No More Learning

Amid the
massacre he escaped to the refuge of Rutulian land and the armed defence
of Turnus' friendship. So all Etruria hath risen in righteous fury, and
in immediate battle claim their king for punishment. Over these
thousands will I make thee chief, O Aeneas; for their noisy ships crowd
all the shore, and they bid the standards advance, while the aged
diviner stays them with prophecies: "O chosen men of Maeonia, flower and
strength of them, of old time, whom righteous anger urges on the enemy,
and Mezentius inflames with deserved wrath, to no Italian is it
permitted to hold this great nation in control: choose foreigners to
lead you. " At that, terrified by the divine warning, the Etruscan lines
have encamped on the plain; Tarchon himself hath sent ambassadors to me
with the crown [506-539]and sceptre of the kingdom, and offers the
royal attire will I but enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene realm.
But old age, frozen to dulness, and exhausted with length of life,
denies me the load of empire, and my prowess is past its day. I would
urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother
make this half his native land. Thou, to whose years and race alike the
fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a
leader supreme in bravery over Teucrians and Italians. Mine own Pallas
likewise, our hope and comfort, I will send with thee; let him grow used
to endure warfare and the stern work of battle under thy teaching, to
regard thine actions, and from his earliest years look up to thee. To
him will I give two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the choice of our warlike
strength, and Pallas as many more to thee in his own name. '

Scarce had he ended; Aeneas, son of Anchises, and trusty Achates gazed
with steadfast face, and, sad at heart, were revolving inly many a
labour, had not the Cytherean sent a sign from the clear sky. For
suddenly a flash and peal comes quivering from heaven, and all seemed in
a moment to totter, and the Tyrrhene trumpet-blast to roar along the
sky. They look up; again and yet again the heavy crash re-echoes. They
see in the serene space of sky armour gleam red through a cloud in the
clear air, and ring clashing out. The others stood in amaze; but the
Trojan hero knew the sound for the promise of his goddess mother; then
he speaks: 'Ask not, O friend, ask not in any wise what fortune this
presage announces; it is I who am summoned of heaven. This sign the
goddess who bore me foretold she would send if war assailed, and would
bring through the air to my succour armour from Vulcan's hands. . . .
Ah, what slaughter awaits the wretched Laurentines! what a price, O
Turnus, wilt thou pay me! how many shields and helmets and brave bodies
of men shalt thou, [540-573]Lord Tiber, roll under thy waves! Let them
call for armed array and break the league! '

These words uttered, he rises from the high seat, and first wakes with
fresh fire the slumbering altars of Hercules, and gladly draws nigh his
tutelar god of yesternight and the small deities of the household. Alike
Evander, and alike the men of Troy, offer up, as is right, choice sheep
of two years old. Thereafter he goes to the ships and revisits his crew,
of whose company he chooses the foremost in valour to attend him to war;
the rest glide down the water and float idly with the descending stream,
to come with news to Ascanius of his father's state. They give horses to
the Teucrians who seek the fields of Tyrrhenia; a chosen one is brought
for Aeneas, housed in a tawny lion skin that glitters with claws of
gold. Rumour flies suddenly, spreading over the little town, that they
ride in haste to the courts of the Tyrrhene king. Mothers redouble their
prayers in terror, as fear treads closer on peril and the likeness of
the War God looms larger in sight. Then Evander, clasping the hand of
his departing son, clings to him weeping inconsolably, and speaks thus:

'Oh, if Jupiter would restore me the years that are past, as I was when,
close under Praeneste, I cut down their foremost ranks and burned the
piled shields of the conquered! Then this right hand sent King Erulus
down to hell, though to him at his birth his mother Feronia (awful to
tell) had given three lives and triple arms to wield; thrice must he be
laid low in death; yet then this hand took all his lives and as often
stripped him of his arms. Never should I now, O son, be severed from thy
dear embrace; never had the insolent sword of Mezentius on my borders
dealt so many cruel deaths, widowed the city of so many citizens. But
you, O heavenly powers, and thou, Jupiter, Lord and Governor of Heaven,
have compassion, I pray, on [574-609]the Arcadian king, and hear a
father's prayers. If your deity and decrees keep my Pallas safe for me,
if I live that I may see him and meet him yet, I pray for life; any toil
soever I have patience to endure. But if, O Fortune, thou threatenest
some dread calamity, now, ah now, may I break off a cruel life, while
anxiety still wavers and expectation is in doubt, while thou, dear boy,
my one last delight, art yet clasped in my embrace; let no bitterer
message wound mine ear. ' These words the father poured forth at the
final parting; his servants bore him swooning within.

And now the cavalry had issued from the open gates, Aeneas and trusty
Achates among the foremost, then other of the Trojan princes, Pallas
conspicuous amid the column in scarf and inlaid armour; like the Morning
Star, when, newly washed in the ocean wave, he shews his holy face in
heaven, and melts the darkness away. Fearful mothers stand on the walls
and follow with their eyes the cloud of dust and the squadrons gleaming
in brass. They, where the goal of their way lies nearest, bear through
the brushwood in armed array. Forming in column, they advance noisily,
and the horse hoof shakes the crumbling plain with four-footed
trampling. There is a high grove by the cold river of Caere, widely
revered in ancestral awe; sheltering hills shut it in all about and
girdle the woodland with their dark firs. Rumour is that the old
Pelasgians, who once long ago held the Latin borders, consecrated the
grove and its festal day to Silvanus, god of the tilth and flock. Not
far from it Tarchon and his Tyrrhenians were encamped in a protected
place; and now from the hill-top the tents of all their army might be
seen outspread on the fields. Lord Aeneas and his chosen warriors draw
hither and refresh their weary horses and limbs.

