After such farewell word, he from the gates
in mighty stature strode, and swung on high
his giant spear. With him in serried line
Antheus and Mnestheus moved, and all the host
from the forsaken fortress poured. The plain
was darkened with their dust; the startled earth
shook where their footing fell. From distant hill
Turnus beheld them coming, and the eyes
of all Ausonia saw: a chill of fear
shot through each soldier's marrow; in their van
Juturna knew full well the dreadful sound,
and fled before it, shuddering. But he
hurried his murky cohorts o'er the plain.
As when a tempest from the riven sky
drives landward o'er mid-ocean, and from far
the hearts of husbandmen, foreboding woe,
quake ruefully,—for this will come and rend
their trees asunder, kill the harvests all,
and sow destruction broadcast; in its path
fly roaring winds, swift heralds of the storm:
such dire approach the Trojan chieftain showed
before his gathered foes. In close array
they wedge their ranks about him. With a sword
Thymbraeus cuts huge-limbed Osiris down;
Mnestheus, Arcetius; from Epulo
Achates shears the head; from Ufens, Gyas;
Tolumnius the augur falls, the same
who flung the first spear to the foeman's line.
Uprose to heaven the cries. In panic now
the Rutules in retreating clouds of dust
scattered across the plain. Aeneas scorned
either the recreant or resisting foe
to slaughter, or the men who shoot from far:
for through the war-cloud he but seeks the arms
of Turnus, and to single combat calls.
The warrior-maid Juturna, seeing this,
distraught with terror, strikes down from his place
Metiscus, Turnus' charioteer, who dropped
forward among the reins and off the pole.
Him leaving on the field, her own hand grasped
the loosely waving reins, while she took on
Metiscus' shape, his voice, and blazoned arms.
As when through some rich master's spacious halls
speeds the black swallow on her lightsome wing,
exploring the high roof, or harvesting
some scanty morsel for her twittering brood,
round empty corridors or garden-pools
noisily flitting: so Juturna roams
among the hostile ranks, and wings her way
behind the swift steeds of the whirling car.
At divers points she lets the people see
her brother's glory, but not yet allows
the final tug of war; her pathless flight
keeps far away.
Aeneas too must take
a course circuitous, and follows close
his foeman's track; loud o'er the scattered lines
he shouts his challenge. But whene'er his eyes
discern the foe, and fain he would confront
the flying-footed steeds, Juturna veers
the chariot round and flies. What can he do?
Aeneas' wrath storms vainly to and fro,
and wavering purposes his heart divide.
Against him lightly leaped Messapus forth,
bearing two pliant javelins tipped with steel;
and, whirling one in air, he aimed it well,
with stroke unfailing. Great Aeneas paused
in cover of his shield and crouched low down
upon his haunches. But the driven spear
battered his helmet's peak and plucked away
the margin of his plume. Then burst his rage:
his cunning foes had forced him; so at last,
while steeds and chariot in the distance fly,
he plunged him in the fray, and called on Jove
the altars of that broken oath to see.
Now by the war-god's favor he began
grim, never-pitying slaughter, and flung free
the bridle of his rage.
What voice divine
such horror can make known? What song declare
the bloodshed manifold, the princes slain,
or flying o'er the field from Turnus' blade,
or from the Trojan King? Did Jove ordain
so vast a shock of arms should interpose
'twixt nations destined to perpetual bond?
Aeneas met the Rutule Sucro—thus
staying the Trojan charge—and with swift blow
struck at him sidewise, where the way of death
is quickest, cleaving ribs and rounded side
with reeking sword. Turnus met Amycus,
unhorsed him, though himself afoot, and slew
Diores, his fair brother (one was pierced
fronting the spear, the other felled to earth
by strike of sword), and both their severed heads
he hung all dripping to his chariot's rim.
But Talon, Tanais, and Cethegus brave,
three in one onset, unto death went down
at great Aeneas' hand; and he dispatched
ill-starred Onites of Echion's line,
fair Peridia's child. Then Turnus slew
two Lycian brothers unto Phoebus dear,
and young Menoetes, an Arcadian,
who hated war (though vainly) when he plied
his native fisher-craft in Lerna's streams,
where from his mean abode he ne'er went forth
to wait at great men's doors, but with his sire
reaped the scant harvest of a rented glebe.
As from two sides two conflagrations sweep
dry woodlands or full copse of crackling bay,
or as, swift-leaping from the mountain-vales,
two flooded, foaming rivers seaward roar,
each on its path of death, not less uproused,
speed Turnus and Aeneas o'er the field;
now storms their martial rage; now fiercely swells
either indomitable heart; and now
each hero's full strength to the slaughter moves.
Behold Murranus, boasting his high birth
from far-descended sires of storied name,
the line of Latium's kings! Aeneas now
with mountain-boulder lays him low in dust,
smitten with whirlwind of the monster stone;
and o'er him fallen under yoke and rein
roll his own chariot wheels, while with swift tread
the mad hoofs of his horses stamp him down,
not knowing him their lord. But Turnus found
proud Hyllus fronting him with frantic rage,
and at his golden helmet launched the shaft
that pierced it; in his cloven brain it clung.
Nor could thy sword, O Cretheus, save thee then
from Turnus, though of bravest Greeks the peer;
nor did Cupencus' gods their priest defend
against Aeneas, but his breast he gave
unto the hostile blade; his brazen shield
delayed no whit his miserable doom.
Thee also, Aeolus, Laurentum saw
spread thy huge body dying on the ground;
yea, dying, thou whom Greeks in serried arms
subdued not, nor Achilles' hand that hurled
the throne of Priam down: here didst thou touch
thy goal of death; one stately house was thine
on Ida's mountain, at Lyrnessus, one;
Laurentum's hallowed earth was but thy grave.
Now the whole host contends; all Latium meets
all Ilium; Mnestheus and Serestus bold;
Messapus, the steed-breaker, and high-soured
Asilas; Tuscans in a phalanx proud;
Arcadian riders of Evander's train:
each warrior lifts him to his height supreme
of might and skill; no sloth nor lingering now,
but in one far-spread conflict all contend.
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