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Olympus' Palace wide, mean-while, unfolds
It's everlasting Doors: The King of Gods
Summons a Council in the starry Hall;
From whence, enthron'd on high, all Lands he views,
The Latin Nations, and the Trojan Camp:
Th'Ethereal Synod meets; Himself begins.

Ye mighty Pow'rs of Heav'n, What backward turns
Your Purpose? And with disagreeing Schemes
Why Thus contend you? I forbade all War
Between the Trojans, and th'Ausonian States:
Against my Interdiction whence arose
New Discord? What Mistrust, or Fear prevail'd
On either Nation to engage in Arms?
A Time will come (forestall it not) for Fight
Sufficient; when fierce Carthage, thro' the Alps
Cutting it's Way, shall pour upon the Plains,
And threaten Ruin to the Roman Tow'rs.
Their Rage and Rapine let them Then indulge:
Permit them Now in Amity to join
With glad Accord, and ratify the Peace.

Thus Jove in brief: But not in brief reply'd
Bright Venus.

O Sov'reign Pow'r, O Sire of Men, and Gods,
(For now what Other Pow'r can we implore?)
Seest thou th'insulting Rutuli? the Pride
Of Turnus? how elated with Success
Thro' the mid Troops, sublime, he drives his Steeds?
Their very Ramparts now no more protect
The Trojans; Ev'n within their Gates, and Walls
The Battle rages; and their Trenches foam
With Tides of Gore. Æneas ignorant
Is absent: Shall they never be reliev'd
By your Permission? but be still besieg'd?
The Foes again are hov'ring round the Walls
Of Infant Troy; Another Army form'd;
And from Ætolian Arpi, Foe to Troy,
Again Tydides rises to the War:
Belike, new Wounds from Him I must expect;
And Your own Offspring bleed by mortal Arms.
If unpermitted by your Sov'reign Will
The Trojans landed on th'Italian Coasts;
Be They the Suff'rers, and your Aid deny'd.
But if so many Oracles Divine
They follow'd, These from Heav'n, and Those from Hell;
Why Now by any Pow'r are Schemes oppos'd
To your Decrees? And why new Fates ordain'd?
Why should I name the Fleet destroy'd by Fire
On Eryx' Coast? The Winds, the Tempest rais'd
By Æolus? Or Iris sent from Heav'n?
Now too th'Infernal Deities (That World
Alone was unsollicited) she moves;
And from the Stygian Shades Alecto sent
Amidst th'Italian Towns, licentious, raves.
No more for Empire are my Thoughts concern'd;
While Fortune was, on That we durst presume:
Be Those the Victors, whom your Will decrees.
If to the Trojans o'er the World remains
No Land, which Your hard Consort will allow;
Yet, Father, by the Smoke of ruin'd Troy
You I conjure, permit me to dismiss
Ascanius from the War; permit to live
My Grandson: Let Æneas ('tis his Fate)
Still wander, still be toss'd on Waves unknown,
And whate'er Course his Fortune shews pursue:
Be it indulg'd me to protect That Youth,
And skreen him from the rigid Toils of War.
Cythera, Paphos, and th'Idalian Seat,
And Amathus are Mine: There, quite withdrawn
From Arms, inglorious let him waste his Days:
With unresisted Sway, by your Command,
Let Carthage press Ausonia; And from thence
No Rival to the Tyrian Cities rise.
What boots it now the Trojans, that they 'scap'd
The Pest of War amidst the Grecian Fires;
And such a long Variety of Woes
By Land, and Sea exhausted; while they seek
A Seat in Latium, and new rising Troy?
Had it not more avail'd them to have rais'd
New Mansions on the Ruins of the Old;
On their lov'd Country's Ashes, and the Soil
Where Troy once stood? Give, Father, I implore,
Xanthus, and Simoïs, to them restor'd;
And let the wretched Trojans prove revolv'd
The Fates of Troy. Then, inly stung with Rage,
Imperial Juno spoke. Why Thus compel'd
By Thee, my long deep Silence must I break,
In open Words at last divulge my Wrongs,
And give the struggling Indignation Vent?
What Mortal, or what Pow'r Celestial forc'd
Æneas to present himself a Foe
To King Latinus, and engage in War?
Latium he sought, 'tis granted, urg'd by Fate,
Urg'd by Cassandra's Frenzy: When, or how
Did I advise him to forsake his Camp,
And to the Winds and Waves his Life expose?
Did I advise him with a Boy to trust
His Ramparts, and the Stress of all the War?
To seek th'Alliance of the Tuscan Bands,
And ruffle quiet Nations with Alarms?
What God to These false Measures urg'd him on?
What rigid Pow'r of Mine? What part in This
Did Juno act? Or Iris sent from Heav'n?
'Tis most injurious that th'Italian Troops
Should wrap the Walls of Infant Troy in Flames;
Unjust that Turnus, of Celestial Race,
(Pilumnus, and Venilia gave him Birth)
In his own Native Soil should fix his Seat.
What Name must brand the Trojans, who presum'd
With lawless Force the Latins to invade?
T'enthral, and plunder Kingdoms not their own?
By Rapine to espouse unwilling Brides,
Torn from the Bosoms of their plighted Lords?
To sue for Peace, and arm their Ships for War?
You rescu'd from the Greeks your darling Son,
(Such is Your Pow'r) and in Æneas' stead
Could substitute a Cloud, and empty Air;
And to as many Nymphs his Ships transform:
For Us 'tis criminal in aught to aid
The Rutuli. Æneas ignorant
Is absent: Ignorant, and absent still
Let him remain. Idalia's Seat is Yours,
And pleasant Paphos, and the stately Dome
Of high Cythera. Why shouldst thou provoke
Rough hardy Souls, a City big with Wars?
Was Mine th'Attempt to crush the sinking State
Of Phrygia? Mine? Or Hers, who to the Greeks
Expos'd the wretched Trojans? For what Cause
Did Europe's Pow'rs and Asia's rise in Arms,
By Crimes clandestine, and dissolve the Peace?
Did I conduct th'Adulterer of Troy
To ravage Sparta? Did I give him Arms?
Or with his lawless Lust foment the War?
Then was Thy Season for These Mother's Fears;
Now with unjust Complaints thy idle Rage
Rises ill-tim'd, and bandys Brawls in vain.

Thus Juno spoke; And all the Heav'nly Pow'rs
Murmur'd with various, and confus'd Assent:
As when the first soft Breezes thro' the Woods,
Included, tremble, and hoarse Whispers roll,
Boding to Máriners approaching Winds.
Th'Almighty Father then, Supreme of Kings,
Resumes Speech intermitted: (While He speaks,
Heav'n's lofty Court keeps silence, and the Earth
Trembles below, th'Ethereal Arch above;
The Winds all hush'd, th'unruffled Sea subsides:)
Hear then, and in your Minds imprint my Words:
Since Troy and Latium cannot now unite
In Peace, and your Contentions know no End;
Whatever Fortune is This day decreed,
Whatever Hope by Each is entertain'd;
Or Trojan, or Rutulian let Him be,
Without Distinction I shall Both regard:
Whether the Trojans by th'Italian Fates,
Or, ill advis'd, by Errour of their own
Are strait besieg'd. Nor from Their Share of Toils
Do I exempt the Rutuli: Let Each
Abide th'Event, and Fortune of his Deeds;
Jove is the Same, one common King to All:
The Fates will find a Way. So spake the God;
And by his Stygian Brother's pitchy Banks,
And whirling Torrent, ratify'd the Doom;
And all Olympus trembled at his Nod.
Here ended the Debate: Imperial Jove
Uprises from his Throne of Gold; The Gods
Attend him to his Palace, round inclos'd.

