Sunday 17 September 2017

VIRGIL: AENEID BOOK XI : CAMILLA'S FINEST HOUR

Introduction.


Although Book XI is probably one of the least read of the twelve books of the "Aeneid", it is full of examples of the high quality of Virgil's hexameter verse, to which Sabidius has paid tribute previously in the introductions to his translations of other works by the poet on this blogspot. The sorrow and guilt felt by Aeneas at the death of Pallas, and the lamentations of his father Evander are expressed in verses which feature Virgil's ability to engender a very moving sense of pathos, and these tones of pathos reappear in Aeneas' outburst against the horrors of war, and when Latinus proposes generous terms to settle the dispute with the Trojans, and also at the end of the book when the warrior-maid Camilla dies. Much of the book deals with the upbringing, deeds and death of Camilla, whose Amazonian aristeia makes her a much more sympathetic personality than the violent and bullying Turnus, her ally, and the cunning and cowardly Arruns, who successfully plots her downfall.  The book describes the gruesome deaths of many warriors on both sides of the struggle between the Latins and Rutulians on the one hand and the Trojan exiles, and their Arcadian and Etruscan allies on the other; and Virgil uses Homer's 'Iliad' as a treasury for parallel descriptions of martial action. Throughout the book Virgil uses both prosodic and alliterative techniques to illustrate and bring to life the passages of his narrative. As in the case of the other books in the second half of this great poetic work, one can well imagine just how fascinating the details of the story Virgil has to tell must have been for his Roman audience, who will not, of course, have been able to identify easily with one side or the other in what would to them have felt effectively like a civil war. Furthermore, the host of small details that he inserts - for instance, the information that Camilla's name was a variant of her mother's name, Casmilla - adds a degree of verisimilitude to the narrative that is almost irresistible  in its appeal to the reader. 

The text, which Sabidius has used for this translation is taken from "Virgil: Aeneid VII-XII" in Virgil II, edited by G.P. Goold, Loeb Classical Library (2002). This translation has also taken account of the English translation attached to this edition, as well as "Virgil: the Major Works," translated by A.S. Kline (2001-02), and available on line, and the commentary by John Connington (1876), which is available on the Perseus website. A further source of support to Sabidius has come from "Virgil: Aeneid VII-XII, edited by R. Deryck Williams, Bristol Classical Press (1973). 


In his translation, Sabidius, as is his wont, seeks to keep as closely as possible to the actual words and grammatical structure employed by Virgil, while at the same time using English which is readily understandable. At the end of the translation Sabidius enumerates some of the grammatical and prosodic irregularities, which appear in this book.

1) AENEAS MOURNS PALLAS (LL. 1-99).


a) Having set up a trophy to the God of War in celebration of his victory over Mezentius, Aeneas exhorts his men to attend to the burial of their dead comrades (ll. 1-28).


Meanwhile, Dawn rose and left the Ocean: although his sorrows urge (him) to give time to the burial of his comrades, and his mind is disturbed by the death (i.e. that of Pallas), Aeneas, as the victor, began to pay his vows to the gods,  as soon as the Morning Star rose. He plants a huge oak-tree, its branches lopped on all sides, on a mound, and decks (it) out with the shining armour stripped from the chief Mezentius (as) a trophy to you, great God of War; (to it) he fastens crests dripping with blood, and the warrior's broken spears, and his breast-plate battered and pierced in twelve places, and he binds his bronze shield to his left (hand) and hangs his ivory-hilted sword from his neck. Then, he begins to exhort his rejoicing comrades - for the whole band of chieftains crowded around him in a circle - as follows: "Great things have been done (by us), my men; for the future, away with all fear; these are the spoils and the first fruits of a proud king, (and) here, by my efforts, is Mezentius. Now, we must march towards Latium's king and walls. Prepare your weapons with courage and anticipate this war with hope, so that, as soon as the gods above give us the nod to take up our standards and lead our army out of the camp, no delay may impede us unexpectedly, or any cowardly feeling hold (us) back through fear. Meanwhile, let us commit the unburied bodies of our comrades to the earth, which is the only courtesy (recognised) in the depths of Acheron (i.e. the Underworld). Go," he says, "honour with your last gifts these noble spirits, who have procured this country for us with their blood, and first let Pallas be sent to the grieving city of Evander, (he) whom, (though) not wanting in courage, a black day stole away and immersed in a bitter death."

b) Aeneas joins those who are mourning Pallas, and addresses the dead boy, reproaching both himself and Fortune, and expressing his compassion for Evander (ll. 29-58). 

So he speaks weeping, and he retraces his footsteps to the threshold (of the tent) where old Acoetes was watching over the body of the lifeless Pallas, (which had been) laid (there), (that Acoetes) who had once been armour-bearer to Parrhasian (i.e. Arcadian) Evander, but then, under less happy auspices, went (as) the appointed companion to his beloved foster-child. Around (stand) all his band of attendants, and a crowd of Trojans, and the women of Ilium, their hair loosened for mourning in accordance with custom. But, as Aeneas entered the lofty portals, they beat their breasts, and raised a mighty cry of lamentation to the heavens, and the royal palace resounds with their sorrowful wailing. When he saw the head and face of snowy-white Pallas propped up (on a couch), and the open wound from an Ausonian (i.e. Italian) spear on his smooth breast, he speaks thus amid welling tears: "Did Fortune begrudge you to me, unhappy boy," he says, "when she came smiling, so that you would not see my kingdom, nor ride back, victorious, to your father's house? This (was) not the promise concerning you I had given to your father, Evander, on leaving, when he embraced me as I was going, and sent (me) to (win) a great empire and anxiously warned (me) that the (enemy's) men were brave, with a stock (which was) tough in war. And now, utterly deluded by vain hopes, he even perhaps offers vows and piles the altars high with gifts, (while) we, in sorrow, attend with empty rites the lifeless young man, (who) no longer owes any (debt) to any of the gods above. Unhappy (man), you will see the cruel funeral of your son! (Is) this our return and our (long) awaited triumph? (Is) this my great pledge? But, Evander, you will not look upon (your son struck down) by shameful wounds (while) in flight, nor will you, (as) a father, long for an accursed death because your son (has returned) unharmed. Ah me! how great a protection you are losing, Ausonia, and how great (a protection you are losing too), IĆ¼lus!"

c) The funeral procession is formed, and Pallas' body placed on the bier, with spoils and human victims to accompany it. Aeneas briefly bids the corpse farewell (ll. 59-99).

When he had finished these bitter lamentations, he bids (them) raise the piteous corpse, and he sends a thousand men, picked from the whole of his army, to attend the last rites, and share in the father's tears, a meagre solace for such great grief, but due (indeed) to such a distressed father. Others, in haste, interweave a soft bier of wickerwork with shoots of arbutus and twigs of oak, and they cover the couch which (they have) heaped up with a canopy of leaves. Here, they lay the youth high on his rustic litter, like a flower picked by a maiden's fingers, or a tender violet or a drooping hyacinth, whose sheen and particular beauty have still not faded; (but) mother earth no longer nurtures (it) or gives (it) strength. Then, Aeneas brought out two robes, stiff with gold and purple (embroidery), which Sidonian Dido, herself, delighting in the task, had once made for him with her own hands, and had interwoven the texture with gold thread. Sadly, he drapes one of these around the youth (as) a last honour, and veils with its cloth the locks of hair that will soon be burned, and, in addition, he piles up many of the prizes (which he had won) in the battle of the Laurentian (fields), and orders the spoils to be borne in a long line; he adds the horses and weapons which he had plundered from the enemy. He had bound behind their backs the hands (of those) whom he had planned to send (as) funeral offerings to the shades, in order to sprinkle the flames with the blood of the dying, and he gives instructions for the chieftains, themselves, to carry the tree-trunks draped in the enemy's  weapons, and for the names of the foe to be affixed (to them). Unhappy Acoetes, worn out by age, marring now his chest with his fists, now his face with his nails, falls with his whole body prostrate on the ground;  and they also lead chariots drenched in Rutulian blood. Behind goes the war-horse Aethon, weeping, and he wets his face with big tear-drops. Some carry his spear and helmet, for Turnus possesses the other (things as) victor. Then follows a mournful host, Teucrians, all the Etruscans and Arcadians, with their weapons reversed. When the whole line of his comrades had proceeded for some distance, Aeneas halted and with a deep sigh added the following (words): "The same grim destiny of war calls me hence to other tears: my greetings forever, noble Pallas, farewell forever." Without speaking any further, he proceeded to the lofty walls, and directed his footsteps towards the camp.

2) AENEAS OFFERS PEACE (LL. 100-138).

a) An embassy comes from Latium, begging for a truce to bury the dead. Aeneas addresses them soothingly, grants their request, and suggests that the war be decided by single combat between himself and Turnus (ll. 100-121). 

And now ambassadors came from the Latin city (i.e. Lavinium) wrapped in olive branches and seeking favour (for their plea): (they beg) that he would return the bodies which lay strewn by the sword across the plain and allow them to be placed under a mound of earth; (there can be) no quarrel with the vanquished and (those) deprived of the light (of day); let him spare (those who were) once called their hosts and their fathers-in-law. Aeneas courteously honours their prayers with a truce he could not spurn, and adds these words in addition: "What an undeserved misfortune, Latins, has entangled you in such a war that you flee from us (who are) your friends? Are you asking me for peace for the dead and for (those) who have been slain by the lot of war? I, indeed, would willingly have granted (it) to the living as well. I would not have come, if fate had not granted (me) this place to settle in, nor do I wage war on your people: your king abandoned our guest-friendship and entrusted himself rather to the arms of Turnus. It would have been more just for Turnus to expose himself to this death. If he is preparing to end this war by force and to drive out the Teucrians, he should have fought with me with these weapons: he would have survived, to whom god or his own right (hand) had granted life. Now go and kindle fire beneath your luckless countrymen." Aeneas finished speaking. They were struck dumb in silence, and they turned their eyes on one another and kept their faces (still).

b) Drances, one of the Latins, assures Aeneas of their gratitude and sympathy. Each side cuts down trees for funeral piles (ll. 122-138).

Then, Drances, an elder, always hostile to the young Turnus with his hatred and his accusations, in turn begins to speak as follows: "O Trojan hero, great in renown and greater in arms, with what praises can I equate you with the sky? Should I marvel mainly at your (sense of) justice or your efforts in war? Indeed, we shall gratefully carry back these (words of yours) to our native city, and, if some good-fortune grants a way, we shall ally you to our king, Latinus. Let Turnus seek treaties for himself. Indeed, it will even be a delight (for us) to raise the massive walls appointed by fate and to bear on our shoulders the stones of Troy." He finished speaking these (words), and with one voice they all murmured the same (sentiments). They agreed (a truce) for twelve days, and, under the protection of the truce, Teucrians and Latins, intermingled, roamed through the forests and on the mountain ridges in safety. The tall ash resounds under the two-headed axe, they fell pine-trees that soared up to the heavens, and they do not cease splitting oak-trees and the fragrant cedar with wedges, nor carrying away manna ash-trees in creaking wagons.

3) EVANDER MOURNS PALLAS (LL. 139-181).

(The news has reached Pallanteum before the procession arrives. Evander rushes to meet the bier, bewails his son's rashness and his own length of life, but finds comfort in Pallas' trophies and sends a message to Aeneas, praying for revenge on Turnus.)

And by now Rumour in her flight, the harbinger of such great grief, fills (the ears of) Evander and Evander's palace and city, (that Rumour) which only recently was carrying (the news of) Pallas (as) victor in Latium. The Arcadians rushed to the gates, and, in accordance with ancient custom, snatched up torches for the funeral; the road is lit up with a long line of flames, and this picks out the fields far into the distance. As it comes to meet (them), the troop of Phrygians (i.e. Trojans) joins the column of mourners. When the women saw (them) coming near to their houses, they set the grief-stricken city ablaze with their cries. Then, there is no force (which) can restrain Evander, but he rushes into their midst. As soon as the bier is set down, he flings himself on top of Pallas, and clings (to him) with tears and groans, and at long last a path for his voice was, with difficulty, opened up by his grief: "This (was) not the promise (which) you gave to your father, O Pallas, that you would entrust yourself to the savage God of War with some caution. I was not unaware of how great fresh glory in arms and the very sweet honour (won) in first conflict can be. (O) the bitter first-fruits of youth and the harsh schooling of a war so near, and (alas! for) my vows and prayers, unheard by any of the gods! And you, O my queen of blessed memory, happy (are you) in your death, nor were you saved to (experience) this sorrow. On the other hand, I, by living on, have exceeded my destiny, (and) I have been left as a father, surviving (his son). Would that the Rutulians had overwhelmed (me) with their spears as (I) followed the allied arms of the Trojans! I should have given my life, and this procession should have carried me, not Pallas, home! (Yet), I would not blame you, Teucrians, or our treaty or the hands which we joined in friendship: this fate was owed to my old age. But if a premature death awaited my son, it will be a matter of joy (to me) that he fell, leading the Teucrians into Latium, after first slaying thousands of Volscians. Indeed, I could deem you worthy of no other funeral, Pallas, than (the one which) pious Aeneas, and which the mighty Phrygians, and which the Tyrrhenian (i.e. Etruscan) chieftains and the whole Tyrrhenian army (have chosen for you). (Those) to whom your right (hand) deals death bring mighty trophies; you too, Turnus, would now be standing (here), a monstrous tree-trunk (decked) in arms, (if) his age had been equal (to yours), and if his strength as measured in years (had been) the same (as yours). But why, unhappy (as I am), do I detain (you) Teucrians from battle? Go, and remember to take my messages to your king: if I prolong a life (which is) hateful (to me), now that Pallas has been slain, the reason is your right (hand), which you know owes Turnus to both son and father. This opportunity alone is open to your merits and your good fortune. I ask not for joy in life - nor (is it) possible -, but to bear (joyful tidings) to my son in the Shades beneath."

4) THE FUNERAL PYRES (LL. 182-224).

a) The Trojans burn their dead, following their customary rites (ll. 182-202).

Meanwhile, Dawn had raised up her kindly light for wretched men, recalling (them) to work and toil: now father Aeneas, now Tarchon, had erected pyres on the winding shore. Here, in accordance with the custom of their ancestors, they each brought the bodies of their (people), and, as the smoky fires are lit beneath, the high heavens are shrouded in darkness by a mist. Three times they went in procession around the blazing funeral piles, clad in their shining armour, three times they circled around the mournful funeral fire on horseback, and gave tongue to loud lamentations; and the earth is besprinkled with their tears, (and) their armour is besprinkled too: the cries of men, and the blare of trumpets, goes up to the sky. Then, some fling on to the fire spoils stripped from slain Latins, helmets and handsome swords, bridles and red-hot wheels; others, familiar offerings, their own shields, and their luckless weapons. Round about (these), many heads of cattle are sacrificed to Death, and over the flames they cut the throats of bristling boars and flocks seized from every field. Then, they watch their comrades burning all along the shore, and keep guard over the charred pyres, and they cannot be torn away (from them), until the humid night comes rolling over the sky (which is) studded with blazing stars.  

b) The Latins burn their dead also, burying them on the third day. There is a strong feeling against Turnus in the city, aggravated by Drances, but Turnus has his supporters too (ll. 203-224).

