Even as an arrow through a cloud, darting from the string when Parthian
hath poisoned it with bitter gall, Parthian or Cydonian, and sped the
immedicable shaft, leaps through the swift shadow whistling and unknown;
so sprung and swept to earth the daughter of Night.
hath poisoned it with bitter gall, Parthian or Cydonian, and sped the
immedicable shaft, leaps through the swift shadow whistling and unknown;
so sprung and swept to earth the daughter of Night.
Virgil - Aeneid
The Laurentine columns rush forth against them; again
from the other side Trojans and Agyllines and Arcadians in painted
armour flood thickly in: so hath one passion seized all to make decision
by the sword. They pull the altars to pieces; through all the air goes a
thick storm of weapons, and faster falls the iron rain. Bowls and
hearth-fires are carried off; Latinus himself retreats, bearing the
outraged gods of the broken treaty. The others harness their chariots,
or vault upon their horses and come up with swords drawn. Messapus,
eager to shatter the treaty, rides menacingly down on Aulestes the
Tyrrhenian, a king in a king's array. Retreating hastily, and tripped on
the altars that meet him behind, the hapless man goes down on his head
and shoulders. But Messapus flies up with wrathful spear, and strikes
him, as he pleads sore, a deep downward [295-330]blow from horseback
with his beam-like spear, saying thus: _That for him: the high gods take
this better victim. _ The Italians crowd in and strip his warm limbs.
Corynaeus seizes a charred brand from the altar, and meeting Ebysus as
he advances to strike, darts the flame in his face; his heavy beard
flamed up, and gave out a scorched smell. Following up his enemy's
confusion, the other seizes him with his left hand by the hair, and
bears him to earth with a thrust of his planted knee, and there drives
the unyielding sword into his side. Podalirius pursues and overhangs
with naked sword the shepherd Alsus as he rushes amid the foremost line
of weapons; Alsus swings back his axe, and severs brow and chin full in
front, wetting his armour all over with spattered blood. Grim rest and
iron slumber seal his eyes; his lids close on everlasting night.
But good Aeneas, his head bared, kept stretching his unarmed hand and
calling loudly to his men: 'Whither run you? What is this strife that so
spreads and swells? Ah, restrain your wrath! truce is already stricken,
and all its laws ordained; mine alone is the right of battle. Leave me
alone, and my hand shall confirm the treaty; these rites already make
Turnus mine. ' Amid these accents, amid words like these, lo! a whistling
arrow winged its way to him, sped from what hand or driven by what god,
none knows, or what chance or deity brought such honour to the
Rutulians; the renown of the high deed was buried, nor did any boast to
have dealt Aeneas' wound. Turnus, when he saw Aeneas retreating from the
ranks and his captains in dismay, burns hot with sudden hope. At once he
calls for his horses and armour, and with a bound leaps proudly into his
chariot and handles the reins. He darts on, dealing many a brave man's
body to death; many an one he rolls half-slain, or crushes whole files
under his chariot, or seizes and showers spears on the fugitives. As
[331-364]when by the streams of icy Hebrus Mavors kindles to bloodshed
and clashes on his shield, and stirs war and speeds his furious
coursers; they outwing south winds and west on the open plain; utmost
Thrace groans under their hoof-beats; and around in the god's train rush
the faces of dark Terror, and Wraths and Ambushes; even so amid the
battle Turnus briskly lashes on his reeking horses, trampling on the
foes that lie piteously slain; the galloping hoof scatters bloody dew,
and spurns mingled gore and sand. And now hath he dealt Sthenelus to
death, and Thamyrus and Pholus, him and him at close quarters, the other
from afar; from afar both the sons of Imbrasus, Glaucus and Lades, whom
Imbrasus himself had nurtured in Lycia and equipped in equal arms,
whether to meet hand to hand or to outstrip the winds on horseback.
Elsewhere Eumedes advances amid the fray, ancient Dolon's brood,
illustrious in war, renewing his grandfather's name, his father's
courage and strength of hand, who of old dared to claim Pelides' chariot
as his price if he went to spy out the Grecian camp; to him the son of
Tydeus told out another price for his venture, and he dreams no more of
Achilles' horses. Him Turnus descried far on the open plain, and first
following him with light javelin through long space of air, stops his
double-harnessed horses and leaps from the chariot, and descends on his
fallen half-lifeless foe, and, planting his foot on his neck, wrests the
blade out of his hand and dyes its glitter deep in his throat, adding
these words withal: 'Behold, thou liest, Trojan, meting out those
Hesperian fields thou didst seek in war. Such guerdon is theirs who dare
to tempt my sword; thus do they found their city. ' Then with a
spear-cast he sends Asbutes to follow him, and Chloreus and Sybaris,
Dares and Thersilochus, and Thymoetes fallen flung over his horse's
neck. And as when [365-398]the Edonian North wind's wrath roars on the
deep Aegean, and the wave follows it shoreward; where the blast comes
down, the clouds race over the sky; so, wheresoever Turnus cleaves his
way, columns retreat and lines turn and run; his own speed bears him on,
and his flying plume tosses as his chariot meets the breeze. Phegeus
brooked not his proud approach; he faced the chariot, and caught and
twisted away in his right hand the mouths of his horses, spurred into
speed and foaming on the bit. Dragged along and hanging by the yoke he
is left uncovered; the broad lance-head reaches him, pins and pierces
the double-woven breastplate, and lightly wounds the surface of his
body. Yet turning, he advanced on the enemy behind his shield, and
sought succour in the naked point; when the wheel running forward on its
swift axle struck him headlong and flung him to ground, and Turnus'
sword following it smote off his head between the helmet-rim and the
upper border of the breastplate, and left the body on the sand.
And while Turnus thus victoriously deals death over the plains,
Mnestheus meantime and faithful Achates, and Ascanius by their side, set
down Aeneas in the camp, dabbled with blood and leaning every other step
on his long spear. He storms, and tries hard to pull out the dart where
the reed had broken, and calls for the nearest way of remedy, to cut
open the wound with broad blade, and tear apart the weapon's
lurking-place, and so send him back to battle. And now Iapix son of
Iasus came, beloved beyond others of Phoebus, to whom once of old,
smitten with sharp desire, Apollo gladly offered his own arts and gifts,
augury and the lyre and swift arrows: he, to lengthen out the destiny of
a parent given over to die, chose rather to know the potency of herbs
and the practice of healing, and deal in a silent art unrenowned. Aeneas
stood chafing bitterly, propped on his vast spear, mourning
[399-435]Iulus and a great crowd of men around, unstirred by their
tears. The aged man, with garment drawn back and girt about him in
Paeonian fashion, makes many a hurried effort with healing hand and the
potent herbs of Phoebus, all in vain; in vain his hand solicits the
arrow-head, and his pincers' grasp pulls at the steel. Fortune leads him
forward in nowise; Apollo aids not with counsel; and more and more the
fierce clash swells over the plains, and the havoc draws nigher on.
Already they see the sky a mass of dust, the cavalry approaching, and
shafts falling thickly amid the camp; the dismal cry uprises of warriors
fighting and falling under the War-god's heavy hand. At this, stirred
deep by her son's cruel pain, Venus his mother plucked from Cretan Ida a
stalk of dittamy with downy leaves and bright-tressed flowers, the plant
not unknown to wild goats when winged arrows are fast in their body.
This Venus bore down, her shape girt in a dim halo; this she steeps with
secret healing in the river-water poured out and sparkling abrim, and
sprinkles life-giving juice of ambrosia and scented balm. With that
water aged Iapix washed the wound, unwitting; and suddenly, lo! all the
pain left his body, all the blood in the deep wound was stanched. And
now following his hand the arrow fell out with no force, and strength
returned afresh as of old. 'Hasten! arms for him quickly! why stand
you? ' cries Iapix aloud, and begins to kindle their courage against the
enemy; 'this comes not by human resource or schooling of art, nor does
my hand save thee, Aeneas: a higher god is at work, and sends thee back
to higher deeds. ' He, eager for battle, had already clasped on the
greaves of gold right and left, and scorning delay, brandishes his
spear. When the shield is adjusted by his side and the corslet on his
back, he clasps Ascanius in his armed embrace, and lightly kissing him
through the helmet, cries: 'Learn of me, O boy, valour [436-470]and
toil indeed, fortune of others. Now mine hand shall give thee defence in
war, and lead thee to great reward: do thou, when hereafter thine age
ripens to fulness, keep this in remembrance, and as thou recallest the
pattern of thy kindred, let thy spirit rise to thy father Aeneas, thine
uncle Hector. '
These words uttered, he issued towering from the gates, brandishing his
mighty spear: with him in serried column rush Antheus and Mnestheus, and
all the throng streams forth of the camp. The field drifts with blinding
dust, and the startled earth trembles under the tramp of feet. From his
earthworks opposite Turnus saw and the Ausonians saw them come, and an
icy shudder ran deep through their frame; first and before all the
Latins Juturna heard and knew the sound, and in terror fled away. He
flies on, and hurries his dark column over the open plain. As when in
fierce weather a storm-cloud moves over mid sea to land, with presaging
heart, ah me, the hapless husbandmen shudder from afar; it will deal
havoc to their trees and destruction to their crops, and make a broad
path of ruin; the winds fly before it, and bear its roar to the beach;
so the Rhoetean captain drives his army full on the foe; one and all
they close up in wedges, and mass their serried ranks. Thymbraeus smites
massive Osiris with the sword, Mnestheus slays Arcetius, Achates Epulo,
Gyas Ufens: Tolumnius the augur himself goes down, he who had hurled the
first weapon against the foe. Their cry rises to heaven, and in turn the
routed Rutulians give backward in flight over the dusty fields. Himself
he deigns not to cut down the fugitives, nor pursue such as meet him
fair on foot or approach in arms: Turnus alone he tracks and searches in
the thick haze, alone calls him to conflict. Then panic-stricken the
warrior maiden flings Turnus' charioteer out over his reins, and leaving
him far where he slips from the [471-504]chariot-pole, herself succeeds
and turns the wavy reins, tones and limbs and armour all of Metiscus'
wearing. As when a black swallow flits through some rich lord's spacious
house, and circles in flight the lofty halls, gathering her tiny food
for sustenance to her twittering nestlings, and now swoops down the
spacious colonnades, now round the wet ponds; in like wise dart
Juturna's horses amid the enemy, and her fleet chariot passes flying
over all the field. And now here and now here she displays her
triumphant brother, nor yet allows him to close, but flies far and away.