Meanwhile the Rutuli thro' all the Gates
Persist, with mighty Slaughter wide diffus'd,
To press the Foes, and wrap the Town in Flames.
The Trojans, in their Trenches close besieg'd,
(No Prospect of Escape) dejected stand
On their high Tow'rs, and thinly man the Walls.
Asius Imbrasides, Thymætes, Son
Of Hycetaon, both th'Assaraci,
And Tybris, senior now, with Castor join'd,
Stand the chief Leaders. These from Lycia's Height
Clarus, and Hæmon follow; Brothers both
To great Sarpedon. Equal to his Sire,
And Brother, in Heroic Deeds of Arms,
(Mnestheus his Brother, Clytius was his Sire)
Lyrnessian Acmon, all his Body's force
Exerting, throws a vast unwieldy Rock,
No small Part of a Mountain. These with Darts
Strive to defend their Ramparts; Those, with Stones;
And scatter Fire, and fit their level'd Shafts.
Full in the Midst the Princely Youth of Troy
By Venus lov'd, and worthy all her Care,
(His beauteous Head uncover'd) shone to View:
As shines a Gem inclos'd in yellow Gold,
Grace to the Head, or Neck; or Iv'ry set,
With curious Art, in Ebony, or Box:
His snowy Neck receives his flowing Hair,
Clasp'd in a Circle of soft ductile Gold.
Thee too, Mæonian Ismarus, in Fight
The warlike Nations saw dispensing Wounds,
And arming Darts with Poison; Thee, of Race
Illustrious born; where fertil Glebe they till;
And rich Pactolus waters it with Gold.
There Mnesteus fought, exalted with the Fame
Of Turnus, from the Walls so late repuls'd;
And Capys, who Campania's City nam'd.

While These in mutual Conflict fierce engag'd;
Æneas in deep Midnight plough'd the Waves.
For when, from King Evander, he arriv'd,
With sure Credentials, in the Tuscan Camp;
Address'd the Gen'ral, told his Name, and Birth;
What he desir'd, and what himself propos'd;
What Arms Mezentius added to his own;
Told him th'impetuous Insolence and Rage
Of Turnus; And reminded him how vain
Is Trust in human Strength; With Reasons urg'd
Mingling Intreaties: No Delay is made;
Tarchon unites his Pow'rs, and strikes a League.
And now, commission'd by the Gods and Fate,
Under the Conduct of a foreign Chief,
The Lydians man their Fleet, and stem the Deep.
First sails th'Æneian Vessel; to it's Beak
The Phrygian Lions added: And above
Ida stands imminent, safe Harbour once,
And Refuge to the exil'd Sons of Troy.
Here great Æneas sits; and in his Breast
Revolves the various Hazards of the War:
And Pallas, join'd to his left side, enquires
Oft of the Stars, which guide their nightly Course;
Oft of his Toils by Land and Sea sustain'd.

Now open Helicon, and Songs inspire,
Celestial Muses; Say, what Pow'rs in Arms
Follow'd Æneas from the Tuscan Coasts,
And mann'd their warlike Ships, and plough'd the Sea.

First Massicus his beaky Tyger steers,
And cuts the Waves: A thousand warlike Youths
Obey his Orders; who from Clusium's Walls
And Cosa's City came: Their Weapons, Shafts;
Light Quivers at their Backs, and deadly Bows.
With These rough Abas sail'd: In burnish'd Arms
His Troops all shone; Apollo cast in Gold
Brightning his Stern; To Him six hundred Youths
Expert in War their Populonia gave;
Ilva three hundred, Island fam'd for Mines
Of inexhausted Steel. Asylas Third,
Interpreter of Men and Gods; whose Skill
The Victim's Fibres, and the Stars obey,
And Tongues of Birds, and Lightnings from the Clouds
Flashing Presages: He a Thousand leads
Thicken'd for Fight, and throng'd with rigid Spears.
These by Alphæan Pisæ, Tuscan Town,
To Him were giv'n. Next beauteous Astur sails,
Astur confiding in his Steed, and Arms
Of various Colour. Those who Cære's Walls,
And Minio's Fields inhabit, and with Them
The ancient Pyrgi, and Graviscæ, known
For Air unwholesome, add three hundred more,
Unanimous to follow to the Fight.

Nor, Cycnus, Thee in Silence would I pass,
Thou bravest Leader of Ligurian Blood;
Nor Thee, Cupavo, follow'd but by few:
On whose high Crest a Swan's white Feathers rise.
Love was your Crime, and on your graven Shields
The Impress of your Metamorphos'd Sire.
For Fame reports, that Cycnus, worn with Grief
For much lov'd Phaëton's unhappy Fate,
While with sad Songs he sooth'd his fond Despair,
Among the Poplar Boughs, his Sister's Shades,
Contracted downy Plumes, and hoary Age;
Abandon'd Earth, and singing sought the Stars.
His Son, amidst his Equals in the Fleet,
The mighty Centaur with strong Oars impels;
He o'er the Waves stands imminent, and aims
(Threatning aloft) a Rock's vast Weight to throw,
And with his long-built Vessel ploughs the Deep.

Next from his Native Soil fam'd Ocnus leads
His Squadron: Him, the Tuscan River's Son,
Prophetick Manto bore: His Mother's Name,
Mantua, to Thee he gave, and built Thy Walls;
Mantua, for high Progenitors renown'd:
Yet from One Race not all her Sons descend;
Three are her Tribes; Four Towns to Each; Herself
The Queen of All: From Tuscan Blood her Pow'r.

Five hundred Warriours more Mezentius arms
Against himself: Whom, crown'd with azure Reeds,
Mincius, who from Benacus rolls his Stream,
Wafted with hostile Ships into the Sea.
These stern Auletes leads; and rising high
Buffets the Billows with an hundred Oars;
The Sea turn'd upwards froths beneath the Strokes.
Him the vast Triton bears, and with his Conch
Frights the green Waves: His shaggy upper Parts,
Down to his Sides, a human Shape express;
His Belly in a Pristis ends: The Sea
Murmurs and foams beneath the Monster's Breast.
So many chosen Chiefs, in Thirty Ships,
Bore Aid to Troy, and plough'd the briny Fields.

