Turnus no lingering knows, but fiercely hurls
his whole line on the Teucrians, and makes stand
along the shore. Now peals the trumpet's call.
Aeneas in the van led on his troop
against the rustic foe, bright augury
for opening war, and laid the Latins low,
slaughtering Theron, a huge chief who dared
offer Aeneas battle; through the scales
of brazen mail and corselet stiff with gold
the sword drove deep, and gored the gaping side.
Then smote he Lichas, from his mother's womb
ripped in her dying hour, and unto thee,
O Phoebus, vowed, because his infant days
escaped the fatal steel. Hard by him fell
stout Cisseus and gigantic Gyas; these
to death were hurled, while with their knotted clubs
they slew opposing hosts; but naught availed
Herculean weapons, nor their mighty hands,
or that Melampus was their sire, a peer
of Hercules, what time in heavy toils
through earth he roved. See next how Pharon boasts!
But while he vainly raves, the whirling spear
smites full on his loud mouth. And also thou,
Cydon, wast by the Trojan stroke o'erthrown,
while following in ill-omened haste the steps
of Clytius, thy last joy, whose round cheek wore
its youthful golden down: soon hadst thou lain
in death, unheeding of thy fancies fond
which ever turned to youth;—but now arose
the troop of all thy brothers, Phorcus' sons,
a close array of seven, and seven spears
they hurled: some from Aeneas' helm or shield
glanced off in vain; some Venus' kindly power,
just as they touched his body, turned away.
Aeneas then to true Achates cried:
“Bring on my spears: not one shall fruitless fly
against yon Rutules, even as they pierced
the breasts of Greeks upon the Ilian plain.”
Then one great shaft he seized and threw; it sped
straight into Maeon's brazen shield, and clove
his mail-clad heart. Impetuous to his aid
brother Alcanor came, and lifted up
with strong right hand his brother as he fell:
but through his arm a second skilful shaft
made bloody way, and by the sinews held
the lifeless right hand from the shoulder swung.
Then from his brother's body Numitor
the weapon plucked and hurled it, furious,
upon Aeneas; but it could not strike
the hero's self, and grazed along the thigh
of great Achates.
Next into the fight
Clausus of Cures came, in youthful bloom
exulting, and with far-thrown javelin
struck Dryops at the chin, and took away
from the gashed, shrieking throat both life and voice;
the warrior's fallen forehead smote the dust;
his lips poured forth thick blood. There also fell
three Thracians, odspring of the lordly stem
of Boreas, and three of Idas' sons
from Ismara, by various doom struck down.
Halaesus here his wild Auruncans brings;
and flying to the fight comes Neptune's son,
Messapus, famous horseman. On both sides
each charges on the foe. Ausonia's strand
is one wide strife. As when o'er leagues of air
the envious winds give battle to their peers,
well-matched in rage and power; and neither they
nor clouds above, nor plunging seas below
will end the doubtful war, but each withstands
the onset of the whole—in such wild way
the line of Trojans on the Latian line
hurls itself, limb on limb and man on man.
But at a distance where the river's flood
had scattered rolling boulders and torn trees
uprooted from the shore, young Pallas spied
th' Arcadian band, unused to fight on foot,
in full retreat, the Latins following close—
who also for the roughness of the ground
were all unmounted: he (the last resource
of men in straits) to wild entreaty turned
and taunts, enkindling their faint hearts anew:
“Whither, my men! O, by your own brave deeds,
O, by our lord Evander's happy wars,
the proud hopes I had to make my name
a rival glory,—think not ye can fly!
Your swords alone can carve ye the safe way
straight through your foes. Where yonder warrior-throng
is fiercest, thickest, there and only there
your Country's honor calls for men like you,
and for your captain Pallas. Nay, no gods
against us fight; we are but mortal men
pressed by a mortal foe. Not more than ours
the number of their lives or swords. Behold,
the barrier of yonder spreading sea
emprisons us, and for a craven flight
yon lands are all too small. Ha! Shall we steer
across the sea to Troy?” He said, and sprang
full in the centre of his gathered foes.
First in his path was Lagus, thither led
by evil stars; whom, as he tried to lift
a heavy stone, the shaft of Pallas pierced
where ribs and spine divide: backward he drew
the clinging spear; But Hisbo from above
surprised him not, though meaning it; for while
(In anger blind for friend unpitying slain)
at Pallas' face he flew:—he, standing firm,
plunged deep into that swelling breast the sword.
Then Sthenius he slew; and next Anchemolus
of Rhoetus' ancient line, who dared defile
his step-dame's bridal bed. And also ye,
fair Thymber and Larides, Daucus' twins,
fell on that Rutule field; so like were ye,
your own kin scarce discerned, and parents proud
smiled at the dear deceit; but now in death
cruel unlikeness Pallas wrought; thy head
fell, hapless Thymber, by Evander's sword;
and thy right hand, Larides, shorn away,
seemed feeling for its lord; the fingers cold
clutched, trembling, at the sword. Now all the troop
of Arcady, their chief's great action seen,
and by his warning roused, made at their foes,
spurred on by grief and shame.
Next Pallas pierced
the flying Rhoetus in his car; this gained
for Ilus respite and delay, for him
the stout spear aimed at; but its flight was stopped
by Rhoetus, as in swift retreat he rode,
by the two high-born brothers close pursued,
Teuthras and Tyres: from his car he rolled,
making deep furrows with his lifeless heels
along the Rutule plain. Oft when the winds
of summer, long awaited, rise and blow,
a shepherd fires the forest, and the blaze
devours the dense grove, while o'er the fields,
in that one moment, swift and sudden spread
grim Vulcan's serried flames; from some high seat
on distant hill, the shepherd peering down
sees, glad at heart, his own victorious fires:
so now fierce valor spreads, uniting all
in one confederate rage, 'neath Pallas' eyes.
But the fierce warrior Halaesus next
led on the charge, behind his skilful shield
close-crouching. Ladon and Demodocus
and Pheres he struck down; his glittering blade
cut Strymon's hand, which to his neck was raised,
sheer off; with one great stone he crushed the brows
of Thoas, scattering wide the broken skull,
bones, brains, and gore. Halaesus' prophet-sire,
foreseeing doom, had hid him in dark groves;
but when the old man's fading eyes declined
in death, the hand of Fate reached forth and doomed
the young life to Evander's sword; him now
Pallas assailed, first offering this prayer:
“O Father Tiber, give my poising shaft
through stout Halaesus' heart its lucky way!
The spoil and trophy of the hero slain
on thine own oak shall hang.” The god received
the vow, and while Halaesus held his shield
over Imaon, his ill-fated breast
lay naked to th' Arcadian's hungry spear.
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