The Works of Virgil Translated into English Blank Verse. With large Explanatory Notes, and Critical Observations. By Joseph Trapp |
 | I. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| II, III. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. | BOOK the Eleventh. |
| 12. |
 | The Works of Virgil |  |
286
BOOK the Eleventh.
287
Mean-while
Aurora rising leaves the Sea:
Æneas (tho' th'Interment of his Friends
Hurrys his Thoughts, with Fun'ral-Cares perplex'd)
With the first Dawn of Morning, Victor pays
His Vows to Heav'n. He plants upon a Hill
An Oak of mighty Bulk, on ev'ry side
Shorn of it's Boughs; and all with shining Arms,
The Spoils of King Mezentius, clothes the Trunk:
A Trophy rais'd, great Warriour God, to Thee.
He fits the bloody Crest, and broken Darts,
And plated Corslet with twelve Wounds transfix'd;
On the left side his brazen Buckler hangs,
And from his Neck his iv'ry-hilted Sword.
Then to his shouting Friends (for all the Chiefs,
Crouding, inclose him round) he Thus begins.
Æneas (tho' th'Interment of his Friends
Hurrys his Thoughts, with Fun'ral-Cares perplex'd)
With the first Dawn of Morning, Victor pays
His Vows to Heav'n. He plants upon a Hill
An Oak of mighty Bulk, on ev'ry side
Shorn of it's Boughs; and all with shining Arms,
The Spoils of King Mezentius, clothes the Trunk:
A Trophy rais'd, great Warriour God, to Thee.
He fits the bloody Crest, and broken Darts,
And plated Corslet with twelve Wounds transfix'd;
On the left side his brazen Buckler hangs,
And from his Neck his iv'ry-hilted Sword.
Then to his shouting Friends (for all the Chiefs,
Crouding, inclose him round) he Thus begins.
Great is, my Friends, th'Advantage here obtain'd;
Henceforth all Fear be banish'd: See the Spoils
Of That proud King, the First-fruits of the War;
And by my Sword Thus here Mezentius stands.
Now to the King Latinus, and his Walls
We march: Prepare your Courage, and your Arms;
And in your Hopes anticipate the Fight.
Let no Delay (when first we shall unfix
Our Standards by Permission of the Gods,
And draw our Youth embattled from their Tents)
Nor any Apprehension, Doubt, or Fear
Retard you ignorant. Let us mean-while
Commit to Earth our yet unbury'd Friends;
(The only Honour we to Ghosts can pay:)
Go, with the last sad Rites, officious, grace
Th'illustrious Dead, who purchas'd with their Blood
This Realm for Us: And to Evander's Walls
With mournful Pomp let Pallas first be sent:
Whom, not deficient in Heroic Fire,
And well-try'd Worth, the fatal Day cut off,
And in a Fun'ral immature involv'd.
Henceforth all Fear be banish'd: See the Spoils
Of That proud King, the First-fruits of the War;
288
Now to the King Latinus, and his Walls
We march: Prepare your Courage, and your Arms;
And in your Hopes anticipate the Fight.
Let no Delay (when first we shall unfix
Our Standards by Permission of the Gods,
And draw our Youth embattled from their Tents)
Nor any Apprehension, Doubt, or Fear
Retard you ignorant. Let us mean-while
Commit to Earth our yet unbury'd Friends;
(The only Honour we to Ghosts can pay:)
289
Th'illustrious Dead, who purchas'd with their Blood
This Realm for Us: And to Evander's Walls
With mournful Pomp let Pallas first be sent:
Whom, not deficient in Heroic Fire,
And well-try'd Worth, the fatal Day cut off,
And in a Fun'ral immature involv'd.
Weeping he spoke; and to That Tent repair'd
Where lay the breathless Corps of Pallas, watch'd
By old Acætes, Armour-bearer once
To King Evander; now, but not with like
Success, the Guardian of his darling Son.
The Band of all th'Attendants, and a Croud
Of Trojans, and with Tresses scatter'd loose
(Such is th'accustom'd Rite) the Trojan Dames
Stand round: But when beneath the lofty Roof
Æneas enter'd; to the Stars they raise
A gen'ral Groan aloud, and beat their Breasts;
And all with Shrieks the high Pavilion rings.
Himself, when he beheld the bolster'd Head
Of beauteous Pallas, and his snowy Hue,
And from th'Ausonian Spear the gaping Wound
In his smooth Breast, Thus spoke with rising Tears.
Where lay the breathless Corps of Pallas, watch'd
By old Acætes, Armour-bearer once
To King Evander; now, but not with like
Success, the Guardian of his darling Son.
The Band of all th'Attendants, and a Croud
Of Trojans, and with Tresses scatter'd loose
(Such is th'accustom'd Rite) the Trojan Dames
290
Æneas enter'd; to the Stars they raise
A gen'ral Groan aloud, and beat their Breasts;
And all with Shrieks the high Pavilion rings.
Himself, when he beheld the bolster'd Head
Of beauteous Pallas, and his snowy Hue,
And from th'Ausonian Spear the gaping Wound
In his smooth Breast, Thus spoke with rising Tears.
Did Fortune then, Thou much-lamented Youth,
Tho' first propitious, envy me thy Life?
That my establish'd Realm thou should'st not see,
Nor Victor to thy Father's Palace ride?
Not so of Thee I promis'd to thy Sire
Evander; when, at parting, he embrac'd,
And sent me to wide Empire, and with Fear
Warn'd me, that with a Nation fierce and rough
We must engage. And now perhaps, with Hope
Delusive greatly flatter'd, He with Vows
Invokes the Gods, and on their Altars piles
Oblations: We the Youth now rob'd of Breath,
Nor longer subject to the Pow'rs above,
Weeping, with unavailing Honours grace.
Thy Son's untimely Fun'ral thou shalt see,
Unhappy! Is This then my wish'd Return?
These my expected Triumphs? This my Hope?
Yet Him, Evander, shalt thou not behold
Pierc'd with dishonest Wounds; nor wish thy own
Sad Fun'ral, for thy Son's inglorious Life:
Ah me! how great a Champion hast Thou lost,
Ausonia! Thou, Iülus, what a Friend!
Tho' first propitious, envy me thy Life?
That my establish'd Realm thou should'st not see,
Nor Victor to thy Father's Palace ride?
Not so of Thee I promis'd to thy Sire
Evander; when, at parting, he embrac'd,
And sent me to wide Empire, and with Fear
Warn'd me, that with a Nation fierce and rough
We must engage. And now perhaps, with Hope
Delusive greatly flatter'd, He with Vows
Invokes the Gods, and on their Altars piles
Oblations: We the Youth now rob'd of Breath,
Nor longer subject to the Pow'rs above,
Weeping, with unavailing Honours grace.
Thy Son's untimely Fun'ral thou shalt see,
Unhappy! Is This then my wish'd Return?
These my expected Triumphs? This my Hope?
Yet Him, Evander, shalt thou not behold
291
Sad Fun'ral, for thy Son's inglorious Life:
Ah me! how great a Champion hast Thou lost,
Ausonia! Thou, Iülus, what a Friend!
Thus having wept, he bids them bear away
The cold lamented Coarse; and from his Troops,
Assembled all, a thousand Men selects,
On the last mournful Honours to attend,
And with his Father's Tears to join their own:
Small Consolation for such mighty Woe;
Yet due in Justice to the hapless Sire.
Others a soft light Bier, with quick Dispatch,
Of Oaken Twigs, and twisted Osiers weave;
And cover with an Arch of bending Boughs
The high-rais'd Bed. There the dear Youth they lay
Sublime on verdant Leaves; Like some fair Flow'r,
Soft Violet, or languid Hyacinth,
Crop'd by a Virgin's Hand: Whose beauteous Gloss
Still blooms unfaded; tho' the Parent Earth
Moist Nutriment, and Strength no more supplys.
Two broider'd purple Vests Æneas brings;
Which for Himself, with That sweet Labour pleas'd,
With her own Hands Sidonian Dido wove,
And wrought the vary'd Silk with Threads of Gold.
In One of These he wraps the breathless Youth;
(The last sad Honour!) with the Other veils
His muffled Hair devoted to the Flames.
Then copious Spoils, the rich Rewards of War,
Gain'd in Laurentian Fields, he piles on Heaps,
And in long Order bids the Pillage move:
Adds Steeds, and Darts, from Foes in Battle won;
And Victims, with cramp'd Hands behind them bound,
Doom'd with their Blood the Manes to appease,
And tinge the fun'ral Fires. The Chiefs themselves,
Commanded, bear the Trunks with hostile Arms
All cover'd, and with hostile Names inscrib'd.
Acætes, with the Load of Age, and Grief,
Bending, moves slow, supported on each side;
Now knocks his Breast, now tears his wither'd Cheeks,
And faint, and prostrate, grovels on the Ground.
The Chariots in Procession follow next,
Smear'd with Rutulian Blood: Behind them, stripp'd
Of his rich Trappings, goes the warriour Steed,
Æthon; and big round Drops roll down his Face.
Some bear his Lance, and Helmet; For the rest
Turnus, proud Victor, keeps: The mourning Troop
Succeeds; The Trojan, and the Tyrrhene Chiefs,
And, with inverted Spears, th'Arcadian Train.
When all the solemn Pomp had pass'd along;
Æneas stood, and Thus, deep groaning cry'd:
Me the same Fates of unrelenting War
Summon from These to other Fun'ral Tears;
Eternally Farewel, illustrious Prince,
Great Pallas, ever honour'd, ever mourn'd;
Hail, and Farewel. This said, He turn'd his Steps,
Sought the high Walls, and to the Tents repair'd.
The cold lamented Coarse; and from his Troops,
Assembled all, a thousand Men selects,
On the last mournful Honours to attend,
And with his Father's Tears to join their own:
Small Consolation for such mighty Woe;
Yet due in Justice to the hapless Sire.
Others a soft light Bier, with quick Dispatch,
Of Oaken Twigs, and twisted Osiers weave;
And cover with an Arch of bending Boughs
The high-rais'd Bed. There the dear Youth they lay
Sublime on verdant Leaves; Like some fair Flow'r,
292
Crop'd by a Virgin's Hand: Whose beauteous Gloss
Still blooms unfaded; tho' the Parent Earth
Moist Nutriment, and Strength no more supplys.
Two broider'd purple Vests Æneas brings;
Which for Himself, with That sweet Labour pleas'd,
With her own Hands Sidonian Dido wove,
And wrought the vary'd Silk with Threads of Gold.
In One of These he wraps the breathless Youth;
(The last sad Honour!) with the Other veils
His muffled Hair devoted to the Flames.
Then copious Spoils, the rich Rewards of War,
Gain'd in Laurentian Fields, he piles on Heaps,
And in long Order bids the Pillage move:
Adds Steeds, and Darts, from Foes in Battle won;
And Victims, with cramp'd Hands behind them bound,
Doom'd with their Blood the Manes to appease,
And tinge the fun'ral Fires. The Chiefs themselves,
Commanded, bear the Trunks with hostile Arms
293
Acætes, with the Load of Age, and Grief,
Bending, moves slow, supported on each side;
Now knocks his Breast, now tears his wither'd Cheeks,
And faint, and prostrate, grovels on the Ground.
The Chariots in Procession follow next,
Smear'd with Rutulian Blood: Behind them, stripp'd
Of his rich Trappings, goes the warriour Steed,
Æthon; and big round Drops roll down his Face.
Some bear his Lance, and Helmet; For the rest
Turnus, proud Victor, keeps: The mourning Troop
Succeeds; The Trojan, and the Tyrrhene Chiefs,
And, with inverted Spears, th'Arcadian Train.
When all the solemn Pomp had pass'd along;
Æneas stood, and Thus, deep groaning cry'd:
Me the same Fates of unrelenting War
Summon from These to other Fun'ral Tears;
Eternally Farewel, illustrious Prince,
Great Pallas, ever honour'd, ever mourn'd;
Hail, and Farewel. This said, He turn'd his Steps,
294
And now from King Latinus' Court arriv'd
Ambassadors, with Olive-Branches wreath'd,
And Grace imploring; that he would permit
The Corps, which slain in Battle, o'er the Field
Lay scatter'd, to be quietly interr'd:
War with the Dead he wag'd not; Let him spare
A Nation, once by hospitable Tyes,
And plighted Spousals, to Himself ally'd.
Them good Æneas, and their Suit so just,
Receives with gracious Air; and Thus proceeds.
What Fortune, unpropitious, undeserv'd,
Plung'd you, Ye Latins, in so deep a War,
And urg'd you from our Friendship to decline?
Peace for the Dead desire you? for the Corps
Which fell in Battle by the Chance of Arms?
Peace to the Living gladly would I grant.
I came not hither but by Fate's Decree;
Nor with th'Ausonian Nation make I War.
Your King the Bond of our Alliance broke;
And rather chose to trust in Turnus' Arms.
Just had it been, that Turnus to This Death
Himself should have expos'd: If he prepar'd
By Force to end the War, and from These Coasts
To drive the Trojans; Him it had became
With Me in equal Combate to engage.
Or He, or I had liv'd; on whom the Gods,
Or his own conqu'ring Hand, had Life bestow'd.
Go You; and grace your Friends, in Battle slain,
With the last Rites, and fire their Fun'ral-Piles.
Ambassadors, with Olive-Branches wreath'd,
And Grace imploring; that he would permit
The Corps, which slain in Battle, o'er the Field
Lay scatter'd, to be quietly interr'd:
War with the Dead he wag'd not; Let him spare
A Nation, once by hospitable Tyes,
And plighted Spousals, to Himself ally'd.
