Aeneid

they gathered thickly round and grappled him

in shock of steel with steel. But on he plunged,

swinging in ceaseless circles round his head

his lightning-sword, and thrust it through the face

of shrieking Volscens, with his own last breath

striking his foeman down; then cast himself

upon his fallen comrade's breast; and there,

stabbed through, found tranquil death and sure repose.

Heroic pair and blest! If aught I sing

have lasting music, no remotest age

shall blot your names from honor's storied scroll:

not while the altars of Aeneas' line

shall crown the Capitol's unshaken hill,

nor while the Roman Father's hand sustains

its empire o'er the world.

The Rutules seized the spoils of victory,

and slowly to their camp, with wail and cry,

bore Volscens' corse; and in the eamp they made

like wailing over Rhamnes lifeless found,

o'er Numa and Serranus, and a throng

of princes dead. The gazing people pressed

around the slain, the dying, where the earth

ran red with slaughter and full many a stream

of trickling gore; nor did they fail to know

Messapus' glittering helm, his baldric fair,

recaptured now with lavish sweat and pain.

Now, from Tithonus' saffron couch set free,

Aurora over many a land outpoured

the rising morn; the sun's advancing beam

unveiled the world; and Turnus to his host

gave signal to stand forth, while he arrayed

himself in glorious arms. Then every chief

awoke his mail-clad company, and stirred

their slumbering wrath with tidings from the foe.

Tumultuously shouting, they impaled

on lifted spears—O pitiable sight! —

the heads of Nisus and Euryalus.

Th' undaunted Trojans stood in battle-line

along the wall to leftward (for the right

the river-front defended) keeping guard

on the broad moat; upon the ramparts high

sad-eyed they stood, and shuddered as they saw

the hero-faces thrust aloft; too well

their loyal grief the blood-stained features knew.

On restless pinions to the trembling town

had voiceful Rumor hied, and to the ears

of that lone mother of Euryalus

relentless flown. Through all her feeble frame

the chilling sorrow sped. From both her hands

dropped web and shuttle; she flew shrieking forth,

ill-fated mother! and with tresses torn,

to the wide ramparts and the battle-line

ran frantic, heeding naught of men-at-arms,

nor peril nor the rain of falling spears;

and thus with loud and lamentable cry

filled all the air: “Is it in yonder guise,

Euryalus, thou comest? Art thou he,

last comfort of my life? O cruel one!

Couldst thou desert me? When they thrust thee forth

to death and danger, did they dare refuse

a wretched mother's last embrace? But now —

O woe is me!—upon this alien shore

thou liest for a feast to Latin dogs

and carrion birds. Nor did thy mother lead

the mourners to thy grave, nor shut those eyes,

nor wash the dreadful wounds, nor cover thee

with the fair shroud, which many a night and day

I swiftly wove, and at my web and loom

forgot my years and sorrows. Whither now

to seek and follow thee? What spot of earth

holds the torn body and the mangled limbs?

Is all the gift thou bringest home, dear child,

this? O, was this the prize for which I came

o'er land and sea? O, stab me very deep,

if ye have any pity; hurl on me

your every spear, Rutulians; make of me

your swords' first work. Or, Father of the gods!

Show mercy, thou! and with thy lightning touch

this head accurst, and let it fall by thee

down to the dark. For else what power is mine

my tortured life to end?” Her agony

smote on their listening souls; a wail of woe

along the concourse ran. Stern men-at-arms

felt valor for a moment sleep, and all

their rage of battle fail. But while she stirred

the passion of her grief, Ilioneus

and young Iulus, weeping filial tears,

bade Actor and Idaeus, lifting her

in both their reverent arms, to bear her home.

But now the brazen trumpet's fearsome song

blares loud, and startled shouts of soldiery

spread through the roaring sky. The Volscian band

press to the siege, and, locking shield with shield,

fill the great trenches, tear the palisades,

or seek approach by ladders up the walls,

where'er the line of the defenders thins, and light

through their black circle shines. The Trojans pour

promiscuous missiles down, and push out hard

with heavy poles—so well have they been schooled

to fight against long sieges. They fling down