No less did the wretched Latins also construct countless pyres in different places, and, of the many bodies of men, some they bury in the earth and some they lift up and carry to the neighbouring fields or send back to their city; the rest, a vast pile of indistinguishable slaughter, they burn without count and without honour: then, in all directions, the broad fields compete in shining with their clusters of fire. The third dawn had dispersed the chill shadow from the sky: grieving, they raked from the pyres the deep (pile of) ash and the intermingled bones, and heaped a mound of warm earth (on top). But now, the main (source of) the clamour and the chief centre of the prolonged lamentation (comes) from the houses in the city of the very rich Latinus. Here, the mothers and their wretched daughters-in-law, and the loving hearts of grieving sisters and of boys deprived of their fathers curse the dreadful war and Turnus' wedding (plans); they decree that he, himself, and only he, (the man) who demands the kingdom of Italy and its foremost honours, should decide (the issue) with his armour and sword. The furious Drances adds his weight to this, and bears witness that Turnus alone was summoned (by Aeneas), that (he) alone was challenged to combat. At the same time, (there are) many contrary opinions, with different arguments on behalf of Turnus, and the queen's great name (i.e. that of Amata) shelters (him), (while) his great fame, (earned) by the trophies he has won, gains the hero support.

5) AN ANSWER FROM ARPI (LL. 225-295).

a) The feeling is aggravated by the return of the deputation sent to Diomedes without success. A council is summoned, and the leader starts to report the result of his mission (ll. 225-242).

Amidst these disturbances, (and) in the middle of this fiery tumult, behold, on top of (everything else), his gloomy envoys bring an answer from the city of the great Diomedes (i.e. Arpi): nothing (had been) achieved despite all the great efforts they had expended, neither had their gifts, nor their gold, nor their heartfelt prayers availed anything, (but) the Latins must seek other arms or they must sue for peace with the Trojan king. Even King Latinus is overcome by his great grief: the anger of the gods, and the fresh graves before his eyes, warn (him) that Aeneas is brought (to them as a man) of destiny by the clear will of heaven. Therefore, he summons his high council and the leaders of his (people) by (royal) command, and gathers (them) within his lofty portals. They assembled, and flock to the royal palace through the crowded streets. Latinus, both the greatest in age and the foremost in authority, sits in their midst with a joyless brow. And he bids his envoys, (who have) returned from the Aetolian city, tell what (tidings) they bring back, and he demands full answers in their turn. Then, silence falls on (all) tongues, and Venulus, obedient  to his command, begins to speak as follows:

b) Diomedes warns the envoys, by his example and that of the other Greeks, and advises them to conciliate Aeneas, whose prowess he extols (ll. 243-295).

"O citizens, we have seen Diomedes and his Argive camp, and, (in) completing our journey, we have overcome all hazards, and have grasped the hand, by which the land of Ilium fell. (As) victor over the fields of Iapygia on (Mount) Garganus (i.e. in Apulia), he was (busy) founding the city of Argyripa (i.e. Arpi), named after his father's race. When we had entered, and the opportunity (was) given (to us) of speaking in his presence, we offer (him) our gifts and inform (him) of our name and country, of who has made war (upon us), (and) what reason has drawn (us) to Arpi. Having heard (us), he replied thus with a calm countenance: 'O happy peoples, from the realms of Saturn, ancient (sons of) Ausonia, what chance (event) disturbs your peace, and urges (you) to provoke warfare (in which you) lack experience? We, who violated the fields of Ilium with our swords - I omit those (things) which (were) endured to the end in the fighting beneath her high walls, (and) those warriors, whose (bodies) the famous (River) Simois (now) conceals - have suffered unspeakable tortures and every kind of punishment for our crimes throughout the world, a band (of men) worthy to be pitied even by Priam: Minerva's baleful star, and the crags of Euboea, and the avenging (Cape) Caphereus, bear witness to (it). Driven from that warfare to remote shores, Menelaus, the son of Atreus, is an exile as far as the Pillars of Proteus (i.e. the island of Pharos, off Alexandria in Egypt), (and) Ulysses has seen the Cyclopes of (Mount) Aetna. Even the Mycenaean leader of the mighty Achaeans (i.e. Agamemnon) died at the hand of his atrocious wife (i.e. Clytemnestra) as soon as (he was) over the threshold; an adulterer (i.e. Aegisthus) lay in wait for the conqueror of Asia. Need I speak of the kingdom of Neoptolemus and the household of Idomeneus being overthrown? Or of the Locrians living on the coast of Libya? Or of how the gods begrudged that, having returned to my native altars, I might see the wife I longed for and my lovely Calydon (i.e. Diomedes' birthplace in Aetolia)? Now even portents dreadful to see pursue (me), and my lost comrades, (like) birds, have made for the sky on their wings, and haunt the streams - alas! the dreadful sufferings of my (people) - and fill the rocks with their mournful cries. This was just (what) I had to expect from that moment, when, I madly attacked those celestial bodies with my sword and harmed Venus' hand with a wound. But do not, do not impel me into such conflicts (as these). I (do) not (have) any quarrel with the Teucrians, since Pergama (i.e. the citadel of Troy) (has been) demolished, nor do I think about, or rejoice over, those former unhappy (times). Direct the gifts which you bring to me from your native shores to Aeneas. I have stood against his fierce weapons and have fought (him) hand-to-hand: trust (one) who has experienced (it), how mightily he rises up upon his shield, (and) with what a whirlwind he hurls his spear. Moreover, if the land of Ida had borne two men such as (him), the Dardanian (i.e. the Trojans as a whole) would have come against the cities of Inachus (i.e. the cities of Greece in general) of his own accord, and Greece would be in mourning, with fate having been reversed. Whatever (time) was spent before the walls of stubborn Troy, the victory of the Greeks was checked by the hands of Hector and Aeneas, and our return was delayed to the tenth year. Both (were) renowned for their courage, both (were renowned) for their excellence in arms, (but) the latter (was) foremost in piety. May your hands be joined in a treaty, on whatever (terms) are offered; but beware lest your arms clash with (his) arms.' You have heard, noblest of kings, both what were the responses of the king at the time, and what his advice was on our great war."

6) LATINUS' PROPOSALS (LL. 296-335).

a) After Venulus' speech, Latinus prepares to speak to the assembly (ll. 296-301). 

Scarcely (had) the envoys (said) these (things), when a murmur of conflicting (opinions) ran across the troubled lips of the (sons of) Ausonia, like, when rocks obstruct rapidly flowing rivers, a roar rises from the blocked eddies, and the neighbouring banks echo with splashing waves. As soon as their minds (are) calm and their anxious lips are quiet, the King, calling first upon the gods, begins (to speak) from his lofty throne:

b) Latinus proposes that a part of his kingdom be assigned to the Trojans, or that they should fit out a fleet for them to go elsewhere; furthermore, he suggests that the envoys charged with bringing these proposals should carry gifts to Aeneas (ll. 302-335)

"Latins, I could have wished we had decided about this most important matter before (now), and it would have been better not to have convened a council at a time such as this, when the enemy is besieging our walls. Citizens, we are waging an ill-omened war with a race of divine origin, and with men (who are) unconquered, whom no battles can weary and (who) cannot relinquish the sword (even when they are) beaten. If you have any hope of winning an alliance with Aetolian arms, set (it) aside. Each one (of us has) his own hopes, but you can see how slender they (are). How all other (aspects) of our cause lie shattered in ruins, they are all before your eyes and within your grasp. I do not accuse anyone: what the greatest courage could achieve, has been done; we have fought with the utmost strength of the realm. So now , I shall explain what is the judgment of my wavering mind, and I shall outline (it) in  a few (words) - (so) pay attention! I have in my possession an ancient (piece of) land, bordering on the Tuscan river (i.e. the Tiber), (stretching) westward as far as the Sicanian borders; Auruncans and Rutulians sow (the seed) and work the stubborn hills with the ploughshare, and on the roughest of them they graze (animals). Let this whole region and its pine-clad zone of high mountains accrue to our friendship with the Teucrians, and let us spell out the just terms of a treaty and call (them) partners in our kingdom: let them settle (there), if such (is) their desire, and build a city. But, if they are of a mind to lay hold of other territories and another nation, and can leave our soil, let us construct twenty ships of Italian oak; or, if they can fill more, all the timber lies close to the water; let them prescribe both the number and the type of their ships themselves, (and) let us deliver the bronze, the labour, (and) the  shipyards. Furthermore, to bear the news and seal the treaty, I would have a hundred envoys, Latins from the foremost families, go forth, holding branches of peace in their hands, (and) bearing gifts, both talents of gold and ivory, and a throne and a robe (as) symbols of our sovereignty. (Now) consult together and repair our tired fortunes."

7) DRANCES ATTACKS TURNUS VERBALLY (LL. 336-375).

(Drances delivers a violent invective against Turnus, declaring his pretensions to be the cause of all their difficulties, bidding him either to abandon them or support them in single-combat, and urging Latinus to offer his daughter in marriage to Aeneas.)

Then, Drances, whom the glory of Turnus tormented with the stings of secret envy, lavish with his money, rather good with his tongue, but his hand (was) frozen in battle, being no mean author of advice (and) powerful in faction - his mother's nobility granted him his proud lineage, but from his father he drew a doubtful (status) -, rises, as hostile (to Turnus) as before, and heaps up and stokes the anger (against him) with these words: "O gracious king, you are discussing a matter not unclear to anyone and not in need of our voice: everyone acknowledges that they know what the people's prosperity requires, but they hesitate to say (it). Let (that man), on account of whose ill-starred leadership and perverse ways - yes, I shall speak, though he may threaten me with violence and death - we see that so many of our leaders' (shining) lights have fallen and that our whole city has sunk in mourning, while, trusting in flight, he assails the Trojan camp and frightens heaven with his weapons, (let) him grant freedom of speech and abate his puffed-up pride. May you add one more to those many gifts, which you order to be sent or promised to the Dardanians, one (more), most excellent king, and let no man's violence intimidate you from giving your daughter, (as) a father (may do), to a distinguished son-in-law in a worthy marriage, and may you associate this peace with a lasting contract. But if such terror takes hold of our minds and hearts, let us entreat (the prince) himself (i.e. Turnus) and let us beg a favour from him: let him yield, (and) give back to his king and country their proper rights. O (you who are) the source and cause of these woes to Latium, why do you so often hurl your (fellow-)citizens into such obvious dangers? (There is) no safety (for us) in war; we are all demanding peace from you, Turnus, together with the only inviolable pledge of peace. I, first (of all), whom you suppose to be hostile to you (and I do not contest that I am), see, I come (as) your suppliant. Pity your (people), set aside your pride, and, beaten (as you are), give way. Routed, we have seen enough of death, and have left our broad fields desolate. But if your reputation moves (you), if you harbour such strength (of feeling) in your heart, and, if a palace (as) your dowry is so dear (to you), be bold and bear your breast with confidence to meet your foe. Of course, we, (whose) lives (are) worthless, can be strewn over the fields, an unburied and unlamented mob, (can't we)? (But) you, too, if you (have) any strength, if you possess any of your father's martial spirit, look face-to-face at him who challenges (you) ...."

 8) TURNUS REPLIES (LL. 376-444).

a) Turnus replies furiously to Drances, whose cowardice he contrasts with his own valour (ll. 376-409).

At these remarks, Turnus' violent (wrath) blazed forth; he gives a groan, and, from the bottom of his heart, gives vent to these words: "Drances, it's true that you always (have) a large amount to say whenever war calls for men, and, when the council is called, you are the first to appear. But there is no need to fill the council-house with words, which fly so splendidly from your (lips so long as you are) safe, while the rampart on the walls holds back the enemy, and the trenches are not (yet) overflowing with blood. So, thunder on in your eloquence, [as you (are) accustomed (to do)], Drances, and accuse me of cowardice, when your right (hand) has produced so many mounds of dead Teucrians, and you adorn the fields everywhere with trophies. You are free to try out what lively courage can (do), and we certainly do not need to look very far for enemies: they are surrounding our walls on every side. Are we going against our enemies? Why do you hesitate? Will your warlike spirit always remain in your windy words and those run-away feet of yours? I, beaten, (you say)? (You), foulest (of villains), shall anyone who takes the trouble to look at the Tiber flowing, swollen with Trojan blood, and all Evander's house and stock (i.e. Pallas) laid prostrate, and all his Arcadians stripped of their arms, rightly claim that (I am) beaten? Not so did Bitias and the giant Pandarus experience me, nor (did) the thousand (men) whom I, as victor, sent down to Tartarus (i.e. Hell), shut in, though I was, within their walls and enclosed by enemy ramparts. 'There is no safety in war,' (you say)? Say such (things), (you) madman, about the Dardanian's life and your own possessions. Go on then, do not cease to disturb everything with your great alarms, and extol the strengths of a twice conquered race (i.e. by Hercules and then by the Greeks), (while) on the other hand you decry the arms of Latinus. Now even the chiefs of the Myrmidons, now even the son of Tydeus (i.e. Diomedes) and Larisaean Achilles, shudder at the arms of the Phrygians, and the River Aufidus flows upstream away from the Adriatic waves. Or (what about) when he pretends that he is afraid to face my taunts - the act of a scoundrel - and he aggravates the charge (against me) with (false) fear. Never will you lose a soul such as yours through this right (arm); so stop worrying: let it stay with you and remain within that (craven) breast of yours.

b) Then, turning to Latinus, Turnus pleads that a reverse in a single battle may well be retrieved, and that they have many allies, who may yet do much to help them; he adds, however, that he is quite prepared to meet Aeneas in single combat (ll. 410-444).

"Now, father, I return to you and your weighty proposals. If you place no further hope in our arms, if we are so forsaken, and, when our army has suffered a defeat on (but) one occasion, we are utterly destroyed, and our fortune has no power to retrace its steps, let us pray for peace, and stretch forth our helpless hands. And yet, if only some of our wonted valour were present! The man (who) to me (is) both happy in his labours and noble in his spirit (is he) who, lest he should see any such (thing) as this, has fallen in death and has bitten the dust with his mouth once (and for all). But if we still have the means and a manhood still intact, and the cities and peoples of Italy continue in our support, and if glory has come to the Trojans too at the cost of much bloodshed - they (too) have their deaths and a similar storm (has swept) through all (their ranks) - why do we lose (heart) so shamefully at the (very) first threshold? Why does trembling seize our limbs before the trumpet (sounds)? Time, and the shifting toil of changing years, has altered many (things) for the better; Fortune, revisiting many (a man) in alternate forms, has mocked (him) and (then) set (him) on solid (ground) again. The Aetolian (i.e. Diomedes) and Arpi will not be of any help to us: but Messapus and lucky Tolumnius and (all) those leaders, whom so many peoples have sent, will be (of help), and no small glory will attend (those) chosen by Latium and the Laurentine fields. We, also, have Camilla from the glorious nation of the Volscians, leading her troop of horsemen and her squadrons blooming with bronze. But if the Teucrians call me only to combat, and that is acceptable (to you), and I am obstructing the common good so much, Victory has not shunned these hands of mine with such hatred, that I should refuse to face anything for a hope so great. I shall go against (him) with courage, even though he should excel mighty Achilles, and wear armour matching (his), wrought by the hands of Vulcan. I, Turnus, not inferior in valour to any of my ancestors, have dedicated this life (of mine) to (all of) you, and to my father-in-law Latinus. 'Aeneas challenges (me) alone,' you say? I, too, pray that he challenges (me); and that, if this (crisis) involves the wrath of the gods, (it is) not Drances rather (than I who) appeases (them) with his death, or that, if there is (an opportunity here for displaying) valour and (winning) glory, (it is not) he (rather than I who) rises (to it)."