But Venus the white goddess drew nigh, bearing her gifts through the
clouds of heaven; and when she saw her [610-646]son withdrawn far apart
in the valley's recess by the cold river, cast herself in his way, and
addressed him thus: 'Behold perfected the presents of my husband's
promised craftsmanship: so shalt thou not shun, O my child, soon to
challenge the haughty Laurentines or fiery Turnus to battle. ' The
Cytherean spoke, and sought her son's embrace, and laid the armour
glittering under an oak over against him. He, rejoicing in the
magnificence of the goddess' gift, cannot have his fill of turning his
eyes over it piece by piece, and admires and handles between his arms
the helmet, dread with plumes and spouting flame, as when a blue cloud
takes fire in the sunbeams and gleams afar; then the smooth greaves of
electrum and refined gold, the spear, and the shield's ineffable design.
There the Lord of Fire had fashioned the story of Italy and the triumphs
of the Romans, not witless of prophecy or ignorant of the age to be;
there all the race of Ascanius' future seed, and their wars fought one
by one. Likewise had he fashioned the she-wolf couched after the birth
in the green cave of Mars; round her teats the twin boys hung playing,
and fearlessly mouthed their foster-mother; she, with round neck bent
back, stroked them by turns and shaped their bodies with her tongue.
Thereto not far from this he had set Rome and the lawless rape of the
Sabines in the concourse of the theatre when the great Circensian games
were celebrated, and a fresh war suddenly arising between the people of
Romulus and aged Tatius and austere Cures. Next these same kings laid
down their mutual strife and stood armed before Jove's altar with cup in
hand, and joined treaty over a slain sow. Not far from there four-horse
chariots driven apart had torn Mettus asunder (but thou, O Alban,
shouldst have kept by thy words! ), and Tullus tore the flesh of the liar
through the forest, his splashed blood dripping from the briars.
Therewithal Porsena commanded [647-681]to admit the exiled Tarquin, and
held the city in the grasp of a strong blockade; the Aeneadae rushed on
the sword for liberty. Him thou couldst espy like one who chafes and
like one who threatens, because Cocles dared to tear down the bridge,
and Cloelia broke her bonds and swam the river. Highest of all Manlius,
warder of the Tarpeian fortress, stood with the temple behind him and
held the high Capitoline; and the thatch of Romulus' palace stood rough
and fresh. And here the silver goose, fluttering in the gilded
colonnades, cried that the Gauls were there on the threshold. The Gauls
were there among the brushwood, hard on the fortress, secure in the
darkness and the dower of shadowy night. Their clustering locks are of
gold, and of gold their attire; their striped cloaks glitter, and their
milk-white necks are entwined with gold. Two Alpine pikes sparkle in the
hand of each, and long shields guard their bodies. Here he had embossed
the dancing Salii and the naked Luperci, the crests wreathed in wool,
and the sacred shields that fell from heaven; in cushioned cars the
virtuous matrons led on their rites through the city. Far hence he adds
the habitations of hell also, the high gates of Dis and the dooms of
guilt; and thee, O Catiline, clinging on the beetling rock, and
shuddering at the faces of the Furies; and far apart the good, and Cato
delivering them statutes. Amidst it all flows wide the likeness of the
swelling sea, wrought in gold, though the foam surged gray upon blue
water; and round about dolphins, in shining silver, swept the seas with
their tails in circle as they cleft the tide. In the centre were visible
the brazen war-fleets of Actium; thou mightest see all Leucate swarm in
embattled array, and the waves gleam with gold. Here Caesar Augustus,
leading Italy to battle with Fathers and People, with gods of household
and of state, stands on the lofty stern; prosperous flames jet round his
brow, and his [682-715]ancestral star dawns overhead. Elsewhere
Agrippa, with favouring winds and gods, proudly leads on his column; on
his brows glitters the prow-girt naval crown, the haughty emblazonment
of the war. Here Antonius with barbarian aid and motley arms, from the
conquered nations of the Dawn and the shore of the southern sea, carries
with him Egypt and the Eastern forces of utmost Bactra, and the shameful
Egyptian woman goes as his consort. All at once rush on, and the whole
ocean is torn into foam by straining oars and triple-pointed prows. They
steer to sea; one might think that the Cyclades were uptorn and floated
on the main, or that lofty mountains clashed with mountains, so mightily
do their crews urge on the turreted ships. Flaming tow and the winged
steel of darts shower thickly from their hands; the fields of ocean
redden with fresh slaughter. Midmost the Queen calls on her squadron
with the timbrel of her country, nor yet casts back a glance on the twin
snakes behind her. Howling Anubis, and gods monstrous and multitudinous,
level their arms against Neptune and Venus and against Minerva; Mars
rages amid the havoc, graven in iron, and the Fatal Sisters hang aloft,
and Discord strides rejoicing with garment rent, and Bellona attends her
with blood-stained scourge. Looking thereon, Actian Apollo above drew
his bow; with the terror of it all Egypt and India, every Arab and
Sabaean, turned back in flight. The Queen herself seemed to call the
winds and spread her sails, and even now let her sheets run slack. Her
the Lord of Fire had fashioned amid the carnage, wan with the shadow of
death, borne along by the waves and the north-west wind; and over
against her the vast bulk of mourning Nile, opening out his folds and
calling with all his raiment the conquered people into his blue lap and
the coverture of his streams. But Caesar rode into the city of Rome in
triple triumph, and dedicated his vowed [716-731]offering to the gods
to stand for ever, three hundred stately shrines all about the city. The
streets were loud with gladness and games and shouting. In all the
temples was a band of matrons, in all were altars, and before the altars
slain steers strewed the ground. Himself he sits on the snowy threshold
of Phoebus the bright, reviews the gifts of the nations and ranges them
on the haughty doors. The conquered tribes move in long line, diverse as
in tongue, so in fashion of dress and armour. Here Mulciber had designed
the Nomad race and the ungirt Africans, here the Leleges and Carians and
archer Gelonians. Euphrates went by now with smoother waves, and the
Morini utmost of men, and the horned Rhine, the untamed Dahae, and
Araxes chafing under his bridge.

These things he admires on the shield of Vulcan, his mother's gift, and
rejoicing in the portraiture of unknown history, lifts on his shoulder
the destined glories of his children.




BOOK NINTH

THE SIEGE OF THE TROJAN CAMP


And while thus things pass far in the distance, Juno daughter of Saturn
sent Iris down the sky to gallant Turnus, then haply seated in his
forefather Pilumnus' holy forest dell. To him the child of Thaumas spoke
thus with roseate lips:

'Turnus, what no god had dared promise to thy prayer, behold, is brought
unasked by the circling day. Aeneas hath quitted town and comrades and
fleet to seek Evander's throne and Palatine dwelling-place. Nor is it
enough; he hath pierced to Corythus' utmost cities, and is mustering in
arms a troop of Lydian rustics. Why hesitate? now, now is the time to
call for chariot and horses. Break through all hindrance and seize the
bewildered camp. '

She spoke, and rose into the sky on poised wings, and flashed under the
clouds in a long flying bow. He knew her, and lifting either hand to
heaven, with this cry pursued her flight: 'Iris, grace of the sky, who
hath driven thee down the clouds to me and borne thee to earth? Whence
is this sudden sheen of weather? I see the sky parting asunder, and the
wandering stars in the firmament. I follow the high omen, whoso thou art
that callest me to arms. ' And with these words he drew nigh the wave,
and [23-58]caught up water from its brimming eddy, making many prayers
to the gods and burdening the air with vows.