Them good Æneas, and their Suit so just,
Receives with gracious Air; and Thus proceeds.
What Fortune, unpropitious, undeserv'd,
Plung'd you, Ye Latins, in so deep a War,
And urg'd you from our Friendship to decline?
Peace for the Dead desire you? for the Corps
Which fell in Battle by the Chance of Arms?
Peace to the Living gladly would I grant.
I came not hither but by Fate's Decree;
Nor with th'Ausonian Nation make I War.
Your King the Bond of our Alliance broke;
And rather chose to trust in Turnus' Arms.
Just had it been, that Turnus to This Death
Himself should have expos'd: If he prepar'd
295
To drive the Trojans; Him it had became
With Me in equal Combate to engage.
Or He, or I had liv'd; on whom the Gods,
Or his own conqu'ring Hand, had Life bestow'd.
Go You; and grace your Friends, in Battle slain,
With the last Rites, and fire their Fun'ral-Piles.
He ceas'd: They all in silent Wonder stood;
And on each other, gazing, turn'd their Eyes:
Then aged Drances, with invet'rate Spight
Against young Turnus irritated, speaks.
O great in Fame, but far more great in Arms,
Brave Trojan Chief; What Praises shall I chuse
To equal Thee with Heav'n? What shall I first
Admire? Thy Justice? Or thy Deeds in War?
We to our City, grateful, will convey
Thy Words, and Thee to King Latinus join;
If any Fortune second our Attempt:
Let Turnus seek Alliances elsewhere.
Our selves with Pleasure will assist to raise
The destin'd Tow'rs; and on our Shoulders bear
The future Walls of new reviving Troy.
And on each other, gazing, turn'd their Eyes:
Then aged Drances, with invet'rate Spight
Against young Turnus irritated, speaks.
O great in Fame, but far more great in Arms,
Brave Trojan Chief; What Praises shall I chuse
To equal Thee with Heav'n? What shall I first
Admire? Thy Justice? Or thy Deeds in War?
We to our City, grateful, will convey
Thy Words, and Thee to King Latinus join;
If any Fortune second our Attempt:
Let Turnus seek Alliances elsewhere.
Our selves with Pleasure will assist to raise
The destin'd Tow'rs; and on our Shoulders bear
The future Walls of new reviving Troy.
He said; They all unanimous assent
In Murmurs. For twelve Days they fix the Truce;
And, by it's Arbitration, o'er the Woods
The Trojans and the Latins mingled rove
In Safety: On the Hills the lofty Ashe
With Axes sounds: and Pines which reach the Stars
They roll from Mountains; nor with Wedges cease
Hard Oak, and smelling Cedar to divide,
Nor Firs on groaning Waggons to convey.
In Murmurs. For twelve Days they fix the Truce;
And, by it's Arbitration, o'er the Woods
296
In Safety: On the Hills the lofty Ashe
With Axes sounds: and Pines which reach the Stars
They roll from Mountains; nor with Wedges cease
Hard Oak, and smelling Cedar to divide,
Nor Firs on groaning Waggons to convey.
But flying Fame, which not long since pronounc'd
Young Pallas Victor on th'Ausonian Plains,
Now, Messenger of such o'erwhelming Woe,
Evander, and Evander's Palace fills,
And all his City. Thronging to the Gates
Th'Arcadians rush; and by th'accustom'd Rite
Snatch fun'ral Torches. In long Order rang'd
A Train of Flames illumines all the Road,
And far and wide discriminates the Fields.
To meet That sad Procession, slow advance
The Trojan Troops, and join their wailing Friends.
Them when th'Arcadian Matrons saw arriv'd
Within the Walls; with Shrieks and loud Laments
Repeated all the frantick City rings.
But King Evander by no friendly Force
Could be restrain'd: Distracted thro' the Midst
He rushes; falls on Pallas' breathless Corps
Stretch'd on the standing Bier, and clinging close
Hugs him with Groans and Tears: At length his Words,
Long choak'd with Grief, a painful Passage found.
Young Pallas Victor on th'Ausonian Plains,
Now, Messenger of such o'erwhelming Woe,
Evander, and Evander's Palace fills,
And all his City. Thronging to the Gates
Th'Arcadians rush; and by th'accustom'd Rite
Snatch fun'ral Torches. In long Order rang'd
A Train of Flames illumines all the Road,
And far and wide discriminates the Fields.
To meet That sad Procession, slow advance
The Trojan Troops, and join their wailing Friends.
Them when th'Arcadian Matrons saw arriv'd
Within the Walls; with Shrieks and loud Laments
Repeated all the frantick City rings.
But King Evander by no friendly Force
Could be restrain'd: Distracted thro' the Midst
He rushes; falls on Pallas' breathless Corps
Stretch'd on the standing Bier, and clinging close
Hugs him with Groans and Tears: At length his Words,
Long choak'd with Grief, a painful Passage found.
297
Not such, O Pallas, was thy Promise giv'n
To thy unhappy Sire; that with Reserve,
And Caution, thou would'st trust the bloody Field:
And well I knew, in the first Feats of Arms
How much young Glory, and sweet Fame could do.
O dire First-fruits of War, ill-fated Youth!
Mournful Beginnings! and my Pray'rs and Vows
Unheard by all the Pow'rs Divine! And Thou,
Celestial Saint, dear Partner of my Bed,
Bless'd in thy Death! nor to This Woe reserv'd!
I by a disproportion'd Length of Life
Usurp on Nature, and survive my Son.
Me, to the Trojan Arms Confed'rate join'd,
The Rutuli with Darts should have o'erwhelm'd:
I should have breath'd my last: And Me, This Pomp,
Not Pallas, to my Walls should have convey'd.
Nor You, Ye Trojans, aught would I accuse;
Nor our Alliance, nor our plighted Faith.
This Fate was due to my expiring Age:
And since This Death untimely to my Son
Was destin'd; 'Tis some Solace that he fell
Leading the Trojans to the Latian Plains,
And first his Thousands of the Volscians slew.
Nor Thee with other Fun'ral would I grace,
O Pallas, than with That which is assign'd
By good Æneas the brave Sons of Troy,
The Tyrrhene Chiefs, and all the Tyrrhene Bands.
Large Trophies Those have yielded, who by Thee
In Battle fell: Now too Thy bulky Trunk,
O Turnus, should be rais'd aloft in Arms;
Were He, or I of equal Strength, and Age.
But why unhappy with These fond Complaints
Detain I thus the Trojans from the War?
Go; and These Mandates to your Prince convey.
That after Pallas' Death I here protract
A hated Life, Thy Valour is the Cause;
From which, thou seest, the Father and the Son
Expect the Blood of Turnus justly due:
This only Thou and Fortune can confer.
I seek no Joys of Life; nor is it just:
But wish to bear Those Tidings to my Son,
And chear his Ghost among the Shades below.
To thy unhappy Sire; that with Reserve,
And Caution, thou would'st trust the bloody Field:
And well I knew, in the first Feats of Arms
How much young Glory, and sweet Fame could do.
O dire First-fruits of War, ill-fated Youth!
Mournful Beginnings! and my Pray'rs and Vows
Unheard by all the Pow'rs Divine! And Thou,
Celestial Saint, dear Partner of my Bed,
Bless'd in thy Death! nor to This Woe reserv'd!
I by a disproportion'd Length of Life
Usurp on Nature, and survive my Son.
Me, to the Trojan Arms Confed'rate join'd,
The Rutuli with Darts should have o'erwhelm'd:
298
Not Pallas, to my Walls should have convey'd.
Nor You, Ye Trojans, aught would I accuse;
Nor our Alliance, nor our plighted Faith.
This Fate was due to my expiring Age:
And since This Death untimely to my Son
Was destin'd; 'Tis some Solace that he fell
Leading the Trojans to the Latian Plains,
And first his Thousands of the Volscians slew.
Nor Thee with other Fun'ral would I grace,
O Pallas, than with That which is assign'd
By good Æneas the brave Sons of Troy,
The Tyrrhene Chiefs, and all the Tyrrhene Bands.
Large Trophies Those have yielded, who by Thee
In Battle fell: Now too Thy bulky Trunk,
O Turnus, should be rais'd aloft in Arms;
Were He, or I of equal Strength, and Age.
299
Detain I thus the Trojans from the War?
Go; and These Mandates to your Prince convey.
That after Pallas' Death I here protract
A hated Life, Thy Valour is the Cause;
From which, thou seest, the Father and the Son
Expect the Blood of Turnus justly due:
This only Thou and Fortune can confer.
I seek no Joys of Life; nor is it just:
But wish to bear Those Tidings to my Son,
And chear his Ghost among the Shades below.
Mean-while Aurora, with new rising Light,
Restor'd the Cares and Labours of the Day
To wretched Mortals. On the winding Shore,
By Prince Æneas, and by Tarchon rais'd,
The Fun'ral-Piles stand thick: By ancient Rite
All hither bring the Bodies of their Friends,
And lay them on the Fires; whose smouldring Smoke
Ascends in Wreaths, and darkens all the Sky.
Thrice the tall blazing Piles, and dusky Flames
They round encompass; Those on Foot, and These
High on their Steeds, all clad in shining Arms;
And loud Laments, and piercing Clamours raise.
The trickling Tears bedew the Earth below,
And down their Armour run: To Heav'n ascend
The Trumpet's Clangor, and the Cries of Men.
Some fling the Spoils, from slaughter'd Latins torn,
Into the Flames; Helmets, and burnish'd Swords,
And Reins, and fervid Wheels: Some add to These
Gifts better known, which by the Dead Themselves
Were worn, their Shields, and Not successful Darts.
Then num'rous Oxen, bristly Swine, and Sheep,
Choice Victims, snatch'd from all the Fields around,
They sacrifice, and stab them on the Fires.
O'er all the Shore they watch their burning Friends;
Nor from the smoking Dust can be withdrawn,
'Till dewy Night inverts the Hemisphere,
And spangles o'er the Face of Heav'n with Stars.
Restor'd the Cares and Labours of the Day
To wretched Mortals. On the winding Shore,
By Prince Æneas, and by Tarchon rais'd,
The Fun'ral-Piles stand thick: By ancient Rite
All hither bring the Bodies of their Friends,
And lay them on the Fires; whose smouldring Smoke
Ascends in Wreaths, and darkens all the Sky.
Thrice the tall blazing Piles, and dusky Flames
They round encompass; Those on Foot, and These
300
And loud Laments, and piercing Clamours raise.
The trickling Tears bedew the Earth below,
And down their Armour run: To Heav'n ascend
The Trumpet's Clangor, and the Cries of Men.
Some fling the Spoils, from slaughter'd Latins torn,
Into the Flames; Helmets, and burnish'd Swords,
And Reins, and fervid Wheels: Some add to These
Gifts better known, which by the Dead Themselves
Were worn, their Shields, and Not successful Darts.
Then num'rous Oxen, bristly Swine, and Sheep,
Choice Victims, snatch'd from all the Fields around,
They sacrifice, and stab them on the Fires.
O'er all the Shore they watch their burning Friends;
Nor from the smoking Dust can be withdrawn,
'Till dewy Night inverts the Hemisphere,
And spangles o'er the Face of Heav'n with Stars.
Nor less, in diff'rent Parts, unnumber'd Piles
The wretched Latins build: Some Corps in Earth
(And many Those) of their dead Friends they hide;
Some to the neighb'ring Coasts, and Towns they send.
The rest, a huge promiscuous Heap of Slain,
Unhonour'd, undistinguish'd, they consume:
The blazing Fires illumine all the Fields.
Now had the Third returning Morn dispel'd
The dewy Shades of Night: The mingled Bones
From the high Ashes, mourning, they collect;
And load them with a Mount of smoking Mold.
The wretched Latins build: Some Corps in Earth
(And many Those) of their dead Friends they hide;
Some to the neighb'ring Coasts, and Towns they send.
The rest, a huge promiscuous Heap of Slain,
Unhonour'd, undistinguish'd, they consume:
The blazing Fires illumine all the Fields.
Now had the Third returning Morn dispel'd
The dewy Shades of Night: The mingled Bones
From the high Ashes, mourning, they collect;
And load them with a Mount of smoking Mold.
301
But most of all in King Latinus' Court,
And in the Royal City, Sorrow reigns,
And wildest Consternation: Aged Dames,
And hapless Brides, and Sisters drown'd in Tears,
And wretched Orphans, curse the wastful War,
And Turnus' Nuptials. Let Himself, they cry'd,
Himself decide the Quarrel with his Sword;
Since to the highest Honours of the State,
And to the Crown of Latium he aspires.
This Drances aggravates with keenest Spight;
Turnus alone, he urges, to the Field
Is challeng'd; He alone must end the War.
Much on the adverse Side, with various Speech,
For Turnus is alledg'd: The Queen's great Name
O'ershades him; and his Glory well-deserv'd
By various Trophies, and his Fame in Arms.
And in the Royal City, Sorrow reigns,
And wildest Consternation: Aged Dames,
And hapless Brides, and Sisters drown'd in Tears,
And wretched Orphans, curse the wastful War,
And Turnus' Nuptials. Let Himself, they cry'd,
Himself decide the Quarrel with his Sword;
Since to the highest Honours of the State,
And to the Crown of Latium he aspires.
This Drances aggravates with keenest Spight;
Turnus alone, he urges, to the Field
Is challeng'd; He alone must end the War.
Much on the adverse Side, with various Speech,
For Turnus is alledg'd: The Queen's great Name
O'ershades him; and his Glory well-deserv'd
By various Trophies, and his Fame in Arms.
