No More Learning

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. Little
by little Turnus drew away from the fight towards the river, and the
side encircled by the stream: the more bravely the Teucrians press on
him with loud shouts and thickening masses, even as a band that fall on
a wrathful lion with levelled weapons, but he, frightened back, retires
surly and grim-glaring; and neither does wrath nor courage let him turn
his back, nor can he make head, for all that he desires it, against the
surrounding arms and men. Even thus Turnus draws lingeringly backward,
with unhastened steps, and soul boiling in anger. Nay, twice even then
did he charge amid the enemy, twice drove them in flying rout along the
walls. But all the force of the camp gathers hastily up; nor does Juno,
daughter of Saturn, dare to supply him strength to countervail; for
Jupiter sent Iris down through the aery sky, bearing stern orders to his
sister that Turnus shall withdraw from the high Trojan town. Therefore
neither with shield nor hand can he keep his ground, so overpoweringly
from all sides comes upon him the storm of weapons. About the hollows of
his temples the helmet rings with incessant clash, and the solid brass
is riven beneath the stones; the horsehair crest is rent away; the
shield-boss avails not under the blows; Mnestheus thunders on with his
Trojans, and pours in a storm of spears. All over him the sweat trickles
and pours in swart stream, and no breathing space is given; sick gasps
shake [815-818]his exhausted limbs. Then at last, with a headlong
bound, he leapt fully armed into the river; the river's yellow eddies
opened for him as he came, and the buoyant water brought him up, and,
washing away the slaughter, returned him triumphant to his comrades.




BOOK TENTH

THE BATTLE ON THE BEACH


Meanwhile the heavenly house omnipotent unfolds her doors, and the
father of gods and king of men calls a council in the starry dwelling;
whence he looks sheer down on the whole earth, the Dardanian camp, and
the peoples of Latium. They sit down within from doorway to doorway:
their lord begins:

'Lords of heaven, wherefore is your decree turned back, and your minds
thus jealously at strife? I forbade Italy to join battle with the
Teucrians; why this quarrel in face of my injunction? What terror hath
bidden one or another run after arms and tempt the sword? The due time
of battle will arrive, call it not forth, when furious Carthage shall
one day sunder the Alps to hurl ruin full on the towers of Rome. Then
hatred may grapple with hatred, then hostilities be opened; now let them
be, and cheerfully join in the treaty we ordain. '

Thus Jupiter in brief; but not briefly golden Venus returns in
answer: . . .

'O Lord, O everlasting Governor of men and things--for what else may we
yet supplicate? --beholdest thou how the Rutulians brave it, and Turnus,
borne charioted through the ranks, proudly sweeps down the tide of
battle? Bar [22-58]and bulwark no longer shelter the Trojans; nay,
within the gates and even on the mounded walls they clash in battle and
make the trenches swim with blood. Aeneas is away and ignorant. Wilt
thou never then let our leaguer be raised? Again a foe overhangs the
walls of infant Troy; and another army, and a second son of Tydeus rises
from Aetolian Arpi against the Trojans. Truly I think my wounds are yet
to come, and I thy child am keeping some mortal weapons idle. If the
Trojans steered for Italy without thy leave and defiant of thy deity,
let them expiate their sin; aid not such with thy succour. But if so
many oracles guided them, given by god and ghost, why may aught now
reverse thine ordinance or write destiny anew? Why should I recall the
fleets burned on the coast of Eryx? why the king of storms, and the
raging winds roused from Aeolia, or Iris driven down the clouds? Now
hell too is stirred (this share of the world was yet untried) and
Allecto suddenly let loose above to riot through the Italian towns. In
no wise am I moved for empire; that was our hope while Fortune stood;
let those conquer whom thou wilt. If thy cruel wife leave no region free
to Teucrians, by the smoking ruins of desolated Troy, O father, I
beseech thee, grant Ascanius unhurt retreat from arms, grant me my
child's life. Aeneas may well be tossed over unknown seas and follow
what path soever fortune open to him; him let me avail to shelter and
withdraw from the turmoil of battle. Amathus is mine, high Paphos and
Cythera, and my house of Idalia; here, far from arms, let him spend an
inglorious life. Bid Carthage in high lordship rule Ausonia; there will
be nothing there to check the Tyrian cities. What help was it for the
Trojans to escape war's doom and thread their flight through Argive
fires, to have exhausted all those perils of sea and desolate lands,
while they seek Latium and the towers of a Troy rebuilt? Were it not
better to have [59-91]clung to the last ashes of their country, and the
ground where once was Troy? Give back, I pray, Xanthus and Simois to a
wretched people, and let the Teucrians again, O Lord, circle through the
fates of Ilium. '

Then Queen Juno, swift and passionate:

'Why forcest thou me to break long silence and proclaim my hidden pain?
Hath any man or god constrained Aeneas to court war or make armed attack
on King Latinus? In oracular guidance he steered for Italy: be it so: he
whom raving Cassandra sent on his way! Did we urge him to quit the camp
or entrust his life to the winds? to give the issue of war and the
charge of his ramparts to a child? to stir the loyalty of Tyrrhenia or
throw peaceful nations into tumult? What god, what potent cruelty of
ours, hath driven him on his hurt? Where is Juno in this, or Iris sped
down the clouds? It shocks thee that Italians should enring an infant
Troy with flame, and Turnus set foot on his own ancestral soil--he,
grandchild of Pilumnus, son of Venilia the goddess: how, that the dark
brands of Troy assail the Latins? that Trojans subjugate and plunder
fields not their own? how, that they choose their brides and tear
plighted bosom from bosom? that their gestures plead for peace, and
their ships are lined with arms? Thou canst steal thine Aeneas from
Grecian hands, and spread before them a human semblance of mist and
empty air; thou canst turn his fleet into nymphs of like number: is it
dreadful if we retaliate with any aid to the Rutulians? Aeneas is away
and ignorant; away and ignorant let him be. Paphos is thine and Idalium,
thine high Cythera; why meddlest thou with fierce spirits and a city big
with war? Is it we who would overthrow the tottering state of Phrygia?
we? or he who brought the Achaeans down on the hapless Trojans? who made
Europe and Asia bristle up in arms, and whose theft shattered the
alliance? Was it in my guidance the [92-125]adulterous Dardanian broke
into Sparta? or did I send the shafts of passion that kindled war? Then
terror for thy children had graced thee; too late now dost thou rise
with unjust complaints, and reproaches leave thy lips in vain. '