And now all the army was advancing on the open plain, rich in horses,
rich in raiment of broidered gold. Messapus rules the foremost ranks,
the sons of Tyrrheus the rear. Turnus commands the centre: even as
Ganges rising high in silence when his seven streams are still, or the
rich flood of Nile when he ebbs from the plains, and is now sunk into
his channel. On this the Teucrians descry a sudden cloud of dark dust
gathering, and the blackness rising on the plain. Caicus raises a cry
from the mound in front: 'What mass of misty gloom, O citizens, is
rolling hitherward? to arms in haste! serve out weapons, climb the
walls. The enemy approaches, ho! ' With mighty clamour the Teucrians pour
in through all the gates and fill the works. For so at his departure
Aeneas the great captain had enjoined; were aught to chance meanwhile,
they should not venture to range their line or trust the plain, but keep
their camp and the safety of the entrenched walls. So, though shame and
wrath beckon them on to battle, they yet bar the gates and do his
bidding, and await the foe armed and in shelter of the towers. Turnus,
who had flown forward in advance of his tardy column, comes up suddenly
to the town with a train of twenty chosen cavalry, borne on a Thracian
horse dappled with white, and covered by a golden helmet with scarlet
plume. 'Who will be with me, my men, to be first on the foe? See! ' he
cries; and sends a javelin spinning into the air to open battle, and
advances towering on the plain. His comrades take up the cry, and follow
with dreadful din, wondering at the Teucrians' coward hearts, that they
issue not on even field nor face them in arms, but keep in shelter of
the camp. Hither and thither he rides furiously, tracing the walls, and
seeking entrance where way is none. And as a wolf prowling [59-92]about
some crowded sheepfold, when, beaten sore of winds and rains, he howls
at the pens by midnight; safe beneath their mothers the lambs keep
bleating on; he, savage and insatiate, rages in anger against the flock
he cannot reach, tired by the long-gathering madness for food, and the
throat unslaked with blood: even so the Rutulian, as he gazes on the
walled camp, kindles in anger, and indignation is hot in his iron frame.
By what means may he essay entrance? by what passage hurl the imprisoned
Trojans from the rampart and fling them on the plain? Close under the
flanking camp lay the fleet, fenced about with mounds and the waters of
the river; it he attacks, and calls for fire to his exultant comrades,
and eagerly catches a blazing pine-torch in his hand. Then indeed they
press on, quickened by Turnus' presence, and all the band arm them with
black faggots. The hearth-fires are plundered; the smoky brand trails a
resinous glare, and the Fire-god sends clouds of glowing ashes upward.

What god, O Muses, guarded the Trojans from the rage of the fire? who
repelled the fierce flame from their ships? Tell it; ancient is the
assurance thereof, but the fame everlasting. What time Aeneas began to
shape his fleet on Phrygian Ida, and prepared to seek the high seas, the
Berecyntian, they say, the very Mother of gods, spoke to high Jove in
these words: 'Grant, O son, to my prayer, what her dearness claims who
bore thee and laid Olympus under thy feet. My pine forest beloved of me
these many years, my grove was on the mountain's crown, whither men bore
my holy things, dim with dusky pine and pillared maples. These, when he
required a fleet, I gave gladly to the Dardanian; now fear wrings me
with sharp distress. Relieve my terrors, and grant a mother's prayers
such power that they may yield to no stress of voyaging or of stormy
gust: be birth on our hills their avail. '

[93-126]Thus her son in answer, who wheels the starry worlds: 'O
mother, whither callest thou fate? or what dost thou seek for these of
thine? May hulls have the right of immortality that were fashioned by
mortal hand? and may Aeneas traverse perils secure in insecurity? To
what god is power so great given? Nay, but when, their duty done, they
shall lie at last in their Ausonian haven, from all that have outgone
the waves and borne their Dardanian captain to the fields of Laurentum,
will I take their mortal body, and bid them be goddesses of the mighty
deep, even as Doto the Nereid and Galatea, when they cut the sea that
falls away from their breasts in foam. ' He ended; and by his brother's
Stygian streams, by the banks of the pitchy black-boiling chasm he
nodded confirmation, and shook all Olympus with his nod.

So the promised day was come, and the destinies had fulfilled their due
time, when Turnus' injury stirred the Mother to ward the brands from her
holy ships. First then a strange light flashed on all eyes, and a great
glory from the Dawn seemed to dart over the sky, with the choirs of Ida;
then an awful voice fell through air, filling the Trojan and Rutulian
ranks: 'Disquiet not yourselves, O Teucrians, to guard ships of mine,
neither arm your hands: sooner shall Turnus burn the seas than these
holy pines. You, go free; go, goddesses of the sea; the Mother bids it. '
And immediately each ship breaks the bond that held it, as with dipping
prows they plunge like dolphins deep into the water: from it again (O
wonderful and strange! ) they rise with maidens' faces in like number,
and bear out to sea.

The Rutulians stood dumb: Messapus himself is terror-stricken among his
disordered cavalry; even the stream of Tiber pauses with hoarse murmur,
and recoils from sea. But bold Turnus fails not a whit in confidence;
nay, he [127-158]raises their courage with words, nay, he chides them:
'On the Trojans are these portents aimed; Jupiter himself hath bereft
them of their wonted succour; nor do they abide Rutulian sword and fire.
So are the seas pathless for the Teucrians, nor is there any hope in
flight; they have lost half their world. And we hold the land: in all
their thousands the nations of Italy are under arms. In no wise am I
dismayed by those divine oracles of doom the Phrygians insolently
advance. Fate and Venus are satisfied, in that the Trojans have touched
our fruitful Ausonian fields. I too have my fate in reply to theirs, to
put utterly to the sword the guilty nation who have robbed me of my
bride; not the sons of Atreus alone are touched by that pain, nor may
Mycenae only rise in arms. But to have perished once is enough! To have
sinned once should have been enough, in all but utter hatred of the
whole of womankind. Trust in the sundering rampart, and the hindrance of
their trenches, so little between them and death, gives these their
courage: yet have they not seen Troy town, the work of Neptune's hand,
sink into fire? But you, my chosen, who of you makes ready to breach
their palisade at the sword's point, and join my attack on their
fluttered camp? I have no need of Vulcanian arms, of a thousand ships,
to meet the Teucrians. All Etruria may join on with them in alliance:
nor let them fear the darkness, and the cowardly theft of their
Palladium, and the guards cut down on the fortress height. Nor will we
hide ourselves unseen in a horse's belly; in daylight and unconcealed
are we resolved to girdle their walls with flame. Not with Grecians will
I make them think they have to do, nor a Pelasgic force kept off till
the tenth year by Hector. Now, since the better part of day is spent,
for what remains refresh your bodies, glad that we have done so well,
and expect the order of battle. '

