The Aeneid Part 42

Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride, Glitt'ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed; Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line, And there Messapus, born of seed divine.

The sign is giv'n; and, round the listed s.p.a.ce, Each man in order fills his proper place.

Reclining on their ample s.h.i.+elds, they stand, And fix their pointed lances in the sand.

Now, studious of the sight, a num'rous throng Of either s.e.x promiscuous, old and young, Swarm the town: by those who rest behind, The gates and walls and houses' tops are lin'd.

Meantime the Queen of Heav'n beheld the sight, With eyes unpleas'd, from Mount Albano's height (Since call'd Albano by succeeding fame, But then an empty hill, without a name).

She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan pow'rs, The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow'rs.

Then thus the G.o.ddess of the skies bespoke, With sighs and tears, the G.o.ddess of the lake, King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid, Ere to the l.u.s.t of lawless Jove betray'd: Compress'd by force, but, by the grateful G.o.d, Now made the Nais of the neighb'ring flood.

"O nymph, the pride of living lakes," said she, "O most renown'd, and most belov'd by me, Long hast thou known, nor need I to record, The wanton sallies of my wand'ring lord.

Of ev'ry Latian fair whom Jove misled To mount by stealth my violated bed, To thee alone I grudg'd not his embrace, But gave a part of heav'n, and an unenvied place.

Now learn from me thy near approaching grief, Nor think my wishes want to thy relief.

While fortune favor'd, nor Heav'n's King denied To lend my succor to the Latian side, I sav'd thy brother, and the sinking state: But now he struggles with unequal fate, And goes, with G.o.ds averse, o'ermatch'd in might, To meet inevitable death in fight; Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight.

Thou, if thou dar'st thy present aid supply; It well becomes a sister's care to try."

At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress'd, Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.

To whom Saturnia thus: "Thy tears are late: Haste, s.n.a.t.c.h him, if he can be s.n.a.t.c.h'd from fate: New tumults kindle; violate the truce: Who knows what changeful fortune may produce?

'T is not a crime t' attempt what I decree; Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me."

She said, and, sailing on the winged wind, Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind.

And now pomp the peaceful kings appear: Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear; Twelve golden beams around his temples play, To mark his lineage from the G.o.d of Day.

Two snowy coursers Turnus' chariot yoke, And in his hand two ma.s.sy spears he shook: Then issued from the camp, in arms divine, Aeneas, author of the Roman line; And by his side Ascanius took his place, The second hope of Rome's immortal race.

Adorn'd in white, a rev'rend priest appears, And off'rings to the flaming altars bears; A porket, and a lamb that never suffer'd shears.

Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes, And strews the beasts, design'd for sacrifice, With salt and meal: with like officious care He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair.

Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds; With the same gen'rous juice the flame he feeds.

Aeneas then unsheath'd his s.h.i.+ning sword, And thus with pious pray'rs the G.o.ds ador'd: "All-seeing sun, and thou, Ausonian soil, For which I have sustain'd so long a toil, Thou, King of Heav'n, and thou, the Queen of Air, Propitious now, and reconcil'd by pray'r; Thou, G.o.d of War, whose unresisted sway The labors and events of arms obey; Ye living fountains, and ye running floods, All pow'rs of ocean, all ethereal G.o.ds, Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field, Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield, My Trojans shall encrease Evander's town; Ascanius shall renounce th' Ausonian crown: All claims, all questions of debate, shall cease; Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace.

But, if my juster arms prevail in fight, (As sure they shall, if I divine aright,) My Trojans shall not o'er th' Italians reign: Both equal, both unconquer'd shall remain, Join'd in their laws, their lands, and their abodes; I ask but altars for my weary G.o.ds.

The care of those religious rites be mine; The crown to King Latinus I resign: His be the sov'reign sway. Nor will I share His pow'r in peace, or his command in war.

For me, my friends another town shall frame, And bless the rising tow'rs with fair Lavinia's name."

Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands, The Latian king before his altar stands.

"By the same heav'n," said he, "and earth, and main, And all the pow'rs that all the three contain; By h.e.l.l below, and by that upper G.o.d Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod; So let Latona's double offspring hear, And double-fronted Ja.n.u.s, what I swear: I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames, And all those pow'rs attest, and all their names; Whatever chance befall on either side, No term of time this union shall divide: No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind, Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind; Not tho' the circling seas should break their bound, O'erflow the sh.o.r.es, or sap the solid ground; Not tho' the lamps of heav'n their spheres forsake, Hurl'd down, and hissing in the nether lake: Ev'n as this royal scepter" (for he bore A scepter in his hand) "shall never more Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth: An orphan now, cut from the mother earth By the keen ax, dishonor'd of its hair, And cas'd in bra.s.s, for Latian kings to bear."

When thus in public view the peace was tied With solemn vows, and sworn on either side, All dues perform'd which holy rites require; The victim beasts are slain before the fire, The trembling entrails from their bodies torn, And to the fatten'd flames in chargers borne.

Already the Rutulians deem their man O'ermatch'd in arms, before the fight began.

First rising fears are whisper'd thro' the crowd; Then, gath'ring sound, they murmur more aloud.

Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes The champions' bulk, their sinews, and their size: The nearer they approach, the more is known Th' apparent disadvantage of their own.

Turnus himself appears in public sight Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight.

Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands; And, while he mutters undistinguish'd pray'rs, A livid deadness in his cheeks appears.