9. THE TROJANS ATTACK (LL. 445-531).

a) An alarm is given that Aeneas is marching on the city. Turnus breaks up the assembly and gives orders for defence and attack (ll. 445-467)

Arguing thus, they were discussing among themselves those matters (which were) in doubt: (meanwhile) Aeneas was moving his camp and his battle-line. Behold, a messenger runs through the royal palace amid a wild uproar, and fills the city with great alarms: (he cries out) that the Teucrians and the Tyrrhenian war-band, drawn up in battle array, are sweeping down over the whole plain. Immediately, the minds of the people (are) confused, and their hearts shaken, and their passions (are) aroused by these far from gentle goads. Shaking their fists, they call for their arms, (and) the young men shout for their weapons, (but) their fathers weep in sadness and murmur (doubtfully). Then, a loud noise, with various (voices of) dissent, rises to the heavens, just as when flocks of birds chance to have settled in some tall grove, or swans give their hoarse sounds among noisy pools by Padusa's fish-filled river. "O yes, my (fellow-)citizens," cries Turnus, seizing his moment, "convene your council and sit there, praising peace: with their weapons, they are invading our kingdom." Saying no more, he sprang up, and strode forth from the lofty palace. "Volusus, bid the companies of Volscians arm themselves," he cries, "and lead out the Rutulians. Messapus and Coras, with your brother (i.e. Catillus), deploy the cavalry over the wide plain. Let some guard the entrance to the city and man the towers; let the rest attack with me (by a route) which I shall direct."

b) Latinus retires in despair. Queen Amata and Lavinia go with a train of matrons to the temple of Pallas, and pray for the defeat and death of Aeneas (ll. 468-485). 

At once, there is a rush to the walls from all over the city. Father Latinus, himself, abandons the council and his momentous designs, and, dismayed by the sadness of the hour, he postpones (it), and he reproaches himself many times because he has not welcomed Dardanian Aeneas of his own accord, and admitted him to the city (as) his son-in-law. Some dig (trenches) in front of the gates, or carry up stones and stakes (on to the defences). The harsh (sound of) the trumpet gives the bloody signal for war. Then, women and boys in a motley circle fringed the walls; the ultimate test summons (them) all. Moreover, the queen, with a large crowd of women, rides up to the temple and the great citadel of Pallas, bearing gifts, and beside (her as) a companion (is) the maiden Lavinia, the source of so much trouble, with her beautiful eyes downcast. The women go in, and fumigate the temple with incense, and they pour out their sorrowful prayers from the high threshold: "(O) Tritonian Maid, mighty in arms, who presides over war, shatter with your hand the spear of the Phrygian pirate and lay him prostrate on the ground and throw (him) down beneath your own high gates."

c) Turnus arms himself and hastens to the battle-field (ll. 486-497).

With feverish zeal, Turnus arms himself for battle. And now indeed, having donned his glowing breastplate, he was bristling in his bronze scales, and had sheathed the calves (of his legs) in gold, (though) his temples (were) still bare, and he had buckled his sword to his side; he shone with gold as he ran down from the heights of the citadel, and he exults in his courage, and in his hopes he already anticipates the foe; (it is) just like when a horse, breaking his tether, has fled his stalls, (and,) free at last and master of the open plains, he either heads for the pastures and the herds of mares, or, accustomed to being bathed in water in a familiar river, he dashes off, and, with his head raised high, he neighs in delight, and his mane frolics over his neck and shoulders.

d) Turnus is met by Camilla, who offers to go and meet the Trojans while he protects the city. He suggests that she should meet the Trojan cavalry, while he occupies a mountain pass, along which the Trojan infantry are coming (ll. 498-521). 

Camilla sped to meet him, accompanied by her Volscian troops, and the queen leapt down from her horse near by the very gates, and her whole company, following her example, got off their horses and slid down to the ground; then she speaks the following (words): "Turnus, if the brave rightly have some confidence in themselves, I venture and promise to meet the cavalry of Aeneas' army, and to go alone to meet with the Tyrrhenian horsemen. Let me try the war's first perils with my hand, (while) you stay on foot by the walls and guard the ramparts." To these (words) Turnus, fixing his eyes on the awe-inspiring maiden, (replies): "O maiden, glory of Italy, what thanks should I prepare to utter or to repay (in deeds)? But now, since your spirit surpasses all (bounds), share this toil with me. As rumour reports, and (as) scouts (who have been) sent out (provide) confirmation, that evil (man), Aeneas, has sent ahead his lightly-armed cavalry in order to scour the plains; he, himself, climbing the ridge, is advancing rapidly through the desolate heights of the mountain towards the city. I am preparing an ambush on an over-arched pathway through the woods, so as to block both entrances to the pass with an armed force. When battle has been joined, you must await the Tyrrhenian cavalry (charge); brave Messapus will be with you, and also the Latin squadrons and Tiburtus' contingent, (but) you, too, must take charge as leader." So he speaks, and exhorts Messapus and the allied leaders to battle with similar words, and (then) proceeds against the foe.

e) Turnus prepares to ambush Aeneas' forces (ll. 522-531).

There is a valley with a winding bend, suitable for the delusions and tricks of war, which a dark side (wall) of dense foliage hems in on both sides, (and) to which a tiny path leads, and a narrow pass and an awkward approach brings (you). Above it, among the watch-towers on the high mountain tops, lies a hidden plateau and a safe refuge, whether you are minded to charge from the right (side) or the left, or to take a stand on the ridge and roll down huge boulders. Hither the warrior hastens by a well-known network of roads, and he took up his position and occupied the treacherous woods.

10) DIANA' S CONCERN FOR CAMILLA (LL. 532-596).

a) Diana tells Opis, one of her nymphs, the story of Camilla, who had been brought up by her father, the exiled tyrant of Privernum (ll. 532-556).

Meanwhile, in heaven's halls, Latona's daughter (i.e. Diana) was addressing swift Opis, one of her maiden companions and (a member of) of her sacred band, and spoke these words of sorrow with her lips: "O, our virgin Camilla, dear to me before (all) others, is marching to that cruel war, and is vainly girding on our arms. For this (is) no new love (that) has comes upon Diana, nor has it stirred my heart with a sudden sweetness. When Metabus, driven from his throne on account of the hatred (aroused) by his tyrannical (use of) power, was leaving the ancient city of Privernum, as he fled right through the midst of the conflicts of war, he took (with him) his infant (child as) his companion in exile, and, from her mother's name, Casmilla, (which he) changed slightly, he called (her) Camilla. Carrying (her) before him on his breast, he, himself, made for a long ridge of lonely forests: fierce weapons assailed (him) on every side, and the Volscians, their troops having surrounded (him), were hovering about. Behold, in the midst of their flight, the (River) Amasenus overflowed and foamed over the top of its banks; so great a downpour had burst from the clouds. He, preparing to swim across, is held back by love of his child, and he fears for his beloved burden. Pondering all (options) within himself, this idea suddenly settled (on him). The giant spear, solid with knots and (made) of seasoned oak, which the warrior chanced to be carrying in his stout hand, to this he fastens his daughter, and he wraps (her) in the bark of a forest cork-tree, and ties (her) handily (i.e. so that it would be possible to throw her) to the centre of the spear-shaft: (then,) poising it in his mighty right (hand), he cries out thus to the heavens:

b) Having been saved her by her father throwing her across the River Amasenus attached to a spear-shaft, Camilla was brought up by him in the woods, and becomes a virgin huntress attached to weapons of war. Diana bids Opis keep an eye on her and avenge her if she should fall (ll. 557-596).

'Gracious virgin, daughter of Latona, who dwells in the woods, I, her very own father, dedicate this (child) as your servant; holding her first weapon, she flees the foe through the air (as) your suppliant. Accept, goddess, (as) your own, I implore (you), this (child), who is now committed to the hazards of the breezes.' He spoke, and, drawing back his arm, he launches the spinning spear-shaft: the waters roared, (as) poor Camilla flees on the whistling spear over the top of that rushing river. But Metabus, with a great crowd (of his enemies) now pressing (him) closely, gives himself to the stream, and plucks victoriously from the grassy turf the spear and the (little) maid, (as) his offering to Trivia (i.e. Diana). No city would accept him within their houses or their walls - nor would he, in his wild state, have yielded himself (to them); and he passed his time among shepherds on lonely mountains. Here, among the thickets and the rugged lairs (of wild beasts), he nourished his daughter at the udders of a mare of the herd, and on the milk of wild creatures, squeezing their teats between her tender lips. As soon as the infant had taken the first steps on her feet, he placed a pointed lance in her hands, and hung a quiver and a bow from her small shoulder. In place of a golden headband and the covering of a long robe, the pelts of a tiger hang from her head across her back. Even at that time, she hurled her child's spear with a tender hand, and whirled a sling around her head with a well-twisted thong, and brought down a Strymonian crane and a white swan (with it). Many a mother throughout the towns of Tyrrhenia longed for her (as) a daughter-in-law in vain. Content with Diana alone, she cherishes, untouched, a lifelong love of her weapons and of her virginity. I could have wished that she had not been caught up in warfare such as this, trying to challenge the Teucrians: and that she were still my darling and one of my companions. But, come now, since she is driven by a merciless fate, slip down, nymph, from the sky, and take a look at the Latin territories, where sad battle is being joined under an unlucky omen. Take these (i.e. her bow and arrows), and draw from this quiver an avenging arrow: with this, may anyone, Trojan or Italian, who violates her body with a wound, pay an equal penalty in his blood. Afterwards, I shall carry the body and the unspoiled arms of the hapless (maid) to her tomb in a hollow mist, and I shall bury (her) in her native land." She spoke, and the other (i.e. Opis) slipped down through the light breezes of the sky, and she made a whirring sound, her form surrounded by a dark whirlwind.

11) THE ARMIES ENGAGE (LL. 597-647).

a) The Rutulian and Trojan cavalry meet in battle (ll. 597-617).

But, meanwhile, the Trojan war-band and the Etruscan chieftains and all their array of cavalry, marshalled by number into squadrons, draw near to the walls. The war-horse neighs, as it prances over the whole plain, and it fights against its tight reins, wheeling this way and that; then, steely with spears, the field bristles far and wide, and the plains shine with weapons raised aloft. On the other side too, Messapus and the speedy Latins, and Coras with his brother, and the virgin Camilla's (cavalry) wing appear on the plain in opposition, and, drawing their right (arms) far back, they thrust their spears forward and shake their javelins; the movements of men and the neighing of horses grow hotter. And now, each (group of cavalry) had halted in its advance, within a spear's throw (of the other): (then,) with a sudden shout, they burst forth and spur on their maddened horses; spears (as) thick as snow-flakes pour down at once from all sides, and the sky is covered in darkness. Immediately, Tyrrhenus and brave Aconteus, striving with levelled spears, charge (each other), and, (are) the first (to) fall upon (each other) with a mighty crash, and the breast-bones of their galloping horses (are) fractured and break on the breast-bones (of the other): Aconteus, dispatched like a thunderbolt or a weight shot from a siege-engine, falls headlong some distance away (from his horse), and disperses his life among the breezes.

b) After various advances and retreats, they engage in earnest (ll. 618-647).

At once, the ranks waver, and the routed Latins throw their shields over their shoulders, and turn their horses towards the walls. The Trojans pursue (the Latins); their chieftain Asilas leads their squadrons against (them). And now they were approaching the gates, and the Latins again raise a shout, and turn their (horses') supple necks around again: they (i.e. the Trojans) flee and retreat with the reins completely slackened. As when the ocean, advancing with alternate flood, now rushes towards land, dashing over the rocks, with foaming wave, and drenching the furthest shore with its swell, now it flees rapidly backwards, sucking back again pebbles sent spinning by its tide its tide, and leaving dry sand as its shallows ebb: twice the Tuscans drove the routed Rutulians to the walls, twice, having been repulsed, they look back, covering their backs with their armour. But, when they met in a third encounter, their lines locked together along their whole (length), and man chose man: then, indeed, (there are) the groans of the dying and arms and bodies, deep in blood, and half-dead horses roll around, intermingled with the carnage of men, (as) the battle swells fiercely. Orsilochus hurled a lance at Remulus' horse, since he shrank from approaching the (man) himself, and the steel(-point) remained behind its ear. The rearing charger rages at this blow, and, unable to bear the wound, raises its chest and flings its fore-legs on high; knocked off (his horse), the man (i.e. Remulus) rolls on the ground. Catillus strikes down Iollas, and Herminius, mighty in courage (and) mighty in body and shoulders, who (has) tawny hair on his bare head and bare shoulders, as he has no fear of wounds; so great (is the front) he exposes to the weapons (of the enemy). The spear quivers as it is driven through his broad shoulders, and, having been thrust through (him), doubles the man up with pain. Dark blood pours everywhere; clashing with swords, they dealt destruction, and seek a glorious death through their wounds.

12) CAMILLA IN ACTION (LL. 648-724).

a) Camilla's fighting practices; her companions (ll. 648-663).

But, in the midst of the slaughter, Camilla, wearing her quiver, exults, (like) an Amazon, (with) one breast bared for battle; and now she hurls volleys of vibrating javelins from her hand, now she tirelessly snatches up a battle-axe in her hand; a golden bow, Diana's weapon too, twangs from her shoulder. And even if she has withdrawn, when pressed from behind, she reverses her bow and aims arrows in her flight. And around (her are) her chosen  companions, the maiden Larina, Tulla, and Tarpeia, brandishing her axe, daughters of Italy, whom godlike Camilla, herself, chose (as) an ornament to her, trusty servants both in peace and in war: such (are) the Amazons of Thrace, when they tread the streams of Thermodon (i.e. the river of Pontus, the home of the Amazons) and fight with painted armour, whether around Hippolyte, or, when Penthesilea, the daughter of Mars, returns in her chariot, and the ranks of women, with their crescent-shaped shields, exult in a loud whooping noise.

b) The actions of Camilla: she kills many of the Trojans and their allies by arrow or spear (ll.664-689).

