The Aeneids of Virgil Part 29

So saith he, and with such-like words unto the war doth wake 520 Messapus and his brother-lords; then 'gainst the foeman fares.

There was a dale of winding ways, most meet for warlike snares And lurking swords: with press of leaves the mountain bent is black That shutteth it on either side: thence leads a scanty track; By strait-jawed pa.s.s men come thereto, a very evil road: But thereabove, upon the height, lieth a plain abode, A mountain-heath scarce known of men, a most safe lurking-place, Whether to right hand or to left the battle ye will face, Or hold the heights, and roll a storm of mighty rocks adown.

Thither the war-lord wends his way by country road well known, 530 And takes the place, and bideth there within the wood accursed.

Meanwhile within the heavenly house Diana speaketh first To Opis of the holy band, the maiden fellows.h.i.+p, And words of grief most sorrowful Latonia's mouth let slip: "Unto the bitter-cruel war the maid Camilla wends, O maid: and all for nought indeed that dearest of my friends Is girding her with arms of mine."

Nought new-born was the love Diana owned, nor sudden-sweet the soul in her did move: When Metabus, by hatred driven, and his o'erweening pride, Fled from Privernum's ancient town, his fathers' country-side, 540 Companion of his exile there, amid the weapon-game, A babe he had with him, whom he called from her mother's name Casmilla, but a little changed, and now Camilla grown.

He, bearing her upon his breast, the woody ridges lone Went seeking, while on every side the sword-edge was about, And all around were scouring wide the weaponed Volscian rout.

But big lay Amasenus now athwart his very road, Foaming bank-high, such mighty rain from out of heaven had flowed.

There, as he dight him to swim o'er, love of his babe, and fear For burden borne so well-beloved, his footsteps back did bear. 550 At last, as all things o'er he turned, this sudden rede he took: The huge spear that in mighty hand by hap the warrior shook, A close-knit shaft of seasoned oak with many a knot therein, Thereto did he his daughter bind, wrapped in the cork-tree's skin, And to the middle of the beam he tied her craftily; Then, shaking it in mighty hand, thus spoke unto the sky: "O kind, O dweller in the woods, Latonian Virgin fair, A father giveth thee a maid, who holds thine arms in air As from the foe she flees to thee: O G.o.ddess, take thine own, That now upon the doubtful winds by this mine arm is thrown!" 560 He spake, and from his drawn-back arm cast forth the brandished wood; Sounded the waves; Camilla flew across the hurrying flood, A lorn thing bound to whistling shaft, and o'er the river won.

But Metabus, with all the band of chasers pressing on, Unto the river gives himself, and reaches maid and spear, And, conquering, from the gra.s.sy bank Diana's gift doth tear.

To roof and wall there took him thence no city of the land, Nay, he himself, a wild-wood thing, to none had given the hand; Upon the shepherd's lonely hills his life thenceforth he led; His daughter mid the forest-brake, and wild deers' thicket-stead, 570 He nourished on the milk that flowed from herd-mare's untamed breast, And to the maiden's tender lips the wild thing's udder pressed; Then from the first of days when she might go upon her feet, The heft of heavy sharpened dart her hand must learn to meet, And from the little maiden's back he hung the shaft and bow; While for the golden hair-clasp fine and long-drawn mantle's flow Down from her head, along her back, a tiger's fell there hung.

E'en then too from her tender hand a childish shot she flung, The sling with slender smoothened thong she drave about her head To bring the crane of Strymon down, or lay the white swan dead. 580 Then many a mother all about the Tyrrhene towns in vain Would wed her to their sons; but she, a maid without a stain, Alone in Dian's happiness the spear for ever loved, For ever loved the maiden life.

--"O had she ne'er been moved By such a war, nor dared to cross the Teucrian folk in fight!

Then had she been a maid of mine, my fellow and delight.

But since the bitterness of fate lies round her life and me, Glide down, O maiden, from the pole, and find the Latin lea, Where now, with evil tokens toward, sad battle they awake; Take these, and that avenging shaft from out the quiver take, 590 Wherewith whoso shall wrong with wound my holy-bodied may, Be he of Troy or Italy, see thou his blood doth pay: And then will I her limbs bewept, unspoiled of any gear, Wrap in a hollow cloud, and lay in kindred sepulchre."

She spoke; the other slipped adown the lightsome air of heaven, With wrapping cloak of mirky cloud about her body driven.

But in meanwhile the Trojan folk the city draw anigh, The Tuscan dukes and all their horse in many a company Well ordered: over all the plain neighing the steed doth fare, Prancing, and champing on the bit that turns him here and there, 600 And far and wide the lea is rough with iron harvest now.

