watching this, not with eyes unseeing: he kindles Tyrrhenian Tarchon to
the fierce battle, and sharply goads him on to wrath. So Tarchon gallops
amid the slaughter where his squadrons retreat, and urges his troops in
changing tones, calling man on man by name, and rallies the fliers to
fight. 'What terror, what utter cowardice hath fallen on your spirits, O
never to be stung to shame, O slack alway? a woman drives you in
disorder and routs our ranks! Why wear we steel? for what are these idle
weapons in our hands? Yet not slack in Venus' service and wars by night,
or, when the curving flute proclaims Bacchus' revels, to look forward to
the feast and the cups on the loaded board (this your passion, this your
desire!) till the soothsayer pronounce the offering favourable, and the
fatted victim invite you to the deep groves.' So speaking, he spurs his
horse into the midmost, ready himself to die, and bears violently down
full on Venulus; and tearing him from horseback, grasps his enemy and
carries him away with him on the saddle-bow by main force. A cry rises
up, and all the Latins turn their eyes. Tarchon flies like fire over the
plain, carrying the armed man, and breaks off the steel head from his
own spear and searches the uncovered places, trying where he may deal
the mortal blow; the other struggling against him keeps his hand off his
throat, and strongly parries his attack. And, as when a golden eagle
snatches and soars with a serpent in his clutch, and his feet are fast
in it, and his talons cling; but the wounded snake writhes in coiling
spires, and its scales rise and roughen, and its mouth hisses as it
towers upward; the bird none the less attacks his struggling prize with
crooked beak, while his vans beat the air: even so Tarchon carries
Tiburtus out of the ranks, triumphant in his prize. Following their
captain's example and issue the men of Maeonia charge in. Then Arruns,
due to his [760-796]doom, circles in advance of fleet Camilla with
artful javelin, and tries how fortune may be easiest. Where the maiden
darts furious amid the ranks, there Arruns slips up and silently tracks
her footsteps; where she returns victorious and retires from amid the
enemy, there he stealthily bends his rapid reins. Here he approaches,
and here again he approaches, and strays all round and about, and
untiringly shakes his certain spear. Haply Chloreus, sacred to Cybele
and once her priest, glittered afar, splendid in Phrygian armour; a skin
feathered with brazen scales and clasped with gold clothed the horse
that foamed under his spur; himself he shone in foreign blue and
scarlet, with fleet Gortynian shafts and a Lycian horn; a golden bow was
on his shoulder, and the soothsayer's helmet was of gold; red gold
knotted up his yellow scarf with its rustling lawny folds; his tunics
and barbarian trousers were wrought in needlework. Him, whether that she
might nail armour of Troy on her temples, or herself move in captive
gold, the maiden pursued in blind chase alone of all the battle
conflict, and down the whole line, reckless and fired by a woman's
passion for spoils and plunder: when at last out of his ambush Arruns
chooses his time and darts his javelin, praying thus aloud to heaven:
'Apollo, most high of gods, holy Soracte's warder, to whom we beyond all
do worship, for whom the blaze of the pinewood heap is fed, where we thy
worshippers in pious faith print our steps amid the deep embers of the
fire, grant, O Lord omnipotent, that our arms wipe off this disgrace. I
seek not the dress the maiden wore, nor trophy or any spoil of victory;
other deeds shall bring me praise; let but this dread scourge fall
stricken beneath my wound, I will return inglorious to my native towns.'
Phoebus heard, and inly granted half his vow to prosper, half he shred
into the flying breezes. To surprise and strike down Camilla in sudden
death, this he [797-831]yielded to his prayer; that his high home might
see his return he gave not, and a gust swept off his accents on the
gale. So, when the spear sped from his hand hurtled through the air, all
the Volscians marked it well and turned their eyes on the queen; and she
alone knew not wind or sound of the weapon on its aery path, till the
spear passed home and sank where her breast met it, and, driven deep,
drank her maiden blood. Her companions run hastily up and catch their
sinking mistress. Arruns takes to flight more alarmed than all, in
mingled fear and exultation, and no longer dares to trust his spear or
face the maiden's weapons. And as the wolf, some shepherd or great
bullock slain, plunges at once among the trackless mountain heights ere
hostile darts are in pursuit, and knows how reckless he hath been, and
drooping his tail lays it quivering under his belly, and seeks the
woods; even so does Arruns withdraw from sight in dismay, and, satisfied
to escape, mingles in the throng of arms. The dying woman pulls at the
weapon with her hand; but the iron head is fixed deep in the wound up
between the rib-bones. She swoons away with loss of blood; chilling in
death her eyes swoon away; the once lustrous colour leaves her face.