None the less does Aeneas thread the circling maze to meet him, and
tracks his man, and with loud cry cries on him through the scattered
ranks. Often as he cast eyes on his enemy and essayed to outrun the
speed of the flying-footed horses, so often Juturna wheeled her team
away. Alas, what can he do? Vainly he tosses on the ebb and flow, and in
his spirit diverse cares make conflicting call; when Messapus, who haply
bore in his left hand two tough spear-shafts topped with steel, runs
lightly up and aims and hurls one of them upon him with unerring stroke.
Aeneas stood still, and gathered himself behind his armour, sinking on
bended knee; yet the rushing spear bore off his helmet-spike, and dashed
the helmet-plume from the crest. Then indeed his wrath swells; and
forced to it by their treachery, while chariot and horses disappear, he
calls Jove oft and again to witness, and the altars of the violated
treaty, and now at last plunges amid their lines. Sweeping terrible down
the tide of battle he wakens fierce indiscriminate carnage, and flings
loose all the reins of wrath.
What god may now unfold for me in verse so many woes, so many diverse
slaughters and death of captains whom now Turnus, now again the Trojan
hero, drives over all the field? Was it well, O God, that nations
destined to everlasting peace should clash in so vast a shock? Aeneas
[505-540]meets Sucro the Rutulian; the combat stayed the first rush of
the Teucrians, but delayed them not long; he catches him on the side,
and, when fate comes quickest, drives the harsh sword clean through the
ribs where they fence the breast. Turnus brings down Amycus from
horseback with his brother Diores, and meets them on foot; him he
strikes with his long spear as he comes, him with his sword-point, and
hangs both severed heads on his chariot and carries them off dripping
with blood. The one sends to death Talos and Tanais and brave Cethegus,
three at one meeting, and gloomy Onites, of Echionian name, and Peridia
the mother that bore him; the other those brethren sent from Lycia and
Apollo's fields, and Menoetes the Arcadian, him who loathed warfare in
vain; who once had his art and humble home about the river-fisheries of
Lerna, and knew not the courts of the great, but his father was tenant
of the land he tilled. And as fires kindled dispersedly in a dry forest
and rustling laurel-thickets, or foaming rivers where they leap swift
and loud from high hills, and speed to sea each in his own path of
havoc; as fiercely the two, Aeneas and Turnus, dash amid the battle;
now, now wrath surges within them, and unconquerable hearts are torn;
now in all their might they rush upon wounds. The one dashes Murranus
down and stretches him on the soil with a vast whirling mass of rock, as
he cries the names of his fathers and forefathers of old, a whole line
drawn through Latin kings; under traces and yoke the wheels spurned him,
and the fast-beating hoofs of his rushing horses trample down their
forgotten lord. The other meets Hyllus rushing on in gigantic pride, and
hurls his weapon at his gold-bound temples; the spear pierced through
the helmet and stood fast in the brain. Neither did thy right hand save
thee from Turnus, O Cretheus, bravest of the Greeks; nor did his gods
shield Cupencus when Aeneas came; he gave his [541-575]breast full to
the steel, nor, alas! was the brazen shield's delay aught of avail. Thee
likewise, Aeolus, the Laurentine plains saw sink backward and cover a
wide space of earth; thou fallest, whom Argive battalions could not lay
low, nor Achilles the destroyer of Priam's realm. Here was thy goal of
death; thine high house was under Ida, at Lyrnesus thine high house, on
Laurentine soil thy tomb. The whole battle-lines gather up, all Latium
and all Dardania, Mnestheus and valiant Serestus, with Messapus, tamer
of horses, and brave Asilas, the Tuscan battalion and Evander's Arcadian
squadrons; man by man they struggle with all their might; no rest nor
pause in the vast strain of conflict.
At this Aeneas' mother most beautiful inspired him to advance on the
walls, directing his columns on the town and dismaying the Latins with
sudden and swift disaster. As in search for Turnus he bent his glance
this way and that round the separate ranks, he descries the city free
from all this warfare, unpunished and unstirred. Straightway he kindles
at the view of a greater battle; he summons Mnestheus and Sergestus and
brave Serestus his captains, and mounts a hillock; there the rest of the
Teucrian army gathers thickly, still grasping shield and spear. Standing
on the high mound amid them, he speaks: 'Be there no delay to my words;
Jupiter is with us; neither let any be slower to move that the design is
sudden. This city to-day, the source of war, the royal seat of Latinus,
unless they yield them to receive our yoke and obey their conquerors,
will I raze to ground, and lay her smoking roofs level with the dust.
Must I wait forsooth till Turnus please to stoop to combat, and choose
again to face his conqueror? This, O citizens, is the fountain-head and
crown of the accursed war. Bring brands speedily, and reclaim the treaty
in fire. ' He ended; all with spirit alike emulous form a wedge and
advance in serried masses to the walls. Ladders are run [576-611]up,
and fire leaps sudden to sight. Some rush to the separate gates, and cut
down the guards of the entry, others hurl their steel and darken the sky
with weapons. Aeneas himself among the foremost, upstretching his hand
to the city walls, loudly reproaches Latinus, and takes the gods to
witness that he is again forced into battle, that twice now do the
Italians choose warfare and break a second treaty. Discord rises among
the alarmed citizens: some bid unbar the town and fling wide their gates
to the Dardanians, and pull the king himself towards the ramparts;
others bring arms and hasten to defend the walls: as when a shepherd
tracks bees to their retreat in a recessed rock, and fills it with
stinging smoke, they within run uneasily up and down their waxen
fortress, and hum louder in rising wrath; the smell rolls in darkness
along their dwelling, and a blind murmur echoes within the rock as the
smoke issues to the empty air.
This fortune likewise befell the despairing Latins, this woe shook the
whole city to her base. The queen espies from her roof the enemy's
approach, the walls scaled and firebrands flying on the houses; and
nowhere Rutulian ranks, none of Turnus' columns to meet them; alas! she
deems him destroyed in the shock of battle, and, distracted by sudden
anguish, shrieks that she is the source of guilt, the spring of ill, and
with many a mad utterance of frenzied grief rends her purple attire with
dying hand, and ties from a lofty beam the ghastly noose of death. And
when the unhappy Latin women knew this calamity, first her daughter
Lavinia tears her flower-like tresses and roseate cheeks, and all the
train around her madden in her suit; the wide palace echoes to their
wailing, and from it the sorrowful rumour spreads abroad throughout the
town. All hearts sink; Latinus goes with torn raiment, in dismay at his
wife's doom and his city's downfall, defiling his hoary hair with
soilure of sprinkled dust.
[614-648]Meanwhile on the skirts of the field Turnus chases scattered
stragglers, ever slacker to battle, ever less and less exultant in his
coursers' victorious speed. The confused cry came to him borne in blind
terror down the breeze, and his startled ears caught the echoing tumult
and disastrous murmur of the town. 'Ah me! what agony shakes the city?
or what is this cry that fleets so loud from the distant town? ' So
speaks he, and distractedly checks the reins. And to him his sister, as
changed into his charioteer Metiscus' likeness she swayed horses and
chariot-reins, thus rejoined: 'This way, Turnus, let us pursue the brood
of Troy, where victory opens her nearest way; there are others whose
hands can protect their dwellings. Aeneas falls fiercer on the Italians,
and closes in conflict; let our hand too deal pitiless death on his
Teucrians. Neither in tale of dead nor in glory of battle shalt thou
retire outdone. ' Thereat Turnus: . . .
'Ah my sister, long ere now I knew thee, when first thine arts shattered
the treaty, and thou didst mingle in the strife; and now thy godhead
conceals itself in vain. But who hath bidden thee descend from heaven to
bear this sore travail? was it that thou mightest see thy hapless
brother cruelly slain? for what do I, or what fortune yet gives promise
of safety? Before my very eyes, calling aloud on me, I saw Murranus,
than whom none other is left me more dear, sink huge to earth, borne
down by as huge a wound. Hapless Ufens is fallen, not to see our shame;
corpse and armour are in Teucrian hands. The destruction of their
households, this was the one thing yet lacking; shall I suffer it? Shall
my hand not refute Drances' jeers? shall I turn my back, and this land
see Turnus a fugitive? Is Death all so bitter? Do you, O Shades, be
gracious to me, since the powers of heaven are estranged; to you shall I
go down, a pure spirit and [649-681]ignorant of your blame, never once
unworthy of my mighty fathers of old. '
Scarce had he spoken thus; lo! Saces, borne flying on his foaming horse
through the thickest of the foe, an arrow-wound right in his face,
darts, beseeching Turnus by his name. 'Turnus, in thee is our last
safety; pity thy people. Aeneas thunders in arms, and threatens to
overthrow and hurl to destruction the high Italian fortress; and already
firebrands are flying on our roofs. On thee, on thee the Latins turn
their gazing eyes; King Latinus himself mutters in doubt, whom he is to
call his sons, to whom he shall incline in union. Moreover the queen,
thy surest stay, hath fallen by her own hand and in dismay fled the
light. Alone in front of the gates Messapus and valiant Atinas sustain
the battle-line. Round about them to right and left the armies stand
locked and the iron field shivers with naked points; thou wheelest thy
chariot on the sward alone. ' At the distracting picture of his fortune
Turnus froze in horror and stood in dumb gaze; together in his heart
sweep the vast mingling tides of shame and maddened grief, and love
stung to frenzy and resolved valour. So soon as the darkness cleared and
light returned to his soul, he fiercely turned his blazing eyeballs
towards the ramparts, and gazed back from his wheels on the great city.