Whom do you strike down first with your spear, whom last, (you) fierce maiden? Or how many bodies do you stretch dying on the ground? The first (is) Eunaeus, fathered by Clytius, whose exposed breast, as he faces up (to her), she transfixes with a (shaft of) pine-wood: he falls, spewing up streams of blood, and bites the gory dust and, as he dies, he writhes upon his wound. Then, (she strikes down) Liris, and Pagasus as well, the first of whom, while he gathers up the reins as he rolls off his injured horse, (and) the other, while he comes up and stretches out an unharmed hand to (assist) the falling (man), and they fall headlong together. To these she adds Amastrus, the son of Hippotas, and, looming over (them) from afar, she pursues Tereus and Harpalycus, Demophoon and Chromis with her spear. And, as many as the darts that the maiden sent spinning from her hand, so many Phrygian warriors fell. The huntsman Ornytus rides afar off in novel armour and on an Iapygian (i.e. Apulian) horse, and a hide stripped from a bullock covers his broad shoulders when fighting, (while) the huge cleft of a wolf's mouth and its jaws with white teeth have protected his head, and a rustic hunting spear is in his hands; he, himself, moves along in the centre of the troops, and he towers above (them) by a full head. She caught up with him - for no (great) effort (was required) when the column had been routed - and stabbed (him), and says these (words) over (him) with hate in her heart: "Did you think you were chasing wild beasts in the forests, Tyrrhenian? The day is come which will refute your words with a woman's weapons. But you will carry no mean fame to your fathers' shades for this (reason), that you fell to Camilla's spear."

c) Camilla kills two further Trojan warriors, the second one by the use of her battle-axe (ll. 690-698). 

Next, (she slays) Orsilochus and Butes, two of the Teucrians with the mightiest bodies, but she pierced Butes with her lance in the back, between his breastplate and helmet, where the neck of the rider is visible, and (while) his shield hangs from his left arm; fleeing Orsilochus, and being chased in a wide circle, she outmanoeuvres (him by) wheeling inwards, and (now) pursues her pursuer; then, rising higher (in the saddle), she redoubles (the blows of) her powerful axe through his armour and bones, while the man begs and many times beseeches (her) for mercy; the wounding bespatters his face with warm brains.

d) Then, one of her enemies induces her to dismount, and attempts to escape on horseback; but she overtakes and kills him (ll. 699-724).

There falls in her (way), and, terrified at the sudden sight (of her), he came to a standstill, the warrior son of Aunus, a dweller in the Appennines, not the least of the Ligurians, while fate allowed (him) to deceive. When he sees that he cannot now evade combat by any fleetness, nor divert the queen from her pursuit, he begins to devise a stratagem with craft and guile, and speaks as follows: "What is so wonderful (about you), woman, if you rely on a strong horse? Forget flight, and trust yourself (to meet) with me hand-to-hand on equal ground, and gird (yourself) to fight on foot. You will soon know to whom windy boasting brings deception." He spoke, but she, raging and burning with bitter resentment, hands over her horse to a comrade, and faces (him) with matching weapons, on foot (and) fearless, with a naked sword and a plain (i.e. unemblazoned) shield. But the young man, thinking that he has won through guile, himself darts away - without delay - and, tugging at the reins, he takes to flight, and goads his charger to the gallop with an iron spur. "Foolish Ligurian, vainly puffed up by your boastful spirits, you have tried your slippery native tricks in vain, and cunning will not take you home to deceitful Aunus unscathed!" Thus cries the maiden, and, on fire on her nimble feet, she outstrips his horse in running, and, seizing the reins, she meets (him) face-to-face and takes vengeance from his hated blood: as easily as a falcon, a sacred bird (i.e. sacred to Apollo, god of augury) on a high rock, overtakes a dove, aloft in a cloud on its wings, and, holding (it) in its grasp, disembowels (it) with its hooked talons; then, blood and torn feathers float down from the sky.

13) TARCHON TAKES ACTION; AND ARRUNS PURSUES CAMILLA (LL. 725-767).

a) Jupiter prompts Tarchon to vigorous action. Having upbraided his troops, he rides against one of the enemy, and, seizing him in his arms, carries him off on his horse (ll. 725-759).

But the Father of men and gods sits enthroned on high Olympus, watching these (things) with not inattentive eyes: the Father stirs the Tyrrhenian Tarchon to fierce battle, and incites (him) to rage with no gentle spurs. So, Tarchon rides on his horse amid the slaughter and the retreating ranks, and goads his cavalry squadrons with various shouts, calling each (man) by name, and he rallies the routed into battle. "What fear, what sheer cowardice has come upon your hearts, (O you who are) never likely to feel shame, O (you) ever sluggish Tyrrhenians? Does a woman drive (you) into disarray, and put these ranks (of yours) to flight? For what (reason do you have) a sword, and why do we bear these useless spears in our hands? But you are not sluggish (when it comes) to love-making and nocturnal forays, nor when the curved pipe proclaims the Bacchic dances. Wait for the feasts and the cups on the loaded tables - this (is) your passion, this (is) your love  - while the favouring seer reports the sacred omens and the rich sacrifice calls (you) into the deep groves!" Thus speaking, (and) ready to die himself too, he spurs his horse into the midst (of the fray) and rushes straight at Venulus, and, having dragged (him) from his horse, he clasps his enemy to his chest with his right (arm) and, stirring himself to a mighty effort, he carries (him) off. A roar rises to the sky, and all the Latins turned their eyes (in that direction). Tarchon flies over the plain (like) lightning, carrying weapons and man; then, he breaks off the the iron (point) from the tip of his spear and searches for an exposed place where he may deal a deadly wound; the other, struggling against him, keeps (his enemy's) hand away from his throat, and meets force with force. And, as when a tawny eagle, soaring on high, carries a snake it has caught, and it has entwined its feet (around it) and clung (to it) with its claws, but the snake twists its sinuous coils, and bristles with its scales protruding, and it hisses with its mouth as it rises up, (but,) nonetheless, (the eagle) assails its struggling (prey) with its hooked beak, (and) beats the air with its wings at the same time: in just this way does Tarchon joyfully carry his prey from the Tiber's ranks. Following their leader's example and achievement, the Maeonidae (i.e. the Etruscans) attack.

b) Arruns plans to follow Camilla (ll. 759-767).

Then, Arruns, (a man) owed to fate, first encircles swift Camilla with his javelin and with great cunning, and and tries what would be the easiest of opportunities. Wherever the maiden rode in her fury through the midst of the ranks, there Arruns steals up and silently scans her steps; where she returns victorious and retires from the enemy, there the youth secretly turns his swift reins. (He tries) this approach, and now that approach, and roams everywhere over the whole circuit, and he persistently brandishes his unerring spear.

14) THE DEATH OF CAMILLA (LL. 768-835).

a) Arruns awaits his opportunity to throw a spear at Camilla, and prays to Apollo for success (ll. 768-793).

Chloreus, sacred to (Mount) Cybelus, and once a priest, happened to be shining from afar in his splendid Phrygian armour, and spurred his foam-flecked steed, which a horse-cloth, with bronze scales for its plumes (and) fastened with golden (buckles), protected. He, himself, shining in an exotic dark-red and purple hue, fired Gortynian (i.e. Cretan) arrows from a Lycian bow; the bow on his shoulders was golden, and golden (was) the seer's helmet; now, he had compressed his saffron cloak and its rustling linen folds into a knot by a (brooch) of yellow (gold), and had embroidered his tunic and barbarous leg coverings (i.e. trousers) with golden (thread). In order to hang up his Trojan arms in a temple or to flaunt herself in captured gold, the virgin huntress was blindly pursuing him alone out of all the press of battle, and was recklessly raging through all the ranks with a woman's desire for booty and spoils, when Arruns, finally seizing the moment, rouses his spear from (his place of) ambush, and prays thus to the gods above in a (loud) voice: "Apollo, highest of gods, guardian of holy Soracte (i.e. a mountain in Etruria, on the top of which was a temple of Apollo), whose chief worshippers we are, (and) in whose (honour) a pine-wood blaze is fed by a heap (of wood), (while) we, (as) your votaries trusting in our faith even through the midst of the fire, set down our footsteps firmly on the embers, grant, (O) Father Almighty, that this disgrace (i.e. the success of Camilla) be effaced by our arms. I seek no plunder nor trophy of the maid's defeat, nor any spoils - other deeds will bring me fame: yet, let this dreadful scourge fall stricken beneath my blow, (and) I shall return to the cities of my native-land inglorious."

b) Apollo grants Arruns' prayer (ll. 794-798).

Phoebus heard (him), and in his decision granted that a part of his prayer should be successful, (but) he dispersed the (other) part among the fleeting breezes: he assents to the prayer that he might surprise and overthrow Camilla in sudden death; (but) he did not grant that his lofty native-land should see (him) returned, and the gales turned over his words to the Southerly Winds.

c) The spear pierces Camilla, who sinks and dies; the Trojans are inspired and redouble their efforts (ll. 799-835).

So, as the spear gave a (whistling) sound, as it was dispatched from his hand through the air, all the Volscians turned their attention and raised their eyes intently towards the queen. (She,) herself, (was) aware of nothing, neither winds, nor sounds, nor the weapon coming from the sky, until the spear pierced (her) and lodged beneath her naked breast, and, driven deep, drank of her virgin's blood. Her comrades rush (to her) anxiously, and catch their falling mistress. Arruns, more alarmed than (all) the rest, flees in fear mixed with joy, and he does not now dare to trust his spear further, nor face the virgin's weapons. And, just as that wolf that has killed a shepherd or a large bullock immediately hides itself out of the way among the high mountains, before the hostile spears pursue (it), (and,) conscious of its audacious deed, and drooping its tail, he tucks (it) quivering beneath its belly, and makes for the woods: just so did Arruns, in turmoil, withdraw himself from sight, and, happy to escape, he immersed himself in the midst of the armed throng. Dying, she tugs at the weapon with her hand, but the iron point is fixed deep in the wound between her bones near the ribs: she sinks back, bloodless, her eyes chill with death, (and) her once radiant colour has left her face. Then, (while) she breathes her last, she addresses thus Acca, one of her peers, (and) faithful to Camilla before (all) the others, who (was) the only (one) with whom she shared her cares; and so she utters these (words): "Till now, sister Acca, I have been strong: (but) now this bitter wound overcomes me, and everything around (me) grows dark with shadows. Hurry away, and bear these latest instructions of mine to Turnus: let him take my place in the battle, and keep the Trojans away from the city. And now, farewell!" At the same time as she said these (words), she was letting go of the reins, (and,) despite all her efforts, slipping to the ground. Then, (growing) cold, she gradually freed herself completely from her body, and laid down her nerveless neck and her head, (which had been) seized by death, (and) relinquishes her weapons, and, with a groan, her life flees resentfully to the shades below. Then, indeed, an enormous uproar rises up and strikes the golden stars: with Camilla having fallen, the battle intensifies; all the host of Teucrians, the Tyrrhenian chieftains, and Evander's and the Arcadian squadrons rush forward together in a mass.

15) OPIS TAKES REVENGE (LL. 836-915).

a) Opis mourns Camilla, and takes aim at Arruns, who falls in the moment of his triumph and dies uncared for (ll. 836-867).


Meanwhile, Trivia's sentinel, Opis, has long been seated high among the mountain peaks, and watches the fighting fearlessly. And, when she saw in the distance, in the midst of the clamour of raging warriors, that Camilla (had been) punished by  a sad death, she sighed, and uttered these words from the depths of her heart: "Alas! Too (cruel), too cruel (is) the penalty you have paid, maiden, (for) trying to challenge the Teucrians in war! It has not helped that, living alone in the woods, you worshipped Diana, or that you bore our arrows on your shoulder. Yet, your queen has not left you without honour, even in the extremity of death, neither will your death be without renown among the nations, nor will you suffer the report of being unavenged. For whoever violated your body with that wound shall pay the price of a deserved death." The vast tomb of Decennus, an ancient Laurentine king, (built) of a mound of earth and covered with shadowy holm-oak, stood beneath a high mountain; here the goddess, most beautiful in her swift motion, first appears, and espies Arruns from this lofty barrow. When she saw (him) shining in his armour and swelling with pride, she cries out, "Why are you going so far away? Turn your steps in this direction, come here, you who are due to die, to receive a reward (which is) worthy of Camilla. Shall you, too, die by Diana's darts? She spoke, and (then) the Thracian (nymph) plucked a winged arrow from her gold-plated quiver and stretched her bow with hostile intent, and drew (it) far back until its curved ends met each other, and now with level hands she touched the steel tip with her left, (and) her breast with her right and with the bow-string. Immediately, Arruns heard the hissing dart and the whirring air at the same time, and the steel stuck fast in his body. Oblivious, his comrades leave him, breathing his last and groaning in his extremity in the unknown dust of the plain; Opis is carried on her wings back to heavenly Olympus.

b) There is a general rout of the Rutulians, who fly to the town. The gates are closed, and many perish miserably outside. Even the women, in desperation, attempt to defend the wall (ll.868-895).

With their mistress having been lost, Camilla's light squadron is the first to flee; the Rutulians flee in confusion; brave Atinas flees, and scattered chieftains and abandoned troops seek safety, and, wheeling their horses around, they direct (them) horses towards the walls. No one can check with their weapons, or stand against, the death-dealing Teucrians, who are hard on their heels, but they sling their unstrung bows on their drooping shoulders, and the hooves of their horses shake the crumbling plain in their gallop. Murky dust in a black cloud rolls towards the walls, and from the watch-towers, mothers, beating their breasts, raise a womanish cry to the stars of heaven. Blending their ranks, the enemy throng presses hard upon those, who first broke through the open gates at full speed, nor do they escape a wretched death, but even in the gateway, on their native city-walls, and within the shelter of their homes, (they are) stabbed and gasp away their lives. Some close the gates: and they do not dare to open a way for their comrades, not to receive (them) within the walls, despite their entreaties, and a most pitiful slaughter arises of (those) defending the entrance with their arms and of (those) rushing right on to the weapons. Some, shut out before the eyes and faces of their weeping parents, with the rout driving (them), roll headlong into the ditches; others, blindly charging with loosened reins, batter at the gates and the unyielding barrier of the doors. The mothers, themselves, in keenest rivalry, when they saw Camilla, throw weapons from the walls with trembling hands, and, in their haste, do the work of steel with poles of tough oak and stakes hardened by fire, and burn (to be) the first to die in defence of the walls.

c) Acca takes the news of Camilla's death to Turnus, who breaks up his ambush and hastens to the city. Immediately afterwards Aeneas comes up, passes the defile safely, and marches towards the city himself. Night, however, prevents an engagement (ll. 896-915). 

Meanwhile, in the forests the most woeful message comes with all its force to (the ears of) Turnus, and Acca gives the warrior the news of the terrible disaster: that the Volscian ranks (have been) destroyed, that Camilla has fallen, that the enemy are advancing fiercely and have swept all before (them) in triumphant warfare, and that panic has already reached the city. In wild frenzy, he (i.e. Turnus) abandons the hills which he had been blockading - so Jupiter's stern will demands - (and) leaves the wild woodlands. He had scarcely passed from their sight and reached the plain, when father Aeneas, having entered the (now) unguarded pass, both mounts the ridge and emerges from the dark woods. So, they both march towards the walls, swiftly and in full force, and they are not separated from each other by any long distance; and, at the very same moment, Aeneas viewed from afar the plain smoking with dust, and saw the Laurentine  columns (i.e. the Latins and the Rutulians), and Turnus recognised Aeneas in arms and heard the marching of feet and the snorting of horses. They would have entered the fray at once, and essayed the test of battle, if ruddy Phoebus (i.e. the Sun) had not already bathed his weary steeds in the Iberian flood (i.e. the Atlantic Ocean) and, as the day ebbed, brought back the night. They make camp before the city, and fortify their defences.