'Twas now the Noon of Night; And Phœbe's Car
In it's mid Course had reach'd Olympus' Height:
Æneas (for his Care no Rest allows)
Sitting on Deck, himself the Rudder guides,
And shifts the Sails. When, lo! the Virgin Quire
Of his own Nymphs, to Nymphs from Ships transform'd,
To whom propitious Cybele had giv'n
A Deity in Ocean, met their Chief
In his mid Voyage: Rang'd together swam
As many Goddesses, and cut the Waves.
As stood before tall Vessels on the Beach.
They know their Prince from far; and in a Ring
Inclose him round: Of whom Cymodoce
In Speech the happiest, rising to her Waist,
Above the Ocean, grasps the Stern behind
With her Right hand; (her Left, as Oar, divides
The silent Waves:) and Him, unknowing, Thus
Addresses. Wak'st thou, Offspring of the Gods,
Æneas? Wake, and loose thy flying Sails.
We, Sea-Nymphs now, were once Thy Fleet, the Pines
Which grew on Ida's sacred Top. When press'd
By faithless Turnus with the Sword, and Fire,
Compel'd we burst thy Cables; and Thee sought
O'er the vast Deep. The Mother of the Gods,
Commiserating, This new Form bestow'd;
And gave us to be Goddesses, and live
Immortal underneath the Ocean's Waves.
But young Ascanius in the Walls and Mounds
Is now confin'd; amidst the hostile Darts,
And Latins all with Martial Terrours arm'd.
Th'Arcadian Horse, with the brave Tuscans join'd,
Have reach'd the Place assign'd them: With his Troops
Turnus resolves to intercept their March,
And frustrate their Attempt to join the Camp.
Rise Thou, and first, when dawning Morn appears,
Command th'associate Nations to their Arms:
And take thy bright unconquerable Shield,
Which Vulcan wrought, and border'd round with Gold.
To-morrow's Sun (if aught my Words can find
Of Credit) shall behold vast slaughter'd Heaps
Of Rutuli. She said; and with her Hand,
At Parting, in That Motion not unskill'd,
Push'd the tall Vessel: She, more swift than Winds,
Or darted Jav'lin, flys along the Waves.
The rest then speed their Course: The Chief himself,
Anchises' Son, in Ignorance admires;
Yet, by the Omen rais'd, to Heav'n uplifts
His Eyes, and Thus in brief prefers his Pray'r.
Propitious Mother of the Pow'rs Divine,
Idæan Goddess; in high Dyndamus
Delighting, and in lofty Citys proud
With Tow'rs, and Lions harness'd to thy Car:
Thee now I follow in the War; Do Thou
Confirm This Augury, and aid Thy Troy.

He said: And now returning Day roll'd on,
And with it's full-born Light dispell'd the Shades.
First he commands his Follow'rs to attend
The Signal giv'n; to animate, to arm
Their Courage; and prepare themselves for Fight.
The Trojans now, and his own Camp he views,
High on the Deck; Then waves his blazing Shield
In his Left Hand extended. From the Walls
The Trojans raise a Shout which rends the Sky;
New Hope enflames their Rage; And Show'rs of Darts
They hurl: As when, beneath the dusky Clouds,
Strymonian Cranes the wonted Signal give
With sounding Pinions; cut the liquid Air,
With joyful Clang, and leave the Storms behind.

Amaz'd stood Turnus, and th'Ausonian Chiefs;
Till, looking back, they saw the Navy move
Cov'ring the Sea, and gliding make to Shore.
Fierce burns his Helm; and from his tow'ring Crest
Flame flashes; and his Shield's round Bossy Gold
Vomits vast Fires. As when in Night serene,
Ensanguin'd Comets shoot a dismal Glare:
Or the red Dog-Star, rising on the World,
To wretched Mortals threatens Dearth, and Plagues,
With baleful Light; and saddens all the Sky.

But, nought dismay'd, bold Turnus bends his Thoughts
First to possess the Beach, and from the Shore
Repel them. With these Words he chides, and fires
His Friends: What long you wish'd is now arriv'd,
To crush your Foes; All Mars is in your Hands:
Be Each now mindful of his Spouse, and Home;
Now emulate your great Forefathers' Fame,
And imitate their Actions. Let us run
Aggressors; and attack them, as they land
In Hurry and Disorder; while their Feet
First slide with tott'ring Steps upon the Beach.
Fortune assists the Brave.

He said; and ponder'd in his Thoughts, what Force
To lead against th'Invaders, and with whom
To trust the Siege. Mean-while, with Bridges laid
From the tall Ships, Æneas lands his Troops:
Some watch the Ebbings of the shallow Sea,
And, leaping, to the Fords themselves commit;
Others by Oars. Tarchon observes the Strand,
Where Shelves he fears not, nor the dashing Waves
Remurmur; but the Sea with swelling Tide
Unbroken flows: He turns his Prows to Land,
And Thus exhorts his Mates. Now, chosen Youths,
Bend to your sturdy Oars: Urge on, impel
Your Vessels; Cut, and cleave This hostile Ground
With their keen brazen Beaks; Let ev'n our Ships
Furrow the Soil: Be Mine ev'n stranded here;
Shipwreck it self, if snatching Land at once,
I'd not refuse. When Tarchon Thus had spoke,
His Crew industrious ply their Oars, and drive
Their foaming Vessels to th'Ausonian Coast;
'Till on dry Land they rest: All safe, but Thine,
O Tarchon: For while, sticking in the Flats,
Long on a hard unequal Ridge she hangs,
Doubtful, and pois'd, and tires the beating Waves;
She bulges stav'd, and pours into the Deep
The Crew expos'd: The Fragments of the Oars
And floating Planks encumber them, in vain
Making to Shore; And the retreating Tide
Supplants their Feet, and bears them back to Sea.

Turnus delays not; but with rapid March
Against the Trojans all his Squadron leads,
And stands, oppos'd in Arms, upon the Shore.
The Signal sounds: Æneas first invades
(Omen of prosp'rous Fight) the Rustick Troops,
And fells the Latins. Theron first he slew,
Of mighty Bulk, who durst in Fight assail
Æneas: Thro' his complicated Brass,
And golden tissu'd Corslet, with his Sword
Deep bury'd, he exhausts his open Side.
Next Lycas; who, from his dead Mother ript,
To Thee, Apollo, was an Off'ring vow'd;
Because, an Infant, from the sharpen'd Steel
He was preserv'd. Not far from Him remote
The hardy Cisseus he extends in Death,
And monstrous Gyas, beating down with Clubs
Th'embattled Squadrons. Them not aught avail'd
Alcides' Arms, nor their own Force in War,
Nor yet their Sire Melampus, Follow'r once
Of Hercules, when earthly Toils he bore.
'Gainst Pharus, insolent with Coward Taunts,
He hurls a Spear; which in his clam'rous Mouth
Stands fix'd. Thou too hadst sunk beneath his Arm,
Unhappy Cydon; while thy new Delight
Clytius Thou didst pursue, the blooming Boy,
Just yellow with soft Down: Thou too hadst fall'n,
Regardless of thy execrable Loves;
Had not thy Band of Brothers, Phorcus' Sons,
Sev'n Youths, oppos'd his Might: Sev'n Darts they threw;
Some from his Shield and Helmet vain rebound;
Some raze his Flesh: But Venus puts them by.

Æneas then Achates Thus bespeaks:
Supply me Darts; (Not One shall fly in vain
Against the Rutuli:) Those Darts, which drank
So much of Grecian Blood in Trojan Fields.
Then grasps at once, and whirls a mighty Spear;
Which flying passes thro' the brazen Shield
Of Mæon; and his Corslet, and his Breast
At once divides. Alcanor runs to aid
His Brother; and supports him, as he falls,
With his Right Hand: Another Jav'lin flies,
Bores his Right Arm, and cuts it's bloody Way;
And from his Shoulder by the stringy Nerves
The dying Limb hangs down. Then Numitor
The Jav'lin from his Brother's Body draws,
And darts it at the Trojan Chief: From Him
It errs, and razes great Achates' Thigh.