And lo! a spire of flame wreathing through the floors wavered up skyward
and held a turret fast, a turret that he himself had reared of mortised
planks and set on rollers and laid with high gangways. 'Now, O my
sister, now fate prevails: cease to hinder; let us follow where deity
and stern fortune call. I am resolved to face Aeneas, resolved to bear
what bitterness there is in death; nor shalt thou longer see me shamed,
sister of mine. Let me be mad, I pray thee, with this madness before the
end. ' He spoke, and leapt swiftly from his chariot to the field, and
darting through weapons [682-718]and through enemies, leaves his
sorrowing sister, and bursts in rapid course amid their columns. And as
when a rock rushes headlong from some mountain peak, torn away by the
blast, or if the rushing rain washes it away, or the stealing years
loosen its ancient hold; the reckless mountain mass goes sheer and
impetuous, and leaps along the ground, hurling with it forests and herds
and men; thus through the scattering columns Turnus rushes to the city
walls, where the earth is wettest with bloodshed and the air sings with
spears; and beckons with his hand, and thus begins aloud: 'Forbear now,
O Rutulians, and you, Latins, stay your weapons. Whatsoever fortune is
left is mine: I singly must expiate the treaty for you all, and make
decision with the sword. ' All drew aside and left him room.
But lord Aeneas, hearing Turnus' name, abandons the walls, abandons the
fortress height, and in exultant joy flings aside all hindrance, breaks
off all work, and clashes his armour terribly, vast as Athos, or as
Eryx, or as the lord of Apennine when he roars with his tossing ilex
woods and rears his snowy crest rejoicing into air. Now indeed Rutulians
and Trojans and all Italy turned in emulous gaze, and they who held the
high city, and they whose ram was battering the foundations of the wall,
and unarmed their shoulders. Latinus himself stands in amaze at the
mighty men, born in distant quarters of the world, met and making
decision with the sword. And they, in the empty level field that cleared
for them, darted swiftly forward, and hurling their spears from far,
close in battle shock with clangour of brazen shields. Earth utters a
moan; the sword-strokes fall thick and fast, chance and valour joining
in one. And as in broad Sila or high on Taburnus, when two bulls rush to
deadly battle forehead to forehead, the herdsmen retire in terror, all
the herd stands dumb in dismay, and the heifers murmur in doubt which
shall be [719-752]lord in the woodland, which all the cattle must
follow; they violently deal many a mutual wound, and gore with their
stubborn horns, bathing their necks and shoulders in abundant blood; all
the woodland moans back their bellowing: even thus Aeneas of Troy and
the Daunian hero rush together shield to shield; the mighty crash fills
the sky. Jupiter himself holds up the two scales in even balance, and
lays in them the different fates of both, trying which shall pay forfeit
of the strife, whose weight shall sink in death. Turnus darts out,
thinking it secure, and rises with his whole reach of body on his
uplifted sword; then strikes; Trojans and Latins cry out in excitement,
and both armies strain their gaze. But the treacherous sword shivers,
and in mid stroke deserts its eager lord. If flight aid him not now! He
flies swifter than the wind, when once he descries a strange hilt in his
weaponless hand. Rumour is that in his headlong hurry, when mounting
behind his yoked horses to begin the battle, he left his father's sword
behind and caught up his charioteer Metiscus' weapon; and that served
him long, while Teucrian stragglers turned their backs; when it met the
divine Vulcanian armour, the mortal blade like brittle ice snapped in
the stroke; the shards lie glittering upon the yellow sand. So in
distracted flight Turnus darts afar over the plain, and now this way and
now that crosses in wavering circles; for on all hands the Teucrians
locked him in crowded ring, and the dreary marsh on this side, on this
the steep city ramparts hem him in.
Therewith Aeneas pursues, though ever and anon his knees, disabled by
the arrow, hinder and stay his speed; and foot hard on foot presses
hotly on his hurrying enemy: as when a hunter courses with a fleet
barking hound some stag caught in a river-loop or girt by the
crimson-feathered toils, and he, in terror of the snares and the high
river-bank, [753-786]darts back and forward in a thousand ways; but the
keen Umbrian clings agape, and just catches at him, and as though he
caught him snaps his jaws while the baffled teeth close on vacancy. Then
indeed a cry goes up, and banks and pools answer round about, and all
the sky echoes the din. He, even as he flies, chides all his Rutulians,
calling each by name, and shrieks for the sword he knew. But Aeneas
denounces death and instant doom if one of them draw nigh, and doubles
their terror with threats of their city's destruction, and though
wounded presses on. Five circles they cover at full speed, and unwind as
many this way and that; for not light nor slight is the prize they seek,
but Turnus' very lifeblood is at issue. Here there haply had stood a
bitter-leaved wild olive, sacred to Faunus, a tree worshipped by
mariners of old; on it, when rescued from the waves, they were wont to
fix their gifts to the god of Laurentum and hang their votive raiment;
but the Teucrians, unregarding, had cleared away the sacred stem, that
they might meet on unimpeded lists. Here stood Aeneas' spear; hither
borne by its own speed it was held fast stuck in the tough root. The
Dardanian stooped over it, and would wrench away the steel, to follow
with the weapon him whom he could not catch in running. Then indeed
Turnus cries in frantic terror: 'Faunus, have pity, I beseech thee! and
thou, most gracious Earth, keep thy hold on the steel, as I ever have
kept your worship, and the Aeneadae again have polluted it in war. ' He
spoke, and called the god to aid in vows that fell not fruitless. For
all Aeneas' strength, his long struggling and delay over the tough stem
availed not to unclose the hard grip of the wood. While he strains and
pulls hard, the Daunian goddess, changing once more into the charioteer
Metiscus' likeness, runs forward and passes her brother his sword. But
Venus, indignant that the [787-818]Nymph might be so bold, drew nigh
and wrenched away the spear where it stuck deep in the root. Erect in
fresh courage and arms, he with his faithful sword, he towering fierce
over his spear, they face one another panting in the battle shock.
Meanwhile the King of Heaven's omnipotence accosts Juno as she gazes on
the battle from a sunlit cloud. 'What yet shall be the end, O wife? what
remains at the last? Heaven claims Aeneas as his country's god, thou
thyself knowest and avowest to know, and fate lifts him to the stars.
With what device or in what hope hangest thou chill in cloudland? Was it
well that a deity should be sullied by a mortal's wound? or that the
lost sword--for what without thee could Juturna avail? --should be
restored to Turnus and swell the force of the vanquished? Forbear now, I
pray, and bend to our entreaties; let not the pain thus devour thee in
silence, and distress so often flood back on me from thy sweet lips. The
end is come. Thou hast had power to hunt the Trojans over land or wave,
to kindle accursed war, to put the house in mourning, and plunge the
bridal in grief: further attempt I forbid thee. ' Thus Jupiter began:
thus the goddess, daughter of Saturn, returned with looks cast down:
'Even because this thy will, great Jupiter, is known to me for thine,
have I left, though loth, Turnus alone on earth; nor else wouldst thou
see me now, alone on this skyey seat, enduring good and bad; but girt in
flame I were standing by their very lines, and dragging the Teucrians
into the deadly battle. I counselled Juturna, I confess it, to succour
her hapless brother, and for his life's sake favoured a greater daring;
yet not the arrow-shot, not the bending of the bow, I swear by the
merciless well-head of the Stygian spring, the single ordained dread of
the gods in heaven. And now I retire, and leave the battle in loathing.
[819-854]This thing I beseech thee, that is bound by no fatal law, for
Latium and for the majesty of thy kindred. When now they shall plight
peace with prosperous marriages (be it so! ), when now they shall join in
laws and treaties, bid thou not the native Latins change their name of
old, nor become Trojans and take the Teucrian name, or change their
language, or alter their attire: let Latium be, let Alban kings endure
through ages, let Italian valour be potent in the race of Rome. Troy is
fallen; let her and her name lie where they fell. '
To her smilingly the designer of men and things:
'Jove's own sister thou art, and second seed of Saturn, such surge of
wrath tosses within thy breast! But come, allay this madness so vainly
stirred. I give thee thy will, and yield thee ungrudged victory. Ausonia
shall keep her native speech and usage, and as her name is, it shall be.
The Trojans shall sink mingling into their blood; I will add their
sacred law and ritual, and make all Latins and of a single speech. Hence
shall spring a race of tempered Ausonian blood, whom thou shalt see
outdo men and gods in duty; nor shall any nation so observe thy
worship. ' To this Juno assented, and in gladness withdrew her purpose;
meanwhile she quits her cloud, and retires out of the sky.
This done, the Father revolves inly another counsel, and prepares to
separate Juturna from her brother's arms. Twin monsters there are,
called the Dirae by their name, whom with infernal Megaera the dead of
night bore at one single birth, and wreathed them in like serpent coils,
and clothed them in windy wings. They appear at Jove's throne and in the
courts of the grim king, and quicken the terrors of wretched men
whensoever the lord of heaven deals sicknesses and dreadful death, or
sends terror of war upon guilty cities. One of these Jupiter sent
swiftly down from heaven's height, and bade her meet Juturna for a
[855-888]sign. She wings her way, and darts in a whirlwind to earth.
Even as an arrow through a cloud, darting from the string when Parthian
hath poisoned it with bitter gall, Parthian or Cydonian, and sped the
immedicable shaft, leaps through the swift shadow whistling and unknown;
so sprung and swept to earth the daughter of Night. When she espies the
Ilian ranks and Turnus' columns, suddenly shrinking to the shape of a
small bird that often sits late by night on tombs or ruinous roofs, and
vexes the darkness with her cry, in such change of likeness the monster
shrilly passes and repasses before Turnus' face, and her wings beat
restlessly on his shield. A strange numbing terror unnerves his limbs,
his hair thrills up, and the accents falter on his tongue. But when his
hapless sister knew afar the whistling wings of the Fury, Juturna
unbinds and tears her tresses, with rent face and smitten bosom. 'How, O
Turnus, can thine own sister help thee now? or what more is there if I
break not under this? What art of mine can lengthen out thy day? can I
contend with this ominous thing? Now, now I quit the field. Dismay not
my terrors, disastrous birds; I know these beating wings, and the sound
of death, nor do I miss high-hearted Jove's haughty ordinance. Is this
his repayment for my maidenhood? what good is his gift of life for ever?
why have I forfeited a mortal's lot? Now assuredly could I make all this
pain cease, and go with my unhappy brother side by side into the dark.
