Now Jupiter to Juno thus began:
“O ever-cherished spouse and sister dear,
surely 't is Venus—as thy mind misgave—
whose favor props—O, what discernment thine!
Yon Trojan power; not swift heroic hands,
or souls of fury facing perilous war!”
Juno made meek reply: “O noblest spouse!
Why vex one sick at heart, who humbly fears
thy stern command? If I could claim to-day
what once I had, my proper right and due,
love's induence, I should not plead in vain
to thee, omnipotent, to give me power
to lead off Turnus from the fight unscathed,
and save him at his father Daunus' prayer.
Aye, let him die! And with his loyal blood
the Teucrians' vengeance feed! Yet he derives
from our Saturnian stem, by fourth remove
sprung from Pilumnus. Oft his liberal hands
have heaped unstinted offering at thy shrine.”
Thus in few words th' Olympian King replied:
“If for the fated youth thy prayer implores
delay and respite of impending doom,
if but so far thou bidst me interpose,—
go—favor Turnus' flight, and keep him safe
in this imperilled hour; I may concede
such boon. But if thy pleading words intend
some larger grace, and fain would touch or change
the issue of the war, then art thou fed
on expectation vain.” With weeping eyes
Juno made answer: “Can it be thy mind
gives what thy words refuse, and Turnus' life,
if rescued, may endure?
Yet afterward
some cruel close his guiltless day shall see—
or far from truth I stray! O, that I were
the dupe of empty fears! and O, that thou
wouldst but refashion to some happier end
the things by thee begun—for thou hast power!”
She ceased; and swiftly from the peak of heaven
moved earthward, trailing cloud-wrack through the air,
and girdled with the storm. She took her way
to where Troy's warriors faced Laurentum's line.
There of a hollow cloud the goddess framed
a shape of airy, unsubstantial shade,
Aeneas' image, wonderful to see,
and decked it with a Dardan lance and shield,
a crested helmet on the godlike head;
and windy words she gave of soulless sound,
and motion like a stride—such shapes, they say,
the hovering phantoms of the dead put on,
or empty dreams which cheat our slumbering eyes.
Forth to the front of battle this vain shade
stalked insolent, and with its voice and spear
challenged the warrior. At it Turnus flew,
and hurled a hissing spear with distant aim;
the thing wheeled round and fled.
The foe forthwith,
thinking Aeneas vanquished, with blind scorn
flattered his own false hope: “Where wilt thou fly,
Aeneas? Wilt thou break a bridegroom's word?
This sword will give thee title to some land
thou hast sailed far to find!” So clamoring loud
he followed, flashing far his naked sword;
nor saw the light winds waft his dream away.
By chance in covert of a lofty crag
a ship stood fastened and at rest; her sides
showed ready bridge and stairway; she had brought
Osinius, king of Clusium. Thither came
Aeneas' counterfeit of flight and fear,
and dropped to darkness. Turnus, nothing loth,
gave close chase, overleaping every bar,
and scaling the high bridge; but scarce he reached
the vessel's prow, when Juno cut her loose,
the cables breaking, and along swift waves
pushed her to sea. Yet in that very hour
Aeneas to the battle vainly called
the vanished foe, and round his hard-fought path
stretched many a hero dead. No longer now
the mocking shadow sought to hide, but soared
visibly upward and was Iost in cloud,
while Turnus drifted o'er the waters wide
before the wind.
Bewildered and amazed
he looked around him; little joy had he
in his own safety, but upraised his hands
in prayer to Heaven: “O Sire omnipotent!
Didst thou condemn me to a shame like this?
Such retribution dire? Whither now?
Whence came I here? What panic wafts away
this Turnus—if 't is he? Shall I behold
Laurentum's towers once more? But what of those
my heroes yonder, who took oath to me,
and whom—O sin and shame!—I have betrayed
to horrible destruction? Even now
I see them routed, and my ears receive
their dying groans. What is this thing I do?
Where will the yawning earth crack wide enough
beneath my feet? Ye tempests, pity me!
On rocks and reef—'t is Turnus' faithful prayer,
let this bark founder; fling it on the shoals
of wreckful isles, where no Rutulian eye
can follow me, or Rumor tell my shame.”
With such wild words his soul tossed to and fro,
not knowing if to hide his infamy
with his own sword and madly drive its blade
home to his heart, or cast him in the sea,
and, swimming to the rounded shore, renew
his battle with the Trojan foe. Three times
each fatal course he tried; but Juno's power
three times restrained, and with a pitying hand
the warrior's purpose barred. So on he sped
o'er yielding waters and propitious tides,
far as his father Daunus' ancient town.
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