Here Clausus, trusting in his Sabine Pow'rs,
And his own Youth, advances to the Fight;
Wounds Dryops with a rigid Spear, from far,
Beneath his Chin with mighty Force impress'd;
Pierces his Throat, and, while he speaks, at once
Of Voice, and Soul bereaves him: With his Front
He knocks the Ground, and vomits clotted Gore.
Three Thracians too, from Boreas' distant Clime,
And Three, whom Ismarus and Idas sent,
(Idas their Father, Ismarus the Soil
Which gave them Birth) by various Chance he kills.
Halesus meets him, and th'Auruncan Bands,
And Neptune's Son Messapus, with his Steeds
Proud and conspicuous. With their utmost force
Now These, now Those, in Conflict, strive to push
Each other from their Ground: Ev'n on the Brink
Of Latium in fierce Combate they contend.
As when the Winds, with equal Strength, and Rage,
Discordant, in the spacious Sky raise War;
Nor Winds, nor Clouds, nor Waves, on either Side,
Yielding give way; long doubtful hangs the Fight;
All struggling 'gainst each other press adverse:
So Troy's and Latium's Squadrons grappling strive,
Foot fix'd to Foot, and Man to Man oppos'd.

But in a diff'rent Part, where whirling Stones
The Torrent toll'd along, and Trees uptorn
From either Bank; th'Arcadian Troops, unus'd
On Foot to combate, by the pressing Foes
O'erpower'd gave way; the Nature of the Soil
Compelling them, on craggy Ground, to quit
Their Steeds: Them turn'd in Flight when Pallas saw,
Now with Intreatis (for That sole Resource
In such Distress was left) now with Rebukes
And keen Upbraidings he excites their Fire.
Ah! whither fly you? By your selves, my Friends,
And your brave Deeds, by King Evander's Name,
And Conquests gain'd in War, by my own Hopes
Which burn to emulate my Father's Praise;
Trust not to Flight: A Passage thro' the Foes
Must with the Sword be hewn; where thickest crouds
That Globe of Troops: That way Your selves, and Me,
Pallas your Chief, our Country's Glory calls.
No Gods oppose us; By a mortal Foe
Mortals our selves are urg'd: As many Lives
And Hands are Ours, as Theirs: Behold the Sea
Confines us here; No Land remains for Flight:
To Troy shall we repair? or stem the Deep?

This said, against the thickest of the Foes
He bounds into the Midst: Whom Lagus first,
By his ill Fate directed, obvious meets,
Him, as he tugs a Stone of monstrous Weight,
With a hurl'd Dart he pierces, where the Ribs
Are sever'd by the intermediate Chine;
And from the Bones draws back the sticking Spear.
Him stooping Hisbon hop'd to strike; but fail'd
In That Attempt: For Pallas, as he rush'd,
And rag'd, uncautious, for his slaughter'd Friend,
Surpriz'd; and deep within his heaving Lungs
Bury'd his Sword. Then Helenus he stabs;
And Him who durst pollute his Step-dame's Bed,
Anchemolus, of Rhætus' ancient Race.
You too, extended on Rutulian Plains,
Twin Brothers, Thymber, and Larides fell,
Offspring of Daucus, One in Looks, and Mien;
Whom undistinguish'd ev'n your Parents view'd,
With the sweet Errour pleas'd: But Pallas' Sword
A dire Distinction to your Persons gave.
For Thymber, from thy Trunk th'Evandrian Blade
Sever'd the Head; And thy Right Hand lopt off,
Larides, sought it's Lord; The Fingers move,
Quiv'ring in Death, and strive to grasp the Steel.

Th'Arcadians, by their Chief's Reproaches fir'd,
And seeing his Heroic Deeds, rush arm'd,
With Shame and Indignation, on the Foe.
Pallas transfixes Rhæteus, as he flies
Beyond him, in his Car; Just so much Space
Of Life, the more, to Ilus was allow'd.
For He at Ilus aim'd his Dart from far;
Which Rhæteus intercepts, as Thee he flies,
Brave Teuthras, and thy Brother Tyres: Roll'd
From his high Car he spurns th'Ausonian Fields.
As when the wish'd-for Winds in Summer rise,
Thro' the thick Woods the Shepherd scatters Fire;
The middle Trees blaze sudden, and at once
Vulcan's dire Squadrons deluge all the Plains:
He, pleas'd, sits viewing the triumphant Flames.
So to thy Succour, Pallas, all thy Troops
Rush in one Band conglob'd: But brave in War
Halesus moves against the hostile Croud;
And in his Armour all himself contracts.
Ladon, and Pheres, and Demodocus
He strait dispatches: With his shining Sword
From brave Strymonius his Right hand he hews,
Rais'd to his Throat: 'Gainst Thoas' Face a Stone
He dashes, and indents his Bones commix'd
With Brains and Blood. Halesus' Sire, the Fates
Foretelling, had conceal'd him in the Groves:
But when the Senior clos'd his Eyes in Death;
Fate seiz'd its Own, and to Evander's Darts
Consign'd him. Pallas now attempts his Life;
But first to Tyber Thus prefers his Pray'r.
Grant, Father, to the Jav'lin, which I wield,
Success, to fly thro' stern Halesus' Breast:
His Arms and Spoils shall on thy Oak be hung.
This heard the God: Halesus, while he skreen'd
Imaon, turn'd, ill-fated as he was,
His Breast unarm'd, to meet th'Arcadian Dart.

But Lausus, no small Portion of the War,
Permits not by so great a Champion's Death
His Troops to be dismay'd: Oppos'd in Arms
Abas, the Knot and Bulwark of the Fight,
He kills the first: Arcadia's Offspring falls;
The Tuscans fall; and You, Ye Sons of Troy,
Whom Greece could not consume. The Troops engage
With equal Leaders, and with equal Strength:
The outmost Ranks close press the thicken'd War;
Nor does the Croud permit their Hands, or Darts
To move: Here Pallas pushes, Lausus There;
But little diff'rent was their Age; and Both
Of beauteous Form: To neither Fortune gave
Ever to see his Native Country more.
Yet Jove permits them not to meet in Fight:
Each from a greater Foe his Fate attends.

Mean-while his Sister to King Turnus' Thoughts
Suggested, that to Lausus' present Aid
He should advance. While He, with swift Career
Cutting the middle Ranks, his Friends beheld;
Desist You from the Battle, and retire:
Pallas I meet alone; To Me alone
Pallas is due: O! were his Father here
Spectator of the Fight. He said; His Friends
Form the commanded List, and clear the Field.
At their Retreat, and at Those proud Commands,
The Royal Youth, in Wonder, and Amaze,
Stands fix'd on Turnus; rolls his Eyes around,
And with stern Aspect his huge Bulk surveys.
Then to th'insulting Chief These Words returns:
Or I This day will reap the Fame of Spoils
Illustrious won, or of a glorious Death;
For either Chance my Father stands prepar'd:
Forbear thy Threats. This said, he takes the Field;
The chill Blood curdles round th'Arcadians' Hearts:
Turnus his Chariot quits; on Foot prepares
For closer Fight. As When a Lion spys
From a high Rock a Bull upon the Plain,
Standing aloof, and meditating War;
Forward he springs: Not diff'rent was the Port
Of Turnus, and his Figure, as he walk'd.
When Pallas thought within his Jav'lin's Reach
His Foe advanc'd; He first begins th'Assault
With Strength not justly match'd, to try if aught
Fortune would favour an Attempt so bold;
And Thus to Heav'n's wide Arch directs his Pray'r.