Alas mine immortality! will aught of mine be sweet to me without thee,
my brother? Ah, how may Earth yawn deep enough for me, and plunge my
godhead in the under world! '
So spoke she, and wrapping her head in her gray vesture, the goddess
moaning sore sank in the river depth.
But Aeneas presses on, brandishing his vast tree-like spear, and
fiercely speaks thus: 'What more delay is there [889-924]now? or why,
Turnus, dost thou yet shrink away? Not in speed of foot, in grim arms,
hand to hand, must be the conflict. Transform thyself as thou wilt, and
collect what strength of courage or skill is thine; pray that thou
mayest wing thy flight to the stars on high, or that sheltering earth
may shut thee in. ' The other, shaking his head: 'Thy fierce words dismay
me not, insolent! the gods dismay me, and Jupiter's enmity. ' And no more
said, his eyes light on a vast stone, a stone ancient and vast that
haply lay upon the plain, set for a landmark to divide contested fields:
scarcely might twelve chosen men lift it on their shoulders, of such
frame as now earth brings to birth: then the hero caught it up with
trembling hand and whirled it at the foe, rising higher and quickening
his speed. But he knows not his own self running nor going nor lifting
his hands or moving the mighty stone; his knees totter, his blood
freezes cold; the very stone he hurls, spinning through the empty void,
neither wholly reached its distance nor carried its blow home. And as in
sleep, when nightly rest weighs down our languorous eyes, we seem vainly
to will to run eagerly on, and sink faint amidst our struggles; the
tongue is powerless, the familiar strength fails the body, nor will
words or utterance follow: so the disastrous goddess brings to naught
all Turnus' valour as he presses on. His heart wavers in shifting
emotion; he gazes on his Rutulians and on the city, and falters in
terror, and shudders at the imminent spear; neither sees he whither he
may escape nor how rush violently on the enemy, and nowhere his chariot
or his sister at the reins. As he wavers Aeneas poises the deadly
weapon, and, marking his chance, hurls it in from afar with all his
strength of body. Never with such a roar are stones hurled from some
engine on ramparts, nor does the thunder burst in so loud a peal.
Carrying grim death with it, the spear flies in fashion of some dark
whirlwind, and [925-952]opens the rim of the corslet and the utmost
circles of the sevenfold shield. Right through the thigh it passes
hurtling on; under the blow Turnus falls huge to earth with his leg
doubled under him. The Rutulians start up with a groan, and all the hill
echoes round about, and the width of high woodland returns their cry.
Lifting up beseechingly his humbled eyes and suppliant hand: 'I have
deserved it,' he says, 'nor do I ask for mercy; use thy fortune. If an
unhappy parent's distress may at all touch thee, this I pray; even such
a father was Anchises to thee; pity Daunus' old age, and restore to my
kindred which thou wilt, me or my body bereft of day. Thou art
conqueror, and Ausonia hath seen me stretch conquered hands. Lavinia is
thine in marriage; press not thy hatred farther. '
Aeneas stood wrathful in arms, with rolling eyes, and lowered his hand;
and now and now yet more the speech began to bend him to waver: when
high on his shoulder appeared the sword-belt with the shining bosses
that he knew, the luckless belt of the boy Pallas, whom Turnus had
struck down with mastering wound, and wore on his shoulders the fatal
ornament. The other, as his eyes drank in the plundered record of his
fierce grief, kindles to fury, and cries terrible in anger: 'Mayest
thou, thou clad in the spoils of my dearest, escape mine hands? Pallas
it is, Pallas who now strikes the sacrifice, and exacts vengeance in thy
guilty blood. ' So saying, he fiercely plunges the steel full in his
breast. But his limbs grow slack and chill, and the life with a moan
flies indignantly into the dark.
THE END.
NOTES
BOOK FIRST
l. 123--_Accipiunt inimicum imbrem. _ Inimica non tantum hostilia sed
perniciosa. --Serv. on ix. 315. The word often has this latter sense in
Virgil.
l. 396--_Aut capere aut captas iam despectare videntur. _ Henry seems
unquestionably right in explaining _captas despectare_ of the swans
rising and hovering over the place where they had settled, this action
being more fully expressed in the next two lines. The parallelism
between ll. 396 and 400 exists, but it is inverted, _capere_
corresponding to _subit_, _captas despectare_ to _tenet_.
l. 427--_lata theatris_ with the balance of MS. authority.
l. 550--_Arvaque_ after Med. and Pal. ; _armaque_ Con.
l. 636--_Munera laetitiamque die_ ('ut multi legunt,' says Serv. ),
though it has little MS. authority, has been adopted because it is
strongly probable on internal grounds, as giving a basis for the other
two readings, _dei_ and _dii_.
l. 722--_The long-since-unstirred spirit. _
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe.
SHAKESPEARE, Sonnet XXX.
l. 726--_dependent lychni laquearibus aureis. _ Serv. on viii. 25,
_summique ferit laquearia tecti_, says 'multi lacuaria legunt. nam lacus
dicuntur: unde est . . . lacunar. non enim a laqueis dicitur. ' As Prof.
Nettleship has pointed out, this seems to indicate that there are two
words, _laquear_ from _laqueus_, meaning chain or network, and _lacuar_
or _lacunar_ from _lacus_, meaning sunk work.
BOOK SECOND
l. 30--_Classibus hic locus. _ Ad equites referre debemus. --Serv. Cf.
also vii. 716.
l. 76--Omitted with the best MSS.
l. 234--_moenia pandimus urbis. _ Moenia cetera urbis tecta vel aedes
accipiendum. --Serv. This is the sense which the word generally has in
Virgil: it is often used in contrast with _muri_, or as a synonym of
_urbs_; and in most cases _city_ is its nearest English equivalent.
l. 381--_caerula colla tumentem. _ Caerulum est viride cum nigro. --Serv.
on vii. 198. Cf. iii. 208, where it is used of the colour of the sea
after a storm.
l. 616--_nimbo effulgens. _ est fulgidum lumen quo deorum capita
cinguntur. sic etiam pingi solet. --Serv. Cf. xii. 416.
BOOK THIRD
l. 127--_freta concita terris_ with all the best MSS. ; _consita_ Con.
l. 152--_qua se Plena per insertas fundebat Luna fenestras. _ The usual
explanation, which makes _insertas_ an epithet transferred by a sort of
hypallage from _Luna_ to _fenestras_, is extremely violent, and makes
the word little more than a repetition of _se fundebat_. Servius
mentions two other interpretations; _non seratas, quasi inseratas_, and
_clatratas_; the last has been adopted in the translation.
In the passage of Lucretius (ii. 114) which Virgil has imitated here,
Contemplator enim cum solis lumina . . .
Inserti fundunt radii per opaca domorum,
it is possible that _clatris_ may be the lost word.
l. 684--
_Contra iussa monent Heleni, Scyllam atque Charybdim
Inter, utramque viam leti discrimine parvo
Ni teneant cursus. _
In this difficult passage it is probably best to take _cursus_ as the
subject to teneant (_cursus teneant_, id est agantur. --Serv. Cf. also l.
454 above, _quamvis vi cursus in altum Vela vocet_), _viam_ being either
the direct object of _teneant_, or in loose apposition to _Scyllam atque
Charybdim_.
l. 708--_tempestatibus actis_ with Rom. and Pal. ; _actus_ Con. after
Med.
BOOK FOURTH
Totus hic liber . . . in consiliis et subtilitatibus est.
nam paene comicus stilus est. nec mirum, ubi de amore
tractatur. --Serv.
l. 273--Omitted with the best MSS.
l. 528--Omitted with the best MSS.
BOOK FIFTH
l. 595--_iuduntque per undas_, omitted with the preponderance of MS.
authority.
BOOK SIXTH
l. 242--Omitted with the balance of MS. authority.
l. 806--_virtutem extendere factis_ with Med. ; _virtute extendere vires_
Con.
BOOK EIGHTH
l. 46--Omitted with the majority of the best MSS.
l. 383--_Arma rogo. Genetrix nato te filia Nerei_.
_Arma rogo. _ hic distinguendum, ut cui petat non dicat, sed
relinquat intellegi . . . _Genetrix nato te filia Nerei. _ hoc
est, soles hoc praestare matribus. --Serv.
BOOK NINTH
l. 29--Omitted with all the best MSS.
l. 122--Omitted with all the best MSS.
l. 281--
_Me nulla dies tam fortibus ausis
Dissimilem arguerit tantum, Fortuna secunda
Aut adversa cadat. _
With some hesitation I have adopted this reading as the one open to
least objection, though the balance of authority is decidedly in favour
of _haud adversa_. For the position of _tantum_ cf. Ecl. x. 46,
according to the 'subtilior explicatio' now generally adopted.
l. 412--
_Et venit adversi in tergum Sulmonis ibique
Frangitur, et fisso transit praecordia ligno. _
The phrase _in tergum_ occurs twice elsewhere: ix. 764--meaning 'on the
back'; and xi. 653--meaning 'backward'; and in x. 718 the uncertainty
about the order of the lines makes it possible that _tergo decutit
hastas_ was meant to refer to the boar, not to Mezentius. But the
passages quoted by the editors there shew that the word might be used in
the sense of 'shield'; and this being so we are scarcely justified in
reading _aversi_ against all the good MSS.
l. 529--Omitted with most MSS.