And with the weapons tossed aloft the level meadows glow.

Messapus and the Latins swift, lo, on the other hand; And Coras with his brother-lord, and maid Camilla's band, Against them in the field; and lo, far back their arms they fling In couching of the level spears, and shot spears' brandis.h.i.+ng.

All is afire with neigh of steeds and onfall of the men.

And now, within a spear-shot come, short up they rein, and then They break out with a mighty cry, and spur the maddened steeds; And all at once from every side the storm of spear-shot speeds, 610 As thick as very snowing is, and darkens down the sun.

And thereon with their levelled spears each against each they run, Tyrrhenus and Aconteus fierce: in forefront of the fight They meet and crash with thundering sound; wracked are the steeds outright, Breast beating in each breast of them: far is Aconteus flung In manner of the lightning bolt, or stone from engine slung; Far off he falls, and on the air pours all his life-breath out.

Then wildered is the war array; the Latins wheel about And sling their targets all aback, and townward turn their steeds.

The Trojans follow; first of whom the ranks Asylas leads. 620 But when they draw anigh the gates once more the Latin men Raise up the cry, and turn about the limber necks again; Then flee their foes, and far afield with loosened reins they ride; As when the sea-flood setting on with flowing, ebbing tide, Now earthward rolling, overlays the rocks with foaming sea, And with its bosom overwhelms the sand's extremity, Now swiftly fleeing back again, sucks back into its deep The rolling stones, and leaves the sh.o.r.e with softly-gliding sweep.

Twice did the Tuscans townward drive the host of Rutuli; Twice, looking o'er their s.h.i.+elded backs, afield they needs must fly; 630 But when they joined the battle thrice knit up was all array In one great knot, and man sought man wherewith to play the play.

Then verily the dying groans up to the heavens went; Bodies and arms lie deep in blood, and with the men-folk blent, The dying horses wallow there, and fearful fight arose.

Orsilochus with Remulus had scant the heart to close, But hurled his shaft against the horse, and smote him 'neath the ear; The smitten beast bears not the wound, but, maddened, high doth rear The legs of him and breast aloft: his master flung away, Rolls on the earth: Catillus there doth swift Iolas slay; 640 Yea, and Herminius, big of soul, and big of limbs and gear, Who went with head by nothing helmed save locks of yellow hair, Who went with shoulders all unarmed, as one without a dread, So open unto fight was he; but through his shoulders sped The quivering spear, and knit him up twi-folded in his pain.

So black blood floweth everywhere; men deal out iron bane, And, struggling, seek out lovely death amid the wounds and woe.

But through the middle of the wrack doth glad Camilla go, The quivered war-maid, all one side stripped naked for the play; And now a cloud of limber shafts she scattereth wide away, 650 And now with all unwearied hand catcheth the twi-bill strong.

The golden bow is at her back, and Dian's arrow-song.

Yea, e'en and if she yielded whiles, and showed her back in flight, From back-turned bow the hurrying shaft she yet would aim aright.

About her were her chosen maids, daughters of Italy, Larina, Tulla, and Tarpeia, with brazen axe on high, Whom that divine Camilla chose for joy and fame's increase, Full sweet and goodly hand-maidens in battle and in peace: E'en as the Thracian Amazons thresh through Thermodon's flood, When they in painted war-gear wend to battle and to blood: 660 Or those about Hippolyta, or round the wain of Mars Wherein Panthesilea wends, when hubbub of the wars The maiden-folk exulting raise, and moony s.h.i.+elds uprear.

Whom first, whom last, O bitter Maid, didst thou overthrow with spear?

How many bodies of the slain laidst thou upon the field?

Eunaeus, Clytius' son, was first, whose breast for lack of s.h.i.+eld The fir-tree long smit through and through, as there he stood in face; He poureth forth a sea of blood, and, falling in his place, Bites the red earth, and dying writhes about the bitter bane.

Liris and Pagasus she slays; one, catching at the rein 670 Of his embowelled steed rolls o'er, the other as he ran To aid, and stretched his swordless hand unto the fallen man, Fell headlong too, and there they lie: with these Amastus wends, The son of Hippotas; her spear in chase of men she sends, Harpalycus, Demophoon, Tereus, and Chromis stout As many as her maiden hand the whirling darts send out So many Phrygian falls there are. Far off, in uncouth gear, The hunter Ornytus upon Apulian steed doth fare, Whose warring shoulders bigly wrought with stripped-off bullock's hide Are covered; but his head is helmed with wood-wolf's gaping wide, 680 A monstrous mouth, wherein are left the teeth all gleaming white: A wood-spear arms the hand of him, he wheels amid the fight, And by the head he overtops all other men about.