Alcides, by Those hospitable Boards
Which once, my Father's Guest, thou didst approach,
Thee I implore, assist my great Design:
Let Turnus, gasping, by my Hand behold
The bloody Armour from his Body torn;
And own me Victor with his dying Eyes.

Alcides heard the Youth; beneath his Breast
Choak'd a big Groan, and fruitless Tears let fall.
Then Thus th'Almighty Sire consol'd his Son.
Fix'd stands the Date of Mortal Lives; The Space
Is short, and irretrievable to All:
But by their Actions to extend their Fame,
Is Virtue's Task. Beneath Troy's lofty Walls
So many Sons of Gods in Battle fell;
Ev'n my own Race Sarpedon there expir'd.
Turnus his Fate too waits: And to the Verge
Of his allotted Time his Life rolls on.
He said; And turn'd his Eyes from Latium's Fields.

But Pallas with vast Strength a Jav'lin hurls;
And from it's Scabbard draws his shining Sword.
On his high Shoulder lights the flying Spear;
And, passing thro' the Shield's extremest Edge,
The Body of great Turnus slightly raz'd.
Turnus a Lance prefix'd with sharpen'd Steel
Long poising, darts it, and Thus speaks; Now see
Whether our Weapon can more deeply wound.

He said; And, driv'n with forceful Swing from far,
Thro' the mid Shield, so many Plates of Brass,
So many Iron-Folds, and tough Bull-Hides,
The Jav'lin makes it's Way; and pierces sheer
The Corslet's Mail, and bores his mighty Breast.
He wrenches out the reeking Point in vain;
Thro' the same Orifice the Blood, and Soul
Issue at once: He falls upon his Wound;
His Armour o'er him rings; With gory Mouth
He gasps in Death, and bites the hostile Plain.
Then o'er him Turnus speaks:
Arcadians, to Evander (mark my Words)
This Message bear; Just such as he deserv'd
To be restor'd, his Pallas I restore.
The Honour of a Tomb, whate'er it be,
And all the Solace which a Grave can yield,
I frankly give: Yet dearly has he bought
His Trojan Guest's Alliance. Having spoke,
With his left Foot the breathless Corps he press'd;
Snatching with eager haste the pond'rous Belt,
And on it That dire Argument engrav'd,
So many Youths in one connubial Night
Dispatch'd, and bridal Beds besmear'd with Gore;
Which good Eurytion's Art had carv'd in Gold:
This Trophy now, with recent Conquest crown'd,
Turnus enjoys, and in proud Triumph wears.

Dark to Futurity, and blind in Fate
Are Mortal Minds; indocile to observe
Due Measure, when elated with Success.
A Time will come, when Turnus from his Soul
Shall wish young Pallas by his Hand untouch'd;
And hate Those Spoils, and That Victorious Day.

But Pallas, by his Friends, with Groans, and Tears,
Born on a Shield, is to the Camp convey'd;
O Grief, and Glory to thy aged Sire,
Illustrious Youth! Thus fated to return!
This was thy first, and last of Days in War:
Yet Heaps of slaughter'd Foes thou leav'st in Death.

And now Æneas, not by Rumour spred,
But by undoubted Tidings, is inform'd
Of such a dire Disaster; That his Friends
Saw but small Space betwixt Themselves and Death:
That now 'twas Time with Succours to relieve
The flying Trojans. With his Sword he fells
Whatever near him stands; and thro' the Troops,
Burning with Vengeance, mows a Passage wide;
Thee, Turnus, Thee with recent Slaughter proud,
He seeks: Evander, Pallas, and the Boards
Which he, the first, a welcome Guest approach'd,
And his new plighted Faith, all stand in View
Before his Eyes. Four Youths of Sulmo's Race,
As many bred by Ufens, Victims doom'd,
Living he snatches, Victims to the Ghost
Of Pallas; with their captive Blood to drench
His Fun'ral-Pile, and on it's Flames expire.
At Magus then he aims a Spear from far:
Artful he stoops; The Jav'lin o'er his Head
Flies quiv'ring: With his Hands the Hero's Knees
He close embraces, and Thus suppliant speaks.
Thee, by thy Father's Manes, I implore,
And by Iülus' rising Hopes, preserve
This Life; O spare my Sire, and Son in Me:
A stately House I have, and hid in Earth
Talents of graven Silver, and a Mass,
A pond'rous Mass, of wrought, and unwrought Gold.
The Trojan Conquest turns not on my Blood;
Nor can one Life so great a Diff'rence make.
He spoke; and Thus the Trojan Chief reply'd.
The Mass thou nam'st of Silver and of Gold
Save for thy Children; Turnus first destroy'd
That Traffick of the War, when Pallas fell:
This thinks Iülus, This Anchises' Ghost.
He said; and, as he pray'd, his Helmet seiz'd
With his Left hand, and twisting back his Head
Plung'd to the Hilt his Fauchion in his Side.
Not far was Trivia's and Apollo's Priest,
Æmonides; A Mitre wreath'd his Hair
With holy Fillets; In a sumptuous Garb,
And rich conspicuous Arms, he shone all o'er.
Him thro' the Field the Trojan Chief pursues;
Stands o'er him fall'n, a Victim to his Rage,
And covers him with Death's thick Shade: His Arms
Serestus from his breathless Body strips,
A Trophy destin'd to Thee, God of War.

From Vulcan's Lineage Cæculus deriv'd,
And Umbro from the Marsian Mountains sent,
Renew the Fight: Æneas storms, oppos'd;
Anxur's Left hand, and his whole Target's Orb
With his keen Blade at once he strikes to Earth.
He much had boasted, and believ'd his Vaunt
Of force to crown his Wishes; and perhaps,
His Hopes to Heav'n exalting, to Himself
Had promis'd hoary Hairs, and Length of Age.
Next Tarquitus, whom beauteous Dryope,
Nymph of the Groves, to Sylvan Faunus bore,
Proud in bright Armour, to the raging Chief
Obvious himself presents. With his long Spear
He bores his Corslet, and his cumb'rous Shield:
Him praying, and a thousand Things to say
In vain attempting, on the Ground he rolls;
Lops off his Head, and o'er his weltring Trunk
With keen Invective Thus insulting speaks.
Lie there now, Chief redoubted; With a Grave,
By thy fond Mother, in thy Native Soil,
Thy Corps shall not be grac'd: To Birds of Prey
Thou shalt be left; Or in the Ocean's Waves
Be roll'd; and hungry Fishes lick thy Wounds.
Antæus next, and Lycas he invades;
The choicest Chiefs who Turnus' Squadrons led;
And valiant Numa; yellow Camers next,
Brave Volscens' Son: The richest Lord was He
In fertil Glebe of all th'Ausonian Kings,
And o'er Amyclæ's silent Nation reign'd.