Amidst These Factions, and tumultuous Jars,
Lo! from great Diomede's imperial Walls
Th'Ambassadors, return'd with joyless Cheer,
Their Answer brought; That by such vast Expence
Of tedious Toil they Nothing could effect:
Nought would their Presents, or their Gold avail;
Nought their importunate Intreaties urg'd:
The Latins other Succours must desire,
Or to the Trojan Leader sue for Peace.
The King Latinus' self with mighty Grief
Sinks fainting: That by Fate's undoubted Doom
Æneas came, the Anger of the Gods
Declares, and recent Tombs before their Eyes.
Therefore, within the lofty Court, he calls
To Council all the Fathers of the State.
They summon'd meet; and thro' the crouded Ways
Flow to the Palace. In the Middle plac'd,
The first in Years, and in imperial Rule,
Latinus, with no joyous Aspect sits.
Th'Ambassadors from Diomede return'd
He first commands their Answer to report,
And all unfold: The rest in Silence sate;
And Venulus obedient Thus began.
Lo! from great Diomede's imperial Walls
Th'Ambassadors, return'd with joyless Cheer,
Their Answer brought; That by such vast Expence
Of tedious Toil they Nothing could effect:
Nought would their Presents, or their Gold avail;
Nought their importunate Intreaties urg'd:
The Latins other Succours must desire,
Or to the Trojan Leader sue for Peace.
The King Latinus' self with mighty Grief
Sinks fainting: That by Fate's undoubted Doom
Æneas came, the Anger of the Gods
302
Therefore, within the lofty Court, he calls
To Council all the Fathers of the State.
They summon'd meet; and thro' the crouded Ways
Flow to the Palace. In the Middle plac'd,
The first in Years, and in imperial Rule,
Latinus, with no joyous Aspect sits.
Th'Ambassadors from Diomede return'd
He first commands their Answer to report,
And all unfold: The rest in Silence sate;
And Venulus obedient Thus began.
The Son of Tydeus, and the Grecian Camp,
O Citizens, with Pain, we have beheld;
Surmounted all the Hazards of the Way,
And touch'd That Hand by which Troy's Kingdom fell.
He Victor there Argyripa has rear'd,
A City from his Native Country nam'd,
And built on Iäpygian Gargan's Soil.
Admission being gain'd, and Leave to speak;
Our Gifts we offer; tell our Name, and Birth;
What People had invaded us with War;
What Cause had brought us to th'Ætolian Coast.
This heard; with pleasing Grace he Thus reply'd.
O Citizens, with Pain, we have beheld;
Surmounted all the Hazards of the Way,
And touch'd That Hand by which Troy's Kingdom fell.
He Victor there Argyripa has rear'd,
A City from his Native Country nam'd,
And built on Iäpygian Gargan's Soil.
Admission being gain'd, and Leave to speak;
Our Gifts we offer; tell our Name, and Birth;
What People had invaded us with War;
What Cause had brought us to th'Ætolian Coast.
This heard; with pleasing Grace he Thus reply'd.
O Nations bless'd by Fate, Saturnian Realms,
Ancient Ausonians; What disastrous Chance
Disturbs your Peace, and prompts you to engage
In Wars unknown? We all, who with the Sword
Presum'd to violate the Trojan Fields,
(I pass Those Toils which fighting we sustain'd
Beneath the lofty Walls, the Heroes swept
By Simois' Stream) o'er all the World have felt
Unheard-of Woes, and Penance for our Crimes,
Which Priam's self would pity. This well knows
Incens'd Minerva's inauspicious Star;
Vengeful Caphareus; and th'Eubœan Rocks.
Since That fam'd War, to various distant Shores,
Exil'd, and from each other toss'd, we rove;
To Proteus' Pillars Menelaüs driv'n,
Ulysses to the Ætnæan Cyclops' Caves.
Of Pyrrhus' Tragic Kingdoms shall I tell?
Or of Idomeneus' subverted State?
Or of the Locrians on the Libyan Coast?
Great Agamemnon's self, our King, the Chief
Of Greeks, by his disloyal Consort's Hand,
In the first Entrance of his Palace fell;
Asia was conquer'd, and the Adult'rer crown'd.
Shall I relate how unpropitious Gods
Gave not to Me to view my Native Soil,
Debar'd me from my much-lov'd Queen's Embrace,
And beauteous Calydon? Ev'n now Portents,
Hideous to Sight, pursue us; And my Friends,
Lost in new Bodies, and transform'd to Birds,
Or wing the Air, or wander in the Streams;
(O dire Infliction! and my Country's Woe!)
And with their plaintive Cries the Rocks resound.
This might I well expect; since, mad in Arms,
Ev'n the Celestial Bodies I assail'd,
And with a Wound bright Venus' Wrist profan'd.
But urge not, urge not Me to Fights like These:
Nor with the Trojans wage I any War,
After the Fall of Troy; nor with Delight
Do I reflect on their Misfortunes past.
The Presents, which to Me you hither brought,
Bear to Æneas: I have stood oppos'd
To his rough Darts; and hand to hand engag'd:
Credit th'Experienc'd, with how vast a Swing
He wheels his Sword, and rises to his Shield;
With what a Whirlwind flies his missive Spear.
Had Two such Heroes more on Ida's Coast
Been bred; the Trojans with invasive War
Would to Inachia's Cities have advanc'd,
And Greece lamented the Reverse of Fate.
Whate'er Obstruction to our Siege was giv'n
Before the stubborn Walls of hardy Troy,
Great Hector, and Æneas gave: By Them
The Grecian Conquest long suspended hung,
And to the Tenth revolving Year retir'd.
Both fam'd for Courage, both renown'd in Arms;
This first in Piety. Join you your Hands
On any Terms, and ratify the Peace:
But O beware; nor Arms to Arms oppose.
303
Disturbs your Peace, and prompts you to engage
In Wars unknown? We all, who with the Sword
Presum'd to violate the Trojan Fields,
(I pass Those Toils which fighting we sustain'd
Beneath the lofty Walls, the Heroes swept
By Simois' Stream) o'er all the World have felt
Unheard-of Woes, and Penance for our Crimes,
Which Priam's self would pity. This well knows
Incens'd Minerva's inauspicious Star;
Vengeful Caphareus; and th'Eubœan Rocks.
Since That fam'd War, to various distant Shores,
Exil'd, and from each other toss'd, we rove;
304
Ulysses to the Ætnæan Cyclops' Caves.
Of Pyrrhus' Tragic Kingdoms shall I tell?
Or of Idomeneus' subverted State?
Or of the Locrians on the Libyan Coast?
Great Agamemnon's self, our King, the Chief
Of Greeks, by his disloyal Consort's Hand,
In the first Entrance of his Palace fell;
Asia was conquer'd, and the Adult'rer crown'd.
Shall I relate how unpropitious Gods
Gave not to Me to view my Native Soil,
Debar'd me from my much-lov'd Queen's Embrace,
And beauteous Calydon? Ev'n now Portents,
Hideous to Sight, pursue us; And my Friends,
Lost in new Bodies, and transform'd to Birds,
Or wing the Air, or wander in the Streams;
(O dire Infliction! and my Country's Woe!)
And with their plaintive Cries the Rocks resound.
This might I well expect; since, mad in Arms,
305
And with a Wound bright Venus' Wrist profan'd.
But urge not, urge not Me to Fights like These:
Nor with the Trojans wage I any War,
After the Fall of Troy; nor with Delight
Do I reflect on their Misfortunes past.
The Presents, which to Me you hither brought,
Bear to Æneas: I have stood oppos'd
To his rough Darts; and hand to hand engag'd:
Credit th'Experienc'd, with how vast a Swing
He wheels his Sword, and rises to his Shield;
With what a Whirlwind flies his missive Spear.
Had Two such Heroes more on Ida's Coast
Been bred; the Trojans with invasive War
Would to Inachia's Cities have advanc'd,
And Greece lamented the Reverse of Fate.
Whate'er Obstruction to our Siege was giv'n
Before the stubborn Walls of hardy Troy,
Great Hector, and Æneas gave: By Them
The Grecian Conquest long suspended hung,
306
Both fam'd for Courage, both renown'd in Arms;
This first in Piety. Join you your Hands
On any Terms, and ratify the Peace:
But O beware; nor Arms to Arms oppose.
Thus, Best of Kings, his Answer you have heard;
And his Resolves on This important War.
And his Resolves on This important War.
Scarce had the Legates spoke; A various Noise
Thro' the confus'd Ausonian Council ran:
As rapid Rivers, pent in rocky Caves,
Hoarse Murmurs roll; The neighb'ring Banks resound.
Soon as the struggling Passions were allay'd,
And all their trembling Mouths in Silence clos'd;
First, having to the Gods address'd his Pray'r,
Thus from his lofty Throne the King began.
Thro' the confus'd Ausonian Council ran:
As rapid Rivers, pent in rocky Caves,
Hoarse Murmurs roll; The neighb'ring Banks resound.
Soon as the struggling Passions were allay'd,
And all their trembling Mouths in Silence clos'd;
First, having to the Gods address'd his Pray'r,
Thus from his lofty Throne the King began.
I could have wish'd, Ye Latins, that before
This present Time (and fitter had it been)
We had determin'd on the Sum of Things.
Less seasonable is it to debate
In Council, when the Foe surrounds our Walls.
Unequal War, Ye Citizens, we wage
With Sons of Gods, a brave unconquer'd Race:
Who by no Toils or Battles are fatigu'd;
Nor, ev'n when vanquish'd, can abstain from Fight.
What Hope of Succours from th'Ætolian Arms
You had conceiv'd, dismiss: Each to Himself
Is his own Hope; but how small That, you see,
In what a Ruin of Affairs confus'd
The Rest all lies, of force you must perceive;
'Tis all before your Eyes, and in your Hands.
Nor Any do I blame: What Courage could,
Has been perform'd; and all the Realm engag'd
With it's whole Body, and it's utmost Pow'rs.
Now (mark me well) what Purpose to my Thoughts
Doubtful occurs, in brief I will unfold.
A Tract of Land I have near Tyber's Stream,
Stretch'd to the West beyond Sicania's Bounds;
Th'Aurunci and the Rutuli with Shares
Manure the stubborn Hills, and sow the Glebe,
And turn to Pasture what rejects the Plough.
Be all This Region, and the piny Sides
Of the tall Mountain to the Trojans giv'n,
Gage of our Friendship: Let our selves propose
The equal Terms of Peace; and to our Realms
Invite them as Allies: Here let them fix,
(If such their strong Desire) and found their Walls.
But if to other Nations, other Coasts
They would repair, and can withdraw from Ours;
With Latian Timber let us build them Ships,
Twenty, or more; if more their Need requires.
Along the River all Materials lie;
The Size and Number let Themselves prescribe:
Be Ours the Cost, the Work, and Naval Stores.
What farther I propose, is to dispatch
An hundred chos'n Ambassadors, the Chief
Of Latian Peers, these Offers to convey,
With Olive in their Hands, and firm the League:
Presents of Gold, and Iv'ry let them bear,
The Chair, and Robe, the Ensigns of our State.
Do You with Prudence for the Publick Good
Consult; and succour our distress'd Affairs.
307
We had determin'd on the Sum of Things.
Less seasonable is it to debate
In Council, when the Foe surrounds our Walls.
Unequal War, Ye Citizens, we wage
With Sons of Gods, a brave unconquer'd Race:
Who by no Toils or Battles are fatigu'd;
Nor, ev'n when vanquish'd, can abstain from Fight.
What Hope of Succours from th'Ætolian Arms
You had conceiv'd, dismiss: Each to Himself
Is his own Hope; but how small That, you see,
In what a Ruin of Affairs confus'd
The Rest all lies, of force you must perceive;
'Tis all before your Eyes, and in your Hands.
Nor Any do I blame: What Courage could,
Has been perform'd; and all the Realm engag'd
With it's whole Body, and it's utmost Pow'rs.
Now (mark me well) what Purpose to my Thoughts
Doubtful occurs, in brief I will unfold.
A Tract of Land I have near Tyber's Stream,
Stretch'd to the West beyond Sicania's Bounds;
Th'Aurunci and the Rutuli with Shares
Manure the stubborn Hills, and sow the Glebe,
308
Be all This Region, and the piny Sides
Of the tall Mountain to the Trojans giv'n,
Gage of our Friendship: Let our selves propose
The equal Terms of Peace; and to our Realms
Invite them as Allies: Here let them fix,
(If such their strong Desire) and found their Walls.
But if to other Nations, other Coasts
They would repair, and can withdraw from Ours;
With Latian Timber let us build them Ships,
Twenty, or more; if more their Need requires.
Along the River all Materials lie;
The Size and Number let Themselves prescribe:
Be Ours the Cost, the Work, and Naval Stores.
What farther I propose, is to dispatch
An hundred chos'n Ambassadors, the Chief
Of Latian Peers, these Offers to convey,
With Olive in their Hands, and firm the League:
Presents of Gold, and Iv'ry let them bear,
The Chair, and Robe, the Ensigns of our State.
Do You with Prudence for the Publick Good
Consult; and succour our distress'd Affairs.
Then Drances, He whom Turnus' Glory stung
With oblique Envy, and the Goads of Spight;
Potent in Wealth, more potent with his Tongue;
But of a cold, unactive Hand in War:
In Policy no weak Adviser deem'd;
Mighty in Factions: By his Mother's Side
Of noble Birth, of doubtful by his Sire's:
He rises, and with Virulence of Words
Thus Turnus loads, and irritates their Rage.
