Aeneid

familiar loomed that countenance abhorred

and frame gigantic on the shrinking eyes

of the Aeneadae. Then Pandarus

sprang towering forth, all fever to revenge

his brother's slaughter. “Not this way,” he cried

“Amata's marriage-gift! No Ardea here

mews Turnus in his fathers' halls. Behold

thy foeman's castle! Thou art not allowed

to take thy leave.” But Turnus looked his way,

and smiled with heart unmoved. “Begin! if thou

hast manhood in thee, and meet steel with steel!

Go tell dead Priam thou discoverest here

Achilles!” For reply, the champion tall

hurled with his might and main along the air

his spear of knotted wood and bark untrimmed.

But all it wounded was the passing wind,

for Saturn's daughter turned its course awry,

and deep in the great gate the spear-point drove.

“Now from the stroke this right arm means for thee

thou shalt not fly. Not such the sender of

this weapon and this wound.” He said, and towered

aloft to his full height; the lifted sword

clove temples, brows, and beardless cheeks clean through

with loudly ringing blow; the ground beneath

shook with the giant's ponderous fall, and, lo,

with nerveless limbs, and brains spilt o'er his shield,

dead on the earth he lay! in equal halves

the sundered head from either shoulder swung.

In horror and amaze the Trojans all

dispersed and fled; had but the conqueror thought

to break the barriers of the gates and call

his followers through, that fatal day had seen

an ending of the Teucrians and their war.

But frenzied joy of slaughter urged him on,

infuriate, to smite the scattering foe.

First Phaleris he caught; then cut the knees

of Gyges; both their spears he snatched away

and hurled them at the rout; 't was Juno roused

his utmost might of rage. Now Halys fell,

and Phegeus, whom he pierced right through the shield:

next, at the walls and urging reckless war,

Alcander, Halius, and Noemon gave

their lives, and Prytanis went down. In vain

Lynceus made stand and called his comrades brave:

for Turnus from the right with waving sword

caught at him and lopped off with one swift blow

the head, which with its helmet rolled away.

Next Amycus, destroyer of wild beasts,

who knew full well to smear a crafty barb

with venomed oil; young Clytius he slew,

son of the wind-god; then on Cretheus fell,

a follower of the muses and their friend:

Cretheus, whose every joy it was to sing,

and fit his numbers to the chorded Iyre;

steeds, wars, armed men were his perpetual song.

At last the Teucrian chiefs had heard the tale

of so much slaughter; and in council met

are Mnestheus and Serestus bold, who see

their comrades routed and the conquering foe

within the gates. Cries Mnestheus, “Whither fly?

What open way is yonder or what wall?

Beyond these ramparts lost what stronger lie?

Shall one lone man here in your walls confined,

make havoc unavenged and feed the grave

with your best warriors? 0 cowards vile!

For your sad country and her ancient gods

and for renowned Aeneas, can ye feel

no pity and no shame?” Enflamed to fight

by words like these, they close the line, and stand

in strong array. So Turnus for a space

out of the battle step by step withdrew

to make the river-bank his rearguard strong;

whereat the Teucrians, shouting loud, swept on

the fiercer, and in solid mass pressed round.

as when a troop of hunters with keen spears

encircle a wild lion, who in fear,

but glaring grim and furious, backward falls,

valor and rage constrain him ne'er to cease

fronting the foe; yet not for all his ire

can he against such serried steel make way:

so Turnus backward with a lingering step

unwilling drew, and wrath his heart oterflowed.

for twice already had he cloven a path

into the foe's mid-press, and twice had driven

their flying lines in panic through the town.

But now the whole throng from the camp he sees

massed to the onset. Nor will Juno now

dare give him vigor to withstand, for Jove

had sent aerial Iris out of heaven

with stern commandment to his sister-queen

that Turnus from the Teucrian walls retire.

Therefore the warrior's shield avails no more,

nor his strong arm; but he is overthrown

by general assault. Around his brows

his smitten helmet rings; the ponderous mail

cracks under falling stones; the haughty plumes

are scattered from his head, nor can the boss

of his stout shield endure; the Trojans hurl

redoubled rain of spears; and with them speeds

Mnestheus like thunderbolt. The hero's flesh