[159-192]Meanwhile charge is given to Messapus to blockade the gates
with pickets of sentries, and encircle the works with watchfires. Twice
seven are chosen to guard the walls with Rutulian soldiery; but each
leads an hundred men, crimson-plumed and sparkling in gold. They spread
themselves about and keep alternate watch, and, lying along the grass,
drink deep and set brazen bowls atilt. The fires glow, and the sentinels
spend the night awake in games. . . .

Down on this the Trojans look forth from the rampart, as they hold the
height in arms; withal in fearful haste they try the gates and lay
gangways from bastion to bastion, and bring up missiles. Mnestheus and
valiant Serestus speed the work, whom lord Aeneas appointed, should
misfortune call, to be rulers of the people and governors of the state.
All their battalions, sharing the lot of peril, keep watch along the
walls, and take alternate charge of all that requires defence.

On guard at the gate was Nisus son of Hyrtacus, most valiant in arms,
whom Ida the huntress had sent in Aeneas' company with fleet javelin and
light arrows; and by his side Euryalus, fairest of all the Aeneadae and
the wearers of Trojan arms, showing on his unshaven boy's face the first
bloom of youth. These two were one in affection, and charged in battle
together; now likewise their common guard kept the gate. Nisus cries:
'Lend the gods this fervour to the soul, Euryalus? or does fatal passion
become a proper god to each? Long ere now my soul is restless to begin
some great deed of arms, and quiet peace delights it not. Thou seest how
confident in fortune the Rutulians stand. Their lights glimmer far
apart; buried in drunken sleep they have sunk to rest; silence stretches
all about. Learn then what doubt, what purpose, now rises in my spirit.
People and senate, they all cry that Aeneas [193-226]be summoned, and
men be sent to carry him tidings. If they promise what I ask in thy
name--for to me the glory of the deed is enough--methinks I can find
beneath yonder hillock a path to the walls of Pallanteum town. '

Euryalus stood fixed, struck through with high ambition, and therewith
speaks thus to his fervid friend: 'Dost thou shun me then, Nisus, to
share thy company in highest deeds? shall I send thee alone into so
great perils? Not thus did my warrior father Opheltes rear and nurture
me amid the Argive terror and the agony of Troy, nor thus have I borne
myself by thy side while following noble Aeneas to his utmost fate. Here
is a spirit, yes here, that scorns the light of day, that deems lightly
bought at a life's price that honour to which thou dost aspire. '

To this Nisus: 'Assuredly I had no such fear of thee; no, nor could I;
so may great Jupiter, or whoso looks on earth with equal eyes, restore
me to thee triumphant. But if haply--as thou seest often and often in so
forlorn a hope--if haply chance or deity sweep me to adverse doom, I
would have thee survive; thine age is worthier to live. Be there one to
commit me duly to earth, rescued or ransomed from the battlefield: or,
if fortune deny that, to pay me far away the rites of funeral and the
grace of a tomb. Neither would I bring such pain on thy poor mother, she
who singly of many matrons hath dared to follow her boy to the end, and
slights great Acestes' city. '

And he: 'In vain dost thou string idle reasons; nor does my purpose
yield or change its place so soon. Let us make haste. ' He speaks, and
rouses the watch; they come up, and relieve the guard; quitting their
post, he and Nisus stride on to seek the prince.

The rest of living things over all lands were soothing their cares in
sleep, and their hearts forgot their pain; the foremost Trojan captains,
a chosen band, held council [227-261]of state upon the kingdom; what
should they do, or who would now be their messenger to Aeneas? They
stand, leaning on their long spears and grasping their shields, in mid
level of the camp. Then Nisus and Euryalus together pray with quick
urgency to be given audience; their matter is weighty and will be worth
the delay. Iulus at once heard their hurried plea, and bade Nisus speak.
Thereon the son of Hyrtacus: 'Hear, O people of Aeneas, with favourable
mind, nor regard our years in what we offer. Sunk in sleep and wine, the
Rutulians are silent; we have stealthily spied the open ground that lies
in the path through the gate next the sea. The line of fires is broken,
and their smoke rises darkly upwards. If you allow us to use the chance
towards seeking Aeneas in Pallanteum town, you will soon descry us here
at hand with the spoils of the great slaughter we have dealt. Nor shall
we miss the way we go; up the dim valleys we have seen the skirts of the
town, and learned all the river in continual hunting. '

Thereon aged Aletes, sage in counsel: 'Gods of our fathers, under whose
deity Troy ever stands, not wholly yet do you purpose to blot out the
Trojan race, when you have brought us young honour and hearts so sure as
this. ' So speaking, he caught both by shoulder and hand, with tears
showering down over face and feature. 'What guerdon shall I deem may be
given you, O men, what recompense for these noble deeds? First and
fairest shall be your reward from the gods and your own conduct; and
Aeneas the good shall speedily repay the rest, and Ascanius' fresh youth
never forget so great a service. '--'Nay,' breaks in Ascanius, 'I whose
sole safety is in my father's return, I adjure thee and him, O Nisus, by
our great household gods, by the tutelar spirit of Assaracus and hoar
Vesta's sanctuary--on your knees I lay all my fortune and trust--recall
my father; [262-296]give him back to sight; all sorrow disappears in
his recovery. I will give a pair of cups my father took in vanquished
Arisba, wrought in silver and rough with tracery, twin tripods, and two
large talents of gold, and an ancient bowl of Sidonian Dido's giving. If
it be indeed our lot to possess Italy and grasp a conquering sceptre,
and to assign the spoil; thou sawest the horse and armour of Turnus as
he went all in gold; that same horse, the shield and the ruddy plume,
will I reserve from partition, thy reward, O Nisus, even from now.
My
father will give besides twelve mothers of the choicest beauty, and men
captives, all in their due array; above these, the space of meadow-land
that is now King Latinus' own domain. Thee, O noble boy, whom mine age
follows at a nearer interval, even now I welcome to all my heart, and
embrace as my companion in every fortune. No glory shall be sought for
my state without thee; whether peace or war be in conduct, my chiefest
trust for deed and word shall be in thee. '