309
Potent in Wealth, more potent with his Tongue;
But of a cold, unactive Hand in War:
In Policy no weak Adviser deem'd;
Mighty in Factions: By his Mother's Side
Of noble Birth, of doubtful by his Sire's:
He rises, and with Virulence of Words
Thus Turnus loads, and irritates their Rage.
What You propose, great King, has nought obscure;
Nor needs our Suffrage: All confess they know
The true Expedient which the State requires;
But fear to speak their Thoughts. Let Him permit
Freedom of Speech, and moderate his Vaunts;
By whose unlucky Conduct and whose Crimes
(Nay I will speak, tho' Arms and present Death
He menaces) we see so many Lights
Of Latium quench'd, so many Leaders fall'n,
And all the City weeping on the Ground:
While hov'ring he surveys the Trojan Camp,
Trusting in Flight, and braves the Sky with Arms.
To all Those Presents, which You, Best of Kings,
Send to the Trojans, be One added more:
Unmov'd by any Violence, or Threats,
Give to a worthy Son the Royal Bride;
And by That lasting Pledge confirm the Peace.
But if so great a Terrour awes our Minds;
Himself we will implore, and from Himself
Intreat This Favour: Let him to the King,
And to his Country yield their proper Rights.
O Thou, the Head, and Source of all This Woe
To Latium; Why so oft dost thou expose
Our wretched Citizens to Toils and Death?
No Safety is in War: To Thee for Peace,
Turnus, we sue, and for it's certain Pledge.
Lo! I the first, whom Thou wilt have thy Foe,
(Nor am I careful to renounce That Name)
I suppliant come: Commiserate thy Friends;
Abate thy Fire; and routed quit the Field:
Enough of Blood and Slaughter have we seen,
And desolated the wide Regions round.
Or if by Thirst of Glory thou art warm'd;
If so much Courage harbours in thy Breast,
And so much Love of Empire for thy Dow'r:
Advance in Fight, and obvious meet the Foe.
Forsooth, that Turnus may espouse a Queen;
We, viler Lives, a Rabble, uninterr'd,
And undeplor'd, must perish in the War:
Do Thou, if any Spirit in That Breast,
If any of thy Country's Mars is lodg'd,
Exert thy self; and look Him in the Face,
Who dares thee to the Field.
310
The true Expedient which the State requires;
But fear to speak their Thoughts. Let Him permit
Freedom of Speech, and moderate his Vaunts;
By whose unlucky Conduct and whose Crimes
(Nay I will speak, tho' Arms and present Death
He menaces) we see so many Lights
Of Latium quench'd, so many Leaders fall'n,
And all the City weeping on the Ground:
While hov'ring he surveys the Trojan Camp,
Trusting in Flight, and braves the Sky with Arms.
311
Send to the Trojans, be One added more:
Unmov'd by any Violence, or Threats,
Give to a worthy Son the Royal Bride;
And by That lasting Pledge confirm the Peace.
But if so great a Terrour awes our Minds;
Himself we will implore, and from Himself
Intreat This Favour: Let him to the King,
And to his Country yield their proper Rights.
O Thou, the Head, and Source of all This Woe
To Latium; Why so oft dost thou expose
Our wretched Citizens to Toils and Death?
No Safety is in War: To Thee for Peace,
Turnus, we sue, and for it's certain Pledge.
Lo! I the first, whom Thou wilt have thy Foe,
(Nor am I careful to renounce That Name)
312
Abate thy Fire; and routed quit the Field:
Enough of Blood and Slaughter have we seen,
And desolated the wide Regions round.
Or if by Thirst of Glory thou art warm'd;
If so much Courage harbours in thy Breast,
And so much Love of Empire for thy Dow'r:
Advance in Fight, and obvious meet the Foe.
Forsooth, that Turnus may espouse a Queen;
We, viler Lives, a Rabble, uninterr'd,
And undeplor'd, must perish in the War:
Do Thou, if any Spirit in That Breast,
If any of thy Country's Mars is lodg'd,
Exert thy self; and look Him in the Face,
Who dares thee to the Field.
These Words the Violence of Turnus fir'd:
Deeply he groan'd; and from his inmost Soul
With Indignation Thus the Hero spoke.
313
With Indignation Thus the Hero spoke.
Great is your Volubility of Speech,
Drances, 'tis own'd: Then always, when the War
Demands our Arms, and when the Fathers meet,
You first are present. But 'tis now no Time
To fill the Court with Words, which fly from You
With mighty Noise in Safety: when our Walls
With Bulwarks keep the Enemy at Bay,
Nor foam our Trenches with a Tide of Blood.
Then thunder Thou, as usual, with thy Bolts
Of Eloquence: And Me do Thou arraign
Of Cowardise, Thou, Drances; when Thy Hand
Such Heaps of slaughter'd Trojans shall have rais'd,
And all with Martial Trophys deck'd the Fields.
What your redoubted Valour can perform
You now may try: Nor need we seek the Foes
At distance; They besiege our Walls around.
March we adverse? Why This Delay in Thee?
Shall all Thy Mars in That loud blustring Tongue,
And in the Swiftness of Those coward Feet
Consist for ever?
I routed? Who, degen'rate Wretch, on Me
Will fix That Brand; who thinks on Tyber's Stream
Frothing and swoln with Floods of Trojan Gore,
And all Evander's Race upon the Ground
Fall'n prostrate, and th'Arcadians stripp'd of Arms?
Bitias, and Pandarus, of Giant-Bulk,
Found Me not routed; nor Those Thousand more,
Whom, Victor, in one Day I sent to Hell,
Hem'd round with Foes, and pent within their Walls.
No Safety is in War? Go, Fool, and preach
Such Maxims to the Trojan, and Thy Friends:
Cease not with panick Fear t'embroil our State,
Extol the Strength of a twice vanquish'd Race,
And lessen and depress Latinus' Arms.
Just now, 'tis found, the Myrmidonian Lords,
Tydides, and the Larissæan Chief
Achilles, trembled at the Phrygian Arms:
And, flying from the Adriatick Waves,
Affrighted Aufidus rolls back his Stream.
Now too the Miscreant my pretended Crimes
Embitters, with his own dissembled Fear
Of my Revenge: A Soul like That (dismiss
Thy Terrour) by This Hand thou ne'er shalt lose;
There let it dwell, and in That Breast remain.
Drances, 'tis own'd: Then always, when the War
Demands our Arms, and when the Fathers meet,
You first are present. But 'tis now no Time
To fill the Court with Words, which fly from You
With mighty Noise in Safety: when our Walls
With Bulwarks keep the Enemy at Bay,
Nor foam our Trenches with a Tide of Blood.
Then thunder Thou, as usual, with thy Bolts
Of Eloquence: And Me do Thou arraign
Of Cowardise, Thou, Drances; when Thy Hand
314
And all with Martial Trophys deck'd the Fields.
What your redoubted Valour can perform
You now may try: Nor need we seek the Foes
At distance; They besiege our Walls around.
March we adverse? Why This Delay in Thee?
Shall all Thy Mars in That loud blustring Tongue,
And in the Swiftness of Those coward Feet
Consist for ever?
I routed? Who, degen'rate Wretch, on Me
Will fix That Brand; who thinks on Tyber's Stream
Frothing and swoln with Floods of Trojan Gore,
And all Evander's Race upon the Ground
Fall'n prostrate, and th'Arcadians stripp'd of Arms?
Bitias, and Pandarus, of Giant-Bulk,
Found Me not routed; nor Those Thousand more,
Whom, Victor, in one Day I sent to Hell,
Hem'd round with Foes, and pent within their Walls.
No Safety is in War? Go, Fool, and preach
Such Maxims to the Trojan, and Thy Friends:
315
Extol the Strength of a twice vanquish'd Race,
And lessen and depress Latinus' Arms.
Just now, 'tis found, the Myrmidonian Lords,
Tydides, and the Larissæan Chief
Achilles, trembled at the Phrygian Arms:
And, flying from the Adriatick Waves,
Affrighted Aufidus rolls back his Stream.
Now too the Miscreant my pretended Crimes
316
Of my Revenge: A Soul like That (dismiss
Thy Terrour) by This Hand thou ne'er shalt lose;
There let it dwell, and in That Breast remain.
To You, great Monarch, and to your Debates
I now return. If You no more repose
Hope in our Arms; If by one Battle lost
We perish Whole, and Fortune knows no Change;
Let us beg Peace, and stretch our Hands unarm'd.
(Yet Oh! did any of our pristine Worth
And Vertue still remain; That Man to Me
Would in his glorious Toils most bless'd appear,
Who rather than behold a Thing like This,
Fell once for all, and dying bit the Ground.)
But if a Force entire to us is left
Still in Reserve, and Latian Towns, and States
Auxiliary; If Glory to our Foes
Came purchas'd at a vast Expence of Blood;
If They too have their Fun'rals; And thro' all
The Tempest rag'd with equal Fury; Why
Faint we inglorious in the first Attempt,
And shrink with Fear before the Trumpet's Sound?
Oft has Vicissitude of changeful Time
By various Turns to better State restor'd
Distress'd Affairs: Many with pleasing Sport
Fortune, alternately revisiting,
Has mock'd, and on a solid Base repos'd.
Will not Ætolian Arpi give us Aid?
Yet will Messapus, and Tolumnius lov'd
By Fortune, and the Chiefs whom various States
Have hither sent: Nor small will be the Fame
Of Those in Latium and Laurentum rais'd.
These of the Volscian Race Camilla joins,
Leading her Horse-Brigade, and Troops with Brass
Refulgent. But if Me alone for Fight
The Trojans claim; If That be Here resolv'd;
And I so much obstruct the common Good:
Not so has Conquest with Aversion fled
These Hands of Mine, that aught I would refuse
To enterprize for so sublime a Hope.
Undaunted will I march to meet the Foe;
Tho' He a Second great Achilles prove,
Arm'd, like the First, with Panoply Divine
By Vulcan forg'd. To You, and to the King
Latinus, Father of my Royal Bride,
I Turnus, nought inferiour in my Fame
To our great Ancestors, This Life devote:
Me only dares Æneas? Dare he still:
And let not Drances, whate'er Wrath of Heav'n
Impends, or whate'er Glory may be won,
Sustain the first, nor bear away the last.
I now return. If You no more repose
Hope in our Arms; If by one Battle lost
We perish Whole, and Fortune knows no Change;
Let us beg Peace, and stretch our Hands unarm'd.
(Yet Oh! did any of our pristine Worth
317
Would in his glorious Toils most bless'd appear,
Who rather than behold a Thing like This,
Fell once for all, and dying bit the Ground.)
But if a Force entire to us is left
Still in Reserve, and Latian Towns, and States
Auxiliary; If Glory to our Foes
Came purchas'd at a vast Expence of Blood;
If They too have their Fun'rals; And thro' all
The Tempest rag'd with equal Fury; Why
Faint we inglorious in the first Attempt,
And shrink with Fear before the Trumpet's Sound?
318
By various Turns to better State restor'd
Distress'd Affairs: Many with pleasing Sport
Fortune, alternately revisiting,
Has mock'd, and on a solid Base repos'd.
Will not Ætolian Arpi give us Aid?
Yet will Messapus, and Tolumnius lov'd
By Fortune, and the Chiefs whom various States
Have hither sent: Nor small will be the Fame
Of Those in Latium and Laurentum rais'd.
These of the Volscian Race Camilla joins,
Leading her Horse-Brigade, and Troops with Brass
Refulgent. But if Me alone for Fight
The Trojans claim; If That be Here resolv'd;
And I so much obstruct the common Good:
Not so has Conquest with Aversion fled
These Hands of Mine, that aught I would refuse
To enterprize for so sublime a Hope.
Undaunted will I march to meet the Foe;
Tho' He a Second great Achilles prove,
319
By Vulcan forg'd. To You, and to the King
Latinus, Father of my Royal Bride,
I Turnus, nought inferiour in my Fame
To our great Ancestors, This Life devote:
Me only dares Æneas? Dare he still:
And let not Drances, whate'er Wrath of Heav'n
Impends, or whate'er Glory may be won,
Sustain the first, nor bear away the last.
Thus They on doubtful Schemes debating strove;
Æneas march'd his Army from the Camp.
Lo! rushing thro' the Court with frantick Haste
A Messenger with Terrour fills the Town;
Relates, that in Array of Battle rang'd
The Trojans and the Tyrrhene Troops descend
From Tyber's Stream, and cover all the Plain.
Forthwith their Minds with stimulating Rage
Are stung, confus'd: To Arms, To Arms, they cry:
The madding Multitude, and Warriour Youth
Together rave: The pensive Fathers weep,
And murmur unresolv'd: To Heav'n ascends
A Clamour of Dissent, and various Noise.
As when on some tall Wood the flocking Birds
Alight: Or in the fishy Stream of Po
Loquacious Swans with clatt'ring Pinions sound.
Yes, now Ye Citizens, brave Turnus cry'd,
(Snatching th'Occasion) is the Time to sit
In Council, and harangue in Praise of Peace:
By War They rush to Empire. More than This
He spoke not, but with rapid Speed forsook
The Court, and from the lofty Hall withdrew.
Thou, Volusus, he cry'd, command to Arms
The Volscian Troops; and to the Battle lead
The Rutuli: Do Thou, Messapus, pour
The Horse into the Field: And join'd with Thee
Let Coras, with his Brother, range the Fight:
Let Others guard the Passes of the Town,
And man the Tow'rs: The rest where I command
On Me shall wait, and with Me dare in Arms.
Æneas march'd his Army from the Camp.
Lo! rushing thro' the Court with frantick Haste
A Messenger with Terrour fills the Town;
Relates, that in Array of Battle rang'd
The Trojans and the Tyrrhene Troops descend
From Tyber's Stream, and cover all the Plain.