Then gasping, she thus accosts Acca, one of her birthmates, who alone
before all was true to Camilla, with whom her cares were divided; and
even so she speaks: 'Thus far, Acca my sister, have I availed; now the
bitter wound overmasters me, and all about me darkens in haze. Haste
away, and carry to Turnus my last message; to take my place in battle,
and repel the Trojans from the town. And now goodbye.' Even with the
words she dropped the reins and slid to ground unconscious. Then the
unnerving chill overspread her, her neck slackened, her head sank
overpowered by death, and her arms fell, and with a moan the life fled
indignant into the dark. Then indeed an [832-867]infinite cry rises and
smites the golden stars; the battle grows bloodier now Camilla is down;
at once in serried rants all the Teucrian forces pour in, with the
Tyrrhene captains and Evander's Arcadian squadrons.
But Opis, Trivia's sentinel, long ere now sits high on the hill-tops,
gazing on the battle undismayed. And when afar amid the din of angry men
she espied Camilla done woefully to death, she sighed and uttered forth
a deep cry: 'Ah too, too cruel, O maiden, the forfeit thou hast paid for
daring armed attack on the Teucrians! and nothing hath availed thee thy
lonely following of Diana in the woodlands, nor wearing our quiver on
thy shoulder. Yet thy Queen hath not left thee unhonoured now thy latter
end is come; nor will this thy death be unnamed among the nations, nor
shalt thou bear the fame of one unavenged; for whosoever hath sullied
thy body with a wound shall pay death for due.' Under the mountain
height was a great earthen mound, tomb of Dercennus, a Laurentine king
of old, shrouded in shadowy ilex. Hither the goddess most beautiful
first swoops down, and marks Arruns from the mounded height. As she saw
him glittering in arms and idly exultant: 'Why,' she cries, 'wanderest
thou away? hitherward direct thy steps; come hither to thy doom, to
receive thy fit reward for Camilla. Shalt thou die, and by Diana's
weapons?' The Thracian spoke, and slid out a fleet arrow from her gilded
quiver, and stretched it level on the bow, and drew it far, till the
curving tips met one another, and now her hands touched in counterpoise,
the left the steel edge, the string in the right her breast. At once and
in a moment Arruns heard the whistle of the dart and the resounding air,
as the steel sank in his body. His comrades leave him forgotten on the
unknown dust of the plain, moaning his last and gasping his life away;
Opis wings her flight to the skyey heaven.
[868-901]At once the light squadron of Camilla retreat now they have
lost their mistress; the Rutulians retreat in confusion, brave Atinas
retreats. Scattered captains and thinned companies make for safety, and
turn their horses backward to the town. Nor does any avail to make stand
against the swarming death-dealing Teucrians, or bear their shock in
arms; but their unstrung bows droop on their shoulders, and the
four-footed galloping horse-hoof shakes the crumbling plain. The eddying
dust rolls up thick and black towards the walls, and on the watch-towers
mothers beat their breasts and the cries of women rise up to heaven. On
such as first in the rout broke in at the open gates the mingling
hostile throng follows hard; nor do they escape death, alas! but in the
very gateway, within their native city and amid their sheltering homes,
they are pierced through and gasp out their life. Some shut the gates,
and dare not open to their pleading comrades nor receive them in the
town; and a most pitiful slaughter begins between armed men who guard
the entry and others who rush upon their arms. Barred out before their
weeping parents' eyes and faces, some, swept on by the rout, roll
headlong into the trenches; some, blindly rushing with loosened rein,
batter at the gates and stiffly-bolted doorway. The very mothers from
the walls in eager heat (true love of country points the way, when they
see Camilla) dart weapons with shaking hand, and eagerly make hard
stocks of wood and fire-hardened poles serve for steel, and burn to die
among the foremost for their city's sake.