Him she o'ertakes, no troublous deed amid the fleeing rout, And, slaying him, from bitter heart this word withal she spake:

"Tuscan, thou deem'dst thee hunting still the deer amid the brake; The day has come when women's arms have cast thy boasting back: Yet going to thy fathers' ghosts a word thou shalt not lack To praise thy life; for thou mayst say, Camilla was my bane."

Orsilochus and Butes next, two huge-wrought Trojans, gain 690 Death at her hands: Butes aback she smit through with the spear Betwixt the mail-coat and the helm, wherethrough the neck doth peer As there he sits, and on his left hangs down the target round; But from Orsilochus she flees, wide circling o'er the ground, Then, slipping inward of the ring, chaseth the chaser there, And, rising high, her mighty axe driveth through bones and gear.

With blow on blow, mid all his prayers and crying out for grace, Until his hot and b.l.o.o.d.y brain is flooding all his face.

A man haps on her now, and stands afeard such sight to see; Of Aunus of the Apennines the warring son was he, 700 Great of Ligurians, while the Fates his guile would yet allow: But he, since fleeing out of fight, would nought avail him now, Nor knew he how in any wise to turn the Queen away, With rede of guile and cunning words began to play the play:

"What deed of fame, for woman's heart to trust a horse's might?

Wilt thou not set thy speed aside, and 'gainst me dare the fight On equal ground, and gird thyself for foot-fight face to face?

See then to whom the windy fame shall bring the victory's grace!"

He spake; but she, in bitter rage, and stung to her heart's root, Unto her fellow gave her steed and faced him there afoot, 710 Most unafeard, with naked glaive and target bare and white.

Thereat the youth deemed guile had won, and turned at once to flight; Nought tarrying but to turn the reins, he fleeth on his road, And ever with his iron heel the four-foot thing doth goad.

"Empty Ligurian, all in vain thine high heart dost thou raise, And all in vain thou triest today thy father's crafty ways.

Nor shall thy lying bring thee safe to lying Aunus' head."

So spake the maid, and all afire on flying feet she sped, Outwent the horse and crossed his road, and catching at the rein, There made her foeman pay for all with b.l.o.o.d.y steel-wrought bane, 720 As easily the holy hawk from craggy place on high In winged chase follows on the dove aloft along the sky, And taketh her in hooked hold with bitter feet to tear, While blood and riven feathers fall from out the upper air.

Nathless the Sower of manfolk and all the G.o.dly Kind, Upon Olympus set aloft, to this was nothing blind, And Tarchon of the Tyrrhene folk he stirreth up to war, And stingeth all the heart of him with anger bitter-sore; Who, borne on horse 'twixt death of men and faltering war-array, Goads on his bands unto the fight, and many a word doth say, 730 And calleth each man by his name, and bids the beaten stand:

"What fear, O hearts that nought may shame, O folk of deedless hand, What dastardy, O Tyrrhene folk, hath now so caught your souls?

A woman drives us scattering wide, and back our war-wall rolls.

Why bear our hands these useless spears, this steel not made for fight?

Ye are not slack in Venus' play or battle of the night, Or when the crooked fife gives sign that Bacchus' dance is toward Well wait ye onset of the feast and cups of plenteous board: Your love, your hearts, are there, whereas the lucky priest doth bid The holy words, and victims fat call to the thickets hid." 740

He spake, and, fain of death himself, against the foemen spurs, And full in face of Venulus his eager body bears, And catcheth him by arm about, and tears him from his horse, And bears him off on saddle-bow in grip of mighty force: Then goes the clamour up to heaven, and all the Latin eyes Turn thitherward: but fiery-swift across the field he flies, Bearing the weapons and the man; then from his foeman's spear Breaks off the head, and searches close for opening here and there Whereby to give the deadly wound: the foe doth ever fight, 749 Thrusting the hand from threatened throat, and puts back might with might.

As when a yellow erne aloft skyward a dragon draws, And knits him up within her feet and gripping of her claws: But still the wounded serpent turns in many a winding fold, And bristles all his spiky scales, and hissing mouth doth hold Aloft against her; she no less through all his struggles vain Drives hooked beak, and still with wings beats through the airy plain; E'en so from those Tiburtine ranks glad Tarchon bears the prey: And, following on their captain's deed, fall on amid the fray Maeonia's sons.

But Arruns now, the foredoomed man of fate, Encompa.s.sing Camilla's ways with spear and guile, doth wait 760 On all her goings; spying out what hap is easiest.