Like huge Ægeon, with an hundred Arms,
(So Fame reports) and with an hundred Hands,
From fifty Mouths and Breasts expiring Flames;
Against Jove's Thunderbolts as many Shields
Clashing, and brandishing as many Swords:
Like Him o'er all the Field Æneas storm'd
Victor, when once his Steel grew warm with Blood.
Against Niphæus' Breast oppos'd in Fight,
And his four Steeds which harness'd drew his Car,
He next advances: Whom when they beheld
Raging from far, and terrible in Arms;
Startled they fled, o'erturn'd their prostrate Lord,
And whirl'd the rapid Chariot to the Shore.
Then Lucagus, by two white Coursers drawn,
Drives thro' the middle Squadrons; and with Him
Liger his Brother: Liger guides the Reins;
Fierce Lucagus his glitt'ring Fauchion wheels.
Them raging with such Violence of Fire
The Trojan Prince endur'd not: Swift he rush'd,
And with his Lance adverse sublime appear'd.
To whom Thus Liger:
Tydides' Chariot, or Achilles' Steeds,
And Phrygia's Fields thou seest not: On This Earth
At once shall end thy Battles, and thy Life.
Such Insolence of Words from Liger flew;
But not with Words the Trojan Prince reply'd:
For full against the Foe his Lance he hurl'd.
As Lucagus prone, hanging on the Blow,
Goads with a Dart his Horses, and prepares,
With his Left Foot protended, for the Fight;
Beneath the Border of his shining Shield
The Spear takes place, and pierces his left Groin:
He from his Chariot dying rolls to Earth.
Whom good Æneas Thus with bitter Taunt
Bespeaks, insulting: Lucagus, These Steeds
Thy Car betray'd not, tardy in their Flight;
Nor Fantoms vain misled thee from the Foe:
Thy self, inglorious, leaping from the Seat,
Thy Chariot hast deserted. Having spoke,
He seiz'd the Steeds. From the same Chariot fall'n,
Th'unhappy Brother stretch'd his Hands disarm'd:
Brave Trojan, by Thy self, by Those who gave
So great a Leader Birth, permit This Life;
And pity me imploring. More he pray'd;
But Thus Æneas: Not such Words e'erwhile
You utter'd: Die; and, as a Brother should,
Accompany your Brother. Then his Breast,
The Soul's dark Lodging, with his Sword he bores.
Such Slaughter thro' the Field the Trojan Chief
Spreads, like a Whirlwind, or a torrent Flood,
Raging around: At length, so long besieg'd
In vain, Ascanius, and the Trojan Youth
Their Trenches quit, and sally from the Town.

Mean-while great Jove to Juno Thus address'd:
O Thou, to Me by two the closest Ties
So much endear'd, my Sister, and my Wife;
Venus, as you suppos'd, (nor has That Thought
Erroneous prov'd) supports the Trojan Pow'rs:
Nought have the Men themselves of Courage, nought
Of Vigour in the War, no Fire, nor Minds
Patient of Danger, and inur'd to Toils.

To whom Saturnia with dejected Eyes:
Why thus perplex you, O my honour'd Lord,
My Soul already anxious, and with Dread
Trembling at your Severity of Speech?
Had now my Love That Int'rest in your Breast,
Which once it had, and justly had; This Boon
To me th'Omnipotent would not deny;
That Turnus from the Field I might withdraw,
And to his Father Daunus safe restore.
Now let him die, and with his pious Blood
Satiate the Trojan Vengeance. Yet his Race
Descends from Ours; and in the fourth Degree
Pilumnus is his Sire: And He himself
Has oft with lavish Hand your Altars crown'd.

To whom in brief th'Almighty King reply'd:
If what you ask for This devoted Youth
Be to defer his present Death, and add
An Interval of Life; and if you think
My Pow'r so far extends; by Flight preserve
Turnus, and snatch him from impending Fate.
Thus much we may indulge: But if your Pray'r
Supposes aught still farther in Reserve;
If you conceive th'Event of all the War
Can be revers'd; on airy Hopes you feed.

To whom Thus Juno weeping: What, if That
Which ev'n in Words you now refuse to grant,
Were by the Purpose of your Soul decreed,
And Length of Life to Turnus stood confirm'd?
Now a hard Fate attends the guiltless Youth;
Or I with Fears ungrounded am deceiv'd:
O may I prove That Errour; and your Thoughts
(You want not Pow'r) to better Counsels bend.

Thus having spoke, she speeds her sudden Flight,
Wrap'd in a Whirlwind, from Olympus' Tow'r,
Down to the Trojan, and Laurentian Hosts;
And drives a Storm before her thro' the Air.
Then (wondrous to behold!) the Goddess arms
A Visionary Fantom, light, and vain,
From a thin Cloud, chang'd to Æneas' Shape;
Decks it with Trojan Darts; his Shield, and Crest,
And all the Honours of his God-like Head
Dissembles; gives it empty Words, and Sound;
And forms it's Steps, and Manner, as it walks.
Such Figures, as 'tis said, departed Ghosts
Flutt'ring assume; or mimic Dreams by Night.
In the first Van th'exulting Shade provokes
The Hero, and with Darts, and Voice defies.
Turnus advances fierce; and hurls from far
A whistling Lance; The recreant Spectre flies:
When Turnus thought Æneas from the Fight
Retiring; and, in Turbulence of Soul
Confus'd, imaginary Hopes devour'd:
Where fly'st thou? Stay Æneas, nor desert
Thy plighted Nuptials: This Right hand shall fix
Thy Mansion sought so long o'er Ocean's Waves.

Thus vaunting he pursues, and whirls his Sword,
Nor sees his Triumphs fleeting in the Wind.
Close to the Covert of a lofty Rock
A Ship by chance there stood, with Ladders hung,
And Bridges laid; which King Osinius bore
From Clusium's Coast. To This, with hasty Steps,
The trembling Image of Æneas flies,
And in it's Hatches lurks. With Haste no less
Turnus pursues, all Obstacles surmounts,
And passes o'er the Bridges: When the Deck
He scarce had reach'd; Saturnia bursts the Cords,
And speeds the Vessel thro' the rolling Deep.
Him absent, o'er the Field, Æneas seeks
For Combate; many to the Shades below
Obvious he sends. And now the mimic Form
No longer lurks conceal'd; but mounts in Air
Aloft, and mingles with a dusky Cloud:
While Turnus in mid Ocean wafted sails.
Unknowing of his Safety, and ingrate
In Ignorance, he backward bends his Eyes;
And both his Hands uplifting to the Stars,
Thus speaks. Almighty Father, couldst thou deem
Me fit in such a Crime to be involv'd,
And so severe a Penance to endure?
Whence came I? Whither am I hurry'd? How,
Or What shall I return? Or how behold
Laurentum's City, and th'Ausonian Camp?
How shall I be reproach'd, how justly scorn'd
By Those brave Youths who to my Arms adher'd?
All whom (O Shame and Guilt!) in Death's Extremes
I have abandon'd? Them ev'n now I see
Straggling in Flight, and hear their dying Groans.
What shall I do? O may the Earth to me
Yawning disclose a Grave! Or You, ye Winds,
You rather pity me, your willing Prey:
Turnus implores you, drive the splitting Ship
On Rocks, or plunge it in the gulphy Sands:
Whither the Rutuli, and conscious Fame
May not pursue me. Speaking thus, he shifts
His wav'ring Thoughts, and fluctuates in his Cares;
Whether, for such Dishonour, he should plunge
The rigid Steel into his Breast; or leap
Into the Waves, and swimming seek the Shore,
And rush again amidst the Trojan Arms.
Both ways he thrice attempts; as oft restrain'd
By mighty Juno, pitying his Distress:
With prosp'rous Gale and Tide he cuts the Deep,
And at his Father Daunus' Walls arrives.