Forthwith their Minds with stimulating Rage
Are stung, confus'd: To Arms, To Arms, they cry:
The madding Multitude, and Warriour Youth
Together rave: The pensive Fathers weep,
And murmur unresolv'd: To Heav'n ascends
A Clamour of Dissent, and various Noise.
As when on some tall Wood the flocking Birds
320
Loquacious Swans with clatt'ring Pinions sound.
Yes, now Ye Citizens, brave Turnus cry'd,
(Snatching th'Occasion) is the Time to sit
In Council, and harangue in Praise of Peace:
By War They rush to Empire. More than This
He spoke not, but with rapid Speed forsook
The Court, and from the lofty Hall withdrew.
Thou, Volusus, he cry'd, command to Arms
The Volscian Troops; and to the Battle lead
The Rutuli: Do Thou, Messapus, pour
The Horse into the Field: And join'd with Thee
Let Coras, with his Brother, range the Fight:
Let Others guard the Passes of the Town,
And man the Tow'rs: The rest where I command
On Me shall wait, and with Me dare in Arms.
Strait to the Works from all the City round
They croud: Latinus' self the Council leaves;
And, with the Tumult of the Times perplex'd,
Adjourns th'important Business of the State:
And much himself accuses, that long since
He had not in the strict Alliance join'd
Æneas, and as Son-in-law receiv'd.
Others dig Trenches deep before the Gates,
And roll vast Stones, and Palisadoes fix:
The Trumpet with shrill Clangor to the Fight
The bloody Signal sounds: The Dames, and Boys
In a promiscuous Throng the Ramparts crown;
The last of Labours calls them all to War.
Mean-while the Queen to Pallas' stately Dome
Amidst a num'rous Quire of Matrons, rode,
And Off'rings bore; Lavinia by her Side,
The Royal Virgin; Cause of all their Woe;
Her beauteous Eyes cast down, and bent on Earth.
The Matrons follow; and with Incense sweet
Perfume the Temple; and with mournful Sound
Thus from the stately Entrance breathe their Pray'r.
Tritonian Virgin, Arbitress of War,
Break with Thy Hand the Phrygian Pirate's Lance;
And Him lay prone extended on the Ground,
And roll his Trunk beneath the lofty Gates.
They croud: Latinus' self the Council leaves;
And, with the Tumult of the Times perplex'd,
Adjourns th'important Business of the State:
And much himself accuses, that long since
He had not in the strict Alliance join'd
Æneas, and as Son-in-law receiv'd.
Others dig Trenches deep before the Gates,
And roll vast Stones, and Palisadoes fix:
321
The bloody Signal sounds: The Dames, and Boys
In a promiscuous Throng the Ramparts crown;
The last of Labours calls them all to War.
Mean-while the Queen to Pallas' stately Dome
Amidst a num'rous Quire of Matrons, rode,
And Off'rings bore; Lavinia by her Side,
The Royal Virgin; Cause of all their Woe;
Her beauteous Eyes cast down, and bent on Earth.
The Matrons follow; and with Incense sweet
Perfume the Temple; and with mournful Sound
Thus from the stately Entrance breathe their Pray'r.
Tritonian Virgin, Arbitress of War,
Break with Thy Hand the Phrygian Pirate's Lance;
And Him lay prone extended on the Ground,
And roll his Trunk beneath the lofty Gates.
Turnus himself arms, furious, for the Fight;
In his Rutulian Corslet clad, and rough
With brazen Scales, he sheaths his Legs in Gold,
His Head yet bare; then buckles to his Side
His faithful Sword; from the high Fort runs down,
And shines all o'er in Gold; with Martial Pride
Exulting, and in Hope prevents the Foe.
In his Rutulian Corslet clad, and rough
With brazen Scales, he sheaths his Legs in Gold,
His Head yet bare; then buckles to his Side
His faithful Sword; from the high Fort runs down,
And shines all o'er in Gold; with Martial Pride
Exulting, and in Hope prevents the Foe.
So, loose with broken Reins, the sprightly Steed
Flies from his Stall, and gains the open Field;
Or to the Pastures, and the Female-Herd
He bends his Course; or to the wonted Stream,
To bathe his Limbs: He neighs, and bounds from Earth
Luxuriant, prancing, with his Chest erect,
And Head high toss'd in Air: His waving Mane
Flows on his Neck, and o'er his Shoulder plays.
322
Or to the Pastures, and the Female-Herd
He bends his Course; or to the wonted Stream,
To bathe his Limbs: He neighs, and bounds from Earth
Luxuriant, prancing, with his Chest erect,
And Head high toss'd in Air: His waving Mane
Flows on his Neck, and o'er his Shoulder plays.
Him obvious with her Volscian Squadron meets
Camilla, Warriour Queen; and from her Steed,
In the first Entrance of the Gate, alights:
By her Example, all the Troop to Earth,
Quitting their Horses, slide: Then thus she speaks.
Camilla, Warriour Queen; and from her Steed,
In the first Entrance of the Gate, alights:
By her Example, all the Troop to Earth,
Quitting their Horses, slide: Then thus she speaks.
Turnus, if aught of Confidence the Brave
With Justice may assume; I dare to meet,
And promise to engage th'Æneian Lines,
And single to oppose the Tyrrhene Horse.
Let me first try the Perils of the War;
Stand Thou in Arms on foot, and guard the Walls.
With Justice may assume; I dare to meet,
And promise to engage th'Æneian Lines,
And single to oppose the Tyrrhene Horse.
Let me first try the Perils of the War;
Stand Thou in Arms on foot, and guard the Walls.
Fixing his Eyes upon the wond'rous Maid,
Turnus replies: O Thou, the Pride and Boast
Of Latium, matchless Nymph; What Thanks to Thee
Can I repay? Since now That Spirit soars
Above all Dangers; share Thy Toils with Mine.
Æneas, (so my Scouts and Fame report)
Has sent his light-arm'd Horse to scour the Fields:
Himself along the desart Mountain's Top
Advancing hastes, and marches to the Town.
Now in the hollow Passes of the Wood
An Ambush I prepare, and to beset
With an arm'd Force the narrow double Ways.
Do Thou in Fight sustain the Tyrrhene Horse:
Thee brave Messapus, and the Latin Troops,
And Tyburs shall attend: Be Thou their Chief.
Turnus replies: O Thou, the Pride and Boast
323
Can I repay? Since now That Spirit soars
Above all Dangers; share Thy Toils with Mine.
Æneas, (so my Scouts and Fame report)
Has sent his light-arm'd Horse to scour the Fields:
Himself along the desart Mountain's Top
Advancing hastes, and marches to the Town.
Now in the hollow Passes of the Wood
An Ambush I prepare, and to beset
With an arm'd Force the narrow double Ways.
Do Thou in Fight sustain the Tyrrhene Horse:
Thee brave Messapus, and the Latin Troops,
And Tyburs shall attend: Be Thou their Chief.
He said; and rous'd Messapus to the Fight;
And all the Leaders with like Ardour fir'd:
Then marches opposite, and seeks the Foe.
And all the Leaders with like Ardour fir'd:
Then marches opposite, and seeks the Foe.
Deep in a winding Tract a Valley lies,
Well form'd for Ambush, and the Frauds of War,
On ev'ry side with gloomy Boughs inclos'd;
To which a slender Path, thro' narrow Jaws,
(A difficult, malignant Passage) leads:
High on the Mountain's Top a secret Plain,
And safe Retreat, there lies: Or to the right,
Or to the left, from thence you may engage,
Obvious in Fight; or standing on the Ridge
Roll Stones and rocky Fragments on the Foe.
Hither the Youthful Hero march'd his Force,
Thro' the known Ways; with Expedition seiz'd
The Post, and in th'uneven Thickets lay.
Well form'd for Ambush, and the Frauds of War,
On ev'ry side with gloomy Boughs inclos'd;
To which a slender Path, thro' narrow Jaws,
(A difficult, malignant Passage) leads:
324
And safe Retreat, there lies: Or to the right,
Or to the left, from thence you may engage,
Obvious in Fight; or standing on the Ridge
Roll Stones and rocky Fragments on the Foe.
Hither the Youthful Hero march'd his Force,
Thro' the known Ways; with Expedition seiz'd
The Post, and in th'uneven Thickets lay.
Mean-while Diana in the Seats above
Swift Opis calls, one of her sacred Train,
And chosen Virgins; and with mournful Voice
Thus speaks. To cruel War Camilla goes,
O Nymph, and buckles on our Arms in vain;
Dear above all to Me: Nor late, or new
Is This Affection in Diana's Breast;
Nor sprang it from a sudden sweet Surprize.
When Metabus, ejected from his Realm,
And from Privernum's ancient City, fled
Prevailing Faction, and rebellious Rage;
An Infant thro' the Foes, and Arms he bore,
Companion of his Exile; and her Name
Camilla call'd: Casmilla was his Queen's,
Thus to his Daughter with small Change transferr'd.
Her bearing in his Bosom, to the Cliffs
And solitary Woods he took his Way:
The hostile Darts encompass'd him around,
And the arm'd Volscians hover'd o'er the Field.
Lo! in the Middle of his Flight, the Stream
Of Amasenus foam'd above it's Banks;
So great a Show'r had burst the bellying Clouds.
Love of his Child, as he prepares to swim,
Retards him; for his darling Charge he fears:
Turning on ev'ry Side his shifting Thoughts,
This sudden Resolution he approves.
A pond'rous Jav'lin in his warlike Hand,
Solid with Knots and strong tough Oak, he bore:
To This he binds the Child, in silvan Cork
Inclos'd, with Osiers, and the Rind of Trees,
And fitted to the Middle of the Spear;
Which poising in his Hand, he Thus address'd
His Suit to Heav'n. Auspicious Queen of Woods,
Latonia, Virgin-Goddess, grant my Pray'r:
To Thee the Father's self his Daughter vows
Thy Servant; She, thy Weapon grasping first,
Flies thro' the Air, thy Suppliant, from the Foe:
Accept thy Own, great Goddess, I implore,
Just now committed to th'uncertain Winds.
This said; with Arm swung-back he hurl'd the Spear:
The River sounds; and o'er it's rapid Stream
Camilla with the whistling Jav'lin flies.
But Metabus, more closely now pursu'd,
Plunges into the Waves; and, having gain'd
His wish'd Design, his Jav'lin, with the Child
Sacred to Trivia, from the grassy Turf,
Wrenching, releases. Him within their Gates,
Or hospitable Walls, no Towns receiv'd:
Nor would himself, so fierce his Soul, have yielded
With Them t'associate. On the lonely Hills
In Solitude a Shepherd's Life he chose:
Here, in the Brakes, and savage Dens of Beasts,
He nurs'd his Daughter from the Dugs of Mares,
Milking their Teats into her tender Lips.
Soon as the Infant first with doubtful Feet
Could press the Ground; her little Hands he fill'd
With pointed Darts, and on her Shoulder hung
A Bow, and Quiver. No soft Caul of Gold
Her Tresses strains; nor flows her waving Gown:
Instead of These a Tyger's horrid Hide
Hangs from her Head, and o'er her Back descends.
Darts with her tender Hand ev'n Then she threw;
And, whirling round her Head a sounding Sling,
Struck a Strymonian Crane, or snow-white Swan.
Her many Matrons o'er the Tyrrhene Towns
Attempted with their Sons to match in vain:
She, with Diana's Love alone content,
(Love undecaying, and confirm'd by Time)
Her Shafts, and her Virginity preserves,
Inviolate. Well for her had it been,
Had she been less in love with such a War;
And much I wish she never had engag'd
In This Attempt, to dare the Trojan Pow'rs.
My Fav'rite Nymph, and in my Virgin Train
She might have liv'd. But now, since urg'd she goes
By Fates unequal; Slide Thou from the Pole,
And visit Latium's Confines, where the Fight
Ill-omen'd rages: These my Weapons take,
And from the Quiver draw th'avenging Shaft;
With This let whosoe'er shall with a Wound
(Or Trojan, or Italian let Him prove)
That sacred Body violate, to Me
Pay the exacted Forfeit with his Blood.
Then in a hollow Cloud her Corps, and Arms,
(Poor hapless Maid!) unplunder'd by the Foe,
I to her native Country will convey;
And hide them in a Tomb. The Goddess spoke:
The Nymph, involv'd in a black Whirlwind, flew
Thro' the light Air, and sounded from the Sky.
Swift Opis calls, one of her sacred Train,
And chosen Virgins; and with mournful Voice
Thus speaks. To cruel War Camilla goes,
O Nymph, and buckles on our Arms in vain;
Dear above all to Me: Nor late, or new
Is This Affection in Diana's Breast;
Nor sprang it from a sudden sweet Surprize.
When Metabus, ejected from his Realm,
And from Privernum's ancient City, fled
Prevailing Faction, and rebellious Rage;
325
Companion of his Exile; and her Name
Camilla call'd: Casmilla was his Queen's,
Thus to his Daughter with small Change transferr'd.
Her bearing in his Bosom, to the Cliffs
And solitary Woods he took his Way:
The hostile Darts encompass'd him around,
And the arm'd Volscians hover'd o'er the Field.
Lo! in the Middle of his Flight, the Stream
Of Amasenus foam'd above it's Banks;
So great a Show'r had burst the bellying Clouds.
Love of his Child, as he prepares to swim,
Retards him; for his darling Charge he fears:
Turning on ev'ry Side his shifting Thoughts,
This sudden Resolution he approves.