BOOK TENTH
l. 278--Omitted with the best MSS.
l. 754--_Insidiis, iaculo et longe fallente sagitta. _ The MS. authority
is decidedly in favour of this, the more difficult reading; and the
hendiadys is not more violent than those in Georg. ii. 192, Aen. iii.
223.
BOOK TWELFTH
l. 218--_Tum magis, ut propius cernunt non viribus aequis.
from the other side Trojans and Agyllines and Arcadians in painted
armour flood thickly in: so hath one passion seized all to make decision
by the sword. They pull the altars to pieces; through all the air goes a
thick storm of weapons, and faster falls the iron rain. Bowls and
hearth-fires are carried off; Latinus himself retreats, bearing the
outraged gods of the broken treaty. The others harness their chariots,
or vault upon their horses and come up with swords drawn. Messapus,
eager to shatter the treaty, rides menacingly down on Aulestes the
Tyrrhenian, a king in a king's array. Retreating hastily, and tripped on
the altars that meet him behind, the hapless man goes down on his head
and shoulders. But Messapus flies up with wrathful spear, and strikes
him, as he pleads sore, a deep downward [295-330]blow from horseback
with his beam-like spear, saying thus: _That for him: the high gods take
this better victim. _ The Italians crowd in and strip his warm limbs.
Corynaeus seizes a charred brand from the altar, and meeting Ebysus as
he advances to strike, darts the flame in his face; his heavy beard
flamed up, and gave out a scorched smell. Following up his enemy's
confusion, the other seizes him with his left hand by the hair, and
bears him to earth with a thrust of his planted knee, and there drives
the unyielding sword into his side. Podalirius pursues and overhangs
with naked sword the shepherd Alsus as he rushes amid the foremost line
of weapons; Alsus swings back his axe, and severs brow and chin full in
front, wetting his armour all over with spattered blood. Grim rest and
iron slumber seal his eyes; his lids close on everlasting night.
But good Aeneas, his head bared, kept stretching his unarmed hand and
calling loudly to his men: 'Whither run you? What is this strife that so
spreads and swells? Ah, restrain your wrath! truce is already stricken,
and all its laws ordained; mine alone is the right of battle. Leave me
alone, and my hand shall confirm the treaty; these rites already make
Turnus mine. ' Amid these accents, amid words like these, lo! a whistling
arrow winged its way to him, sped from what hand or driven by what god,
none knows, or what chance or deity brought such honour to the
Rutulians; the renown of the high deed was buried, nor did any boast to
have dealt Aeneas' wound. Turnus, when he saw Aeneas retreating from the
ranks and his captains in dismay, burns hot with sudden hope. At once he
calls for his horses and armour, and with a bound leaps proudly into his
chariot and handles the reins. He darts on, dealing many a brave man's
body to death; many an one he rolls half-slain, or crushes whole files
under his chariot, or seizes and showers spears on the fugitives. As
[331-364]when by the streams of icy Hebrus Mavors kindles to bloodshed
and clashes on his shield, and stirs war and speeds his furious
coursers; they outwing south winds and west on the open plain; utmost
Thrace groans under their hoof-beats; and around in the god's train rush
the faces of dark Terror, and Wraths and Ambushes; even so amid the
battle Turnus briskly lashes on his reeking horses, trampling on the
foes that lie piteously slain; the galloping hoof scatters bloody dew,
and spurns mingled gore and sand. And now hath he dealt Sthenelus to
death, and Thamyrus and Pholus, him and him at close quarters, the other
from afar; from afar both the sons of Imbrasus, Glaucus and Lades, whom
Imbrasus himself had nurtured in Lycia and equipped in equal arms,
whether to meet hand to hand or to outstrip the winds on horseback.
Elsewhere Eumedes advances amid the fray, ancient Dolon's brood,
illustrious in war, renewing his grandfather's name, his father's
courage and strength of hand, who of old dared to claim Pelides' chariot
as his price if he went to spy out the Grecian camp; to him the son of
Tydeus told out another price for his venture, and he dreams no more of
Achilles' horses. Him Turnus descried far on the open plain, and first
following him with light javelin through long space of air, stops his
double-harnessed horses and leaps from the chariot, and descends on his
fallen half-lifeless foe, and, planting his foot on his neck, wrests the
blade out of his hand and dyes its glitter deep in his throat, adding
these words withal: 'Behold, thou liest, Trojan, meting out those
Hesperian fields thou didst seek in war. Such guerdon is theirs who dare
to tempt my sword; thus do they found their city. ' Then with a
spear-cast he sends Asbutes to follow him, and Chloreus and Sybaris,
Dares and Thersilochus, and Thymoetes fallen flung over his horse's
neck. And as when [365-398]the Edonian North wind's wrath roars on the
deep Aegean, and the wave follows it shoreward; where the blast comes
down, the clouds race over the sky; so, wheresoever Turnus cleaves his
way, columns retreat and lines turn and run; his own speed bears him on,
and his flying plume tosses as his chariot meets the breeze. Phegeus
brooked not his proud approach; he faced the chariot, and caught and
twisted away in his right hand the mouths of his horses, spurred into
speed and foaming on the bit. Dragged along and hanging by the yoke he
is left uncovered; the broad lance-head reaches him, pins and pierces
the double-woven breastplate, and lightly wounds the surface of his
body. Yet turning, he advanced on the enemy behind his shield, and
sought succour in the naked point; when the wheel running forward on its
swift axle struck him headlong and flung him to ground, and Turnus'
sword following it smote off his head between the helmet-rim and the
upper border of the breastplate, and left the body on the sand.
And while Turnus thus victoriously deals death over the plains,
Mnestheus meantime and faithful Achates, and Ascanius by their side, set
down Aeneas in the camp, dabbled with blood and leaning every other step
on his long spear. He storms, and tries hard to pull out the dart where
the reed had broken, and calls for the nearest way of remedy, to cut
open the wound with broad blade, and tear apart the weapon's
lurking-place, and so send him back to battle. And now Iapix son of
Iasus came, beloved beyond others of Phoebus, to whom once of old,
smitten with sharp desire, Apollo gladly offered his own arts and gifts,
augury and the lyre and swift arrows: he, to lengthen out the destiny of
a parent given over to die, chose rather to know the potency of herbs
and the practice of healing, and deal in a silent art unrenowned. Aeneas
stood chafing bitterly, propped on his vast spear, mourning
[399-435]Iulus and a great crowd of men around, unstirred by their
tears. The aged man, with garment drawn back and girt about him in
Paeonian fashion, makes many a hurried effort with healing hand and the
potent herbs of Phoebus, all in vain; in vain his hand solicits the
arrow-head, and his pincers' grasp pulls at the steel. Fortune leads him
forward in nowise; Apollo aids not with counsel; and more and more the
fierce clash swells over the plains, and the havoc draws nigher on.
Already they see the sky a mass of dust, the cavalry approaching, and
shafts falling thickly amid the camp; the dismal cry uprises of warriors
fighting and falling under the War-god's heavy hand. At this, stirred
deep by her son's cruel pain, Venus his mother plucked from Cretan Ida a
stalk of dittamy with downy leaves and bright-tressed flowers, the plant
not unknown to wild goats when winged arrows are fast in their body.
This Venus bore down, her shape girt in a dim halo; this she steeps with
secret healing in the river-water poured out and sparkling abrim, and
sprinkles life-giving juice of ambrosia and scented balm. With that
water aged Iapix washed the wound, unwitting; and suddenly, lo! all the
pain left his body, all the blood in the deep wound was stanched. And
now following his hand the arrow fell out with no force, and strength
returned afresh as of old. 'Hasten! arms for him quickly! why stand
you? ' cries Iapix aloud, and begins to kindle their courage against the
enemy; 'this comes not by human resource or schooling of art, nor does
my hand save thee, Aeneas: a higher god is at work, and sends thee back
to higher deeds. ' He, eager for battle, had already clasped on the
greaves of gold right and left, and scorning delay, brandishes his
spear. When the shield is adjusted by his side and the corslet on his
back, he clasps Ascanius in his armed embrace, and lightly kissing him
through the helmet, cries: 'Learn of me, O boy, valour [436-470]and
toil indeed, fortune of others. Now mine hand shall give thee defence in
war, and lead thee to great reward: do thou, when hereafter thine age
ripens to fulness, keep this in remembrance, and as thou recallest the
pattern of thy kindred, let thy spirit rise to thy father Aeneas, thine
uncle Hector. '
These words uttered, he issued towering from the gates, brandishing his
mighty spear: with him in serried column rush Antheus and Mnestheus, and
all the throng streams forth of the camp. The field drifts with blinding
dust, and the startled earth trembles under the tramp of feet. From his
earthworks opposite Turnus saw and the Ausonians saw them come, and an
icy shudder ran deep through their frame; first and before all the
Latins Juturna heard and knew the sound, and in terror fled away. He
flies on, and hurries his dark column over the open plain. As when in
fierce weather a storm-cloud moves over mid sea to land, with presaging
heart, ah me, the hapless husbandmen shudder from afar; it will deal
havoc to their trees and destruction to their crops, and make a broad
path of ruin; the winds fly before it, and bear its roar to the beach;
so the Rhoetean captain drives his army full on the foe; one and all
they close up in wedges, and mass their serried ranks. Thymbraeus smites
massive Osiris with the sword, Mnestheus slays Arcetius, Achates Epulo,
Gyas Ufens: Tolumnius the augur himself goes down, he who had hurled the
first weapon against the foe. Their cry rises to heaven, and in turn the
routed Rutulians give backward in flight over the dusty fields. Himself
he deigns not to cut down the fugitives, nor pursue such as meet him
fair on foot or approach in arms: Turnus alone he tracks and searches in
the thick haze, alone calls him to conflict. Then panic-stricken the
warrior maiden flings Turnus' charioteer out over his reins, and leaving
him far where he slips from the [471-504]chariot-pole, herself succeeds
and turns the wavy reins, tones and limbs and armour all of Metiscus'
wearing. As when a black swallow flits through some rich lord's spacious
house, and circles in flight the lofty halls, gathering her tiny food
for sustenance to her twittering nestlings, and now swoops down the
spacious colonnades, now round the wet ponds; in like wise dart
Juturna's horses amid the enemy, and her fleet chariot passes flying
over all the field. And now here and now here she displays her
triumphant brother, nor yet allows him to close, but flies far and away.