Meanwhile among the forests the terrible news pours in on Turnus, and
Acca brings him news of the mighty invasion; the Volscian lines are
destroyed; Camilla is fallen; the enemy thicken and press on, and have
swept all before them down the tide of battle. Raging he leaves the
hills he had beset--Jove's stern will ordains it [902-915]so--and quits
the rough woodland. Scarcely had he marched out of sight and gained the
plain when lord Aeneas enters the open defiles, surmounts the ridge, and
issues from the dim forest. So both advance swiftly to the town with all
their columns, no long march apart, and at once Aeneas descried afar the
plains all smoking with dust, and saw the Laurentine columns, and Turnus
knew Aeneas terrible in arms, and heard the advancing feet and the
neighing of the horses. And straightway would they join battle and essay
the conflict, but that ruddy Phoebus even now dips his weary coursers in
the Iberian flood, and night draws on over the fading day. They encamp
before the city, and draw their trenches round the walls.
BOOK TWELFTH
THE SLAYING OF TURNUS
When Turnus sees the Latins broken and fainting in the thwart issue of
war, his promise claimed for fulfilment, and men's eyes pointed on him,
his own spirit rises in unappeasable flame. As the lion in Phoenician
fields, his breast heavily wounded by the huntsmen, at last starts into
arms, and shakes out the shaggy masses from his exultant neck, and
undismayed snaps the brigand's planted weapon, roaring with
blood-stained mouth; even so Turnus kindles and swells in passion. Then
he thus addresses the king, and so furiously begins:
'Turnus stops not the way; there is no excuse for the coward Aeneadae to
take back their words or renounce their compact. I join battle; bring
the holy things, my lord, and swear the treaty. Either this hand shall
hurl to hell the Dardanian who skulks from Asia, and the Latins sit and
see my single sword wipe out the nation's reproach; or let him rule his
conquest, and Lavinia pass to his espousal.'
To him Latinus calmly replied: 'O excellent young man! the more thy hot
valour abounds, the more intently must I counsel, and weigh fearfully
what may befall. Thou hast thy father Daunus' realm, hast many towns
taken by [23-55]thine hand, nor is Latinus lacking in gold and
goodwill. There are other maidens unwedded in Latium and Laurentine
fields, and of no mean birth. Let me unfold this hard saying in all
sincerity: and do thou drink it into thy soul. I might not ally my
daughter to any of her old wooers; such was the universal oracle of gods
and men. Overborne by love for thee, overborne by kinship of blood and
my weeping wife's complaint, I broke all fetters, I severed the maiden
from her promised husband, I took up unrighteous arms. Since then,
Turnus, thou seest what calamities, what wars pursue me, what woes
thyself before all dost suffer. Twice vanquished in pitched battle, we
scarce guard in our city walls the hopes of Italy: the streams of Tiber
yet run warm with our blood, and our bones whiten the boundless plain.
Why fall I away again and again? what madness bends my purpose? if I am
ready to take them into alliance after Turnus' destruction, why do I not
rather bar the strife while he lives? What will thy Rutulian kinsmen,
will all Italy say, if thy death--Fortune make void the word!--comes by
my betrayal, while thou suest for our daughter in marriage? Cast a
glance on war's changing fortune; pity thine aged father, who now far
away sits sad in his native Ardea.'
In nowise do the words bend Turnus' passion: he rages the more fiercely,
and sickens of the cure. So soon as he found speech he thus made
utterance:
'The care thou hast for me, most gracious lord, for me lay down, I
implore thee, and let me purchase honour with death. Our hand too rains
weapons, our steel is strong; and our wounds too draw blood. The goddess
his mother will be far from him to cover his flight, woman-like, in a
cloud and an empty phantom's hiding.'
But the queen, dismayed by the new terms of battle, wept, and clung to
her fiery son as one ready to die: [56-89]'Turnus, by these tears, by
Amata's regard, if that touches thee at all--thou art now the one hope,
the repose of mine unhappy age; in thine hand is Latinus' honour and
empire, on thee is the weight of all our sinking house--one thing I
beseech thee; forbear to join battle with the Teucrians. What fate
soever awaits thee in the strife thou seekest, it awaits me, Turnus,
too: with thee will I leave the hateful light, nor shall my captive eyes
see Aeneas my daughter's lord.' Lavinia tearfully heard her mother's
words with cheeks all aflame, as deep blushes set her face on fire and
ran hotly over it. Even as Indian ivory, if one stain it with sanguine
dye, or where white lilies are red with many a rose amid: such colour
came on the maiden's face. Love throws him into tumult, and stays his
countenance on the girl: he burns fiercer for arms, and briefly answers
Amata:
'Do not, I pray thee, do not weep for me, neither pursue me thus
ominously as I go to the stern shock of war. Turnus is not free to dally
with death. Thou, Idmon, bear my message to the Phrygian monarch in this
harsh wording: So soon as to-morrow's Dawn rises in the sky blushing on
her crimson wheels, let him not loose Teucrian or Rutulian: let Teucrian
and Rutulian arms have rest, and our blood decide the war; on that field
let Lavinia be sought in marriage.'