Answering whom Euryalus speaks thus: 'Let but the day never come to
prove me degenerate from this daring valour; fortune may fall prosperous
or adverse. But above all thy gifts, one thing I ask of thee. My poor
mother of Priam's ancient race, whom neither the Ilian land nor King
Acestes' city kept from following me forth, her I now leave in ignorance
of this danger, such as it is, and without a farewell, because--night
and thine hand be witness! --I cannot bear a parent's tears. But thou, I
pray, support her want and relieve her loneliness. Let me take with me
this hope in thee, I shall go more daringly to every fortune. ' Deeply
stirred at heart, the Dardanians shed tears, fair Iulus before them all,
as the likeness of his own father's love wrung his soul. Then he speaks
thus: . . . 'Assure thyself all that is due to thy mighty enterprise;
[297-330]for she shall be a mother to me, and only in name fail to be
Creusa; nor slight is the honour reserved for the mother of such a son.
What chance soever follow this deed, I swear by this head whereby my
father was wont to swear, what I promise to thee on thy prosperous
return shall abide the same for thy mother and kindred. ' So speaks he
weeping, and ungirds from his shoulder the sword inlaid with gold,
fashioned with marvellous skill by Lycaon of Gnosus and fitly set in a
sheath of ivory. Mnestheus gives Nisus the shaggy spoils of a lion's
hide; faithful Aletes exchanges his helmet. They advance onward in arms,
and as they go all the company of captains, young and old, speed them to
the gates with vows. Likewise fair Iulus, with a man's thought and a
spirit beyond his years, gave many messages to be carried to his father.
But the breezes shred all asunder and give them unaccomplished to the
clouds.

They issue and cross the trenches, and through the shadow of night seek
the fatal camp, themselves first to be the death of many a man. All
about they see bodies strewn along the grass in drunken sleep, chariots
atilt on the shore, the men lying among their traces and wheels, with
their armour by them, and their wine. The son of Hyrtacus began thus:
'Euryalus, now for daring hands; all invites them; here lies our way;
see thou that none raise a hand from behind against us, and keep
far-sighted watch. Here will I deal desolation, and make a broad path
for thee to follow. ' So speaks he and checks his voice; therewith he
drives his sword at lordly Rhamnes, who haply on carpets heaped high was
drawing the full breath of sleep; a king himself, and King Turnus'
best-beloved augur, but not all his augury could avert his doom. Three
of his household beside him, lying carelessly among their arms, and the
armour-bearer and charioteer of Remus go [331-364]down before him,
caught at the horses' feet. Their drooping necks he severs with the
sword, then beheads their lord likewise and leaves the trunk spouting
blood; the dark warm gore soaks ground and cushions. Therewithal Lamyrus
and Lamus, and beautiful young Serranus, who that night had played long
and late, and lay with the conquering god heavy on every limb; happy,
had he played out the night, and carried his game to day! Even thus an
unfed lion riots through full sheepfolds, for the madness of hunger
urges him, and champs and rends the fleecy flock that are dumb with
fear, and roars with blood-stained mouth. Nor less is the slaughter of
Euryalus; he too rages all aflame; an unnamed multitude go down before
his path, and Fadus and Herbesus and Rhoetus and Abaris, unaware;
Rhoetus awake and seeing all, but he hid in fear behind a great bowl;
right in whose breast, as he rose close by, he plunged the sword all its
length, and drew it back heavy with death. He vomits forth the crimson
life-blood, and throws up wine mixed with blood in the death agony. The
other presses hotly on his stealthy errand, and now bent his way towards
Messapus' comrades, where he saw the last flicker of the fires go down,
and the horses tethered in order cropping the grass; when Nisus briefly
speaks thus, for he saw him carried away by excess of murderous desire;
'Let us stop; for unfriendly daylight draws nigh. Vengeance is sated to
the full; a path is cut through the enemy. ' Much they leave behind,
men's armour wrought in solid silver, and bowls therewith, and beautiful
carpets. Euryalus tears away the decorations of Rhamnes and his
sword-belt embossed with gold, a gift which Caedicus, wealthiest of men
of old, sends to Remulus of Tibur when plighting friendship far away; he
on his death-bed gives them to his grandson for his own; after his death
the Rutulians captured them as spoil of war; these he fits on the
shoulders valiant [365-396]in vain, then puts on Messapus' light helmet
with its graceful plumes. They issue from the camp and make for safety.

