far

the hearts of husbandmen, foreboding woe,

quake ruefully,—for this will come and rend

their trees asunder, kill the harvests all,

and sow destruction broadcast; in its path

fly roaring winds, swift heralds of the storm:

such dire approach the Trojan chieftain showed

before his gathered foes. In close array

they wedge their ranks about him. With a sword

Thymbraeus cuts huge-limbed Osiris down;

Mnestheus, Arcetius; from Epulo

Achates shears the head; from Ufens, Gyas;

Tolumnius the augur falls, the same

who flung the first spear to the foeman's line.

Uprose to heaven the cries. In panic now

the Rutules in retreating clouds of dust

scattered across the plain. Aeneas scorned

either the recreant or resisting foe

to slaughter, or the men who shoot from far:

for through the war-cloud he but seeks the arms

of Turnus, and to single combat calls.

The warrior-maid Juturna, seeing this,

distraught with terror, strikes down from his place

Metiscus, Turnus' charioteer, who dropped

forward among the reins and off the pole.

Him leaving on the field, her own hand grasped

the loosely waving reins, while she took on

Metiscus' shape, his voice, and blazoned arms.

As when through some rich master's spacious halls

speeds the black swallow on her lightsome wing,

exploring the high roof, or harvesting

some scanty morsel for her twittering brood,

round empty corridors or garden-pools

noisily flitting: so Juturna roams

among the hostile ranks, and wings her way

behind the swift steeds of the whirling car.

At divers points she lets the people see