A pond'rous Jav'lin in his warlike Hand,
326
To This he binds the Child, in silvan Cork
Inclos'd, with Osiers, and the Rind of Trees,
And fitted to the Middle of the Spear;
Which poising in his Hand, he Thus address'd
His Suit to Heav'n. Auspicious Queen of Woods,
Latonia, Virgin-Goddess, grant my Pray'r:
To Thee the Father's self his Daughter vows
Thy Servant; She, thy Weapon grasping first,
Flies thro' the Air, thy Suppliant, from the Foe:
Accept thy Own, great Goddess, I implore,
Just now committed to th'uncertain Winds.
This said; with Arm swung-back he hurl'd the Spear:
The River sounds; and o'er it's rapid Stream
Camilla with the whistling Jav'lin flies.
But Metabus, more closely now pursu'd,
Plunges into the Waves; and, having gain'd
His wish'd Design, his Jav'lin, with the Child
Sacred to Trivia, from the grassy Turf,
Wrenching, releases. Him within their Gates,
Or hospitable Walls, no Towns receiv'd:
Nor would himself, so fierce his Soul, have yielded
With Them t'associate. On the lonely Hills
327
Here, in the Brakes, and savage Dens of Beasts,
He nurs'd his Daughter from the Dugs of Mares,
Milking their Teats into her tender Lips.
Soon as the Infant first with doubtful Feet
Could press the Ground; her little Hands he fill'd
With pointed Darts, and on her Shoulder hung
A Bow, and Quiver. No soft Caul of Gold
Her Tresses strains; nor flows her waving Gown:
Instead of These a Tyger's horrid Hide
Hangs from her Head, and o'er her Back descends.
Darts with her tender Hand ev'n Then she threw;
And, whirling round her Head a sounding Sling,
Struck a Strymonian Crane, or snow-white Swan.
Her many Matrons o'er the Tyrrhene Towns
Attempted with their Sons to match in vain:
She, with Diana's Love alone content,
(Love undecaying, and confirm'd by Time)
Her Shafts, and her Virginity preserves,
Inviolate. Well for her had it been,
Had she been less in love with such a War;
And much I wish she never had engag'd
In This Attempt, to dare the Trojan Pow'rs.
My Fav'rite Nymph, and in my Virgin Train
328
By Fates unequal; Slide Thou from the Pole,
And visit Latium's Confines, where the Fight
Ill-omen'd rages: These my Weapons take,
And from the Quiver draw th'avenging Shaft;
With This let whosoe'er shall with a Wound
(Or Trojan, or Italian let Him prove)
That sacred Body violate, to Me
Pay the exacted Forfeit with his Blood.
Then in a hollow Cloud her Corps, and Arms,
(Poor hapless Maid!) unplunder'd by the Foe,
I to her native Country will convey;
And hide them in a Tomb. The Goddess spoke:
The Nymph, involv'd in a black Whirlwind, flew
Thro' the light Air, and sounded from the Sky.
Mean-while the Trojan Squadron to the Town
Approaches, and th'Etrurian Chiefs, and all
The Army of the Horse, compos'd in Troops
By certain Numbers rang'd: O'er all the Field
The bounding Coursers struggle with the Bit,
Now This, now That way turn'd, and neigh aloud:
A Wood of Jav'lins rises; and the Plain
Glows dreadful with the iron Gleam of Arms.
Nor less Messapus, and the swift Brigade
Of Latins, and the Nymph Camilla's Wing,
And Coras, with his Brother, on the Field
Stand opposite; with Hands drawn back protend
Their threatning Spears, and shake their brandish'd Darts.
The Noise of trampling Feet, and neighing Steeds
Burns in the Air, and nearer rolls the Fight.
Now within Jav'lin's Reach both Armys stood;
Loud with a sudden Shout in Onset fierce
They rush amain, and rouse their thund'ring Steeds:
Thick as a Storm of Snow their Arrows pour,
And darken all the Sky. Tyrrhenus first,
And brave Aconteus join the horrid Clash
Of Conflict; and advance with hostile Spears,
And mighty Sound, exerting all their Force:
With Breast to Breast oppos'd their Coursers meet,
And almost rive each other in the Shock.
Aconteus, from his Seat dismounted, falls
Like Lightning, or a Stone's unwieldy Weight
Shot from an Engine; At a distance thrown
He falls, and breathes his Soul dispers'd in Air.
Forthwith the Lines disorder'd croud: And turn'd
In Flight the Latins cast their Shields behind;
And spur their smoking Horses to the Town.
The Trojans urge the Chace; Asylas Chief
Leads on the Troops: They now approach'd the Gates;
The Latins in their Turn, with deaf'ning Shout,
Wheel round their Steeds, and bend their pliant Necks:
The Trojans fly, and slack the waving Reins.
As when the Ocean, with alternate Tide,
Now rushes to the Beach, and o'er the Rocks
Tosses the Waves, and to th'extremest Sand
Dashes it's curling Foam: Now refluent rolls
With rapid Ebb, sucks back the rattling Stones,
Flies from the Shelves, and naked leaves the Shore.
Twice to their Walls the Tuscans drove in Flight
The Rutuli; Twice, cover'd with their Shields,
Themselves look back, and see the Foes pursue.
But when, engaging in the Third Assault,
All Battle join'd, and Man to Man oppos'd:
Then dying Groans are heard; And drown'd in Gore
Arms, Bodys, gasping Steeds, and slaughter'd Men
Promiscuous roll: A rigid Fight ensues.
Orsilochus against the warriour Horse
Of Remulus (Himself he durst not meet)
Darted a Lance, and left beneath his Ear
The sticking Point: Impatient of the Wound,
The raging Steed uprears his Breast erect,
And paws in Air: His Lord dismounted rolls
To Earth. Catillus strikes Iölas dead,
And great Herminius, great in Soul, and Arms,
And Body; Yellow was his Hair, his Head
And Shoulders naked: Him no Wounds affright;
So full, and large a Mark he stands expos'd.
Thro' his broad Shoulders flies the trembling Spear;
And doubles him, contracted with the Pain.
Black Gore flows all around: With mortal Rage
They scatter Wounds, and meet the glorious Death.
Approaches, and th'Etrurian Chiefs, and all
329
By certain Numbers rang'd: O'er all the Field
The bounding Coursers struggle with the Bit,
Now This, now That way turn'd, and neigh aloud:
A Wood of Jav'lins rises; and the Plain
Glows dreadful with the iron Gleam of Arms.
330
Of Latins, and the Nymph Camilla's Wing,
And Coras, with his Brother, on the Field
Stand opposite; with Hands drawn back protend
Their threatning Spears, and shake their brandish'd Darts.
The Noise of trampling Feet, and neighing Steeds
Burns in the Air, and nearer rolls the Fight.
Now within Jav'lin's Reach both Armys stood;
Loud with a sudden Shout in Onset fierce
They rush amain, and rouse their thund'ring Steeds:
Thick as a Storm of Snow their Arrows pour,
And darken all the Sky. Tyrrhenus first,
And brave Aconteus join the horrid Clash
331
And mighty Sound, exerting all their Force:
With Breast to Breast oppos'd their Coursers meet,
And almost rive each other in the Shock.
Aconteus, from his Seat dismounted, falls
Like Lightning, or a Stone's unwieldy Weight
Shot from an Engine; At a distance thrown
He falls, and breathes his Soul dispers'd in Air.
Forthwith the Lines disorder'd croud: And turn'd
In Flight the Latins cast their Shields behind;
And spur their smoking Horses to the Town.
The Trojans urge the Chace; Asylas Chief
Leads on the Troops: They now approach'd the Gates;
The Latins in their Turn, with deaf'ning Shout,
Wheel round their Steeds, and bend their pliant Necks:
The Trojans fly, and slack the waving Reins.
As when the Ocean, with alternate Tide,
Now rushes to the Beach, and o'er the Rocks
Tosses the Waves, and to th'extremest Sand
Dashes it's curling Foam: Now refluent rolls
With rapid Ebb, sucks back the rattling Stones,
Flies from the Shelves, and naked leaves the Shore.
332
The Rutuli; Twice, cover'd with their Shields,
Themselves look back, and see the Foes pursue.
But when, engaging in the Third Assault,
All Battle join'd, and Man to Man oppos'd:
Then dying Groans are heard; And drown'd in Gore
Arms, Bodys, gasping Steeds, and slaughter'd Men
Promiscuous roll: A rigid Fight ensues.
Orsilochus against the warriour Horse
Of Remulus (Himself he durst not meet)
Darted a Lance, and left beneath his Ear
The sticking Point: Impatient of the Wound,
The raging Steed uprears his Breast erect,
And paws in Air: His Lord dismounted rolls
To Earth. Catillus strikes Iölas dead,
And great Herminius, great in Soul, and Arms,
And Body; Yellow was his Hair, his Head
And Shoulders naked: Him no Wounds affright;
So full, and large a Mark he stands expos'd.
333
And doubles him, contracted with the Pain.
Black Gore flows all around: With mortal Rage
They scatter Wounds, and meet the glorious Death.
But in the Midst the Amazonian Maid,
Camilla, with her Shafts, and Quiver storms,
Exulting, fierce among the slaughter'd Heaps,
With one Breast bare commodious for the Fight:
Now hurls repeated Jav'lins, now with Toil,
Unweary'd snatches her well-temper'd Axe:
Her gilded Bow, and all Diana's Arms
Sound from her Shoulder. Ev'n, when turn'd in Flight,
(If e'er she turn) her Arrows she directs
Shot backward, and behind her bends the Bow.
Her choicest Virgins near her Person ride,
Larina, Tulla, and Tarpeia brave
Shaking her brazen Axe, Italian Nymphs;
Whom for her self divine Camilla chose,
Her Grace, and Ministry, in Peace, or War.
As when the Thracian Amazons, engag'd
In Conflict, beat Thermodon's sounding Banks,
And shine in painted Arms: Or round their Chief
Hippolyte: Or when the Martial Queen
Penthesilea in her Car returns:
And with a mighty Shout, and Tumult rais'd,
The Female Troops exult with lunar Shields.
Camilla, with her Shafts, and Quiver storms,
Exulting, fierce among the slaughter'd Heaps,
With one Breast bare commodious for the Fight:
Now hurls repeated Jav'lins, now with Toil,
Unweary'd snatches her well-temper'd Axe:
Her gilded Bow, and all Diana's Arms
Sound from her Shoulder. Ev'n, when turn'd in Flight,
(If e'er she turn) her Arrows she directs
Shot backward, and behind her bends the Bow.
Her choicest Virgins near her Person ride,
Larina, Tulla, and Tarpeia brave
Shaking her brazen Axe, Italian Nymphs;
Whom for her self divine Camilla chose,
Her Grace, and Ministry, in Peace, or War.
As when the Thracian Amazons, engag'd
334
And shine in painted Arms: Or round their Chief
Hippolyte: Or when the Martial Queen
Penthesilea in her Car returns:
And with a mighty Shout, and Tumult rais'd,
The Female Troops exult with lunar Shields.
Who first, Who last in Battle, Warlike Maid,
Sinks by thy Dart? How many on the Ground
Extendest Thou in Death? Eumenius first,
The Son of Clytius; whose uncover'd Breast
Adverse she with a Length of pointed Fir
Transfixes: Vomiting a Sea of Blood
He falls, and dying bites the gory Soil,
Tumbles on Earth, and welters in his Wound.
Then Liris next, and Pagasus she kills:
The first, while rolling from his wounded Steed
He gathers up the Reins; the last, to Him
Off'ring his Aid, and stretching, as he sinks,
His ling'ring Hand: Both prone together fall.
To These in Death she joins Amastrus, Son
Of Hippotas: And with her Lance pursues
Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoön,
And Chromis; Them, incumbent on their Rear
She presses close. As many Darts as flew
Shot from the Virgin's Hand, so many Youths
Of Phrygia fall. On his Apulian Steed
The Hunter Ornitus at distance rides,
In Arms unknown: His warlike Shoulders broad
By a Bull's Hide are cover'd; o'er his Head
With their white Teeth a Wolf's vast yawning Jaws
Grin fierce; a rustick Halbert arms his Hands:
Himself amidst the thickest Troops appears,
And by the Head entire o'ertops them all.
Him met in Fight (for easy was the Task,
The Troop now disarray'd) she pierces thro',
And o'er him Thus with bitter Accent speaks.
Tuscan, Didst thou conceive thy self in Woods
Hunting thy wonted Game? The Day is come,
Which by a Woman's Arms refels your Boast:
Yet to thy Ancestors' departed Shades
This Solace, no small Glory, shalt thou bear;
'Tis to Camilla's Dart thou ow'st thy Death.
Forthwith Orsilochus, and Butes, Both
Trojans of mightiest Stature, she invades:
But Butes with a Dart she strikes adverse,
Betwixt his Casque, and Corslet; where his Neck
Shines, as he rides; and where his Target hangs
From his left Shoulder. With dissembled Flight
In a wide Ring, interiour, wheeling round
She mocks Orsilochus, and Him pursues,
From whom she flies: Then rising to the Blows
Redoubled, thro' his Arms and Bones she drives
Her massy Axe, nor aught regards his Pray'rs;
From the warm Wound his Brains besmear his Face.
Sinks by thy Dart? How many on the Ground
Extendest Thou in Death? Eumenius first,
The Son of Clytius; whose uncover'd Breast
Adverse she with a Length of pointed Fir
Transfixes: Vomiting a Sea of Blood
He falls, and dying bites the gory Soil,
Tumbles on Earth, and welters in his Wound.
Then Liris next, and Pagasus she kills:
The first, while rolling from his wounded Steed
He gathers up the Reins; the last, to Him
Off'ring his Aid, and stretching, as he sinks,
His ling'ring Hand: Both prone together fall.