Meanwhile an advanced guard of cavalry were on their way from the Latin
city, while the rest of their marshalled battalions linger on the
plains, and bore a reply to King Turnus; three hundred men all under
shield, in Volscens' leading. And now they approached the camp and drew
near the wall, when they descry the two turning away by the pathway to
the left; and in the glimmering darkness of night the forgotten helmet
betrayed Euryalus, glittering as it met the light. It seemed no thing of
chance. Volscens cries aloud from his column: 'Stand, men! why on the
march, or how are you in arms? or whither hold you your way? ' They offer
nothing in reply, but quicken their flight into the forest, and throw
themselves on the night. On this side and that the horsemen bar the
familiar crossways, and encircle every outlet with sentinels. The forest
spread wide in tangled thickets and dark ilex; thick growth of briars
choked it all about, and the muffled pathway glimmered in a broken
track. Hampered by the shadowy boughs and his cumbrous spoil, Euryalus
in his fright misses the line of way. Nisus gets clear; and now
unthinkingly he had passed the enemy, and the place afterwards called
Albani from Alba's name; then the deep coverts were of King Latinus'
domain; when he stopped, and looked back in vain for his lost friend.
'Euryalus, unhappy! on what ground have I left thee? or where shall I
follow, again unwinding all the entanglement of the treacherous woodland
way? ' Therewith he marks and retraces his footsteps, and wanders down
the silent thickets. He hears the horses, hears the clatter and
signal-notes of the pursuers. Nor had he long to wait, when shouts reach
his ears, and he sees Euryalus, whom even now, in the perplexity of
ground and [397-431]darkness, the whole squadron have borne down in a
sudden rush, and seize in spite of all his vain struggles. What shall he
do? with what force, what arms dare his rescue? or shall he rush on his
doom amid their swords, and find in their wounds a speedy and glorious
death? Quickly he draws back his arm with poised spear, and looking up
to the moon on high, utters this prayer: 'Do thou give present aid to
our enterprise, O Latonian goddess, glory of the stars and guardian of
the woodlands: by all the gifts my father Hyrtacus ever bore for my sake
to thine altars, by all mine own hand hath added from my hunting, or
hung in thy dome, or fixed on thy holy roof, grant me to confound these
masses, and guide my javelin through the air. ' He ended, and with all
the force of his body hurls the steel. The flying spear whistles through
the darkness of the night, and comes full on the shield of Sulmo, and
there snaps, and the broken shaft passes on through his heart. Spouting
a warm tide from his breast he rolls over chill in death, and his sides
throb with long-drawn gasps. Hither and thither they gaze round. Lo, he
all the fiercer was poising another weapon high by his ear; while they
hesitate, the spear went whizzing through both Tagus' temples, and
pierced and stuck fast in the warm brain. Volscens is mad with rage, and
nowhere espies the sender of the weapon, nor where to direct his fury.
'Yet meanwhile thy warm blood shalt pay me vengeance for both,' he
cries; and unsheathing his sword, he made at Euryalus. Then indeed
frantic with terror Nisus shrieks out; no longer could he shroud himself
in darkness or endure such agony. 'On me, on me, I am here, I did it, on
me turn your steel, O Rutulians! Mine is all the guilt; he dared not,
no, nor could not; to this heaven I appeal and the stars that know; he
only loved his hapless friend too well. ' Such words he was uttering; but
the sword driven hard home is gone [432-464]clean through his ribs and
pierces the white breast. Euryalus rolls over in death, and the blood
runs over his lovely limbs, and his neck sinks and settles on his
shoulder; even as when a lustrous flower cut away by the plough droops
in death, or weary-necked poppies bow down their head if overweighted
with a random shower. But Nisus rushes amidst them, and alone among them
all makes at Volscens, keeps to Volscens alone: round him the foe
cluster, and on this side and that hurl him back: none the less he
presses on, and whirls his sword like lightning, till he plunges it full
in the face of the shrieking Rutulian, and slays his enemy as he dies.
Then, stabbed through and through, he flung himself above his lifeless
friend, and there at last found the quiet sleep of death.

Happy pair! if my verse is aught of avail, no length of days shall ever
blot you from the memory of time, while the house of Aeneas shall dwell
by the Capitoline's stedfast stone, and the lord of Rome hold
sovereignty.

The victorious Rutulians, with their spoils and the plunder regained,
bore dead Volscens weeping to the camp. Nor in the camp was the wailing
less, when Rhamnes was found a bloodless corpse, and Serranus and Numa
and all their princes destroyed in a single slaughter. Crowds throng
towards the corpses and the men wounded to death, the ground fresh with
warm slaughter and the swoln runlets of frothing blood. They mutually
recognise the spoils, Messapus' shining helmet and the decorations that
cost such sweat to win back.

And now Dawn, leaving the saffron bed of Tithonus, scattered over earth
her fresh shafts of early light; now the sunlight streams in, now
daylight unveils the world. Turnus, himself fully armed, awakes his men
to arms, and each leader marshals to battle his brazen lines and whets
their ardour with varying rumours. Nay, pitiable sight! they
[465-499]fix on spear-points and uprear and follow with loud shouts the
heads of Euryalus and Nisus. . . . The Aeneadae stubbornly face them,
lining the left hand wall (for their right is girdled by the river),
hold the deep trenches and stand gloomily on the high towers, stirred
withal by the faces they know, alas, too well, in their dark dripping
gore. Meanwhile Rumour on fluttering wings rushes with the news through
the alarmed town and glides to the ears of Euryalus' mother. But
instantly the warmth leaves her woeful body, the shuttle starts from her
hand and the threads unroll. She darts forth in agony, and with woman's
wailing and torn hair runs distractedly towards the walls and the
foremost columns, recking naught of men, naught of peril or weapons;
thereon she fills the air with her complaint: 'Is it thus I behold thee,
O Euryalus? Couldst thou, the latest solace of mine age, leave me alone
so cruelly? nor when sent into such danger was one last word of thee
allowed thine unhappy mother? Alas, thou liest in a strange land, given
for a prey to the dogs and fowls of Latium! nor was I, thy mother, there
for chief mourner, to lay thee out or close thine eyes or wash thy
wounds, and cover thee with the garment I hastened on for thee whole
nights and days, an anxious old woman taking comfort from the loom.
Whither shall I follow? or what land now holds thy mangled corpse, thy
body torn limb from limb? Is this all of what thou wert that returns to
me, O my son? is it this I have followed by land and sea? Strike me
through of your pity, on me cast all your weapons, Rutulians; make me
the first sacrifice of your steel. Or do thou, mighty lord of heaven, be
merciful, and with thine own weapon hurl this hateful life to the nether
deep, since in no wise else may I break away from life's cruelty. ' At
this weeping cry their courage falters, and a sigh of sorrow passes all
along; their strength is benumbed and broken for battle. Her, while
[500-535]her grief kindled, at Ilioneus' and weeping Iulus' bidding
Idaeus and Actor catch up and carry home in their arms.

But the terrible trumpet-note afar rang on the shrill brass; a shout
follows, and is echoed from the sky. The Volscians hasten up in even
line under their advancing roof of shields, and set to fill up the
trenches and tear down the palisades. Some seek entrance by scaling the
walls with ladders, where the defenders' battle-line is thin, and light
shows through gaps in the ring of men. The Teucrians in return shower
weapons of every sort, and push them down with stiff poles, practised by
long warfare in their ramparts' defence: and fiercely hurl heavy stones,
so be they may break the shielded line; while they, crowded under their
shell, lightly bear all the downpour. But now they fail; for where the
vast mass presses close, the Teucrians roll a huge block tumbling down
that makes a wide gap in the Rutulians and crashes through their
armour-plating. Nor do the bold Rutulians care longer to continue the
blind fight, but strive to clear the rampart with missiles. . . .
Elsewhere in dreadful guise Mezentius brandishes his Etruscan pine and
hurls smoking brands; but Messapus, tamer of horses, seed of Neptune,
tears away the palisading and calls for ladders to the ramparts.

Thy sisterhood, O Calliope, I pray inspire me while I sing the
destruction spread then and there by Turnus' sword, the deaths dealt
from his hand, and whom each warrior sent down to the under world; and
unroll with me the broad borders of war.

