Virgil

“ Thus Turnus: “Then begin, and try thy fate:
My message to the ghost of Priam bear;
Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there.”
A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw,
Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew:
With his full force he whirl’d it first around;
But the soft yielding air receiv’d the wound:
Imperial Juno turn’d the course before,
And fix’d the wand’ring weapon in the door.
“But hope not thou,” said Turnus, “when I strike,
To shun thy fate: our force is not alike,
Nor thy steel temper’d by the Lemnian god.” ”

“ Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms
With greedy pleasure, and devour’d his charms.
Unhappy Dido little thought what guest,
How dire a god, she drew so near her breast;
But he, not mindless of his mother’s pray’r,
Works in the pliant bosom of the fair,
And moulds her heart anew, and blots her former care.
The dead is to the living love resign’d;
And all Aeneas enters in her mind.
Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas’d,
The meat remov’d, and ev’ry guest was pleas’d,
The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown’d,
And thro’ the palace cheerful cries resound. ”

“ Could such a word from such a parent fall?
If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain,
That nothing should of ruin’d Troy remain,
And you conspire with Fortune to be slain,
The way to death is wide, th’ approaches near:
For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear,
Reeking with Priam’s blood: the wretch who slew
The son (inhuman) in the father’s view,
And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew.
O goddess mother, give me back to Fate;
Your gift was undesir’d, and came too late!
Did you, for this, unhappy me convey
Thro’ foes and fires, to see my house a prey? ”

“ The Trojan fix’d his view,
And scarcely thro’ the gloom the sullen shadow knew.
Then thus the prince: “What envious pow’r, O friend,
Brought your lov’d life to this disastrous end?
For Phoebus, ever true in all he said,
Has in your fate alone my faith betray’d.
The god foretold you should not die, before
You reach’d, secure from seas, th’ Italian shore.
Is this th’ unerring pow’r?” The ghost replied;
“Nor Phoebus flatter’d, nor his answers lied;
Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep:
But, while the stars and course of heav’n I keep,
My wearied eyes were seiz’d with fatal sleep. ”

“ To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,
The queen might force them from her town and state.
Down from the steep of heav’n Cyllenius flies,
And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies.
Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,
Performs his message, and displays his rod:
The surly murmurs of the people cease;
And, as the fates requir’d, they give the peace:
The queen herself suspends the rigid laws,
The Trojans pities, and protects their cause.
Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies:
Care seiz’d his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes. ”

“ His honour question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d,
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigour for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace;
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire,
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire. ”

“ Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw,
The fear of death gave place to nature’s law;
And, shaking more with anger than with age,
‘The gods,’ said he, ‘requite thy brutal rage!
As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must,
If there be gods in heav’n, and gods be just:
Who tak’st in wrongs an insolent delight;
With a son’s death t’ infect a father’s sight.
Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire
To call thee his; not he, thy vaunted sire,
Thus us’d my wretched age: the gods he fear’d,
The laws of nature and of nations heard. ”

“ And first the footsteps of a god he found.
“Arms! arms!” he cries; “the sword and shield prepare,
And send the willing chief, renew’d, to war.
This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,
Nor art’s effect, but done by hands divine.
Some god our general to the battle sends;
Some god preserves his life for greater ends.”
The hero arms in haste; his hands infold
His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold:
Inflam’d to fight, and rushing to the field,
That hand sustaining the celestial shield,
This gripes the lance, and with such vigour shakes,
That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes. ”

“ New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain.
Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize;
Protect the Latians in luxurious ease.
This dream all-pow’rful Juno sends; I bear
Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear.
Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain;
With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train:
Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie
In Tiber’s mouth, with fire and sword destroy.
The Latian king, unless he shall submit,
Own his old promise, and his new forget;
Let him, in arms, the pow’r of Turnus prove,
And learn to fear whom he disdains to love. ”

“ The brands are toss’d on high; the winds conspire
To drive along the deluge of the fire.
All eyes are fix’d on you: your foes rejoice;
Ev’n the king staggers, and suspends his choice;
Doubts to deliver or defend the town,
Whom to reject, or whom to call his son.
The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac’d,
Herself suborning death, has breath’d her last.
’Tis true, Messapus, fearless of his fate,
With fierce Atinas’ aid, defends the gate:
On ev’ry side surrounded by the foe,
The more they kill, the greater numbers grow;
An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow. ”

“ With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill’d,
To see such numbers whom so few had kill’d.
Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found:
Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround;
And the yet reeking blood o’erflows the ground.
All knew the helmet which Messapus lost,
But mourn’d a purchase that so dear had cost.
Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon’s bed,
And with the dawn of day the skies o’erspread;
Nor long the sun his daily course withheld,
But added colours to the world reveal’d:
When early Turnus, wak’ning with the light,
All clad in armour, calls his troops to fight. ”

“ Thus, on the banks of Hebrus’ freezing flood,
The God of Battles, in his angry mood,
Clashing his sword against his brazen shield,
Let loose the reins, and scours along the field:
Before the wind his fiery coursers fly;
Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky.
Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair
(Dire faces, and deform’d) surround the car;
Friends of the god, and followers of the war.
With fury not unlike, nor less disdain,
Exulting Turnus flies along the plain:
His smoking horses, at their utmost speed,
He lashes on, and urges o’er the dead. ”

“ To single fight the boldest foe defied;
Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o’ercame,
And not belied his mighty father’s fame.
Salius to death the great Antronius sent:
But the same fate the victor underwent,
Slain by Nealces’ hand, well-skill’d to throw
The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow.
Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance;
By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance:
Victors and vanquish’d, in the various field,
Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield.
The gods from heav’n survey the fatal strife,
And mourn the miseries of human life. ”