To These in Death she joins Amastrus, Son
Of Hippotas: And with her Lance pursues
Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoön,
And Chromis; Them, incumbent on their Rear
She presses close. As many Darts as flew
Shot from the Virgin's Hand, so many Youths
Of Phrygia fall. On his Apulian Steed
The Hunter Ornitus at distance rides,
In Arms unknown: His warlike Shoulders broad
By a Bull's Hide are cover'd; o'er his Head
With their white Teeth a Wolf's vast yawning Jaws
Grin fierce; a rustick Halbert arms his Hands:
335
And by the Head entire o'ertops them all.
Him met in Fight (for easy was the Task,
The Troop now disarray'd) she pierces thro',
And o'er him Thus with bitter Accent speaks.
Tuscan, Didst thou conceive thy self in Woods
Hunting thy wonted Game? The Day is come,
Which by a Woman's Arms refels your Boast:
Yet to thy Ancestors' departed Shades
This Solace, no small Glory, shalt thou bear;
'Tis to Camilla's Dart thou ow'st thy Death.
Forthwith Orsilochus, and Butes, Both
Trojans of mightiest Stature, she invades:
But Butes with a Dart she strikes adverse,
Betwixt his Casque, and Corslet; where his Neck
Shines, as he rides; and where his Target hangs
From his left Shoulder. With dissembled Flight
336
She mocks Orsilochus, and Him pursues,
From whom she flies: Then rising to the Blows
Redoubled, thro' his Arms and Bones she drives
Her massy Axe, nor aught regards his Pray'rs;
From the warm Wound his Brains besmear his Face.
The Son of Aunus next, Ligurian Lord,
Inhabitant of Apenninus' Mount,
Met her in Arms, and at the sudden Sight
Startled repress'd his Steps. He not the last
Of That deceiving Race, while Fate allow'd
His Wiles to prove successful, when he saw
That by no Flight he could decline the War,
Nor any way avert the raging Queen;
By Art, and Fraud attempts her, and Thus speaks.
What mighty Praise is Thine, if thou confide,
A Female Warriour, in That bulky Horse?
Dismiss thy Flight, and hand to hand engage
On equal Ground with Me; Thou soon shalt know
To which of Us vain Boasts will fatal prove.
He said; She, gall'd, and with such Taunts incens'd,
To her Attendant gives her Steed, and stands
With her drawn Sword on foot in equal Arms,
And fearless bears aloft her maiden Shield.
The Youth, supposing he had gain'd by Fraud
His wish'd Design, swift turns the waving Reins,
With his arm'd Heel his fiery Courser gores,
Rapid in Flight, and scours along the Field.
In vain, Ligurian Boaster, hast thou try'd
Thy Country's slipp'ry Arts, with proud Conceit
Puff'd up in vain; nor shall This study'd Wile
Thee to fallacious Aunus safe restore.
Inhabitant of Apenninus' Mount,
Met her in Arms, and at the sudden Sight
Startled repress'd his Steps. He not the last
Of That deceiving Race, while Fate allow'd
His Wiles to prove successful, when he saw
That by no Flight he could decline the War,
Nor any way avert the raging Queen;
By Art, and Fraud attempts her, and Thus speaks.
What mighty Praise is Thine, if thou confide,
337
Dismiss thy Flight, and hand to hand engage
On equal Ground with Me; Thou soon shalt know
To which of Us vain Boasts will fatal prove.
He said; She, gall'd, and with such Taunts incens'd,
To her Attendant gives her Steed, and stands
With her drawn Sword on foot in equal Arms,
And fearless bears aloft her maiden Shield.
The Youth, supposing he had gain'd by Fraud
His wish'd Design, swift turns the waving Reins,
With his arm'd Heel his fiery Courser gores,
Rapid in Flight, and scours along the Field.
In vain, Ligurian Boaster, hast thou try'd
Thy Country's slipp'ry Arts, with proud Conceit
Puff'd up in vain; nor shall This study'd Wile
Thee to fallacious Aunus safe restore.
So spake the Virgin; and with wingy Feet,
Which kindled, as she flew, outstrips the Steed,
Stands to his Head oppos'd, and grasps the Reins,
And gluts her vengeful Rage with hostile Gore.
Not with more Ease the sacred Bird of Mars,
The Faulcon, from a lofty Cliff pursues
A Dove sublime in Air, and gripes her seiz'd,
And scoops her Entrails with his hooky Claws;
Torn Plumes and Blood fall mingled from the Sky.
Which kindled, as she flew, outstrips the Steed,
Stands to his Head oppos'd, and grasps the Reins,
And gluts her vengeful Rage with hostile Gore.
Not with more Ease the sacred Bird of Mars,
338
A Dove sublime in Air, and gripes her seiz'd,
And scoops her Entrails with his hooky Claws;
Torn Plumes and Blood fall mingled from the Sky.
But not with unobserving Eyes, from Heav'n,
The Sire of Men and Gods these Things beholds,
Enthron'd aloft: Etrurian Tarchon's Rage
He irritates, and goads him to the Fight.
Therefore amidst the Slaughter, where the Troops
Yielding give way, fierce Tarchon spurs his Steed,
With various Speech excites them, calls aloud
On each by Name, and rallys them to War.
O void of all Resentment, whom no Wrongs
Can move, Ye ever stupid Tuscans; Whence
This Panick? Whence such Cowardise of Soul?
A Woman drives you straggling, and defeats
These Squadrons: Wherefore hold you in your Hands
Those Swords, and those unprofitable Darts?
But not to Venus, and nocturnal Wars
Are You such Recreants; nor so listless watch
The Bacchanalian Revels, when Those Feasts
The crooked Pipe of Bacchus has proclaim'd,
(This is your Love, your Study, and Delight)
'Till the auspicious Augur's Voice declares
The sacred Rites begun, and Victims slain
Invite you, with their Fat, and pamper'd Flesh,
Into the deep Recesses of the Grove.
The Sire of Men and Gods these Things beholds,
Enthron'd aloft: Etrurian Tarchon's Rage
He irritates, and goads him to the Fight.
Therefore amidst the Slaughter, where the Troops
Yielding give way, fierce Tarchon spurs his Steed,
With various Speech excites them, calls aloud
On each by Name, and rallys them to War.
O void of all Resentment, whom no Wrongs
Can move, Ye ever stupid Tuscans; Whence
This Panick? Whence such Cowardise of Soul?
A Woman drives you straggling, and defeats
These Squadrons: Wherefore hold you in your Hands
Those Swords, and those unprofitable Darts?
But not to Venus, and nocturnal Wars
Are You such Recreants; nor so listless watch
The Bacchanalian Revels, when Those Feasts
The crooked Pipe of Bacchus has proclaim'd,
339
'Till the auspicious Augur's Voice declares
The sacred Rites begun, and Victims slain
Invite you, with their Fat, and pamper'd Flesh,
Into the deep Recesses of the Grove.
This said, into the Midst he spurs his Steed,
Turbid with Rage, and bent, Himself, on Death;
Full against Venulus he justling drives,
With his Right hand, embracing, grasps his Foe,
And tugs him from his Steed, and in his Lap
Bears him away, impetuous o'er the Field.
A Shout to Heav'n is rais'd; The Latin Troops
All That way bend their Eyes: Swift o'er the Plain
Flies fiery Tarchon, bearing off his Prey,
The Warriour and his Arms. Then breaks the Point
Short from his Spear; and all around explores
The most unguarded Part, which best might take
The mortal Wound: The other from his Throat,
Struggling and twisting with defensive Force,
Wards off the Blow, and Strength with Strength eludes.
Turbid with Rage, and bent, Himself, on Death;
Full against Venulus he justling drives,
With his Right hand, embracing, grasps his Foe,
And tugs him from his Steed, and in his Lap
Bears him away, impetuous o'er the Field.
A Shout to Heav'n is rais'd; The Latin Troops
All That way bend their Eyes: Swift o'er the Plain
Flies fiery Tarchon, bearing off his Prey,
The Warriour and his Arms. Then breaks the Point
Short from his Spear; and all around explores
The most unguarded Part, which best might take
The mortal Wound: The other from his Throat,
Struggling and twisting with defensive Force,
Wards off the Blow, and Strength with Strength eludes.
As when the tawny Eagle, tow'ring high,
Sticks with her griping Talons in a Snake,
And snatches him aloft: He wounded writhes
His tortuous Volumes, and with stiffen'd Scales
Stares horrid; hisses loud, and in the Air
Erects his threat'ning Head: She not the less
Plies him, reluctant, with her hooky Beak,
And with her sounding Pinions beats the Sky.
Sticks with her griping Talons in a Snake,
And snatches him aloft: He wounded writhes
His tortuous Volumes, and with stiffen'd Scales
340
Erects his threat'ning Head: She not the less
Plies him, reluctant, with her hooky Beak,
And with her sounding Pinions beats the Sky.
So Tarchon bears from the Tiburtian Troop
His Prey, triumphant. Rais'd with That Success,
And following th'Example of their Chief,
The Lydians rush. Then Aruns, due to Fate,
Round swift Camilla with his Jav'lin wheels,
Insidious; and what Fortune would present
Easiest, explores. Where-e'er the raging Maid
Thro' the mid Squadron moves, still Aruns close
Attends her, silent, and her Steps observes.
Where-e'er Victorious she returns, and quits
The vanquish'd Foe; he thither bends his Reins
With Secresy and Speed: Now These, now Those
Approaches tries; runs all the Circuit round;
And shakes, malignant, his unerring Spear.
His Prey, triumphant. Rais'd with That Success,
And following th'Example of their Chief,
The Lydians rush. Then Aruns, due to Fate,
Round swift Camilla with his Jav'lin wheels,
Insidious; and what Fortune would present
Easiest, explores. Where-e'er the raging Maid
Thro' the mid Squadron moves, still Aruns close
Attends her, silent, and her Steps observes.
Where-e'er Victorious she returns, and quits
The vanquish'd Foe; he thither bends his Reins
With Secresy and Speed: Now These, now Those
Approaches tries; runs all the Circuit round;
And shakes, malignant, his unerring Spear.
Sacred to Cybele, and once her Priest,
Chloreus, by chance, all bright in Phrygian Arms,
At distance shone, and spurr'd his foaming Steed:
The Steed rich Trappings cloath'd, compact with Scales
Of Brass, and Gold, like Feathers wrought: Himself
Gaudy in Purple, and Barbaric Dye,
Shot Lycian Arrows from a Cretian Bow;
The sounding Bow, which from his Shoulders hung,
Glitter'd with Gold; And golden was the Helm
That deck'd his priestly Head; His saffron Cloak,
And Linen-Folds, which rattled, as He mov'd,
With yellow Gold he in a Knot confin'd;
With Needle-work embroider'd were his Robes,
And Asian Cuisses, that his Thighs inclos'd.
Him the Heroick Maid, o'er all the Field,
Uncautious sought, on Him alone intent;
That to the Temple's Roof she might affix
The Trojan Arms; or, Huntress, ride adorn'd
And proud with captive Gold: Thro' all the Troops
Him eager she pursues; and thoughtless burns
With female Love of Trophys, and gay Spoils.
Aruns, This wish'd Occasion having gain'd,
At length, his Jav'lin from his Covert throws,
And suppliant Thus to Heav'n directs his Pray'r.
341
At distance shone, and spurr'd his foaming Steed:
The Steed rich Trappings cloath'd, compact with Scales
Of Brass, and Gold, like Feathers wrought: Himself
Gaudy in Purple, and Barbaric Dye,
Shot Lycian Arrows from a Cretian Bow;
The sounding Bow, which from his Shoulders hung,
342
That deck'd his priestly Head; His saffron Cloak,
And Linen-Folds, which rattled, as He mov'd,
With yellow Gold he in a Knot confin'd;
With Needle-work embroider'd were his Robes,
And Asian Cuisses, that his Thighs inclos'd.
Him the Heroick Maid, o'er all the Field,
Uncautious sought, on Him alone intent;
That to the Temple's Roof she might affix
The Trojan Arms; or, Huntress, ride adorn'd
And proud with captive Gold: Thro' all the Troops
Him eager she pursues; and thoughtless burns
With female Love of Trophys, and gay Spoils.
Aruns, This wish'd Occasion having gain'd,
At length, his Jav'lin from his Covert throws,
And suppliant Thus to Heav'n directs his Pray'r.
Supreme of Gods, Apollo, who thy Hill
Sacred Soracte, Guardian, dost defend;
Whom We the first adore; for whom we feed
The Fire in piny Piles; and thro' That Fire,
Safe in our Piety, and fearless, walk,
Thy Worshippers, and tread on burning Coals:
Grant me, Almighty Father, by my Arms
This Blot, this foul Dishonour to remove.
Rich Spoils, or Trophys from the conquer'd Maid
I seek not; Fame my other Deeds shall give:
Let This dire Pest fall vanquish'd by my Wound;
Inglorious to my Country I'll return.
Sacred Soracte, Guardian, dost defend;
Whom We the first adore; for whom we feed
The Fire in piny Piles; and thro' That Fire,
Safe in our Piety, and fearless, walk,
Thy Worshippers, and tread on burning Coals:
Grant me, Almighty Father, by my Arms
This Blot, this foul Dishonour to remove.
343
I seek not; Fame my other Deeds shall give:
Let This dire Pest fall vanquish'd by my Wound;
Inglorious to my Country I'll return.
Apollo heard; and part of his Request
He granted, part dispers'd in fleeting Air.
That with a sudden Death he should surprize
Camilla, was indulg'd: That He return'd
Should see his Native Country, was deny'd;
And born by Winds the scatter'd Accents flew.