A tower loomed vast with lofty gangways at a point of vantage; this all
the Italians strove with main strength to storm, and set all their might
and device to overthrow it; the Trojans in return defended it with
stones and hurled showers of darts through the loopholes. Turnus,
leading the attack, threw a blazing torch that caught flaming on the
[536-570]side wall; swoln by the wind, the flame seized the planking
and clung devouring to the standards. Those within, in hurry and
confusion, desire retreat from their distress; in vain; while they
cluster together and fall back to the side free from the destroyer, the
tower sinks prone under the sudden weight with a crash that thunders
through all the sky. Pierced by their own weapons, and impaled on hard
splinters of wood, they come half slain to the ground with the vast mass
behind them. Scarcely do Helenor alone and Lycus struggle out; Helenor
in his early prime, whom a slave woman of Licymnos bore in secret to the
Maeonian king, and sent to Troy in forbidden weapons, lightly armed with
sheathless sword and white unemblazoned shield. And he, when he saw
himself among Turnus' encircling thousands, ranks on this side and ranks
on this of Latins, as a wild beast which, girt with a crowded ring of
hunters, dashes at their weapons, hurls herself unblinded on death, and
comes with a bound upon the spears; even so he rushes to his death amid
the enemy, and presses on where he sees their weapons thickest. But
Lycus, far fleeter of foot, holds by the walls in flight midway among
foes and arms, and strives to catch the coping in his grasp and reach
the hands of his comrades. And Turnus pursuing and aiming as he ran,
thus upbraids him in triumph: 'Didst thou hope, madman, thou mightest
escape our hands? ' and catches him as he clings, and tears him and a
great piece of the wall away: as when, with a hare or snowy-bodied swan
in his crooked talons, Jove's armour-bearer soars aloft, or the wolf of
Mars snatches from the folds some lamb sought of his mother with
incessant bleating. On all sides a shout goes up. They advance and fill
the trenches with heaps of earth; some toss glowing brands on the roofs.
Ilioneus strikes down Lucetius with a great fragment of mountain rock
as, carrying fire, he draws [571-606]nigh the gate. Liger slays
Emathion, Asylas Corinaeus, the one skilled with the javelin, the other
with the stealthy arrow from afar. Caeneus slays Ortygius; Turnus
victorious Caeneus; Turnus Itys and Clonius, Dioxippus, and Promolus,
and Sagaris, and Idas where he stood in front of the turret top; Capys
Privernus: him Themillas' spear had first grazed lightly; the madman
threw down his shield to carry his hand to the wound; so the arrow
winged her way, and pinning his hand to his left side, broke into the
lungs with deadly wound. The son of Arcens stood splendid in arms, and
scarf embroidered with needlework and bright with Iberian blue, the
beautiful boy sent by his father Arcens from nurture in the grove of our
Lady about the streams of Symaethus, where Palicus' altar is rich and
gracious. Laying down his spear, Mezentius whirled thrice round his head
the tightened cord of his whistling sling, pierced him full between the
temples with the molten bullet, and stretched him all his length upon
the sand.

Then, it is said, Ascanius first aimed his flying shaft in war, wont
before to frighten beasts of the chase, and struck down a brave
Numanian, Remulus by name, but lately allied in bridal to Turnus'
younger sister. He advancing before his ranks clamoured things fit and
unfit to tell, and strode along lofty and voluble, his heart lifted up
with his fresh royalty.

'Take you not shame to be again held leaguered in your ramparts, O
Phrygians twice taken, and to make walls your fence from death? Behold
them who demand in war our wives for theirs! What god, what madness,
hath driven you to Italy? Here are no sons of Atreus nor glozing
Ulysses. A race of hardy breed, we carry our newborn children to the
streams and harden them in the bitter icy water; as boys they spend
wakeful nights over the chase, and tire out the woodland; but in
manhood, [607-639]unwearied by toil and trained to poverty, they subdue
the soil with their mattocks, or shake towns in war. Every age wears
iron, and we goad the flanks of our oxen with reversed spear; nor does
creeping old age weaken our strength of spirit or abate our force. White
hairs bear the weight of the helmet; and it is ever our delight to drive
in fresh spoil and live on our plunder. Yours is embroidered raiment of
saffron and shining sea-purple. Indolence is your pleasure, your delight
the luxurious dance; you wear sleeved tunics and ribboned turbans. O
right Phrygian women, not even Phrygian men! traverse the heights of
Dindymus, where the double-mouthed flute breathes familiar music. The
drums call you, and the Berecyntian boxwood of the mother of Ida; leave
arms to men, and lay down the sword. '

As he flung forth such words of ill-ominous strain, Ascanius brooked it
not, and aimed an arrow on him from the stretched horse sinew; and as he
drew his arms asunder, first stayed to supplicate Jove in lowly vows:
'Jupiter omnipotent, deign to favour this daring deed. My hands shall
bear yearly gifts to thee in thy temple, and bring to stand before thine
altars a steer with gilded forehead, snow-white, carrying his head high
as his mother's, already pushing with his horn and making the sand fly
up under his feet. ' The Father heard and from a clear space of sky
thundered on the left; at once the fated bow rings, the grim-whistling
arrow flies from the tense string, and goes through the head of Remulus,
the steel piercing through from temple to temple. 'Go, mock valour with
insolence of speech! Phrygians twice taken return this answer to
Rutulians. ' Thus and no further Ascanius; the Teucrians respond in
cheers, and shout for joy in rising height of courage. Then haply in the
tract of heaven tressed Apollo sate looking down from his cloud on the
[640-673]Ausonian ranks and town, and thus addresses triumphant Iulus:
'Good speed to thy young valour, O boy! this is the way to heaven, child
of gods and parent of gods to be! Rightly shall all wars fated to come
sink to peace beneath the line of Assaracus; nor art thou bounded in a
Troy. ' So speaking, he darts from heaven's height, and cleaving the
breezy air, seeks Ascanius. Then he changes the fashion of his
countenance, and becomes aged Butes, armour-bearer of old to Dardanian
Anchises, and the faithful porter of his threshold; thereafter his lord
gave him for Ascanius' attendant. In all points like the old man Apollo
came, voice and colour, white hair, and grimly clashing arms, and speaks
these words to eager Iulus:

'Be it enough, son of Aeneas, that the Numanian hath fallen unavenged
beneath thine arrows; this first honour great Apollo allows thee, nor
envies the arms that match his own. Further, O boy, let war alone. ' Thus
Apollo began, and yet speaking retreated from mortal view, vanishing
into thin air away out of their eyes. The Dardanian princes knew the god
and the arms of deity, and heard the clash of his quiver as he went. So
they restrain Ascanius' keenness for battle by the words of Phoebus'
will; themselves they again close in conflict, and cast their lives into
the perilous breach. Shouts run all along the battlemented walls;
ringing bows are drawn and javelin thongs twisted: all the ground is
strewn with missiles. Shields and hollow helmets ring to blows; the
battle swells fierce; heavy as the shower lashes the ground that sets in
when the Kids are rainy in the West; thick as hail pours down from
storm-clouds on the shallows, when the rough lord of the winds congeals
his watery deluge and breaks up the hollow vapours in the sky.