APPENDIX: Prosodic and grammatical features contained in Aeneid Book XI.

1) Examples of the retained accusative with a passive verb:

In the examples given below, the relevant accusatives are underlined. These accusatives are either examples of a passive participle being used in the sense of the middle voice in Greek, or an accusative of respect relating to parts of the body:

l. 35.  Iliades crinem ... solutae: the women of Ilium, their hair loosened (lit. having been loosened in respect of their hair) ...

l. 480.  virgo ... oculos deiecta decoros: the maiden with her beautiful eyes cast down (lit. cast down in respect of her beautiful eyes) ...

l. 487.  rutilum thoraca indutus ... horrebat: having donned his glowing breastplate, he bristled ...

l. 507. Turnus ... oculos horrenda in virgine fixus: Turnus, fixing his eyes on the awe-inspiring maiden ...

l. 596.  illa ... nigro circumdata turbine corpus: the other, her form surrounded (lit. surrounded in respect of her form) by a dark whirlwind.

l. 649.  unum exserta latus pugnae ... Camilla: Camilla, with one breast bared (lit. bared in respect of one breast) for battle ...

l. 777. auro pictus acu tunicas et barbara tegmina crurum: he had embroidered his tunic and barbarous leg coverings with gold (thread) ...

l. 877.  percussae pectora matres: mothers beating their breasts (lit. beaten in respect of their breasts) ...

 2.  Spondaic fifth foot with a hiatus.

This occurs only five times in the "Aeneid", always when proper names are involved.

l. 31.  Parrhasio Evandro: to Parrhasian Evander.

3.  Synezesis.

In the following instances a short syllable is compressed or elided into a following long one.


l. 57.  Ei: Oh!

l. 262. Protei: of Proteus.

l. 268.  Idomenei: of Idomeneus.

l. 383.  Proinde: so.

4. Syllable lengthened 'in arsis'.

In the instances below, the underlined short syllable is lengthened as it coincides with the beat or 'ictus' which falls on the first syllable of the foot. In Latin verse, the first part of the foot is called the 'arsis' as it involves the 'raising' of the voice, and the second part the 'thesis', when the voice sinks down again.

l. 69.   languen/tis hya/cinthi: a drooping hyacinth.

l. 111.  ora/tis? Equi/dem: Are you asking .... (I) indeed ...

l. 323.  tantus a/mor, et/: such (is) their desire, and ...

l. 469.  ipse pa/ter et/: father (Latinus) himself ... and ...

APPENDIX: VIRGIL'S WORKS: PUBLICATION DATES ON SABIDIUS' BLOGSPOT


Bucolics (Eclogues):

11 March 2011

Georgics:

Book I: 9 November 2015
Book II: 24 January 2017
Book III: 17 March 2017
Book IV: 11 November 2010

Aeneid:

Book I: 12 May 2010
Book II: 14 February 2011
Book III: 22 January 2015
Book IV: 20 January 2010
Book V: 8 June 2011
Book VI: 16 February 2010
Book VII: 26 April 2017
Book VIII: 20 October 2015
Book IX: 10 August 2010
Book X: 3 August 2017
Book XI: 17 September 2017
Book XII: 23 September 2011.

Thursday 3 August 2017

VIRGIL: AENEID BOOK X: CAPTAINS FIGHT AND DIE

Introduction.


The introductions to previous books of the "Aeneid", which Sabidius has previously translated and placed on this blog are relevant to Book X. The introduction to Book VIII deals with the quality of Virgil's poetry, and that of Book VII explains why the catalogue of place-names and names of warrior heroes, whether Trojan, Latin or Etruscan would have been so fascinating to Virgil's Roman contemporaries. In the same way, Book X features a catalogue of the Etruscan leaders who have come to assist Aeneas and Virgil lovingly recites the places in Italy from which they have come, i.e. Clusium, Cosae, Populonia, Ilva, Liguria, Pisa, Astur, Caere, Pyrgi, Graviscae and Mantua. Once again Roman readers would have considered what personal connections they themselves might have had to the people and the places named. Seeking to parallel the blood-thirsty content of Homer's Iliad much of Book X is concerned with battle scenes, but the action is centred around the successive deaths of Lausus at the hands of Turnus, and then Lausus and his father Mezentius at the hands of Aeneas. Considerable pathos is depicted on the death of Lausus, since Aeneas, despite his determination to avenge the death of Pallas, has a moment of pity when he sees Lausus' dying face, and recalls his own love for his father Anchises. Aeneas' essential humanity is emphasised here, and he is markedly different from Turnus, who has been exulting over his slaying of Pallas. There is further pathos right at the end of the Book when Mezentius begs Aeneas to let him share a grave with Lausus. 

The text for this translation is taken from Virgil II, edited by G.P Goold, Loeb Classical Library (2002). This translation has taken account of the English translation attached to this edition, as well as "Virgil: the Major Works," translated by A.S. Kline (2001-02), and available on line, and the commentary by John Connington, (1876) which is available on the Perseus website.

1) THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS (LL. 1-95).

a) Jupiter calls the Gods together to discuss their internal discord over the conflict between the Greeks and Trojans (ll. 1-15).

Meanwhile, the palace of all-powerful Olympus is thrown open, and the Father of the Gods and the King of men calls a council in his starry dwelling, from the heights of which he surveys every land and the camp of the Dardanians (i.e. Trojans) and the peoples of Latium. They take their seats in the double-doored hall (i.e. the place at Olympus had doors at both ends), (and) he, himself, begins (to speak): "Great heavenly dwellers, why has your decision been reversed, and (why) do you contend with such adverse intentions? I had forbidden Italy to clash in war with the Teucrians (i.e. Trojans)? What (is) this discord in defiance of my prohibition? What fear incites both one side and the other to take up arms and to provoke violent conflict? The right time will come - don't bring it on! - when fierce Carthage will one day open up the Alps and launch great destruction on Roman strongholds: then, you will be permitted to compete in hatreds and to ravage things. Now, let (things) be and cheerfully join the covenant (which I have) ordained."

b) Venus prays to Jupiter that, whatever may be the fate of Aeneas, she may be permitted to rescue Ascanius, and that the Trojans, if they must give up Italy to Carthage, may at least be allowed to settle once more in their ruined native land (ll. 16-62).

Jupiter (said) these (things) in a few (words); but, in answer, golden Venus does not make a brief reply: "O Father, eternal source of power over men and (all) things - for what else can there be which we can now entreat? - , do you see how the Rutulians are exulting, and (how) Turnus, conspicuous on horseback, is being drawn through their midst, and rushes along, swollen with pride at the favour of Mars? Closed walls no longer protect the Teucrians; rather, they join battle within their gates and on the very ramparts of their walls, and their trenches overflow with blood. Unaware (of all this), Aeneas is far away. Will you never allow the siege to be raised? Once more an enemy, and a second army too, threatens the walls of newborn Troy; and once more, a son of Tydeus arises from Aetolian Arpi (i.e. Diomedes). For my part, I believe that my wounding is yet to happen, and I, your offspring, am delaying a mortal's spear. If the Trojans sought Italy without your consent and despite your divine will, let them expiate their sins, nor should you support them with your succour; but, if they have followed all the oracles which the powers above and the spirits below gave (them), why can anyone now overturn your commands, or why can they construct a new destiny (for them)? Should I recall why the fleet burned on the shores of Eryx, why the King of Storms and his raging winds were aroused from Aeolia, or (why) Iris was sent down from the clouds? Now she even stirs up the shades - this part of the universe remained untried -  and Allecto, suddenly launched on the upper world, raves through the midst of Italy's cities. Besides, I am not at all moved by empire. We hoped for that, while our good fortune lasted. Let them conquer whom you prefer to conquer. If there is no country which your pitiless consort may grant the Teucrians, I beseech (you), Father, by the smoking ruins of shattered Troy that I may detach Ascanius from arms unscathed, and that my grandson may survive. Aeneas, indeed, may (well) be tossed about on uncharted waters and follow whatever path Fortune may have offered; (but) may I have the power to protect this (boy) and withdraw (him) from this dreaded battle. Amathus is (mine), high Paphos is mine, as are Cythera and Idalia's shrine: having laid down his weapons, let him live out his life here without honour. Bid Carthage crush Ausonia beneath her mighty sway: from that quarter nothing will obstruct any Tyrian cities. What has it availed him to escape the plague of war and to have fled through the midst of Argive fires, and to have endured all the dangers of the sea and of desolate lands, while the Teucrians seek Latium and a reborn Troy? (Would it) not (have been) better (for them) to have settled on the last ashes of their native country and the soil on which Troy (once) was? Give Xanthus and SimoĆÆs, I beg (you), back to these wretched (people) and let them, Father, relive the misfortunes of Ilium once more."

c) Juno asks why Venus should wish to reopen the old quarrel in view of the mistakes made by Aeneas and the crimes committed by the Trojans. She claims the same right as Venus has exercised to bring some help to her friends (ll. 62-95). 

Then, royal Juno, driven by savage fury (cried out): "Why do you force me to break my profound silence and divulge in words my veiled sorrow? Did any man or god compel Aeneas to follow (the path of) war, or present himself (as) an enemy to King Latinus? He sought Italy, with the Fates as instigators - let it be so! - (he was) driven by the ravings of Cassandra: did I urge (him) to quit the camp, or to entrust his life to the winds? (Did I urge him) to entrust the responsibility of a war or (the defence of) his walls to a boy, and to disturb the loyalty of the Tyrrhenians (i.e. the Etruscans) or the peaceful tribes? What God, what pitiless power of mine drove (him) to (do) this damage? Where in all this (is) Juno or Iris, sent down from the clouds? It is shameful (indeed) that Italians should surround the newborn Troy with flames, and that Turnus, whose father (was) Pilumnus (i.e. a Roman agricultural deity) (and) whose mother (was) the divine Venilia (i.e. a sea nymph) , should take a firm stand on his native soil: what of the Trojans with smoking brands, using force against the Latins, oppressing the fields of others with their yoke, and driving off their plunder? What about their choosing their fathers-in-law and their dragging betrothed (girls) from the bosoms (of their lovers), their pleading for peace with (outstretched) hand, (yet) displaying arms on their ships? You can steal Aeneas from the hands of the Greeks, and, instead of a man, offer (them) mist and empty winds, you can turn their fleet (of ships) into the same number of nymphs: is it wrong that I, in return, have given some help to the Rutulians? 'Unaware (of all this), Aeneas is far away': let him be unaware and far away!  'Paphos and Idalium are yours, as is high Cythera': why then do you tamper with a city pregnant with wars and (with) savage hearts? Is it I that is trying to overthrow your fragile state of Phrygia from its foundations, (is it) I, or (the one) who exposed the wretched Trojans to the Achaeans? What was the reason that Europe and Asia rose up in arms and dissolved their pact of peace through treachery? Did the Dardanian adulterer (i.e. Paris) storm Sparta under my direction, or did I give him weapons or foment a war by lust? Then it was right to have feared for your own (people): now, too late, you arise with unjust complaints, and provoke vain quarrels."

2) JUPITER LEAVES THE OUTCOME TO FATE (LL. 96-117).

So, Juno spoke in these (words) and all the heavenly dwellers murmured with differing (degrees of) approval, like when the first gusts (of a storm) rustle (when) caught in the woods, and roll out secret murmurs revealing imminent gales to sailors. Then, the Almighty Father, who (has) primary authority over the world, begins (to speak) - as he speaks, the lofty palace of the gods falls silent, and the earth trembles from its foundations, high heaven is silent, then the West Winds abated, and the sea stills its placid surface - : "So take these words of mine to your hearts and fix (them there). Seeing that (it is) not permissible for the Ausonians to join in an alliance with the Teucrians, and your discord admits no end, whatever good fortune each man has today, whatever hope each man pursues, be he Trojan or Rutulian, I shall regard (him) without any distinction, whether their camp is kept under siege due to Italy's fortunes, or due to Troy's grievous error and its unhappy prophecies. Nor do I absolve the Rutulians: what he has instigated shall bring to each man (both) trouble and success. Jupiter is King to all alike. The Fates will find a way." By the waters of his Stygian brother (i.e. Pluto or Hades), by the banks seething with pitch and that black chasm, he nodded, and all Olympus trembled at his nod. This (was) the end of the conference. Then, Jupiter rises from his golden throne, (and) the heavenly dwellers conduct him to the threshold in their midst.

3) AENEAS RETURNS FROM PALLANTIUM (LL. 118-162).

a) The battle continues all day. In accordance with Apollo's command, Ascanius plays no part in the fighting (ll. 118-145).

Meanwhile, around each gate, the Rutulians make every effort to lay men low by slaughter and to encircle the walls with flames. But the army of Aeneas' followers are besieged and kept within their stockade, nor is there any hope of escape: forlorn and helpless, they stand on their high towers, and encompass the walls with a scanty ring (of defenders). Asius, the son of Imbrasus, and Thymoetes, the son of Hicetaon, the two Assaraci, and old Thymbris, with Castor (at his side), (are) the front rank; both Sarpedon's brothers, Clarus and Thaemon, from noble Lycia, accompany them. Acmon of Lyrnesus, no smaaler than his father Clytius and his brother Menesthius, carries an enormous boulder, no small part of a mountain, straining his whole body (as he does so). Some with darts, others with stones, they strive to defend (themselves), and to discharge fire and to fit arrows to the string. Behold! in the midst (of them), the Dardanian boy (i.e. Ascanius), himself, the special charge of Venus, his handsome head uncovered, he sparkles like a jewel which sets off yellow gold, an ornament either for the neck or the head, or he gleams like ivory skilfully inlaid in boxwood or Orician terebinth-wood; his milk-white neck, and the necklace clasping (it) with pliant gold, receives his flowing locks of hair. Your great-hearted clans saw you too, Ismarus, directing blows and dipping arrow-shafts in venom, (you) well-born (scion) of a Maeonian (i.e. Lydian) house, where men till fertile fields of grain, and the (River) Pactolus waters (them) with gold. There, too, was Mnestheus, whom the glory of having driven Turnus from the rampart of the walls yesterday exalts on high, and Capys also: from him the name of the Campanian city (i.e. Capua) is derived.

b. During the following night, Aeneas, who had succeeded in gaining Tarchon's alliance, sails back to the aid of his followers (ll. 146-162).

Men had been fighting one another in the strife of bitter warfare: (meanwhile), Aeneas was cleaving the midst of the sea at night. For, when leaving Evander and entering the Etruscan camp, he meets the king (i.e. Tarchon) and announces to the king his name and his race, what (aid) he seeks and what he, himself, offers, (and) he tells (him) about what forces Mezentius is winning over to his side, and Turnus' ferocious temperament, and then warns (him) of what confidence he can have in human fortunes, and intermingles entreaties (with this), no delay occurs, (but) Tarchon joins forces and strikes a pact (with him); then, freed from (the dictates of) fate, the Lydian people embark in a fleet (of ships) by the command of the Gods, entrusting (themselves) to a foreign leader. Aeneas' ship takes the lead, having affixed Phrygian lions (i.e. the lions of Cybele) to its beak, and (a representation of Mount) Ida hangs down above (them), a most welcome (sight) to exiled Teucrians. Here sits great Aeneas and ponders the varying fortunes of war, and Pallas, staying close to his left side, asks (him), at one moment, about the stars, their (guiding) path through the dark night, and, at another, about what he has experienced on land and sea.