None the less does Aeneas thread the circling maze to meet him, and
tracks his man, and with loud cry cries on him through the scattered
ranks. Often as he cast eyes on his enemy and essayed to outrun the
speed of the flying-footed horses, so often Juturna wheeled her team
away. Alas, what can he do? Vainly he tosses on the ebb and flow, and in
his spirit diverse cares make conflicting call; when Messapus, who haply
bore in his left hand two tough spear-shafts topped with steel, runs
lightly up and aims and hurls one of them upon him with unerring stroke.
Aeneas stood still, and gathered himself behind his armour, sinking on
bended knee; yet the rushing spear bore off his helmet-spike, and dashed
the helmet-plume from the crest. Then indeed his wrath swells; and
forced to it by their treachery, while chariot and horses disappear, he
calls Jove oft and again to witness, and the altars of the violated
treaty, and now at last plunges amid their lines. Sweeping terrible down
the tide of battle he wakens fierce indiscriminate carnage, and flings
loose all the reins of wrath.
What god may now unfold for me in verse so many woes, so many diverse
slaughters and death of captains whom now Turnus, now again the Trojan
hero, drives over all the field? Was it well, O God, that nations
destined to everlasting peace should clash in so vast a shock? Aeneas
[505-540]meets Sucro the Rutulian; the combat stayed the first rush of
the Teucrians, but delayed them not long; he catches him on the side,
and, when fate comes quickest, drives the harsh sword clean through the
ribs where they fence the breast. Turnus brings down Amycus from
horseback with his brother Diores, and meets them on foot; him he
strikes with his long spear as he comes, him with his sword-point, and
hangs both severed heads on his chariot and carries them off dripping
with blood. The one sends to death Talos and Tanais and brave Cethegus,
three at one meeting, and gloomy Onites, of Echionian name, and Peridia
the mother that bore him; the other those brethren sent from Lycia and
Apollo's fields, and Menoetes the Arcadian, him who loathed warfare in
vain; who once had his art and humble home about the river-fisheries of
Lerna, and knew not the courts of the great, but his father was tenant
of the land he tilled. And as fires kindled dispersedly in a dry forest
and rustling laurel-thickets, or foaming rivers where they leap swift
and loud from high hills, and speed to sea each in his own path of
havoc; as fiercely the two, Aeneas and Turnus, dash amid the battle;
now, now wrath surges within them, and unconquerable hearts are torn;
now in all their might they rush upon wounds. The one dashes Murranus
down and stretches him on the soil with a vast whirling mass of rock, as
he cries the names of his fathers and forefathers of old, a whole line
drawn through Latin kings; under traces and yoke the wheels spurned him,
and the fast-beating hoofs of his rushing horses trample down their
forgotten lord. The other meets Hyllus rushing on in gigantic pride, and
hurls his weapon at his gold-bound temples; the spear pierced through
the helmet and stood fast in the brain. Neither did thy right hand save
thee from Turnus, O Cretheus, bravest of the Greeks; nor did his gods
shield Cupencus when Aeneas came; he gave his [541-575]breast full to
the steel, nor, alas! was the brazen shield's delay aught of avail. Thee
likewise, Aeolus, the Laurentine plains saw sink backward and cover a
wide space of earth; thou fallest, whom Argive battalions could not lay
low, nor Achilles the destroyer of Priam's realm. Here was thy goal of
death; thine high house was under Ida, at Lyrnesus thine high house, on
Laurentine soil thy tomb. The whole battle-lines gather up, all Latium
and all Dardania, Mnestheus and valiant Serestus, with Messapus, tamer
of horses, and brave Asilas, the Tuscan battalion and Evander's Arcadian
squadrons; man by man they struggle with all their might; no rest nor
pause in the vast strain of conflict.
At this Aeneas' mother most beautiful inspired him to advance on the
walls, directing his columns on the town and dismaying the Latins with
sudden and swift disaster. As in search for Turnus he bent his glance
this way and that round the separate ranks, he descries the city free
from all this warfare, unpunished and unstirred. Straightway he kindles
at the view of a greater battle; he summons Mnestheus and Sergestus and
brave Serestus his captains, and mounts a hillock; there the rest of the
Teucrian army gathers thickly, still grasping shield and spear. Standing
on the high mound amid them, he speaks: 'Be there no delay to my words;
Jupiter is with us; neither let any be slower to move that the design is
sudden. This city to-day, the source of war, the royal seat of Latinus,
unless they yield them to receive our yoke and obey their conquerors,
will I raze to ground, and lay her smoking roofs level with the dust.
Must I wait forsooth till Turnus please to stoop to combat, and choose
again to face his conqueror? This, O citizens, is the fountain-head and
crown of the accursed war. Bring brands speedily, and reclaim the treaty
in fire. ' He ended; all with spirit alike emulous form a wedge and
advance in serried masses to the walls. Ladders are run [576-611]up,
and fire leaps sudden to sight. Some rush to the separate gates, and cut
down the guards of the entry, others hurl their steel and darken the sky
with weapons. Aeneas himself among the foremost, upstretching his hand
to the city walls, loudly reproaches Latinus, and takes the gods to
witness that he is again forced into battle, that twice now do the
Italians choose warfare and break a second treaty. Discord rises among
the alarmed citizens: some bid unbar the town and fling wide their gates
to the Dardanians, and pull the king himself towards the ramparts;
others bring arms and hasten to defend the walls: as when a shepherd
tracks bees to their retreat in a recessed rock, and fills it with
stinging smoke, they within run uneasily up and down their waxen
fortress, and hum louder in rising wrath; the smell rolls in darkness
along their dwelling, and a blind murmur echoes within the rock as the
smoke issues to the empty air.
This fortune likewise befell the despairing Latins, this woe shook the
whole city to her base. The queen espies from her roof the enemy's
approach, the walls scaled and firebrands flying on the houses; and
nowhere Rutulian ranks, none of Turnus' columns to meet them; alas! she
deems him destroyed in the shock of battle, and, distracted by sudden
anguish, shrieks that she is the source of guilt, the spring of ill, and
with many a mad utterance of frenzied grief rends her purple attire with
dying hand, and ties from a lofty beam the ghastly noose of death. And
when the unhappy Latin women knew this calamity, first her daughter
Lavinia tears her flower-like tresses and roseate cheeks, and all the
train around her madden in her suit; the wide palace echoes to their
wailing, and from it the sorrowful rumour spreads abroad throughout the
town. All hearts sink; Latinus goes with torn raiment, in dismay at his
wife's doom and his city's downfall, defiling his hoary hair with
soilure of sprinkled dust.
[614-648]Meanwhile on the skirts of the field Turnus chases scattered
stragglers, ever slacker to battle, ever less and less exultant in his
coursers' victorious speed. The confused cry came to him borne in blind
terror down the breeze, and his startled ears caught the echoing tumult
and disastrous murmur of the town. 'Ah me! what agony shakes the city?
or what is this cry that fleets so loud from the distant town? ' So
speaks he, and distractedly checks the reins. And to him his sister, as
changed into his charioteer Metiscus' likeness she swayed horses and
chariot-reins, thus rejoined: 'This way, Turnus, let us pursue the brood
of Troy, where victory opens her nearest way; there are others whose
hands can protect their dwellings. Aeneas falls fiercer on the Italians,
and closes in conflict; let our hand too deal pitiless death on his
Teucrians. Neither in tale of dead nor in glory of battle shalt thou
retire outdone. ' Thereat Turnus: . . .
'Ah my sister, long ere now I knew thee, when first thine arts shattered
the treaty, and thou didst mingle in the strife; and now thy godhead
conceals itself in vain. But who hath bidden thee descend from heaven to
bear this sore travail? was it that thou mightest see thy hapless
brother cruelly slain? for what do I, or what fortune yet gives promise
of safety? Before my very eyes, calling aloud on me, I saw Murranus,
than whom none other is left me more dear, sink huge to earth, borne
down by as huge a wound. Hapless Ufens is fallen, not to see our shame;
corpse and armour are in Teucrian hands. The destruction of their
households, this was the one thing yet lacking; shall I suffer it? Shall
my hand not refute Drances' jeers? shall I turn my back, and this land
see Turnus a fugitive? Is Death all so bitter? Do you, O Shades, be
gracious to me, since the powers of heaven are estranged; to you shall I
go down, a pure spirit and [649-681]ignorant of your blame, never once
unworthy of my mighty fathers of old. '
Scarce had he spoken thus; lo! Saces, borne flying on his foaming horse
through the thickest of the foe, an arrow-wound right in his face,
darts, beseeching Turnus by his name. 'Turnus, in thee is our last
safety; pity thy people. Aeneas thunders in arms, and threatens to
overthrow and hurl to destruction the high Italian fortress; and already
firebrands are flying on our roofs. On thee, on thee the Latins turn
their gazing eyes; King Latinus himself mutters in doubt, whom he is to
call his sons, to whom he shall incline in union. Moreover the queen,
thy surest stay, hath fallen by her own hand and in dismay fled the
light. Alone in front of the gates Messapus and valiant Atinas sustain
the battle-line. Round about them to right and left the armies stand
locked and the iron field shivers with naked points; thou wheelest thy
chariot on the sward alone. ' At the distracting picture of his fortune
Turnus froze in horror and stood in dumb gaze; together in his heart
sweep the vast mingling tides of shame and maddened grief, and love
stung to frenzy and resolved valour. So soon as the darkness cleared and
light returned to his soul, he fiercely turned his blazing eyeballs
towards the ramparts, and gazed back from his wheels on the great city.