But by Jove's Impulse fierce Mezentius fir'd
Mean-while succeeds to Battle; and invades
The conqu'ring Trojans. All the Tyrrhene Bands
Assemble: Him alone with mortal Hate
United, and with Storms of Darts they press.
He, like a Rock, which o'er the Ocean wide
Hangs prominent, expos'd to Winds and Waves,
And all the Rage of Sea, and Sky endures;
Stands fix'd, unmov'd. First Dolichaon's Son
Heber he strikes to Earth; then Latagus,
And flying Palmus. But the Face adverse
Of Latagus he dashes with a Stone,
The pond'rous Fragment of a massy Cliff;
Palmus he leaves to roll upon the Ground,
Hamstring'd and fall'n: His Arms and Crest he gives
To Lausus, in proud Triumph to be worn.
Then Phrygian Evas falls beneath his Arm:
And Mimas, the Compeer and equal Friend
Of Paris; whom to Amycus his Sire
Theano bore, in That same fatal Night,
When Cisseus' Daughter, teeming with a Torch,
Gave Paris Birth: Within his Native Walls
He fell; in Latium Mimas lies unknown.

As when a mighty Boar, by baying Hounds
Driv'n from the Mountain's Height, (who many Years
Harbour'd on piny Vesulus has fed,
Or in Laurentum's Lake, and marshy Grove;)
Soon as among the Toils he is arriv'd,
Makes a sour Stand, and foaming storms, and rears
The stiffning Horrours of his bristly Chine:
None durst with near Approach provoke the Fight;
With Jav'lins thrown from far, and Clamours safe
They ply him: He intrepid ev'ry Pass
Attempts, and from his Shoulders shakes the Darts;
Whetting his Tusks, and unresolv'd in Rage.
So none of These, incens'd with just Revenge
Against Mezentius, dare with Weapons drawn
Engage in closer Fight; with missile Darts,
And Clamours loud, they urge him press'd from far.
Leaving his destin'd Hymenéal Rites
Came Grecian Acron, from the ancient Realms
Of Coritus. Him when Mezentius saw,
Breaking the middle Ranks, with purple Plumes,
And the gay Favours of his plighted Bride
Conspicuous, proud: As when a Lion, pinch'd
With raging Hunger, ranges round the Stalls;
If chance he spy a tim'rous Goat, or Deer
Lofty with branching Horns; he yawns o'erjoy'd
With vast expanded Jaws, erects his Mane,
Sticks to the Prey, and lies upon it press'd
Close to the Ground; Black Gore, besmearing, laves
His savage Mouth:
So glad Mezentius rushes on the Foes;
Unhappy Acron falls, with quiv'ring Feet
Knocks the black Ground, and sobs his Soul away,
And steeps the broken Weapon in his Blood.

Orodes, flying, with a darted Spear
He deigns not to pursue, nor with a Wound
Unseen to fell him: Obvious, and adverse
He meets him, and opposes Man to Man;
Less skill'd in Stratagem, than brave in Arms.
Then pressing with his Foot his Body fall'n,
And resting on his Lance; Behold, my Friends,
Sublime Orodes, of the War no Part
Contemptible, lies here: His Friends with Shouts
Triumphant follow, and applaud their Chief.
Then He expiring; Long, whoe'er thou art,
And o'er me unreveng'd, thou shalt not vaunt,
Proud Victor: Thee the same allotted Fates
Expect, and These same Fields thy Corps shall press.
To whom Mezentius with malignant Smile:
Die Thou; Of Me let Heav'n's great King dispose.
Then wrenches out the Dart: A deadly Rest,
And iron Slumber seals his heavy Eyes,
And closes them in everlasting Night.

Sacrator stabs Hydaspes; Cædicus
Alcathous: Rapo Parthenius kills,
And hardy Orses. By Massapus falls
Clonius, and Lycaonian Erycetes;
The first from his unmanag'd flound'ring Steed
Tumbled to Earth, the last on foot assail'd.
But Lycian Agis to the Fight advanc'd;
Whom, not degen'rate from his Grandsire's Worth
Brave Valerus extends upon the Ground.
Salius Atronius kills; and falls Himself
By fam'd Nealces, skill'd to hurl the Dart,
And the deceiving Arrow sent from far.

Now unrelenting Mars, on either Side,
Equal'd the Slaughter, and the mutual Deaths;
The Victors, and the Vanquish'd kill, and rush
With equal Force: Nor These, nor Those retreat.
The Gods in Jove's high Court with Pity view
The Rage of Mortals, and their fruitless Toils.
Here Venus sits Spectator, Juno There:
And pale Tisiphone amidst the Troops
Of Thousands storms. But turbulent in Ire,
With his long Spear Mezentius takes the Field;
Huge as Orion, when on foot he stalks,
Cutting his Way thro' the wide liquid Realms
Of Nereus, and surmounts the topmost Waves
With Shoulders tall: Or when, an aged Oak
Transporting from the Hills, upon the Ground
He walks, and hides his Head among the Clouds.
So in vast Arms Mezentius tow'rs sublime:
Thro' the long Ranks when him Æneas spys;
To meet him he prepares: The Other fix'd
And fearless waits, expecting the Approach
Of his brave Foe; and in his own Bulk stands.
Then having measur'd with his Eyes the Space
Fit for his Jav'lin's Reach; Assist me now,
My own Right hand, and Thou, my missive Lance;
You are the only Gods that I invoke:
Lausus, thy self I vow the Trophy deck'd
With Spoils from This false Trojan Pirate torn.

He said; and hurl'd the hissing Dart from far:
Which flying glances from the Target's Orb;
And 'twixt the Side and Belly fixes deep
In fam'd Anthores: Who, from Argos sent,
And once Companion of Alcides' Toils,
Had to the King Evander's Arms adher'd;
And in a Latian City chose his Seat.
He falls, unhappy, by Another's Wound;
With dying Eyes views the last Light of Heav'n,
And on his much-lov'd Argos thinks in Death.

Then good Æneas throws a Spear; which flys
Swift thro' the hollow Orb of triple Brass,
Thro' the tough Linen Folds, and three Bulls Hides
Convolv'd: The Point stands fix'd within his Groin;
But spends it's Force, too short to reach his Life.
Æneas, glad to see the Tuscan's Blood,
Snatches his Fauchion from his Thigh with Haste,
And darts impetuous on his trembling Foe.