4) THE LEADERS OF THE ETRUSCAN FLEET (LL. 163-214).

a) After the Muses are invoked, there follows a short catalogue of the Etruscan chiefs now sailing with Aeneas (ll. 163-184).

Now, Goddesses, throw Helicon wide open, and set your song in motion: while they are sailing, (tell us) what band accompanies Aeneas from the Tuscan shores, manning the ships and riding over the sea.

At their head, Massicus cleaves the waters in his bronze-clad Tigress, and under him a band of a thousand young warriors, who have left the walls of Clusium and the city of Cosae, whose weapons (are) arrows and light quivers on their shoulders and the deadly bow. Together with him (is) the grim Abas: his whole contingent (is) in shining armour and the stern (of his ship) was gleaming with a golden (figure of) Apollo. Populonia, the mother (city), had given six hundred of her young men, skilled in war, and Ilva (i.e. Elba) three hundred, an island rich in the inexhaustible mines of the Chalybes (i.e. Blacksmiths). In the third place (comes) Asilas, that interpreter of men and Gods, whom the entrails of beasts, the stars of heaven, the voices of birds and the flashes of presaging thunderbolts (all) obey, (and) he hurries into line a thousand (warriors), densely-packed with their bristling spears. Pisa, a city of Alphean birth, (set in) Etruscan soil, orders them to obey. The most handsome Astur follows, Astur, relying on his horse and his iridescent armour. (Those) who dwell at Caere, and in the fields of the (River) Minio, and ancient Pyrgi and unhealthy Graviscae, add three hundred (more), all of one mind to follow.

b) The description of further Etruscan leaders follows (ll. 185-214).

Nor would I leave you out, Cunarus, in war the bravest of the Ligurians, or (you), Cupavo, with (only) a few in your train, from whose crest a swan's feathers arise, a reproach (to you) Cupid (and) yours, and an emblem of your father's form. For they say that Cycnus, while he sang amid the leafy poplars, the shade of his sisters, in grief for his beloved Phaƫthon, and consoles his sorrowful love by music, took on the whiteness of old-age with his soft plumage, as he left the earth and sought the stars with his song. His son (i.e. Cupavo), accompanying a band of coevals on board, drives the huge 'Centaur' with oars: that (figurehead) bears down on the waters, and threatens the waves from above with an enormous rock, and (the ship) ploughs the deep sea with her long keel. The famous Ocnus, too, summons a contingent from his native shores, the son of prophetic Manto and the Tuscan river, who gave you, Mantua, your walls and his mother's name, Mantua, rich in forebears, but all of one stock: three races (are) there (i.e. Etruscans, Gauls and Veneti), (and) under each race four peoples, (but) her strength (comes) from her Tuscan blood. From here, too, Mezentius arms five hundred against himself, whom the (River) Mincius, (coming) from his father, (Lake) Benacus, (and) veiled in grey reeds, led on to the sea in their hostile (ships of) pine. Aulestes comes on heavily, and he lashes the waves, as he rises (to the stroke) of a hundred oars, and the waters foam as the surface of the sea is churned up. The huge 'Triton' conveys him, and her (figurehead of) a shell alarms the dark-blue waves, and, as it floats, its rough prow shows a man down to the waist, (but) its belly ends in a fish, (and) beneath the half-beast's chest the foaming sea gurgles, Such (are) the chiefs chosen to go in thirty ships to the help of Troy and to cleave the plains of salt with their bronze (beaks).

5) THE NYMPHS OF CYBELE (LL. 215-259).

a) Aeneas is met by the Nymphs, into whom his fleet had been transformed, one of them prophesies his success in the future battle (ll. 215-249).

And now day had withdrawn from the sky, and gracious Phoebe (i.e. Diana, Goddess of the Moon) was tramping across the middle of the sky in her night-roving chariot: Aeneas - for duty gave his limbs no rest - , as he sat (there), controls the rudder and tends the sails himself. And lo! a troop of his own friends meets him in mid-course: the nymphs, whom gracious Cybele has commanded to have divine power over the sea and to turn into nymphs from ships, came swimming alongside (him) and cleaved the waves, as many as the bronze-clad prows that once lay moored to the shore. They recognise their king from afar and encircle (him) with their dances: Cymodocea, who (was) the most skilled in speech from among them, as she followed behind, grasps the stern with her right (hand), and raising her back out (of the water), she paddles along under the noiseless waves with her left (hand). Then, she addresses the astonished (prince) thus: "Are you awake, Aeneas, scion of the Gods? Wake up, and let loose the sheets from your sails! We are your fleet, (once) pines from the sacred peak of (Mount) Ida, now nymphs of the sea. When the treacherous Rutulian (i.e. Turnus) was driving us headlong with fire and sword, we reluctantly broke your moorings and are seeking you across the seas. The Great Mother (i.e. Cybele) refashioned (us) into this shape out of pity, and granted that we become Goddesses, and spend our life beneath the waves. But your son, Ascanius, is hemmed in by wall and trenches, in the midst of weapons and Latins bristling with (desire for) war. Already the Arcadian cavalry, intermingled with brave Etruscans, are holding their appointed positions; it is Turnus' fixed resolve to confront them with his central squadrons, so that they cannot link up with the (Trojan) camp. Come (then), arise and and, when Dawn comes,  give orders straight away that your comrades should be called to arms, and take up that invincible shield that the Lord of Fire (i.e. Vulcan) himself gave (you), after encircling its rims with gold. Tomorrow's dawn, if you do not consider my words vain (i.e. if you follow my instructions), will see huge heaps of Rutulian dead." She finished speaking, and, as she departed, she drove the lofty stern onward with her right hand, not unaware of what to do: she flies through the waves, faster than a javelin and an arrow keeping pace with the winds. Then, the other (ships) quickened their running speed.

b) Aeneas prays to Cybele to give him a favourable omen, and orders his men to prepare for battle (ll. 249-259).

Uncomprehending, the Trojan son of Anchises is amazed; yet he lifts his spirits due to the omen. Then, looking upwards at the sky, he prays briefly: "Gracious Lady of Ida, mother of the Gods (i.e. Cybele), to whom Dindyma, and the tower-crowned cities, and the two lions harnessed to your reins, are dear, (be) you now my leader in the battle, may you duly hasten this augury, and be with your Phrygians, Goddess, with your favouring step." So much he said, and meanwhile the returning day was rushing on, now in the early dawn, and had chased away the night; in the first place, he commands his comrades to follow his signals and prepare their hearts for combat and make themselves ready for battle.

6) AENEAS REACHES LAND (LL. 260-307).

a) Aeneas makes for the shore with his ships (ll. 260-275).

And now, as he stands on the high stern, he has the Teucrians and his camp in view, when at once he holds forth his blazing shield in his left (hand). From the walls the Dardanians raise a shout to the skies, fresh hope arouses their wrath, (and) they hurl their spears, just as under dark clouds Strymonian cranes give calls (to each other), and noisily skim through the air and flee the South Winds with glad sounds. But to the Rutulian king and the Ausonian chiefs this seems strange, until they behold the sterns turned towards the shore and the whole sea rolling in upon (them) with ships. The helmet on his head blazes, and from the plumes at its crest flames pour forth, and the golden boss (of his shield) spouts floods of fire; (it is) just as when in the clear night comets glow portentously blood-red, or (when) fiery Sirius (i.e. the dog-star), that (star) which brings drought and pestilence to frail mortals, rises and saddens the sky with its baleful light.

b) Turnus, undaunted by the appearance of Aeneas, urges his men to prevent the landing of the Trojans, if possible (ll. 276-86). 

Yet, the confidence is not lacking in the bold Turnus that he would take the shore first and drive the approaching (enemy) from land. Indeed, he raises the spirits (of his men) with his words, and chides them too: "What you have sought in your prayers is (now) here, (the chance) to break through by force. Mars, himself, is in your hands, men! Now let each man be mindful of his wife and home, now let (each man) repeat the great deeds of our fathers (and) the glory (that they earned). Let us meet (them) at the water's edge, while (they are) anxious and the first footsteps falter among those who have disembarked. Fortune favours the brave ... !" He says these (things), and ponders in his mind whom to lead against (the enemy), and to whom he can entrust the siege of the walls.

c) Aeneas and Tarchon land their men, and, in doing so, Tarchon's ship is shattered (ll. 287-307).

Meanwhile, Aeneas lands his comrades from his tall ships by gangways. Many watch for the ebb of the spent sea, and entrust themselves to a vault in the shallows, (and) others (land) by means of oars. Tarchon, noting a beach where the shallows do not heave, nor broken billows roar, but (where) the sea sweeps in without hindrance with the rising tide, suddenly turns his prow towards (it), and exhorts his men (thus): "Now, O chosen band, bend to your sturdy oars; lift up your boats and carry (them); cleave this hostile shore with your beaks, and let the keel herself make her own furrow. I do not shrink from wrecking the ship in such an anchorage as this, once the land has been seized." When Tarchon had spoken such (words as these), his comrades rise to their oars and drive their foaming boats on to the Latin fields, until their beaks gain dry land and all their boats are beached unharmed. But not your ship, Tarchon: for while, dashed against the shallows, she hangs on an uneven sand-bank for some time with doubtful means of support and beats the waves (as she sways to and fro), she is broken up and pitches her crew into the midst of the waves; fragments of oars and floating thwarts hamper (them), and, at the same time, the ebbing wave sucks back their feet.  

7) THE PITCHED BATTLE (LL. 308-425).

a) The battle begins on the shore. Aeneas encounters and kills a number of men, and he would have slain Cydon, if his seven brothers had not come to his assistance (ll. 308-344).


Nor does the lingering delay hold back Turnus, but he eagerly hurries his whole battle-line (into action) against the Teucrians, and posts (men) against (them) on the shore. The trumpets sound. Firstly, Aeneas fell upon the ranks of the country-folk, an omen (for the outcome of) the battle, and laid low (a number of) Latins, killing Theron, who bravely sought out the hero Aeneas of his own accord: (stabbing) him with a sword through his bronze mail, (and) through his tunic (which was) stiff with golden (scales), he drains his exposed flank (of its blood). Then, he strikes Lichas, who had already been cut from his mother's (womb), and (then) consecrated to you, Phoebus: for what (purpose) was he permitted to evade the perils of the knife in infancy (i.e. he had been born by Caesarian section)? Not long afterwards, he cast down to death hardy Cisseus, and the giant Gyas, as they were felling the ranks with their clubs; Hercules' weapons did nothing to help them, nor did their stout hands or their father Melampus, Alcides' companion all the time that earth had granted (him) his heavy labours. See, as he hurls his javelin at Pharus, as he casts forth empty words, and plants (it) in his noisy throat. You, too, unlucky Cydon, as you follow your new delight, Clytius, his cheeks golden with their first down, having fallen beneath the hand of the Dardanian, you would have lain (there), a pitiable (sight), free of those loves of young men, which were always yours, if the massed cohort of your brothers, the children of Phorcus, had not been at hand; (they were) seven in number, and seven darts they throw; some rebound vainly from his helmet and shield, others, which (only) grazed his body, kindly Venus deflected. Aeneas addresses the faithful Achates (thus): "Bring me (plenty of) spears; my hand will not be found to have hurled in vain against the Rutulians any (of those spears) which once had lodged in the bodies of Greeks on Ilium's plains." Then, he seizes a great spear and hurls (it): flying on, it crashes through Maeon's bronze shield, and smashes his breast-plate and breast together. His brother Alcanor is there, and with his right (arm) supports his brother as he falls: (another) spear (is) dispatched, and, piercing (Alcanor's) arm, it flies straight on, and, (though) bloodied, keeps its course, and the right (arm) hung lifeless from his shoulder by its sinews. Then, Numitor, tearing the javelin from his brother's body, aimed (it) at Aeneas; but he could not strike him in return, but grazed the thigh of noble Achates.

b) On the Latin side, Clausus of Cures and some others are conspicuous for their valour (ll. 345-361). 


Then, Clausus from Cures, comes up, trusting in (the strength of) his youthful body, and his rigid spear, driven with force from a distance, strikes Dryopes under his chin, and, piercing his throat as he speaks, steals his voice and life at the same time; then he hits the ground with his forehead, and spews thick blood from his mouth. Three Thracians, too, of Boreas' exalted race, and three, whom their father Idas and their native Ismarus had sent out, he (i.e. Clausus) fells in various ways. Halaesus runs up to (him), and the Auruncan bands, and Neptune's scion, Messapus, glorious with his steeds. Now one side, now the other, they strain to drive away (the foe): the struggle is on Ausonia's very threshold. As in wide heaven, warring winds rise to battle with well-matched spirits and strength; they do not yield to one another, not clouds, not waves; the (outcome of the) battle (is) long in doubt, all (things) stand, locked in strife: likewise, the ranks of Troy and the ranks of Latium clash together, (and) stick closely, foot against foot and man against man.

c) In another part of the field, the Arcadian cavalry are yielding to the Latins, having been compelled to dismount due to the unevenness of the ground, but they are rallied by Pallas, the son of King Evander (ll. 362-379).

But in another place, where a torrent had driven rolling boulders and trees torn from banks far and wide, when Pallas saw his Arcadians, unused to charging in infantry ranks, showing their backs to the pursuing Latins, since the nature of the ground, roughened by waters, had persuaded (them) to dismiss their horses, (then) as the sole recourse remaining in such times of need, he sets their courage alight, now with entreaties, now with bitter words, (saying): "Where are you fleeing to, comrades? By your brave deeds, by the name of your chief, Evander, and the wars (which have been) won (by him), and (by) my own hopes, which are now springing up to match my father's renown, do not put your trust in your feet (i.e. flight). You must burst your way through the enemy by your sword. Where that mass of men presses most thickly, there your noble country requires you and (myself) Pallas, (as) your leader. No gods are pressing (upon us), (as) mortals; we are driven by a mortal foe, (each one of which has) as many lives and hands as ourselves. See, the ocean hems us in with a mighty barrier of sea (water), (and) land for flight is now lacking: shall we make for the sea or Troy?" He speaks these (words), and dashes forth into the midst of the densely-packed enemy.

d) Pallas dashes into action and kills many of the foe (ll. 380-398).

Lagus meets him first, drawn to (him) by an adverse fate. While he is in the process of tearing a stone of great weight (from the ground), he pierces him with a hurled javelin, (in the place) where the spine provides a parting in the middle of his ribs, and he plucks back his spear which is lodged in his bones. Hisbo does not surprise him from above, though he is hopeful of (doing) this: for Pallas is waiting for (him) as he rushes in first in his recklessness, while raging at his companion's cruel death, and he buries his sword in his swelling (i.e. because of his anger) chest. Then, he attacks Sthenelus, and Anchemolus from the ancient line of Rhoteus, (a man) who had dared to defile his step-mother's bed. You, twin-brothers, also fell in the Rutulian fields, Larides and Thymber, Daucus' offspring, identical
in appearance, indistinguishable to their (kindred) and a welcome (source of) confusion to their parents; but now Pallas has given you a grim difference. For Evander's sword took off your head, Thymber; your severed right (hand) seeks you, its (owner), Larides, and your dying fingers twitch and clutch again at your sword. Fired up by his admonition, and, seeing the hero's glorious deeds, mingled remorse and shame rouse the Arcadians against their enemy.

e) Further adversaries die at the hands of Pallas, including Halaesus, who had, himself, dealt much destruction among the Trojans.(ll. 399-425).