And lo! a spire of flame wreathing through the floors wavered up skyward
and held a turret fast, a turret that he himself had reared of mortised
planks and set on rollers and laid with high gangways. 'Now, O my
sister, now fate prevails: cease to hinder; let us follow where deity
and stern fortune call. I am resolved to face Aeneas, resolved to bear
what bitterness there is in death; nor shalt thou longer see me shamed,
sister of mine. Let me be mad, I pray thee, with this madness before the
end. ' He spoke, and leapt swiftly from his chariot to the field, and
darting through weapons [682-718]and through enemies, leaves his
sorrowing sister, and bursts in rapid course amid their columns. And as
when a rock rushes headlong from some mountain peak, torn away by the
blast, or if the rushing rain washes it away, or the stealing years
loosen its ancient hold; the reckless mountain mass goes sheer and
impetuous, and leaps along the ground, hurling with it forests and herds
and men; thus through the scattering columns Turnus rushes to the city
walls, where the earth is wettest with bloodshed and the air sings with
spears; and beckons with his hand, and thus begins aloud: 'Forbear now,
O Rutulians, and you, Latins, stay your weapons. Whatsoever fortune is
left is mine: I singly must expiate the treaty for you all, and make
decision with the sword. ' All drew aside and left him room.
But lord Aeneas, hearing Turnus' name, abandons the walls, abandons the
fortress height, and in exultant joy flings aside all hindrance, breaks
off all work, and clashes his armour terribly, vast as Athos, or as
Eryx, or as the lord of Apennine when he roars with his tossing ilex
woods and rears his snowy crest rejoicing into air. Now indeed Rutulians
and Trojans and all Italy turned in emulous gaze, and they who held the
high city, and they whose ram was battering the foundations of the wall,
and unarmed their shoulders. Latinus himself stands in amaze at the
mighty men, born in distant quarters of the world, met and making
decision with the sword. And they, in the empty level field that cleared
for them, darted swiftly forward, and hurling their spears from far,
close in battle shock with clangour of brazen shields. Earth utters a
moan; the sword-strokes fall thick and fast, chance and valour joining
in one. And as in broad Sila or high on Taburnus, when two bulls rush to
deadly battle forehead to forehead, the herdsmen retire in terror, all
the herd stands dumb in dismay, and the heifers murmur in doubt which
shall be [719-752]lord in the woodland, which all the cattle must
follow; they violently deal many a mutual wound, and gore with their
stubborn horns, bathing their necks and shoulders in abundant blood; all
the woodland moans back their bellowing: even thus Aeneas of Troy and
the Daunian hero rush together shield to shield; the mighty crash fills
the sky. Jupiter himself holds up the two scales in even balance, and
lays in them the different fates of both, trying which shall pay forfeit
of the strife, whose weight shall sink in death. Turnus darts out,
thinking it secure, and rises with his whole reach of body on his
uplifted sword; then strikes; Trojans and Latins cry out in excitement,
and both armies strain their gaze. But the treacherous sword shivers,
and in mid stroke deserts its eager lord. If flight aid him not now! He
flies swifter than the wind, when once he descries a strange hilt in his
weaponless hand. Rumour is that in his headlong hurry, when mounting
behind his yoked horses to begin the battle, he left his father's sword
behind and caught up his charioteer Metiscus' weapon; and that served
him long, while Teucrian stragglers turned their backs; when it met the
divine Vulcanian armour, the mortal blade like brittle ice snapped in
the stroke; the shards lie glittering upon the yellow sand. So in
distracted flight Turnus darts afar over the plain, and now this way and
now that crosses in wavering circles; for on all hands the Teucrians
locked him in crowded ring, and the dreary marsh on this side, on this
the steep city ramparts hem him in.
Therewith Aeneas pursues, though ever and anon his knees, disabled by
the arrow, hinder and stay his speed; and foot hard on foot presses
hotly on his hurrying enemy: as when a hunter courses with a fleet
barking hound some stag caught in a river-loop or girt by the
crimson-feathered toils, and he, in terror of the snares and the high
river-bank, [753-786]darts back and forward in a thousand ways; but the
keen Umbrian clings agape, and just catches at him, and as though he
caught him snaps his jaws while the baffled teeth close on vacancy. Then
indeed a cry goes up, and banks and pools answer round about, and all
the sky echoes the din. He, even as he flies, chides all his Rutulians,
calling each by name, and shrieks for the sword he knew. But Aeneas
denounces death and instant doom if one of them draw nigh, and doubles
their terror with threats of their city's destruction, and though
wounded presses on. Five circles they cover at full speed, and unwind as
many this way and that; for not light nor slight is the prize they seek,
but Turnus' very lifeblood is at issue. Here there haply had stood a
bitter-leaved wild olive, sacred to Faunus, a tree worshipped by
mariners of old; on it, when rescued from the waves, they were wont to
fix their gifts to the god of Laurentum and hang their votive raiment;
but the Teucrians, unregarding, had cleared away the sacred stem, that
they might meet on unimpeded lists. Here stood Aeneas' spear; hither
borne by its own speed it was held fast stuck in the tough root. The
Dardanian stooped over it, and would wrench away the steel, to follow
with the weapon him whom he could not catch in running. Then indeed
Turnus cries in frantic terror: 'Faunus, have pity, I beseech thee! and
thou, most gracious Earth, keep thy hold on the steel, as I ever have
kept your worship, and the Aeneadae again have polluted it in war. ' He
spoke, and called the god to aid in vows that fell not fruitless. For
all Aeneas' strength, his long struggling and delay over the tough stem
availed not to unclose the hard grip of the wood. While he strains and
pulls hard, the Daunian goddess, changing once more into the charioteer
Metiscus' likeness, runs forward and passes her brother his sword. But
Venus, indignant that the [787-818]Nymph might be so bold, drew nigh
and wrenched away the spear where it stuck deep in the root. Erect in
fresh courage and arms, he with his faithful sword, he towering fierce
over his spear, they face one another panting in the battle shock.
Meanwhile the King of Heaven's omnipotence accosts Juno as she gazes on
the battle from a sunlit cloud. 'What yet shall be the end, O wife? what
remains at the last? Heaven claims Aeneas as his country's god, thou
thyself knowest and avowest to know, and fate lifts him to the stars.
With what device or in what hope hangest thou chill in cloudland? Was it
well that a deity should be sullied by a mortal's wound? or that the
lost sword--for what without thee could Juturna avail? --should be
restored to Turnus and swell the force of the vanquished? Forbear now, I
pray, and bend to our entreaties; let not the pain thus devour thee in
silence, and distress so often flood back on me from thy sweet lips. The
end is come. Thou hast had power to hunt the Trojans over land or wave,
to kindle accursed war, to put the house in mourning, and plunge the
bridal in grief: further attempt I forbid thee. ' Thus Jupiter began:
thus the goddess, daughter of Saturn, returned with looks cast down:
'Even because this thy will, great Jupiter, is known to me for thine,
have I left, though loth, Turnus alone on earth; nor else wouldst thou
see me now, alone on this skyey seat, enduring good and bad; but girt in
flame I were standing by their very lines, and dragging the Teucrians
into the deadly battle. I counselled Juturna, I confess it, to succour
her hapless brother, and for his life's sake favoured a greater daring;
yet not the arrow-shot, not the bending of the bow, I swear by the
merciless well-head of the Stygian spring, the single ordained dread of
the gods in heaven. And now I retire, and leave the battle in loathing.
[819-854]This thing I beseech thee, that is bound by no fatal law, for
Latium and for the majesty of thy kindred. When now they shall plight
peace with prosperous marriages (be it so! ), when now they shall join in
laws and treaties, bid thou not the native Latins change their name of
old, nor become Trojans and take the Teucrian name, or change their
language, or alter their attire: let Latium be, let Alban kings endure
through ages, let Italian valour be potent in the race of Rome. Troy is
fallen; let her and her name lie where they fell. '
To her smilingly the designer of men and things:
'Jove's own sister thou art, and second seed of Saturn, such surge of
wrath tosses within thy breast! But come, allay this madness so vainly
stirred. I give thee thy will, and yield thee ungrudged victory. Ausonia
shall keep her native speech and usage, and as her name is, it shall be.
The Trojans shall sink mingling into their blood; I will add their
sacred law and ritual, and make all Latins and of a single speech. Hence
shall spring a race of tempered Ausonian blood, whom thou shalt see
outdo men and gods in duty; nor shall any nation so observe thy
worship. ' To this Juno assented, and in gladness withdrew her purpose;
meanwhile she quits her cloud, and retires out of the sky.
This done, the Father revolves inly another counsel, and prepares to
separate Juturna from her brother's arms. Twin monsters there are,
called the Dirae by their name, whom with infernal Megaera the dead of
night bore at one single birth, and wreathed them in like serpent coils,
and clothed them in windy wings. They appear at Jove's throne and in the
courts of the grim king, and quicken the terrors of wretched men
whensoever the lord of heaven deals sicknesses and dreadful death, or
sends terror of war upon guilty cities. One of these Jupiter sent
swiftly down from heaven's height, and bade her meet Juturna for a
[855-888]sign. She wings her way, and darts in a whirlwind to earth.
Even as an arrow through a cloud, darting from the string when Parthian
hath poisoned it with bitter gall, Parthian or Cydonian, and sped the
immedicable shaft, leaps through the swift shadow whistling and unknown;
so sprung and swept to earth the daughter of Night. When she espies the
Ilian ranks and Turnus' columns, suddenly shrinking to the shape of a
small bird that often sits late by night on tombs or ruinous roofs, and
vexes the darkness with her cry, in such change of likeness the monster
shrilly passes and repasses before Turnus' face, and her wings beat
restlessly on his shield. A strange numbing terror unnerves his limbs,
his hair thrills up, and the accents falter on his tongue. But when his
hapless sister knew afar the whistling wings of the Fury, Juturna
unbinds and tears her tresses, with rent face and smitten bosom. 'How, O
Turnus, can thine own sister help thee now? or what more is there if I
break not under this? What art of mine can lengthen out thy day? can I
contend with this ominous thing? Now, now I quit the field. Dismay not
my terrors, disastrous birds; I know these beating wings, and the sound
of death, nor do I miss high-hearted Jove's haughty ordinance. Is this
his repayment for my maidenhood? what good is his gift of life for ever?
why have I forfeited a mortal's lot? Now assuredly could I make all this
pain cease, and go with my unhappy brother side by side into the dark.