This Lausus saw; and struck with Fear, and Grief,
For his lov'd Father by such Danger press'd,
Groan'd deep; and Tears ran trickling down his Cheeks.
Here thy Heroick Deeds, and rigid Fate
In Death, brave pious Youth (if future Times
To so renown'd an Act will Credit yield)
Shall not by me in silence be suppress'd.
The Sire, retreating, useless for the Fight,
And with his Wound disabled, back withdrew;
And in his Target trail'd the hostile Spear.
The Youth springs on amidst the thickest Arms,
Himself opposing to Æneas' Sword
Rais'd high, and ready to discharge the Blow;
And for a time sustains his Shock: His Friends
Follow with loud Acclaim, and Jav'lins fling,
'Till shelter'd by the Target of his Son
The Father had retir'd; and push the Foe,
And bear him back with Darts: Æneas storms
Adverse, and in his Shield contracted stands.
As when a Tempest, thick with patt'ring Hail,
Precipitate descends; from all the Fields.
Flys ev'ry Traveller, and lab'ring Hind
For Shelter safe, or to a River's Bank,
Or to the Hollow of a lofty Rock;
There hide secure, while pour'd upon the Earth
The Tempest rages: 'till the Sun restor'd
Permits them to renew the Toils of Day.
So, with thick Darts on ev'ry side o'erwhelm'd,
Æneas all the Storm of War sustains:
And chides young Lausus, and Thus threatning speaks.
Fond Youth, why rushest thou on certain Death,
Daring beyond thy Strength, and tender Years?
Thy Piety deceives thee. Not the less
He, desperate, provokes and braves his Foe;
And now the Trojan Leader's Fury, rais'd
To it's full Height, boils terrible; The Fates
Spin the last Thread for Lausus: While he vaunts,
Æneas plunges all the mighty Sword
Quite thro' the Middle of his Body driv'n;
Which pierc'd his thin light Shield, and broider'd Vest,
Wrought by his Mother with soft Threads of Gold.
The Blood his Bosom fills; and to the Shades
His Soul flys sad, and murmurs thro' the Air.
But when Anchises' Son his Visage saw,
His Visage wond'rous pale, and chang'd in Death;
Deeply he groan'd with Pity, and his Hand
Extended, as he fell; And to his Thoughts
The Image soft of filial Piety
It self presented. What, ill-fated Youth,
What Honours, by such mighty Virtue claim'd,
To thy Deserts can good Æneas pay?
The Arms, which pleas'd thee living, still be Thine;
And to thy Parents' Manes, and their Dust
(If aught That Care sollicit thee in Death)
Thy breathless Corps I willingly restore.
And let This Thought console thy rigid Doom;
By great Æneas' Hand thou fall'st. At once
He chides his lingring Friends; and from the Ground
Uplifts him, with his Tresses, form'd by Art,
All foul in Dust, and clung with clotted Gore.

Mean-while the Sire, repos'd near Tyber's Stream,
With Water rins'd his Wounds, and eas'd his Limbs,
Reclin'd against an Oak. Upon the Boughs
His brazen Helmet at a distance hung;
And on the Mead his pond'rous Armour lay.
Round stand the chosen Youth: He, faint with Toil,
Supports his Neck, and smooths his waving Beard.
Of Lausus much enquires; and many sends
His anxious Father's Mandates to convey,
And bring him from the Battle. But his Friends,
Weeping, upon a Shield dead Lausus bear,
Mighty, and with a mighty Wound subdu'd.
His Soul, prophetick of disastrous Chance,
Well knows the distant Groan: With Dust he soils
His hoary Hair, and stretches both his Hands
To Heav'n; and clinging hugs the bloody Coarse.
And was I then, my Son, so fond of Life;
That I should suffer Him, whose Life I gave,
For me t'oppose himself against the Foe?
Am I thy Father by thy Wounds preserv'd,
Thus living by thy Death? Ah! now indeed
I feel my wretched Exile: Now the Stab
Smarts, deep inflicted. By Tyrannick Rage
Driv'n from my Sceptres, and my Father's Throne,
Thy Fame, my Son, I sully'd with my Crimes:
'Twas just that I by ev'ry Kind of Death
Should pay the Forfeit of my guilty Life,
Due to my Country, and my Subjects' Hate.
Yet still I live, and bear This odious Light;
But will not long. This said, himself he rais'd
Prop'd on his halting Thigh: And, tho' the Pain
Of his deep Wound retards him, not dismay'd
He bids them bring his Steed, his Pride, Delight,
And Solace in all Wars; On him from all
With Victory he still return'd: His Lord
Bespeaks him mourning, and These Words lets fall.
Rhœbus, We long have liv'd; if aught there be
To Mortals long: Or Thou this day shalt bring
Those bloody Trophys, and Æneas' Head;
And Victor prove with me of Lausus' Death
The joint Avenger: Or, if no Resource
Be left for Valour, Thou with me shalt fall:
For, gen'rous Beast, thou wilt, I rest assur'd,
No foreign Lord, or Trojan Burthen bear.

This said, the Courser on his Back receives
Th'accustom'd Load: He settles in the Seat;
And both his Hands with pointed Jav'lins fills:
His brazen Helmet glitters on his Head;
And nods the waving Crest of Horses Mane.
Thus arm'd, with rapid Haste into the Midst
Furious he rides: Within his Bosom boils
Disdainful Shame, and Grief to Madness wrought,
And Love inflam'd with Rage, and conscious Worth.
Here on Æneas thrice he calls aloud:
Æneas knows him, and Thus joyful prays.
So may the mighty Father of the Gods,
And high Apollo grant; may'st thou begin
T'engage in Fight.
He said; and obvious with his Spear advanc'd.
Then Thus Mezentius: Why, malicious Foe,
Think'st thou to fright me, after Lausus' Death?
Me by That only Wound thou couldst destroy.
Death, and the Gods I equally despise:
Forbear; I came to die: But first receive
These Greetings from my Hand. He said, and hurl'd
A Dart against the Foe: Then, flying round
In Circuit wide, another Spear he throws,
Another, and another after That:
But the big golden Orb sustains them All.
Thrice to the left he wheel'd his Steed in Rings
About the standing Chief, and Jav'lins threw:
And thrice the Trojan Hero bore around
The iron Grove fix'd in his brazen Shield.
At length, impatient of so long Delay,
Weary'd with wrenching out so many Darts,
Urg'd to unequal Fight, and pond'ring much
In Thought, he springs to Vengeance; and between
The hollow Temples of the warriour Steed
Lances his Spear. The sprightly Beast erect
Uprears himself in Air, and with his Hoofs
Buffets the Wind: Then, following with his Weight
To Earth, incumbers his dismounted Lord,
And floundring on his prostrate Shoulder lies.
The Trojans, and the Latins rend the Sky
With deaf'ning Noise: Æneas rushes on,
And from his Scabbard draws the shining Sword;
Then Thus: Where now is fierce Mezentius? Where
That Fury of a Soul? To whom, his Eyes
Uplifting, and recov'ring Breath, and Sense,
The Tuscan Thus reply'd: Why, bitter Foe,
Dost thou insult, and menace Death? My Blood
Is due to Thee, and spilt without a Crime:
On other Terms I came not to the War;
Nor did my Lausus for his Sire with Thee
Make other Contract. One thing I implore,
(If aught of Grace remain for vanquish'd Foes)
Permit my Corps to be interr'd: I know
The Malice of my Subjects hovers round;
Forbid That Outrage: Let me share a Grave,
Join'd to my Son, and rest with Him in Death.

This said; He in his Throat at once receives
Th'expected Blade; and in a Flood of Gore
On his bright Armour pours his gushing Soul.