Then, Pallas pierces Rhoteus as he flies past in his two-horse chariot. Ilus had this (much) time and so much respite, for he had launched at Ilus from afar his strong spear which Rhoteus intercepts in the midst of (its flight), (while) fleeing from you, noble Teuthras, and your brother Tyres, and, rolling from his chariot, he beats the fields with his heels as he dies. As in summer, when the longed-for winds have arisen, a shepherd kindles fires here and there within the woods, (and) the spaces in-between have suddenly caught alight, Vulcan's dreaded battle-line extends continuously over the broad fields, he sits triumphantly, looking down joyfully over the flames: in the same way all your comrades' courage combines into one (point of strength), and helps you, Pallas. But Halaesus, eager for war, advances against his adversaries, and gathers himself behind his shield. He slays Ladon and Pheres and Demodocus, and, with his shining sword, he lops off Strymonius' right (hand), (which was) raised against his throat, (and) strikes Thoas' face with a stone, and scatters his bones mixed with bloody brain. His father, foretelling his fate, had hidden Halaesus in the forests: when the old man relaxed his whitened eyes in death, the Fates took possession (of him) and dedicated (him) to Evander's weapons. Pallas assails him, first praying thus: "Now grant, father Tiber, to the spear which I am poised to throw, good fortune and a way through stout Halaesus' breast. Your own oak-tree shall hold these weapons and the hero's spoils." The God heard that (prayer): while Halaesus sought  to shield Imaon, he unfortunately exposes his uncovered chest to the Arcadian spear.

8) THE DEATH OF PALLAS (LL. 426-509).

a) Lausus rallies the Rutulians and makes much havoc in the ranks of Aeneas' army (ll. 426-438).

But Lausus, a person of great importance in the war, does not allow his ranks to be intimidated by the hero's great carnage: first, he cuts down Abas, who had opposed (him), the knot and mainstay of the battle. The youth of Arcadia fall, the Etruscans fall, and you, too, O Teucrians (whose) bodies (were) not destroyed by the Greeks. The armies come  together, well-matched in captains and in strength; the extremes of the ranks (i.e. the rear and the van) come together, and the crush does not allow their weapons and hands to be moved. On the one side Pallas pushes and urges on (his men), on the other side Lausus opposes (him), nor is there not much difference (between them) in age: (both were) outstanding in appearance, but Fortune had denied them a return to their native land. Yet, the king of great Olympus did not permit them to meet one another; their fates are awaiting them soon beneath the hands of a greater foe.

b. Turnus comes to meet Pallas, and they prepare for single combat. Pallas prays to Hercules, once his father's guest, for success, but Hercules' good wishes are blocked by Jupiter, albeit reluctantly (ll. 439-473). 

Meanwhile, his gracious sister (i.e. Juturna) warns Turnus to go the assistance of Lausus, and he cuts through the middle of the ranks in his swift chariot. When he saw his comrades, (he cried): "(It is) time (for you) to stand back from the battle; I, alone, attack Pallas, Pallas is due to me only. I wish his father were here (as) a spectator." This he said, and, at his instruction, his comrades withdrew from the field. But, when the Rutulians had withdrawn, then the youth, surprised at his proud commands, looks in amazement at Turnus and casts his eyes over his huge body, and, with a fierce look, scans all of (him) from a distance, and answers the king's words with the following words: "Already I am going to be the subject of praise, either for taking the commander's spoils, or for a glorious death: my father is able to bear either outcome. Away with your threats!" Having spoken (thus), he advances into the middle of the field. Chill blood gathers in the hearts of the Arcadians. Turnus leaps down from his two-horse chariot, and prepares to go hand-to-hand (with the other) on foot; and, as a lion, when from lofty vantage-point, he has seen a bull standing afar off on the plain, meditating on battle, rushes down, the picture of the advancing Turnus is no different. When he believed him to be within range of a cast spear, Pallas goes forward first, (to see) whether some chance would aid the venture of his unequal strength, and thus he speaks to mighty heaven: "By my father's hospitality and the tables, to which you came (as) a stranger, I pray you, son of Alceus (i.e. Hercules), may you support my great undertaking. May he see me tear the bloody armour from his (back) as he expires, and may Turnus' dying eyes endure (the sight of) a conqueror." The son of Alceus heard the youth, and he stifles a heavy groan and sheds vain tears. Then, the Father addresses his son with these kindly words: "For each man his day is fixed, (and) the span of life for everyone is short and irretrievable; but to increase fame by deeds, this (is) the task of valour. Under Troy's high walls fell so many sons of Gods, indeed my own son, Sarpedon, fell together with them; his own fate calls Turnus too, and he has reached the goal of his allotted years." So he speaks, and he turns away his eyes from the fields of the Rutulians.

c) In the combat that follows, Turnus kills Pallas. He sends Pallas' body back for burial, but despoils it of his belt, an act that has fatal consequences for him. (ll. 474-509). 

But Pallas discharges his spear with (all of) his great strength, and snatches his gleaming sword from its hollow scabbard. Flying on, it strikes (at the point) where the topmost (edge) of the armour on his shoulder rises up, and, forcing its way through the rim of his shield, at last it even grazed Turnus' mighty body. Thereupon, Turnus hurls his oakwood (spear) tipped with sharp steel, which he had been levelling at Pallas for some time, and thus he speaks: "See whether my weapon is more penetrating." He finished speaking; and, with a quivering stroke, the spear-head tears through the centre of his shield, with all its layers of steel and bronze, which the bull's hide surrounding (it) so often envelops, and pierces the barrier of his breast-plate and his mighty breast. In vain he plucks the warm dart from the wound: blood and life follow by one and the same path. He falls upon his wound - his armour made a clattering noise on top of (him) - and, as he dies, he meets the hostile earth with a blood-stained mouth. (Then) standing over him, Turnus cries,"Arcadians, take heed of these words of mine, and carry (them) back to Evander; I send Pallas back to him as he has deserved. Whatever honour (lies) in a tomb, whatever solace there is in burial, I bestow. (But) his hospitality to Aeneas will cost him dear." And he planted his left foot on the lifeless (man), tearing away the belt's massive weight and the crime engraved (on it): the band of young men foully slain on a single wedding night, and their bed-chambers drenched in blood (i.e. the story of the Danaides), which Clonus, the son of Eurytus, had richly engraved in gold; now Turnus exults in this spoil, and rejoices at winning (it). (O) the mind of men, ignorant of fate and of its future lot, and how to keep a measure (of moderation), (when) uplifted by favourable circumstances! For Turnus the time will come, when he will wish to have bought at a great (price) an unscathed Pallas, and when he will hate those spoils and that day. Then, with much groaning and (many) tears, his numerous friends carry Pallas back, lying on his shield. O (you) who will return (as a source of) great grief and pride to your father, this day first gave you to war, (and) this same (day then) took (you) from (it), when, yet, you left (behind you) huge piles of Rutulians (dead)!    

9) AENEAS RAGES IN BATTLE (LL. 510-605).

a) Roused to fury by the death of Pallas, Aeneas hurries to the relief of the distressed Arcadians, and slays a number of his enemy's warriors (ll. 510-542).

Now no (mere) rumour of this great evil, but a surer authority, flies to Aeneas (to say) that his (men) are within a narrow margin of death (and) that (it is) time to help the routed Teucrians. He mows down his nearest (enemies) with the sword and fiercely drives a wide path through their ranks with its blade, (while) seeking you, Turnus, proud (as you are) of your fresh slaughter. Pallas, Evander, the tables, to which he had first come then (as) a stranger, and their right (hands) pledged (in friendship), everything is before his very eyes. Then, he captures alive four youths, the sons of Sulmo, (and) the same number whom Ufens had reared, in order to sacrifice them (as) victims to the shades (of the dead) and to besprinkle the flames of the pyre with their captive blood. Then, he aimed a hostile spear at Mago from a distance. With adroitness the latter moves closer in, and the spear flies quivering over (him), and, clasping his knees, he speaks as follows in supplication: "I beseech you, by your father's spirit and your hope in the growing IĆ¼lus, may you save this life (of mine) for my son and for my father. I have a lofty house, buried deep within (which) lie talents of chased silver, and I have masses of gold, (both) wrought and unfinished. The victory of your Teucrians does not turn on this (life of mine), nor does a single life make so great a difference." He finished speaking. Aeneas says the following (words) to him in reply: "Those many talents of gold and silver of which you speak, keep (them) for your sons. Turnus did away with those courtesies of war (which you offer) earlier, at the very moment when he slew Pallas. The spirit of my father Anchises thinks this, so does IĆ¼lus." So speaking, he grasps his helmet with his left (hand),and, bending back the suppliant's neck, he drives home his sword right up to the hilt. Close by (is) the son of Haemon, the priest of Phoebus and Trivia (i.e. Diana); a wreath of wool encircled his temples in a sacred band, (and he is) all glittering in his white robe and emblems. He meets him and drives him over the plain, and, standing over the fallen (man), he slaughters (him) and envelops (him) in the mighty darkness (of death), (and) Serestus gathers up his arms and carries (them) off on his shoulders (as) a trophy for you, King Gradivus (i.e. the god Mars).

b) Aeneas continues to wreak fearful havoc on the Rutulian forces (ll. 543-574). 

Caeculus, born of Vulcan's stock, and Umbro, who comes from the hills of the Marsi, restore the ranks. The descendant of Dardanus (i.e. Aeneas) storms against (them): with his sword he had just cast to the ground Anxur's left (arm) and the whole circle of his shield - he had just said something boastful and had thought that strength would come from his words, and he was lifting his spirits to the sky perhaps, and had promised himself white hair and length of years; (then) Tarquitus, whom the nymph Dryope had borne to the wood-dwelling Faunus, exulting as an opponent in his gleaming armour, presented himself in the way of the burning (hero). Drawing back his spear, he (i.e. Aeneas) obstructs his breast-plate and the huge burden of his shield; then, he cast down his head to the ground, as he pleaded in vain and prepared to say many (words), and, rolling over his (still) warm trunk, he says these (words) over (it) from a vengeful heart: "Now lie there, (you) dreaded (man). No noble mother will bury you in the ground and weigh down your limbs in an ancestral tomb: you will be left for the birds of prey, or, sunk in the abyss, the wave will carry (you) along and hungry fish will lick your wounds." Then, he catches up with Antaeus and Lucas in Turnus' front line, and brave Numa and auburn-haired Camers, son of great-hearted Volcens, who was the richest (man) in the land of the Ausonians and had (once) ruled silent Amyclae. Like Aegaeon, who, (men) say, (had) a hundred arms and a hundred hands, (and) blazed fire from fifty mouths and breasts, when he clashed as many similar shields (and) drew as many swords against Jupiter's thunderbolts, so Aeneas rages victoriously over the whole plain, when once his blade was warm. See how he heads towards Niphaeus' four-horse chariot and its opposing breasts. And when they saw his long strides and his deadly rage, they turn in fear, and, rushing backwards, they throw their master and hurry their chariot to the shore.

c) The slaughter continues, until at last the siege is lifted and the Trojans are freed from their confinement in the camp (ll. 575-605).

Meanwhile, Lucagus and his brother Liger dash into the fray in their chariot with two white horses; but his brother guides the horses with the reins, (while) Lucagus fiercely brandishes his drawn sword. Aeneas could not brook (them) raging with such great fervour; he charges at (them) and looms up gigantically with his opposing spear. Liger (says) to him: It is not Diomedes' horses or Achilles' chariot or the plains of Phrygia that you see: now the end of this war and of your life will be given (to you) in these lands (of ours)." Such words fly far from mad Liger's (lips). But the Trojan hero did not prepare any words in reply, for he hurls his javelin against the foe. When Lucagus, bending forward to the lash, steered his horses with his sword, while he prepares himself for battle with his left leg advanced, the spear enters through the lower rim of his shining shield, then pierces his left groin; thrown from his chariot, he rolls dying on the ground. Pious Aeneas addresses him with these bitter words: "Lucagus, no idle flight of your horses betrayed your chariot, nor did the empty shadows of your enemy turn (them) back: you, yourself, leaping from the wheels, relinquished your team." So, speaking these (words), he seized hold of the horses; slipping down from the same chariot, his luckless brother stretched out his helpless hand-palms (in prayer): "By yourself, by the parents who gave birth to such (a son as) you, Trojan hero, spare this life and take pity on my prayer." (To him) as he begged further, Aeneas (says): "You did not speak those words before. Die and let not brother forsake brother." Then, with his sword he opens up his breast, his life's hiding-place. Such (were) the deaths (which) the Dardanian chieftain wrought across that plain, raging like a torrent of water or a black tornado. At last, the boy Ascanius, and the warriors (who had been) besieged in vain, burst out and left the camp.

10) JUNO WITHDRAWS TURNUS FROM THE FIGHT (LL. 606-688).

a) Jupiter, in answer to Juno's prayers for the life of Turnus, allows her to rescue him from immediate death (ll. 606-632).

Meanwhile, Jupiter, unprompted, addresses Juno: "O my sister and at the same time my dearest wife, as you thought, and your judgement does not deceive you, (it is) Venus (who) sustains the Trojans' power, not their manly right (hands), so lively in war, nor their spirits, so fierce and so patient of danger." To him, Juno meekly (replies): "Why, O my fairest consort, do you vex (me when I am) sick and fearful of your stern commands? If I had the force in my love that I once had and which it is right that I should have, you would not indeed deny me this (boon), that I should have the power to withdraw Turnus from the fight and keep (him) safe for his father Daunus. Now let him perish and offer atonement to the Teucrians in innocent blood. Yet, he derives his name from our lineage, and Pilumnus (was) his great-great-grandfather, and often heaped your threshold with copious gifts from a lavish hand." To her, the king of heavenly Olympus speaks briefly thus: "If a respite from present death and a reprieve for the doomed youth is the object of your prayer, and you realise that I am ordaining it so, (then) take Turnus away in flight and snatch (him) from his impending fate: thus far there is room to exercise forbearance. But if (the hope of) any deeper favour lurks beneath your prayers, and you think that the whole (course of) this war may be disturbed or altered, you are fostering a vain hope." And, in tears, Juno (replies): "What if you should grant with your mind what you disdain with your voice, and this life (for which I plead) should remain fixed in the case of Turnus? Now a heavy doom awaits (him) innocent (as he is), or I speak (words) devoid of truth. O that I may rather be mocked by false fears, and that you, who can (do so), should bend your enterprises to (something) better!"

b) Juno deludes Turnus with a phantom of Aeneas, which appears to fly before him (ll. 633-652).