These words uttered, withdrawing swiftly homeward, he orders out his
horses, and rejoicingly beholds them snorting before his face: those
that Orithyia's self gave to grace Pilumnus, such as would excel the
snows in whiteness and the gales in speed. The eager charioteers stand
round and pat their chests with clapping hollowed hands, and comb their
tressed manes. Himself next he girds on his shoulders the corslet stiff
with gold and pale mountain-bronze, and buckles on the sword and shield
and scarlet-plumed [90-124]helmet-spikes: that sword the divine Lord of
Fire had himself forged for his father Daunus and dipped glowing in the
Stygian wave. Next, where it stood amid his dwelling leaning on a massy
pillar, he strongly seizes his stout spear, the spoil of Actor the
Auruncan, and brandishes it quivering, and cries aloud: 'Now, O spear
that never hast failed at my call, now the time is come; thee princely
Actor once, thee Turnus now wields in his grasp. Grant this strong hand
to strike down the effeminate Phrygian, to rend and shatter the corslet,
and defile in dust the locks curled with hot iron and wet with myrrh.'
Thus madly he runs on: sparkles leap out from all his blazing face, and
his keen eyes flash fire: even as the bull when before his first fight
he bellows awfully, and drives against a tree's trunk to make trial of
his angry horns, and buffets the air with blows or scatters the sand in
prelude of battle.
And therewithal Aeneas, terrible in his mother's armour, kindles for
warfare and awakes into wrath, rejoicing that offer of treaty stays the
war. Comforting his comrades and sorrowing Iülus' fear, he instructs
them of destiny, and bids bear answer of assurance to King Latinus, and
name the laws of peace.
Scarcely did the morrow shed on the mountain-tops the beams of risen
day, as the horses of the sun begin to rise from the deep flood and
breathe light from their lifted nostrils; Rutulian and Teucrian men
measured out and made ready a field of battle under the great city's
ramparts, and midway in it hearth-fires and grassy altars to the gods of
both peoples; while others bore spring water and fire, draped in
priestly dress and their brows bound with grass of the field. The
Ausonian army issue forth, and crowd through the gates in streaming
serried columns. On this side all the Trojan and Tyrrhenian host pour in
diverse armament, girt with iron even as though the harsh battle-strife
[125-158]called them forth. Therewith amid their thousands the captains
dart up and down, splendid in gold and purple, Mnestheus, seed of
Assaracus, and brave Asilas, and Messapus, tamer of horses, brood of
Neptune: then each on signal given retired to his own ground; they plant
their spears in the earth and lean their shields against them. Mothers
in eager abandonment, and the unarmed crowd and feeble elders beset
towers and house-roofs, or stand at the lofty gates.
But Juno, on the summit that is now called the Alban--then the mountain
had neither name nor fame or honour--looked forth from the hill and
surveyed the plain and double lines of Laurentine and Trojan, and
Latinus' town. Straightway spoke she thus to Turnus' sister, goddess to
goddess, lady of pools and noisy rivers: such worship did Jupiter the
high king of air consecrate to her for her stolen virginity:
'Nymph, grace of rivers, best beloved of our soul, thou knowest how out
of all the Latin women that ever rose to high-hearted Jove's thankless
bed, thee only have I preferred and gladly given part and place in
heaven. Learn thy woe, that thou blame not me for it, Juturna. Where
fortune seemed to allow and the Destinies granted Latinus' estate to
prosper, I shielded Turnus and thy city. Now I see him joining battle
with unequal fates, and the day of doom and deadly force draws nigh.
Mine eyes cannot look on this battle and treaty: thou, if thou darest
aught of more present help for the brother of thy blood, go on; it
befits thee. Haply relief shall follow misery.'