Now, wheresoe'er the hot-heart maid amid the battle pressed, There Arruns winds, and silently holds watch on all her ways: And when from forth the foe she comes, bearing the victory's praise, Still speedily in privy wise the rein he turns about: This way he tries, that way he tries, still wandering in and out On all sides; shaking spear of doom with evil heart of guile.

Now Chloreus, bond of Cybele and priest upon a while, Afar as happed in Phrygian gear gleamed out upon his steed, Foaming and goodly: clad was he in skin-wrought battle-weed, 770 With brazen scales done feather-wise, and riveted with gold, And grand was he in outland red and many a purple fold; Gortynian arrows from afar with Lycian horn he sped; Gold rang the bow upon his back; gold-mitred was his head In priestly wise; his saffron scarf, the crackling folds of it Of linen fine, in knot about a red-gold buckle knit; His kirtle was embroidered fair, his hosen outland-wrought.

The maiden, whether Trojan gear for temple-gate she sought, Or whether she herself would wend, glorious in war-got gold, Amidst of all the press of arms this man in chase must hold 780 Blind as a hunter; all unware amidst the war-array She burned with all a woman's l.u.s.t for spoil of men and prey: When now, the time at last being seized, from out its lurking-place Arruns drew forth his spear, and prayed the G.o.ds above for grace:

"Highest of G.o.ds, Apollo, ward of dear Soracte's stead, Whom we first honour, unto whom the piny blaze is fed; Whom wors.h.i.+pping, we, waxen strong in might of G.o.dliness, The very midmost of the fire with eager foot-soles press-- Almighty Father, give me grace to do away our shame!

No battle-gear, no trophies won from vanquished maid I claim, 790 No spoils I seek; my other deeds shall bring me praise of folk; Let but this dreadful pest of men but fall beneath my stroke, And me wend back without renown unto my father's place!"

Apollo heard, and half the prayer he turned his heart to grace, The other half he flung away adown the wind to go.

That he by sudden stroke of death should lay Camilla low,-- He granted this: that his high house should see his safe return, He granted not: the hurrying gusts that word to breezes turn.

So when the shaft hurled from his hand gave sound upon the air, All Volscians turn their hardy hearts, and all men's eyen bear 800 Upon the Queen: but she no whit had any breeze in mind, Or whistle of the spear that sped from out the house of wind, Until the hurrying shaft beneath her naked bosom stood, And clung there, deeply driven home, drinking her virgin blood.

Her frighted damsels run to her and catch the falling maid, But Arruns fleeth fast, forsooth more than all they afraid-- Afraid and glad--nor durst he more to trust him to the spear, Or 'neath the hail of maiden darts his body forth to bear.

And as the murder-wolf, ere yet the avenging spear-points bite, Straight hideth him in pathless place amid the mountain-height, 810 When he hath slain some shepherd-lad or bullock of the fold; Down goes his tail, when once he knows his deed so overbold, Along his belly close it clings as he the woodland seeks.

Not otherwise from sight of men the wildered Arruns sneaks, And mingles in the middle fight, glad to be clear away.

Death-smitten, at the spear she plucks; amidst her bones it lay, About the ribs, that iron point in baneful wound and deep: She droopeth bloodless, droop her eyes acold in deadly sleep; From out her cheeks the colour flees that once therewith were clear.

Then, pa.s.sing, Acca she bespeaks, her very maiden peer, 820 Her who alone of all the rest might share Camilla's rede, A trusted friend: such words to her the dying mouth doth speed:

"Sister, thus far my might hath gone; but now this bitter wound Maketh an end, and misty dark are grown all things around: Fly forth, and unto Turnus bear my very latest words; Let him to fight, and from the town thrust off the Trojan swords-- Farewell, farewell!"-- And with the word the bridle failed her hold, And unto earth unwilling now she flowed, and waxen cold Slowly she slipped her body's bonds; her languid neck she bent, Laid down the head that death had seized, and left her armament; 830 And with a groan her life flew forth disdainful into night.

Then rose the cry and smote aloft the starry golden height, And with the Queen so felled to field the fight grew young again, And thronged and serried falleth on the Teucrian might and main, The Tuscan Dukes, Evander's host, the wings of Arcady.

But Opis, Dian's watch of war, set on the mountain high, A long while now all unafeard had eyed the battle o'er, And when far off, amid the cries of maddened men of war, She saw Camilla win the death by bitter ill award, 839 She groaned, and from her inmost heart such words as these she poured: "Alas, O maid, thou payest it o'ermuch and bitterly, That thou unto the Teucrian folk the challenge needs must cry.