With anxious pleasure when Juturna view'd Th' increasing fright of the mad mult.i.tude, When their short sighs and thick'ning sobs she heard, And found their ready minds for change prepar'd; Dissembling her immortal form, she took Camertus' mien, his habit, and his look; A chief of ancient blood; in arms well known Was his great sire, and he his greater son.

His shape a.s.sum'd, amid the ranks she ran, And humoring their first motions, thus began: "For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight Of one expos'd for all, in single fight?

Can we, before the face of heav'n, confess Our courage colder, or our numbers less?

View all the Trojan host, th' Arcadian band, And Tuscan army; count 'em as they stand: Undaunted to the battle if we go, Scarce ev'ry second man will share a foe.

Turnus, 't is true, in this unequal strife, Shall lose, with honor, his devoted life, Or change it rather for immortal fame, Succeeding to the G.o.ds, from whence he came: But you, a servile and inglorious band, For foreign lords shall sow your native land, Those fruitful fields your fighting fathers gain'd, Which have so long their lazy sons sustain'd."

With words like these, she carried her design: A rising murmur runs along the line.

Then ev'n the city troops, and Latians, tir'd With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir'd: Their champion's fate with pity they lament, And of the league, so lately sworn, repent.

Nor fails the G.o.ddess to foment the rage With lying wonders, and a false presage; But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes, Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise.

For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above, Appears in pomp th' imperial bird of Jove: A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes, And o'er their heads his sounding pinions shakes; Then, stooping on the fairest of the train, In his strong talons truss'd a silver swan.

Th' Italians wonder at th' unusual sight; But, while he lags, and labors in his flight, Behold, the dastard fowl return anew, And with united force the foe pursue: Clam'rous around the royal hawk they fly, And, thick'ning in a cloud, o'ershade the sky.

They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course; Nor can th' inc.u.mber'd bird sustain their force; But vex'd, not vanquish'd, drops the pond'rous prey, And, lighten'd of his burthen, wings his way.

Th' Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight, Eager of action, and demand the fight.

Then King Tolumnius, vers'd in augurs' arts, Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts: "At length 't is granted, what I long desir'd!

This, this is what my frequent vows requir'd.

Ye G.o.ds, I take your omen, and obey.

Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way.

These are the foreign foes, whose impious band, Like that rapacious bird, infest our land: But soon, like him, they shall be forc'd to sea By strength united, and forego the prey.

Your timely succor to your country bring, Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king."

He said; and, pressing onward thro' the crew, Pois'd in his lifted arm, his lance he threw.

The winged weapon, whistling in the wind, Came driving on, nor miss'd the mark design'd.

At once the cornel rattled in the skies; At once tumultuous shouts and clamors rise.

Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood, Born of Arcadian mix'd with Tuscan blood, Gylippus' sons: the fatal jav'lin flew, Aim'd at the midmost of the friendly crew.

A pa.s.sage thro' the jointed arms it found, Just where the belt was to the body bound, And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground.

Then, fir'd with pious rage, the gen'rous train Run madly forward to revenge the slain.

And some with eager haste their jav'lins throw; And some with sword in hand a.s.sault the foe.

The wish'd insult the Latine troops embrace, And meet their ardor in the middle s.p.a.ce.

The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line, With equal courage obviate their design.

Peace leaves the violated fields, and hate Both armies urges to their mutual fate.

With impious haste their altars are o'erturn'd, The sacrifice half-broil'd, and half-unburn'd.

Thick storms of steel from either army fly, And clouds of clas.h.i.+ng darts obscure the sky; Brands from the fire are missive weapons made, With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade.

Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray, And bears his unregarded G.o.ds away.

These on their horses vault; those yoke the car; The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war.

Messapus, eager to confound the peace, Spurr'd his hot courser thro' the fighting prease, At King Aulestes, by his purple known A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown; And, with a shock encount'ring, bore him down.

Backward he fell; and, as his fate design'd, The ruins of an altar were behind: There, pitching on his shoulders and his head, Amid the scatt'ring fires he lay supinely spread.

The beamy spear, descending from above, His cuira.s.s pierc'd, and thro' his body drove.

Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries: "The G.o.ds have found a fitter sacrifice."

Greedy of spoils, th' Italians strip the dead Of his rich armor, and uncrown his head.

Priest Corynaeus, arm'd his better hand, From his own altar, with a blazing brand; And, as Ebusus with a thund'ring pace Advanc'd to battle, dash'd it on his face: His bristly beard s.h.i.+nes out with sudden fires; The crackling crop a noisome scent expires.

Following the blow, he seiz'd his curling crown With his left hand; his other cast him down.

The prostrate body with his knees he press'd, And plung'd his holy poniard in his breast.

While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued The shepherd Alsus thro' the flying crowd, Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow Full on the front of his unwary foe.

The broad ax enters with a cras.h.i.+ng sound, And cleaves the chin with one continued wound; Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress'd, And seal'd their heavy lids in endless rest.

But good Aeneas rush'd amid the bands; Bare was his head, and naked were his hands, In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud: "What sudden rage, what new desire of blood, Inflames your alter'd minds? O Trojans, cease From impious arms, nor violate the peace!

By human sanctions, and by laws divine, The terms are all agreed; the war is mine.

Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue; This hand alone shall right the G.o.ds and you: Our injur'd altars, and their broken vow, To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe."

Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defense, A winged arrow struck the pious prince.

But, whether from some human hand it came, Or hostile G.o.d, is left unknown by fame: No human hand or hostile G.o.d was found, To boast the triumph of so base a wound.

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 a.s.sumes 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.