Scarcely thus: when Juturna's eyes overbrimmed with tears, and thrice
and again she smote her hand on her gracious breast. 'This is not time
for tears,' cries Juno, daughter of Saturn: 'hasten and snatch thy
brother, if it may be, from his death; or do thou waken war, and make
[159-191]the treaty abortive. I encourage thee to dare.' With such
urgence she left her, doubting and dismayed, and grievously wounded in
soul.
Meanwhile the kings go forth; Latinus in mighty pomp rides in his
four-horse chariot; twelve gilded rays go glittering round his brows,
symbol of the Sun his ancestor; Turnus moves behind a white pair,
clenching in his hand two broad-headed spears. On this side lord Aeneas,
fount of the Roman race, ablaze in starlike shield and celestial arms,
and close by Ascanius, second hope of mighty Rome, issue from the camp;
and the priest, in spotless raiment, hath brought the young of a bristly
sow and an unshorn sheep of two years old, and set his beasts by the
blazing altars. They, turning their eyes towards the sunrising, scatter
salted corn from their hands and clip the beasts with steel over the
temples, and pour cups on the altars. Then Aeneas the good, with sword
drawn, thus makes invocation:
'Be the Sun now witness, and this Earth to my call, for whose sake I
have borne to suffer so sore travail, and the Lord omnipotent, and thou
his wife, at last, divine daughter of Saturn, at last I pray more
favourable; and thou, mighty Mavors, who wieldest all warfare in
lordship beneath thy sway; and on the Springs and Rivers I call, and the
Dread of high heaven, and the divinities of the blue seas: if haply
victory fall to Turnus the Ausonian, the vanquished make covenant to
withdraw to Evander's city; Iülus shall quit the soil; nor ever
hereafter shall the Aeneadae return in arms to renew warfare, or attack
this realm with the sword. But if Victory grant battle to us and ours
(as I think the rather, and so the rather may the gods seal their will),
I will not bid Italy obey my Teucrians, nor do I claim the realm for
mine; let both nations, unconquered, join treaty for ever under equal
law. Gods [192-225]and worship shall be of my giving: my father Latinus
shall bear the sword, and have a father's prescribed command. For me my
Teucrians shall establish a city, and Lavinia give the town her name.'
Thus Aeneas first: thereon Latinus thus follows:
'By these same I swear, O Aeneas, by Earth, Sea, Sky, and the twin brood
of Latona and Janus the double-facing, and the might of nether gods and
grim Pluto's shrine; this let our Father hear, who seals treaties with
his thunderbolt. I touch the altars, I take to witness the fires and the
gods between us; no time shall break this peace and truce in Italy,
howsoever fortune fall; nor shall any force turn my will aside, not if
it dissolve land into water in turmoil of deluge, or melt heaven in
hell: so surely as this sceptre' (for haply he bore a sceptre in his
hand) 'shall never burgeon into thin leafage and shady shoot, since once
in the forest cut down right to the stem it lost its mother, and the
steel lopped away its tressed arms: a tree of old: now the craftsman's
hand hath bound it in adornment of brass and given it to our Latin
fathers' bearing.'
With such words they sealed mutual treaty midway in sight of the
princes. Then they duly slay the consecrated beasts over the flames, and
tear out their live entrails, and pile the altars with laden chargers.
But long ere this the Rutulians deemed the battle unequal, and their
hearts are stirred in changeful motion; and now the more, as they
discern nigher that in ill-matched strength . . . . heightened by
Turnus, as advancing with noiseless pace he humbly worships at the altar
with downcast eye, by his wasted cheeks and the pallor on his youthful
frame. Soon as Juturna his sister saw this talk spread, and the people's
mind waver in uncertainty, into the mid ranks, in feigned form of
Camertus--his family was high in long ancestry, and his father's name
[226-260]for valour renowned, and himself most valiant in arms--into
the mid ranks she glides, not ignorant of her task, and scatters diverse
rumours, saying thus: 'Shame, O Rutulians! shall we set one life in the
breach for so many such as these? are we unequal in numbers or bravery?
See, Troy and Arcadia is all they bring, and those fate-bound bands that
Etruria hurls on Turnus. Scarce is there an enemy to meet every other
man of ours. He indeed will ascend to the gods for whose altars he
devotes himself, and move living in the lips of men: we, our country
lost, shall bow to the haughty rigour of our lords, if we now sit
slackly on the field.'