“ And lie by noble Hector on the plain,
Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields
Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields
Of heroes, whose dismember’d hands yet bear
The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!”
Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,
Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,
And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise,
And mount the tossing vessels to the skies:
Nor can the shiv’ring oars sustain the blow;
The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;
While those astern, descending down the steep,
Thro’ gaping waves behold the boiling deep. ”

“ For, if indulgent Heav’n would leave me free,
And not submit my life to fate’s decree,
My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore,
Those relics to review, their dust adore,
And Priam’s ruin’d palace to restore.
But now the Delphian oracle commands,
And fate invites me to the Latian lands.
That is the promis’d place to which I steer,
And all my vows are terminated there.
If you, a Tyrian, and a stranger born,
With walls and tow’rs a Libyan town adorn,
Why may not we, like you, a foreign race,
Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place? ”

“ And sing an act so noble and so new,
Posterity will scarce believe ’tis true.
Pain’d with his wound, and useless for the fight,
The father sought to save himself by flight:
Encumber’d, slow he dragg’d the spear along,
Which pierc’d his thigh, and in his buckler hung.
The pious youth, resolv’d on death, below
The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe;
Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.
Shouts of applause ran ringing thro’ the field,
To see the son the vanquish’d father shield. ”

“ Their crown, and ev’ry regal ornament:
The people join their own with his desire;
And all my conduct, as their king, require.
But the chill blood that creeps within my veins,
And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains,
And a soul conscious of its own decay,
Have forc’d me to refuse imperial sway.
My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne,
And should, but he’s a Sabine mother’s son,
And half a native; but, in you, combine
A manly vigour, and a foreign line.
Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way,
Pursue the ready path to sov’reign sway. ”

“ Androgeos’ death, and off’rings to his ghost;
Sev’n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet
The fate appointed by revengeful Crete.
And next to those the dreadful urn was plac’d,
In which the destin’d names by lots were cast:
The mournful parents stand around in tears,
And rising Crete against their shore appears.
There too, in living sculpture, might be seen
The mad affection of the Cretan queen;
Then how she cheats her bellowing lover’s eye;
The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny,
The lower part a beast, a man above,
The monument of their polluted love. ”

“ The silent plague thro’ the green timber eats,
And vomits out a tardy flame by fits.
Down to the keels, and upward to the sails,
The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;
Nor buckets pour’d, nor strength of human hand,
Can the victorious element withstand.
The pious hero rends his robe, and throws
To heav’n his hands, and with his hands his vows.
“O Jove,” he cried, “if pray’rs can yet have place;
If thou abhorr’st not all the Dardan race;
If any spark of pity still remain;
If gods are gods, and not invok’d in vain;
Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train! ”

“ When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain,
His chiefs dismay’d, his troops a fainting train,
Th’ unhop’d event his heighten’d soul inspires:
At once his arms and coursers he requires;
Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains,
And with a ready hand assumes the reins.
He drives impetuous, and, where’er he goes,
He leaves behind a lane of slaughter’d foes.
These his lance reaches; over those he rolls
His rapid car, and crushes out their souls:
In vain the vanquish’d fly; the victor sends
The dead men’s weapons at their living friends. ”

“ Against our coast appears a spacious land,
Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command,
Thracia the name; the people bold in war;
Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,
A hospitable realm while Fate was kind,
With Troy in friendship and religion join’d.
I land; with luckless omens, then adore
Their gods, and draw a line along the shore;
I lay the deep foundations of a wall,
And Aenos, nam’d from me, the city call.
To Dionaean Venus vows are paid,
And all the pow’rs that rising labours aid;
A bull on Jove’s imperial altar laid. ”

“ This hand appear’d a shining sword to wield,
And that sustain’d an imitated shield.
With manly mien he stalk’d along the ground,
Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound.
(Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight,
Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.)
The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare,
And flourishes his empty sword in air.
At this, advancing, Turnus hurl’d his spear:
The phantom wheel’d, and seem’d to fly for fear.
Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled,
And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed. ”

“ Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea,
Much less against the tempest force their way.
’Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.
Not far from hence, if I observ’d aright
The southing of the stars, and polar light,
Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores
In safety we may reach with struggling oars.”
Aeneas then replied: “Too sure I find
We strive in vain against the seas and wind:
Now shift your sails; what place can please me more
Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore,
Whose hallow’d earth Anchises’ bones contains,
And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?” ”

“ Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,
A prince that owes his life to you alone.
Fair majesty, the refuge and redress
Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress,
You, who your pious offices employ
To save the relics of abandon’d Troy;
Receive the shipwreck’d on your friendly shore,
With hospitable rites relieve the poor;
Associate in your town a wand’ring train,
And strangers in your palace entertain:
What thanks can wretched fugitives return,
Who, scatter’d thro’ the world, in exile mourn?
The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin’d ”

“ The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound,
With tracks of blood inscrib’d the dusty ground.
Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress’d with woe,
To Pallas’ fane in long procession go,
In hopes to reconcile their heav’nly foe.
They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair,
And rich embroider’d vests for presents bear;
But the stern goddess stands unmov’d with pray’r.
Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew
The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.
Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,
The lifeless body of his son is sold. ”

“ Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach’d, repent.
Wars, horrid wars, I view; a field of blood,
And Tiber rolling with a purple flood.
Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there:
A new Achilles shall in arms appear,
And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno’s hate,
Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.
To what strange nations shalt not thou resort,
Driv’n to solicit aid at ev’ry court!
The cause the same which Ilium once oppress’d;
A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.
But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes,
The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose. ”