Thus Juno pleaded; and all the heavenly people murmured in diverse
consent; even as rising gusts murmur when caught in the forests, and
eddy in blind moanings, betraying to sailors the gale's approach. Then
the Lord omnipotent and primal power of the world begins; as he speaks
the high house of the gods and trembling floor of earth sink to silence;
silent is the deep sky, and the breezes are stilled; ocean hushes his
waters into calm.

'Take then to heart and lay deep these words of mine. Since it may not
be that Ausonians and Teucrians join alliance, and your quarrel finds no
term, to-day, what fortune each wins, what hope each follows, be he
Trojan or Rutulian, I will hold in even poise; whether it be Italy's
fate or Trojan blundering and ill advice that holds the camp in leaguer.
Nor do I acquit the Rutulians. Each as he hath begun shall work out his
destiny. Jupiter is one and king over all; the fates will find their
way. ' By his brother's infernal streams, by the banks of the pitchy
black-boiling chasm he signed assent, and made all Olympus quiver at his
nod. Here speaking ended: thereon Jupiter rises from his golden throne,
and the heavenly people surround and escort him to the doorway.

Meanwhile the Rutulians press round all the gates, dealing grim
slaughter and girdling the walls with flame. But the army of the
Aeneadae are held leaguered within their trenches, with no hope of
retreat. They stand helpless and disconsolate on their high towers, and
their thin ring girdles the walls,--Asius, son of Imbrasus, and
Thymoetes, son of Hicetaon, and the two Assaraci, and Castor, and old
Thymbris together in the front rank: by them Clarus and
[126-160]Themon, both full brothers to Sarpedon, out of high Lycia.
Acmon of Lyrnesus, great as his father Clytius, or his brother
Mnestheus, carries a stone, straining all his vast frame to the huge
mountain fragment. Emulously they keep their guard, these with javelins,
those with stones, and wield fire and fit arrows on the string. Amid
them he, Venus' fittest care, lo! the Dardanian boy, his graceful head
uncovered, shines even as a gem set in red gold on ornament of throat or
head, or even as gleaming ivory cunningly inlaid in boxwood or Orician
terebinth; his tresses lie spread over his milk-white neck, bound by a
flexible circlet of gold. Thee, too, Ismarus, proud nations saw aiming
wounds and arming thy shafts with poison,--thee, of house illustrious in
Maeonia, where the rich tilth is wrought by men's hands, and Pactolus
waters it with gold. There too was Mnestheus, exalted in fame as he who
erewhile had driven Turnus from the ramparts; and Capys, from whom is
drawn the name of the Campanian city.

They had closed in grim war's mutual conflict; Aeneas, while night was
yet deep, clove the seas. For when, leaving Evander for the Etruscan
camp, he hath audience of the king, and tells the king of his name and
race, and what he asks or offers, instructs him of the arms Mezentius is
winning to his side, and of Turnus' overbearing spirit, reminds him what
is all the certainty of human things, and mingles all with entreaties;
delaying not, Tarchon joins forces and strikes alliance. Then, freed
from the oracle, the Lydian people man their fleet, laid by divine
ordinance in the foreign captain's hand. Aeneas' galley keeps in front,
with the lions of Phrygia fastened on her prow, above them overhanging
Ida, sight most welcome to the Trojan exiles. Here great Aeneas sits
revolving the changing issues of war; and Pallas, clinging on his left
side, asks now [161-195]of the stars and their pathway through the dark
night, now of his fortunes by land and sea.

Open now the gates of Helicon, goddesses, and stir the song of the band
that come the while with Aeneas from the Tuscan borders, and sail in
armed ships overseas.

First in the brazen-plated Tiger Massicus cuts the flood; beneath him
are ranked a thousand men who have left Clusium town and the city of
Cosae; their weapons are arrows, and light quivers on the shoulder, and
their deadly bow. With him goes grim Abas, all his train in shining
armour, and a gilded Apollo glittering astern. To him Populonia had
given six hundred of her children, tried in war, but Ilva three hundred,
the island rich in unexhausted mines of steel. Third Asilas, interpreter
between men and gods, master of the entrails of beasts and the stars in
heaven, of speech of birds and ominous lightning flashes, draws a
thousand men after him in serried lines bristling with spears, bidden to
his command from Pisa city, of Alphaean birth on Etruscan soil. Astyr
follows, excellent in beauty, Astyr, confident in his horse and glancing
arms. Three hundred more--all have one heart to follow--come from the
householders of Caere and the fields of Minio, and ancient Pyrgi, and
fever-stricken Graviscae.

Let me not pass thee by, O Cinyras, bravest in war of Ligurian captains,
and thee, Cupavo, with thy scant company, from whose crest rise the swan
plumes, fault, O Love, of thee and thine, and blazonment of his father's
form. For they tell that Cycnus, in grief for his beloved Phaethon,
while he sings and soothes his woeful love with music amid the shady
sisterhood of poplar boughs, drew over him the soft plumage of white old
age, and left earth and passed crying through the sky.