Alas mine immortality! will aught of mine be sweet to me without thee,
my brother? Ah, how may Earth yawn deep enough for me, and plunge my
godhead in the under world! '
So spoke she, and wrapping her head in her gray vesture, the goddess
moaning sore sank in the river depth.
But Aeneas presses on, brandishing his vast tree-like spear, and
fiercely speaks thus: 'What more delay is there [889-924]now? or why,
Turnus, dost thou yet shrink away? Not in speed of foot, in grim arms,
hand to hand, must be the conflict. Transform thyself as thou wilt, and
collect what strength of courage or skill is thine; pray that thou
mayest wing thy flight to the stars on high, or that sheltering earth
may shut thee in. ' The other, shaking his head: 'Thy fierce words dismay
me not, insolent! the gods dismay me, and Jupiter's enmity. ' And no more
said, his eyes light on a vast stone, a stone ancient and vast that
haply lay upon the plain, set for a landmark to divide contested fields:
scarcely might twelve chosen men lift it on their shoulders, of such
frame as now earth brings to birth: then the hero caught it up with
trembling hand and whirled it at the foe, rising higher and quickening
his speed. But he knows not his own self running nor going nor lifting
his hands or moving the mighty stone; his knees totter, his blood
freezes cold; the very stone he hurls, spinning through the empty void,
neither wholly reached its distance nor carried its blow home. And as in
sleep, when nightly rest weighs down our languorous eyes, we seem vainly
to will to run eagerly on, and sink faint amidst our struggles; the
tongue is powerless, the familiar strength fails the body, nor will
words or utterance follow: so the disastrous goddess brings to naught
all Turnus' valour as he presses on. His heart wavers in shifting
emotion; he gazes on his Rutulians and on the city, and falters in
terror, and shudders at the imminent spear; neither sees he whither he
may escape nor how rush violently on the enemy, and nowhere his chariot
or his sister at the reins. As he wavers Aeneas poises the deadly
weapon, and, marking his chance, hurls it in from afar with all his
strength of body. Never with such a roar are stones hurled from some
engine on ramparts, nor does the thunder burst in so loud a peal.
Carrying grim death with it, the spear flies in fashion of some dark
whirlwind, and [925-952]opens the rim of the corslet and the utmost
circles of the sevenfold shield. Right through the thigh it passes
hurtling on; under the blow Turnus falls huge to earth with his leg
doubled under him. The Rutulians start up with a groan, and all the hill
echoes round about, and the width of high woodland returns their cry.
Lifting up beseechingly his humbled eyes and suppliant hand: 'I have
deserved it,' he says, 'nor do I ask for mercy; use thy fortune. If an
unhappy parent's distress may at all touch thee, this I pray; even such
a father was Anchises to thee; pity Daunus' old age, and restore to my
kindred which thou wilt, me or my body bereft of day. Thou art
conqueror, and Ausonia hath seen me stretch conquered hands. Lavinia is
thine in marriage; press not thy hatred farther. '
Aeneas stood wrathful in arms, with rolling eyes, and lowered his hand;
and now and now yet more the speech began to bend him to waver: when
high on his shoulder appeared the sword-belt with the shining bosses
that he knew, the luckless belt of the boy Pallas, whom Turnus had
struck down with mastering wound, and wore on his shoulders the fatal
ornament. The other, as his eyes drank in the plundered record of his
fierce grief, kindles to fury, and cries terrible in anger: 'Mayest
thou, thou clad in the spoils of my dearest, escape mine hands? Pallas
it is, Pallas who now strikes the sacrifice, and exacts vengeance in thy
guilty blood. ' So saying, he fiercely plunges the steel full in his
breast. But his limbs grow slack and chill, and the life with a moan
flies indignantly into the dark.
THE END.
NOTES
BOOK FIRST
l. 123--_Accipiunt inimicum imbrem. _ Inimica non tantum hostilia sed
perniciosa. --Serv. on ix. 315. The word often has this latter sense in
Virgil.
l. 396--_Aut capere aut captas iam despectare videntur. _ Henry seems
unquestionably right in explaining _captas despectare_ of the swans
rising and hovering over the place where they had settled, this action
being more fully expressed in the next two lines. The parallelism
between ll. 396 and 400 exists, but it is inverted, _capere_
corresponding to _subit_, _captas despectare_ to _tenet_.
l. 427--_lata theatris_ with the balance of MS. authority.
l. 550--_Arvaque_ after Med. and Pal. ; _armaque_ Con.
l. 636--_Munera laetitiamque die_ ('ut multi legunt,' says Serv. ),
though it has little MS. authority, has been adopted because it is
strongly probable on internal grounds, as giving a basis for the other
two readings, _dei_ and _dii_.
l. 722--_The long-since-unstirred spirit. _
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe.
SHAKESPEARE, Sonnet XXX.
l. 726--_dependent lychni laquearibus aureis. _ Serv. on viii. 25,
_summique ferit laquearia tecti_, says 'multi lacuaria legunt. nam lacus
dicuntur: unde est . . . lacunar. non enim a laqueis dicitur. ' As Prof.
Nettleship has pointed out, this seems to indicate that there are two
words, _laquear_ from _laqueus_, meaning chain or network, and _lacuar_
or _lacunar_ from _lacus_, meaning sunk work.
BOOK SECOND
l. 30--_Classibus hic locus. _ Ad equites referre debemus. --Serv. Cf.
also vii. 716.
l. 76--Omitted with the best MSS.
l. 234--_moenia pandimus urbis. _ Moenia cetera urbis tecta vel aedes
accipiendum. --Serv. This is the sense which the word generally has in
Virgil: it is often used in contrast with _muri_, or as a synonym of
_urbs_; and in most cases _city_ is its nearest English equivalent.
l. 381--_caerula colla tumentem. _ Caerulum est viride cum nigro. --Serv.
on vii. 198. Cf. iii. 208, where it is used of the colour of the sea
after a storm.
l. 616--_nimbo effulgens. _ est fulgidum lumen quo deorum capita
cinguntur. sic etiam pingi solet. --Serv. Cf. xii. 416.
BOOK THIRD
l. 127--_freta concita terris_ with all the best MSS. ; _consita_ Con.
l. 152--_qua se Plena per insertas fundebat Luna fenestras. _ The usual
explanation, which makes _insertas_ an epithet transferred by a sort of
hypallage from _Luna_ to _fenestras_, is extremely violent, and makes
the word little more than a repetition of _se fundebat_. Servius
mentions two other interpretations; _non seratas, quasi inseratas_, and
_clatratas_; the last has been adopted in the translation.
In the passage of Lucretius (ii. 114) which Virgil has imitated here,
Contemplator enim cum solis lumina . . .
Inserti fundunt radii per opaca domorum,
it is possible that _clatris_ may be the lost word.
l. 684--
_Contra iussa monent Heleni, Scyllam atque Charybdim
Inter, utramque viam leti discrimine parvo
Ni teneant cursus. _
In this difficult passage it is probably best to take _cursus_ as the
subject to teneant (_cursus teneant_, id est agantur. --Serv. Cf. also l.
454 above, _quamvis vi cursus in altum Vela vocet_), _viam_ being either
the direct object of _teneant_, or in loose apposition to _Scyllam atque
Charybdim_.
l. 708--_tempestatibus actis_ with Rom. and Pal. ; _actus_ Con. after
Med.
BOOK FOURTH
Totus hic liber . . . in consiliis et subtilitatibus est.
nam paene comicus stilus est. nec mirum, ubi de amore
tractatur. --Serv.
l. 273--Omitted with the best MSS.
l. 528--Omitted with the best MSS.
BOOK FIFTH
l. 595--_iuduntque per undas_, omitted with the preponderance of MS.
authority.
BOOK SIXTH
l. 242--Omitted with the balance of MS. authority.
l. 806--_virtutem extendere factis_ with Med. ; _virtute extendere vires_
Con.
BOOK EIGHTH
l. 46--Omitted with the majority of the best MSS.
l. 383--_Arma rogo. Genetrix nato te filia Nerei_.
_Arma rogo. _ hic distinguendum, ut cui petat non dicat, sed
relinquat intellegi . . . _Genetrix nato te filia Nerei. _ hoc
est, soles hoc praestare matribus. --Serv.
BOOK NINTH
l. 29--Omitted with all the best MSS.
l. 122--Omitted with all the best MSS.
l. 281--
_Me nulla dies tam fortibus ausis
Dissimilem arguerit tantum, Fortuna secunda
Aut adversa cadat. _
With some hesitation I have adopted this reading as the one open to
least objection, though the balance of authority is decidedly in favour
of _haud adversa_. For the position of _tantum_ cf. Ecl. x. 46,
according to the 'subtilior explicatio' now generally adopted.
l. 412--
_Et venit adversi in tergum Sulmonis ibique
Frangitur, et fisso transit praecordia ligno. _
The phrase _in tergum_ occurs twice elsewhere: ix. 764--meaning 'on the
back'; and xi. 653--meaning 'backward'; and in x. 718 the uncertainty
about the order of the lines makes it possible that _tergo decutit
hastas_ was meant to refer to the boar, not to Mezentius. But the
passages quoted by the editors there shew that the word might be used in
the sense of 'shield'; and this being so we are scarcely justified in
reading _aversi_ against all the good MSS.
l. 529--Omitted with most MSS.
BOOK TENTH
l. 278--Omitted with the best MSS.
l. 754--_Insidiis, iaculo et longe fallente sagitta. _ The MS. authority
is decidedly in favour of this, the more difficult reading; and the
hendiadys is not more violent than those in Georg. ii. 192, Aen. iii.
223.
BOOK TWELFTH
l. 218--_Tum magis, ut propius cernunt non viribus aequis.