Pandarus and Bitias, sprung of Alcanor of Ida, whom woodland Iaera bore
in the grove of Jupiter, grown now [674-709]tall as their ancestral
pines and hills, fling open the gates barred by their captain's order,
and confident in arms, wilfully invite the enemy within the walls.
Themselves within they stand to right and left in front of the towers,
sheathed in iron, the plumes flickering over their stately heads: even
as high in air around the gliding streams, whether on Padus' banks or by
pleasant Athesis, twin oaks rise lifting their unshorn heads into the
sky with high tops asway. The Rutulians pour in when they see the
entrance open. Straightway Quercens and Aquicolus beautiful in arms, and
desperate Tmarus, and Haemon, seed of Mars, either gave back in rout
with all their columns, or in the very gateway laid down their life.
Then the spirits of the combatants swell in rising wrath, and now the
Trojans gather swarming to the spot, and dare to close hand to hand and
to sally farther out.

News is brought to Turnus the captain, as he rages afar among the routed
foe, that the enemy surges forth into fresh slaughter and flings wide
his gates. He breaks off unfinished, and, fired with immense anger,
rushes towards the haughty brethren at the Dardanian gate. And on
Antiphates first, for first he came, the bastard son of mighty Sarpedon
by a Theban mother, he hurls his javelin and strikes him down; the
Italian cornel flies through the yielding air, and, piercing the gullet,
runs deep into his breast; a frothing tide pours from the dark yawning
wound, and the steel grows warm where it pierces the lung. Then Meropes
and Erymas, then Aphidnus goes down before his hand; then Bitias,
fiery-eyed and exultant, not with a javelin; for not to a javelin had he
given his life; but the loud-whistling pike came hurled with a
thunderbolt's force; neither twofold bull's hide kept it back, nor the
trusty corslet's double scales of gold: his vast limbs sink in a heap;
earth utters a groan, and the great shield clashes [710-745]over him:
even as once and again on the Euboic shore of Baiae falls a mass of
stone, built up of great blocks and so cast into the sea; thus does it
tumble prone, crashes into the shoal water and sinks deep to rest; the
seas are stirred, and the dark sand eddies up; therewith the depth of
Prochyta quivers at the sound, and the couchant rocks of Inarime, piled
above Typhoeus by Jove's commands.

On this Mars armipotent raised the spirit and strength of the Latins,
and goaded their hearts to rage, and sent Flight and dark Fear among the
Teucrians. From all quarters they gather, since battle is freely
offered; and the warrior god inspires. . . . Pandarus, at his brother's
fall, sees how fortune stands, what hap rules the day; and swinging the
gate round on its hinge with all his force, pushes it to with his broad
shoulders, leaving many of his own people shut outside the walls in the
desperate conflict, but shutting others in with him as they pour back in
retreat. Madman! who saw not the Rutulian prince burst in amid their
columns, and fairly shut him into the town, like a monstrous tiger among
the silly flocks. At once strange light flashed from his eyes, and his
armour rang terribly; the blood-red plumes flicker on his head, and
lightnings shoot sparkling from his shield. In sudden dismay the
Aeneadae know the hated form and giant limbs. Then tall Pandarus leaps
forward, in burning rage at his brother's death: 'This is not the palace
of Amata's dower,' he cries, 'nor does Ardea enclose Turnus in her
native walls. Thou seest a hostile camp; escape hence is hopeless. ' To
him Turnus, smiling and cool: 'Begin with all thy valiance, and close
hand to hand; here too shalt thou tell that a Priam found his Achilles. '
He ended; the other, putting out all his strength, hurls his rough
spear, knotty and unpeeled. The breezes caught it; Juno, daughter of
Saturn, [746-780]made the wound glance off as it came, and the spear
sticks fast in the gate. 'But this weapon that my strong hand whirls,
this thou shalt not escape; for not such is he who sends weapon and
wound. ' So speaks he, and rises high on his uplifted sword; the steel
severs the forehead midway right between the temples, and divides the
beardless cheeks with ghastly wound. He crashes down; earth shakes under
the vast weight; dying limbs and brain-spattered armour tumble in a heap
to the ground, and the head, evenly severed, dangles this way and that
from either shoulder. The Trojans scatter and turn in hasty terror; and
had the conqueror forthwith taken thought to burst the bars and let in
his comrades at the gate, that had been the last day of the war and of
the nation. But rage and mad thirst of slaughter drive him like fire on
the foe. . . . First he catches up Phalaris; then Gyges, and hamstrings
him; he plucks away their spears, and hurls them on the backs of the
flying crowd; Juno lends strength and courage. Halys he sends to join
them, and Phegeus, pierced right through the shield; then, as they
ignorantly raised their war-cry on the walls, Alcander and Halius,
Noemon and Prytanis. Lynceus advanced to meet him, calling up his
comrades; from the rampart the glittering sword sweeps to the left and
catches him; struck off by the one downright blow, head and helmet lay
far away. Next Amycus fell, the deadly huntsman, incomparable in skill
of hand to anoint his arrows and arm their steel with venom; and Clytius
the Aeolid, and Cretheus beloved of the Muses, Cretheus of the Muses'
company, whose delight was ever in songs and harps and stringing of
verses; ever he sang of steeds and armed men and battles.

At last, hearing of the slaughter of their men, the Teucrian captains,
Mnestheus and gallant Serestus, come up, and see their comrades in
disordered flight and the foe [781-814]let in. And Mnestheus: 'Whither
next, whither press you in flight? what other walls, what farther city
have you yet? Shall one man, and he girt in on all sides,
fellow-citizens, by your entrenchments, thus unchecked deal devastation
throughout our city, and send all our best warriors to the under world?
Have you no pity, no shame, cowards, for your unhappy country, for your
ancient gods, for great Aeneas? '

Kindled by such words, they take heart and rally in dense array.