Aeneid

of Teucria showed their tears. But most of all

such likeness of his own heart's filial love

on fair Iulus moved, and thus he spoke:

“Promise thyself what fits thy generous deeds.

Thy mother shall be mine, Creusa's name

alone not hers; nor is the womb unblest

that bore a child like thee. Whate'er success

may follow, I make oath immutable

by my own head, on which my father swore,

that all I promise thee of gift or praise

if home thou comest triumphing, shall be

the glory of thy mother and thy kin.”

Weeping he spoke, and from his shoulder drew

the golden sword, well-wrought and wonderful,

which once in Crete Lycaon's cunning made

and sheathed in ivory. On Nisus then

Mnestheus bestowed a shaggy mantle torn

from a slain lion; good Aletes gave

exchange of crested helms. In such array

they hastened forth; and all the princely throng,

young men and old, ran with them to the gates,

praying all gods to bless. Iulus then,

a fair youth, but of grave, heroic soul

beyond his years, gave them in solemn charge

full many a message for his sire, but these

the hazard of wild winds soon scattered far,

and flung them fruitless on the darkening storm.

Forth through the moat they climb, and steal away

through midnight shades, to where their foemen lie

encamped in arms; of whom, before these fall,

a host shall die. Along the turf were seen,

laid low in heavy slumber and much wine,

a prostrate troop; the horseless chariots

stood tilted on the shore, 'twixt rein and wheel

the drivers dozed, wine-cups and idle swords

strewn round them without heed. The first to speak

was Nisus. “Look, Euryalus,” he cried,

“Now boldly strike. The hour to do the deed

is here, the path this way. Keep wide-eyed watch

that no man smite behind us. I myself

will mow the mighty fieid, and lead thee on

in a wide swath of slaughter.” With this word

he shut his lips; and hurled him with his sword

on haughty Rhamnes, who lay propped at ease

on pillows huge, and from his heaving breast

poured slumber loud: of royal stem was he

and honored of King Turnus for his skill

in augury; yet could no augur's charm

that bloody stroke forefend. And Nisus slew

three slaves near by, that lay in reckless sleep

upon their spears; then him that bore the shield

of Remus, then the driver of his car

close to the horses caught; his sword cut through

their prostrate necks; then their great master's head

he lifted high, and left decapitate

the huge corpse spilling forth its crimson gore

o'er couch and ground. Like stroke on Lamus fell

and Lamyrus, with young Serranus, who

had gamed the midnight through and sleeping lay,

his fair young body to the wine-god given;

but happier now had that long-revelling night

been merry till the dawn! Thus round full folds

of sheep a famished lion fiercely prowls;

mad hunger moves him; he devours and rends

with bloody, roaring mouth, the feeble flock

that trembles and is dumb. Nor was the sword

of fair Euryalus less fatal found;

but fiercely raging on his path of death,

he pressed on through a base and nameless throng,

Rhoetus, Herbesus, Fadus, Abaris;

surprising all save Rhoetus, who awake

saw every stroke, and crouched in craven fear

behind a mighty wine-bowl; but not less

clean through his bare breast as he started forth

the youth thrust home his sword, then drew it back

death-dripping, while the bursting purple stream

of life outflowed, with mingling blood and wine.

Then, flushed with stealthy slaughter, he crept near

the followers of Messapus, where he saw

their camp-fire dying down, and tethered steeds

upon the meadow feeding. Nisus then

knew the hot lust of slaughter had swept on

too far, and cried, “Hold off! For, lo,

the monitory dawn is nigh. Revenge

has fed us to the full. We have achieved

clean passage through the foe.” Full many a prize

was left untaken: princely suits of mail

enwrought with silver pure, huge drinking-bowls,

and broideries fair. Yet grasped Euryalus

the blazonry at Rhamnes' corselet hung,

and belt adorned with gold: which were a gift

to Remulus of Tibur from the store

of opulent Caedicus, who sued from far

to be a friend; and these in death he gave

to his son's son, who slain in battle fell,

and proud Rutulians seized them with the spoil.

Euryalus about his shoulder strong

this booty slung—unprofitable gain! —

and fitted on a gorgeous, crested helm

which once Messapus wore. So from the camp,