Therefore when, darted from his Hand, the Lance
Sung thro' the Sky; the startled Host perceiv'd
The Sound; and all the Volscians to the Queen
Quick turn'd their Eyes: Herself nor aught regards
The whizzing Air, nor heeds the coming Dart;
'Till deep infix'd beneath her naked Pap
The Weapon stuck, and drank her virgin Blood.
Around their Mistress her Attendants run
Trembling, and catch her, falling, in their Arms:
But, more than all affrighted, Aruns flies,
With mingled Joy, and Fear; and now no more
Durst in his Lance confide, or obvious meet
The Virgin's Darts. So flies the guilty Wolf,
Red with the Slaughter of a lofty Bull,
Or Shepherd; To avoid pursuing Spears,
He flies; and, conscious of th'audacious Fact,
Close to his Belly, cow'ring, claps his Tail;
Seeks the high Hills, and devious lurks in Woods.
So Aruns from all Eyes himself withdraws
In wild Confusion; and, content with Flight,
Plunges amidst the Host. She dying tugs
The sticking Jav'lin: But between the Bones,
In the deep Wound, fix'd stands the pointed Steel:
All pale she sinks; her cold Eyes sink in Death;
And from her Cheeks the rosy Colour flies.
Then Thus, expiring, Acca she bespeaks,
Her best lov'd Friend, and Partner of her Cares:
Thus far I could, my Sister Acca; Now
My Life-Blood issues thro' the aking Wound;
And all things swim in Mists before my Eyes.
Haste, and to Turnus These last Mandates bear;
Let him succeed to Battle, and repel
The Trojans from the Town. And now Adieu.
So saying, from her slacken'd Hand she drops
The Reins; and not spontaneous flows to Earth;
Cold by degrees she sobs her Life away;
Reclines her hanging Neck, and heavy Head,
Leaving her Arms: And to the Shades below
With Indignation flies her groaning Soul.
He granted, part dispers'd in fleeting Air.
That with a sudden Death he should surprize
Camilla, was indulg'd: That He return'd
Should see his Native Country, was deny'd;
And born by Winds the scatter'd Accents flew.
Therefore when, darted from his Hand, the Lance
Sung thro' the Sky; the startled Host perceiv'd
The Sound; and all the Volscians to the Queen
Quick turn'd their Eyes: Herself nor aught regards
The whizzing Air, nor heeds the coming Dart;
'Till deep infix'd beneath her naked Pap
344
Around their Mistress her Attendants run
Trembling, and catch her, falling, in their Arms:
But, more than all affrighted, Aruns flies,
With mingled Joy, and Fear; and now no more
Durst in his Lance confide, or obvious meet
The Virgin's Darts. So flies the guilty Wolf,
Red with the Slaughter of a lofty Bull,
Or Shepherd; To avoid pursuing Spears,
He flies; and, conscious of th'audacious Fact,
Close to his Belly, cow'ring, claps his Tail;
Seeks the high Hills, and devious lurks in Woods.
So Aruns from all Eyes himself withdraws
In wild Confusion; and, content with Flight,
345
The sticking Jav'lin: But between the Bones,
In the deep Wound, fix'd stands the pointed Steel:
All pale she sinks; her cold Eyes sink in Death;
And from her Cheeks the rosy Colour flies.
Then Thus, expiring, Acca she bespeaks,
346
Thus far I could, my Sister Acca; Now
My Life-Blood issues thro' the aking Wound;
And all things swim in Mists before my Eyes.
Haste, and to Turnus These last Mandates bear;
Let him succeed to Battle, and repel
The Trojans from the Town. And now Adieu.
So saying, from her slacken'd Hand she drops
The Reins; and not spontaneous flows to Earth;
Cold by degrees she sobs her Life away;
Reclines her hanging Neck, and heavy Head,
Leaving her Arms: And to the Shades below
With Indignation flies her groaning Soul.
Forthwith a Clamour beats the golden Stars,
Immense, increasing: By Camilla's Death
The Fight recruited with fresh Fury burns.
All rush together, all the Trojan Force,
The Tyrrhene Leaders, and Evander's Wings.
Opis mean-while, the Nymph of Trivia's Train,
Sits on a Hill; and fearless views the Fight.
When She, amidst the Tumult of the War,
Beheld Camilla with a cruel Wound
Pale and expiring; from her inmost Breast
Deeply she groan'd, and Thus the Goddess spoke.
347
The Fight recruited with fresh Fury burns.
All rush together, all the Trojan Force,
The Tyrrhene Leaders, and Evander's Wings.
Opis mean-while, the Nymph of Trivia's Train,
Sits on a Hill; and fearless views the Fight.
When She, amidst the Tumult of the War,
Beheld Camilla with a cruel Wound
Pale and expiring; from her inmost Breast
Deeply she groan'd, and Thus the Goddess spoke.
Alas! poor Nymph, a Penance too severe!
Too rigorous a Forfeit hast Thou paid,
For Thus presuming to provoke in Arms
The Trojan Pow'rs. Nor Thee avail'd it aught,
Lonely in savage Thickets to have liv'd
Diana's Servant, and our Quivers worn.
Yet Thee thy Mistress in th'Extremes of Death
Inglorious will not leave: Nor shall thy Fall
Uncelebrated thro' the Nations prove,
Or unreveng'd. For whosoe'er he be,
Who with a Wound thy Body has profan'd;
Death is the Penalty for That Offence.
Too rigorous a Forfeit hast Thou paid,
For Thus presuming to provoke in Arms
The Trojan Pow'rs. Nor Thee avail'd it aught,
Lonely in savage Thickets to have liv'd
Diana's Servant, and our Quivers worn.
Yet Thee thy Mistress in th'Extremes of Death
Inglorious will not leave: Nor shall thy Fall
Uncelebrated thro' the Nations prove,
Or unreveng'd. For whosoe'er he be,
Who with a Wound thy Body has profan'd;
Death is the Penalty for That Offence.
Beneath a lofty Hill, a Bust there stood
Of high-rais'd Earth; for King Dercennus rear'd,
Ancient Laurentian King; and cover'd o'er
With gloomy Oak. Here first with rapid Flight
The Goddess takes her Stand; and from the Tomb
Aruns surveys. When Him she saw in Arms
Glitt'ring, and vainly swelling with Success:
Why That way? Hither turn thy Steps, she said;
Come hither, doom'd to perish; and receive
The due Reward Camilla's Death demands:
Shalt Thou too die by great Diana's Darts?
Of high-rais'd Earth; for King Dercennus rear'd,
Ancient Laurentian King; and cover'd o'er
With gloomy Oak. Here first with rapid Flight
The Goddess takes her Stand; and from the Tomb
Aruns surveys. When Him she saw in Arms
Glitt'ring, and vainly swelling with Success:
Why That way? Hither turn thy Steps, she said;
Come hither, doom'd to perish; and receive
348
Shalt Thou too die by great Diana's Darts?
She said; and from her golden Quiver took
A feather'd Shaft, and bent her vengeful Bow;
Bent it, 'till both the crooked Horns were join'd,
And met each other; her left Hand at once
Touching the Point, her right, and the tough Nerve
Strain'd to her Breast. Forthwith the sounding Air,
And Hissing of the Weapon Aruns heard,
And in his Body felt the sticking Steel.
Him, tumbled in thick Smoke upon the Plain,
Groaning his last, and sobbing out his Soul,
His Friends, unmindful, leave in Dust unknown:
Opis to high Olympus speeds her Flight.
A feather'd Shaft, and bent her vengeful Bow;
Bent it, 'till both the crooked Horns were join'd,
And met each other; her left Hand at once
Touching the Point, her right, and the tough Nerve
Strain'd to her Breast. Forthwith the sounding Air,
And Hissing of the Weapon Aruns heard,
And in his Body felt the sticking Steel.
Him, tumbled in thick Smoke upon the Plain,
Groaning his last, and sobbing out his Soul,
His Friends, unmindful, leave in Dust unknown:
Opis to high Olympus speeds her Flight.
Their Queen thus slain, first flies Camilla's Wing
Light-arm'd; The Rutuli confounded fly,
And brave Atinas, and the scatter'd Chiefs,
And broken Troops: To safer Posts they run,
And spur their foaming Steeds to reach the Town.
Nor now can any Force in Arms sustain
The Trojans, pressing, and dispensing Death;
Or stand oppos'd: But languid back they bear
Their Bows unbent, and o'er their Shoulders slung;
And the swift Horses shake the putrid Soil
With sounding Hoofs. A turbid Cloud of Dust
Rolls to the City: On the lofty Tow'rs
The Matrons stand, and to th'ethereal Stars
Raise female Cries; and frantick beat their Breasts.
With Those who thro' the open Gates first croud
Into the Town, a mingled Throng of Foes
Together presses: Nor a cruel Death
Do they escape; but ev'n within their Walls,
Their Houses, and beneath their native Roofs,
Transfix'd expire their Souls. Some shut the Gates;
Nor durst permit their own imploring Friends
To enter: Those with Arms the Passes guard,
These rush against those Arms; Among them all,
A Slaughter vast and terrible ensues.
Others, before their weeping Parents' Eyes,
Excluded, by the Rout, and Ruin urg'd,
Down the steep Trenches leap: With loosen'd Reins
Some forward spur their Steeds, and blindly tilt
Against the Gates, the Bars, and solid Posts.
The trembling Dames themselves, when they beheld
Camilla, by their Country's Love inspir'd
Hurl Weapons from the Ramparts; pointed Oak,
Harden'd with Fire, and sharpen'd Stakes they use
Instead of Steel: Precipitant they run,
In This last Conflict foremost tempt their Fate,
And first dare perish in the Town's Defence.
349
And brave Atinas, and the scatter'd Chiefs,
And broken Troops: To safer Posts they run,
And spur their foaming Steeds to reach the Town.
Nor now can any Force in Arms sustain
The Trojans, pressing, and dispensing Death;
Or stand oppos'd: But languid back they bear
Their Bows unbent, and o'er their Shoulders slung;
And the swift Horses shake the putrid Soil
With sounding Hoofs. A turbid Cloud of Dust
Rolls to the City: On the lofty Tow'rs
The Matrons stand, and to th'ethereal Stars
Raise female Cries; and frantick beat their Breasts.
With Those who thro' the open Gates first croud
Into the Town, a mingled Throng of Foes
Together presses: Nor a cruel Death
Do they escape; but ev'n within their Walls,
Their Houses, and beneath their native Roofs,
Transfix'd expire their Souls. Some shut the Gates;
Nor durst permit their own imploring Friends
To enter: Those with Arms the Passes guard,
These rush against those Arms; Among them all,
A Slaughter vast and terrible ensues.
Others, before their weeping Parents' Eyes,
350
Down the steep Trenches leap: With loosen'd Reins
Some forward spur their Steeds, and blindly tilt
Against the Gates, the Bars, and solid Posts.
The trembling Dames themselves, when they beheld
Camilla, by their Country's Love inspir'd
Hurl Weapons from the Ramparts; pointed Oak,
Harden'd with Fire, and sharpen'd Stakes they use
Instead of Steel: Precipitant they run,
In This last Conflict foremost tempt their Fate,
And first dare perish in the Town's Defence.
Mean-while to Turnus, in the Woods, convey'd
The dismal Tidings came, and fill'd his Soul
With Tumult: Acca to the Youth relates
That all the Volscian Squadrons were destroy'd,
Camilla slain, th'insulting Foes march'd on,
Bore all before them with successful War,
And to the Walls the Consternation roll'd.
He furious (so the Will of Jove severe
Ordain'd) forsakes the guarded Hills, and Woods.
Scarce from That Ambush had the Chief retir'd,
And, out of view, descended on the Plain:
When Prince Æneas enter'd with his Troops
The open Thickets, the high Mountain's Ridge
O'erpass'd, and issu'd from the gloomy Grove.
So Both, with rapid Haste, and all their Pow'rs,
Together march, and strive to reach the Walls:
And now but little Space between them lies.
Soon as Æneas saw the distant Fields
Smoking with Dust, and all th'Ausonian Host;
And Turnus knew Æneas dire in Arms;
And heard the thund'ring Hoofs, and snorting Steeds;
Forthwith they had engag'd, and Battle join'd:
Had not the rosy Sun in Western Waves
(The Day declining) plung'd his weary Car,
And brought returning Night. They pitch their Tents
Encamp'd, and lie intrench'd before the Town.
The dismal Tidings came, and fill'd his Soul
With Tumult: Acca to the Youth relates
That all the Volscian Squadrons were destroy'd,
Camilla slain, th'insulting Foes march'd on,
Bore all before them with successful War,
And to the Walls the Consternation roll'd.
He furious (so the Will of Jove severe
Ordain'd) forsakes the guarded Hills, and Woods.
Scarce from That Ambush had the Chief retir'd,
And, out of view, descended on the Plain:
When Prince Æneas enter'd with his Troops
351
O'erpass'd, and issu'd from the gloomy Grove.
So Both, with rapid Haste, and all their Pow'rs,
Together march, and strive to reach the Walls:
And now but little Space between them lies.
Soon as Æneas saw the distant Fields
Smoking with Dust, and all th'Ausonian Host;
And Turnus knew Æneas dire in Arms;
And heard the thund'ring Hoofs, and snorting Steeds;
Forthwith they had engag'd, and Battle join'd:
Had not the rosy Sun in Western Waves
(The Day declining) plung'd his weary Car,
And brought returning Night. They pitch their Tents
Encamp'd, and lie intrench'd before the Town.
The End of the Eleventh Book.
| The Works of Virgil | |