When she had spoken these words, she darted forthwith from high heaven, driving a storm through the air, girt in a cloud, and sought the army of Ilium and the camp of Laurentum. Then from a hollow mist the goddess decks out a thin and weak phantom in the likeness of Aeneas - a wondrous marvel to behold - with Dardanian weapons, matches both his shield and the plumes on his godlike head, gives (it) insubstantial words, gives (it) meaningless sounds, and mimics his steps as he walks; (it is) like, it is reported, the shapes that flit around after death, or the dreams that delude the senses during sleep. But the phantom prances gaily in front of the leading ranks, and exasperates the warrior with its weapons and provokes (him) with its voice. Turnus pursues (it), and hurls a hissing spear (at it) from afar: showing its back it turns its footsteps (in flight). But then, as Turnus thought that Aeneas had turned away and yielded, and, in his confusion, clung to this idle hope in his mind, (he cries out): "Where are you fleeing to, Aeneas? Do not forsake your plighted marriage! The land you are seeking over the seas will be granted (to you) by this hand (of mine)." Shouting out these (words), he pursues (him), and brandishes his drawn blade, but he does not see that the winds are carrying away his joyous (hopes of triumph).

c) The phantom takes shelter in the ship, in which King Osinius has come from Clusium. When Turnus follows it into the ship, Juno looses the rope and Turnus is carried to his father's home (ll. 653-688). 

It happened that the ship, in which king Osinius had sailed from Clusium's shores, stood moored to the ledge of a lofty rock, with its ladders released and its gangway made ready. Hither the swift phantom of the fleeing Aeneas flings itself into hiding, and Turnus pursues (it) no less speedily, surmounts (all) obstacles, and leaps across the lofty gangway. Scarcely had he reached the prow, (when) Saturn's daughter (i.e. Juno) snaps the cable, and sweeps the ship, torn (from its mooring), over the ebbing waters. Then, the airy phantom no longer seeks any other hiding place, but, soaring aloft, it immerses itself in a dark cloud. Meanwhile, Aeneas challenges his absent foe to battle; he sends down to death the bodies of many warriors who cross his path, while, in the meantime, the storm carries Turnus over the middle of the ocean. Unaware of the circumstances, and not welcoming his rescue, he looks back and stretches out both his hands to the heavens, with this cry: "Almighty Father, did you (really) consider me worthy of such reproach, and did you wish me to pay such a penalty? Whither am I being taken? Whence have I come? What flight leads me back, and in what (guise)? Shall I (ever) see the walls of Laurentium or its camp again? What of the band of warriors who followed me and my armour? Have I left them all - (O) the shame (of it)! - to an atrocious death? And now I see (them) scattered, and I hear their groans as they fall! What do I do? Or what earth can now gape deep enough for me? Rather, O you winds, take pity (on me)! Carry the ship - I, Turnus, willingly entreat you - on to the crags, on to the rocks, and cast (it) on Syrtes' cruel shallows, where neither Rutulians nor any conscious rumour (of my shame) may follow me." Thus speaking, he wavers in his mind, now this way, now that, whether, maddened on account of such disgrace, he should entangle himself on his blade and thrust the cruel sword through his ribs, or cast (himself) into the midst of the waves and make for the curved shore by swimming, and (so) return to (face) the arms of the Teucrians once more. Three times he attempted each course, three times mighty Juno held (him) back and restrained the youth, pitying (him) in her mind. On he drifts, cleaving the deep (water) and with a favourable wave and current, and was carried down to the ancient city of his father Daunus (i.e. Ardea).

11. MEZENTIUS' PROWESS IN BATTLE (LL. 689-754).

a) Mezentius kills Hebrus and Evanthes among others (ll. 689-718).

But, meanwhile, at Jupiter's behest, fiery Mezentius enters the battle and attacks the exultant Teucrians. The Tyrrhene (i.e. Etruscan) ranks close up and concentrate all their hatred on (him) alone, and all their showers of missiles on that man alone. Like a crag, which juts out into the vast surface of the sea, confronting the fury of the winds and exposed to the open sea, endures all the force and the threats of the sky and sea, (while) itself remaining unshaken, he fells to the ground Hebrus, the son of Dolichaon, with whom (were) Latagus and the fleeing Palmus, but he strikes Latagus full in the mouth and face with a huge fragment of mountain rock, (and) he leaves Palmus writhing helplessly with his hamstring cut; he gives Lausus his armour to wear on his shoulders, and his plumes to fix on his (helmet) crest. (He also killed) Evanthes, the Phrygian, and Mimas, the peer in age and companion of Paris, whom Theano bore into the daylight, with Amycus as his father, on the same night that Cisseus' royal daughter (i.e. Hecuba) (gave birth to) Paris; Paris died in his paternal city, but the Laurentine coast holds the unknown Mimas. And just as that boar, which pine-clad (Mount) Vesulus has sheltered for many years, or the Laurentine marsh has nourished with a forest of reeds for many (years), is driven from the high mountains by the biting of hounds, and when it reaches the nets it halts, and snorts fiercely and raises its hackles, and no one has the courage to rage (at it) or to go near (to it), but all assail (it) from a distance with darts and shouts, in the same way (of all those) who have a just hatred of Mezentius, none has the courage to confront (him) with drawn sword, (but) they provoke (him) from a distance with missiles and loud shouts; but, undaunted, he stands his ground, (turning) in all directions, gnashing his teeth and shaking the spears from his back.

b) Mezentius slays Acron and Orodes (ll. 719-746).

There had come from the ancient territory of Corythus a Greek man (called) Acron, (who was) an exile, leaving an unfulfilled marriage, When he (i.e. Mezentius) saw him in the distance embroiled in the midst of the ranks, with crimson plumes and in the purple of his plighted bride, just as often an unfed lion ranging the deep covets, if he happens to catch sight of a roe-deer or a stag with raised antlers, rejoices, gaping monstrously, and bristles his mane and clings crouching over the entrails, (while) foul gore washes his wanton mouth .... so Mezentius rushes eagerly into the thick of the foe. The luckless Acron is felled, and, as he dies, he hammers the dark earth with his heels and stains the broken spear with his blood. And he did not deign to lay Orodes low as he fled, nor to give (him) a hidden wound by hurling a spear (at him); he ran to meet (him) face-to-face, and engaged him man to man, (to prove himself) the better (man) in combat, not by stealth but by valour. Then, planting his foot on top of his fallen (foe) and pressing his spear (into him), (he cries out): "Proud Orodes lies (here), my men, no small part of the war!" His comrades cry out together, echoing his paeans of joy. yet, dying, he (says): "Whoever you are, my conqueror, I (shall) not (be) unavenged, nor will you rejoice for long; a similar fate awaits you, and you will soon occupy these same fields." To him Mezentius (replies), grinning with intermingled anger: "Now die! But as for me, let the father of the gods and the king of men see (to it)." Saying this, he drew his weapon from the body. Enduring repose and the sleep of bronze press down upon his eyes, (and) their lights are shut into everlasting night.

c) Further deaths follow in the fighting (ll.747-754).

Caedicus slaughters Alcathous, Sacrator Hydaspes, Rapo (kills) both Parthenius and Orses, outstanding in his strength; Messapus (slays) both Clonius and Ericetes, the son of Lycaon, the former as he lay on the ground through a fall from his unbridled horse, the latter on foot. Lycian Agis
had advanced on foot as well, but Valerus, not lacking the courage of his ancestors, strikes him down; then Salius (kills) Thronius, and Nealces, renowned for the javelin and arrow which surprise from afar, (kills) Salius.

12) THE DEATH OF LAUSUS (LL. 755-832).

a) The Gods, divided in their loyalties, look on while the mortals continue to kill each other (ll. 755-761).

Now, the heavy (hand of) Mavors was dealing out equal shares of woe and death together; they slew alike, and alike they were slain, victors and vanquished (in turn), flight (was) known neither to one side nor the other. The gods in Jupiter's palace pity the useless rage of both (armies) and that there was such tribulation for mortals: here Venus and there Saturnian Juno, opposite (her), look on; in the midst, among the thousands (of men), pale Tisiphone rages.

b) Aeneas and Mezentius meet in single combat; Mezentius is wounded and disabled (ll. 762-788).

But now Mezentius, brandishing his gigantic spear, advances like a whirlwind over the plain. Just as great Orion, when, cleaving a path, strides on foot through the middle of Nereus' (i.e. of the God of the Sea) deepest waters, (and) surmounts the waves with his shoulder, or, (when) carrying off an aged manna ash from the mountain tops, he walks the earth and hides his head among the clouds, so Mezentius struts about in his massive armour. On the other side, Aeneas, espying him afar off in the ranks, prepares to go to meet (him). He stands his ground, undaunted, awaiting his great-hearted foe, and he stands firm in all his might; then, measuring with his eyes what distance would suit his spear, (he says): "May this right (hand), (which is) my deity, and this weapon which I am poised to throw, now assist (me)! I vow that you, yourself, Lausus, clad in the spoils stripped from that robber's body, will be my trophy over Aeneas." He spoke, and hurled a hissing spear from afar off. Then, as it flew, it glanced from the shield and from a distance pierces the illustrious Antores between his flank and his groin, Antores, the companion of Hercules, who, sent from Argos, had joined Evander and settled in an Italian city. The unlucky (man) is laid low by a wound meant for another, and he looks at the sky, and, as he dies, he remembers his sweet Argos. Then, pious Aeneas hurls a spear: it passed through the (shield's) hollow circle of triple bronze, through the layers of linen and the interwoven work of triple bulls' (hide) and lodged in the lower groin, but it did not penetrate with any force. Aeneas, gladdened at the sight of Tyrrhene blood, swiftly snatches the sword from his thigh and bears down hotly on his agitated (foe).

c) Aeneas is on the point of giving Mezentius his death-blow, when Lausus rushes up, receives the stroke on his shield, and thus saves his father. In consequence, Lausus is slain by Aeneas. (ll. 789-820).  

When he saw (this sight), Lausus groaned deeply from dear love of his father, and the tears rolled across his face - here I shall not, for my part, be silent (about) the occurrence of your cruel death and your most glorious actions, if any (degree of) antiquity shall be able to impart credibility to so great a deed, nor (about) you, (yourself), young man, so worthy of remembrance - . He (i.e. Mezentius), in retreat, helpless and encumbered, was giving ground, and dragging his foeman's lance along with his shield. The youth dashed forward and plunged into the fray, and, just as Aeneas' right (arm) rose up to strike a blow, he parried his blade, and by checking (him) held (him) off. by this stay; his comrades followed with loud cries, and, throwing their spears in concert they try to drive off the enemy from a distance, until the father, protected by his son's shield, could withdraw. Aeneas is furious, but keeps himself under cover.  And as every ploughman and every farmer flees from the fields, whenever rain-storms pour down in streams of hail, and the traveller hides in a safe retreat under the banks of a river or an arch of high rock, while the rain falls on the earth, so that, as soon as the sun returns, they can carry on the day's (work), so Aeneas, overwhelmed by missiles from all directions, endures the cloud of war until all the thunder ceases, and he chides Lausus and threatens Lausus (thus): "Why are you rushing to your death, and daring great (deeds) beyond your strength? Your love for your father is betraying you into rashness." Nonetheless, he (i.e. Lausus) prances about madly; and now savage rage rises higher in the Dardanian leader's (heart), and the Fates gather up the last threads of Lausus' (life). For Aeneas drives his sword firmly through the midst of the young man's (body) and buries (it) to the hilt. The sword-point passed through his shield, a frail defence for one so threatening, and the tunic of soft gold (thread), which his mother had woven, and blood filled its folds; then, his life fled in sorrow through the air to the Shades and left his body.  But when Anchises' son saw the look on the face of the dying (man), a face with the paleness of spectres, he groaned deeply in pity and stretched out his hand, as the likeness of his own love for his father came to his mind. "What now, unhappy boy, will pious Aeneas grant you in recognition of those glorious deeds of yours, what (reward) worthy of so great a nature (as yours)? Keep your arms, in which you delighted, and, if you have any concern about this, I return to you the spirits and the ashes of your forebears. Yet, this should console (you), unhappy (fellow), for your wretched death, you fall by the hand of great Aeneas." Unprovoked, he chides his dithering comrades and lifts from the ground their (leader), who was soiling his well-trimmed locks with blood.

d) Aeneas' sorrow at the death of Lausus (ll. 821-832).

But when Anchises' son saw the look on the face of the dying (man), a face with the paleness of spectres, he groaned deeply in pity and stretched out his hand, as the reflection of his own love for his father came into his mind. "What now, unhappy boy, will pious Aeneas grant you in recognition of those glorious deeds of yours, what (reward) worthy of so great a nature? Keep your arms, in which you delighted, and, if you have any concern about this, I return to you the spirits and the ashes of your forebears. Yet, this should console (you), unhappy (fellow), for your wretched death: that you fall by the hand of great Aeneas." Unprovoked, he chides his dithering comrades and lifts from the ground their (leader), who was soiling his well-trimmed locks with his blood.

13) THE DEATH OF MEZENTIUS (LL. 833-908).

a) Mezentius, grieving at the death of his son, prepares to meet Aeneas (ll. 833-871).

Meanwhile, by the waters of the river Tiber, his father was staunching his wounds with water, and was resting his body (by) leaning against the trunk of a tree. Nearby, his bronze helmet hangs from the branches, and his heavy armour lies peacefully in the meadow. The pick of his men stand around (him): he, himself, panting weakly, relieves his neck, his flowing beard hanging down on to his chest; many times he asks eagerly after Lausus, and he continually dispatches (messengers) to recall (him) and bear his sorrowing father's orders. But his weeping comrades were carrying the lifeless Lausus on top of his armour, a mighty (man) overcome by a mighty wound. His mind, prescient of evil, recognised that wail from afar. He befouls his hoary hair with much dust, and stretches both of his hand-palms to heaven and clings to the body. "Did such delight in living possess me, my son, that I let (you) whom I begot face the foeman's hand in my place? Alas, now at last (is) exile bitter to me, wretch (that I am); now my wound (is) driven deep! I myself, driven by hatred from my father's throne and sceptre, have tarnished your name by my guilt, my son. I have long owed (a debt of) reparation to my native-land and to my peoples' hatred: By any kind of death I should have yielded up my guilty soul! Now I live on, nor yet do I leave mankind and the light (of day). But leave I shall." As he speaks thus, he raises himself on his stricken thigh, and not downcast, though his strength fails because of his deep wound, he orders his horse to be brought. This was his pride, this was his solace, on this (horse) he left victorious from every battle. He addresses the grieving (creature) and begins with these (words): "Rhaebus, we have lived for a long time, if there is any thing which lasts long in the case of mortals. Today, you will either carry away in victory those bloody spoils and the head of Aeneas and you will be the avenger with me of Lausus' sufferings, or, if no force opens up the way (for us), you will die together (with me); for I do not believe that you, the bravest (of animals), will deign to endure the commands of another orders and the Teucrians (as) your masters." He spoke, and, getting on its back, he settled his limbs as usual, and loaded both his hands with a sharp javelin, his head gleaming with bronze and bristling with a horse-hair crest. So, he made his way swiftly into the midst (of the fray): in that one heart heaves a vast (tide of) shame and madness mingled with grief, [love tormented by furious passion and a conscious valour].

b) Mezentius goes to meet Aeneas, and is slain in combat with him (ll. 872-908).

And now he called Aeneas three times in a loud voice. Aeneas, indeed, recognised (his voice) and offers a joyful prayer: "So, may the great father of the gods decree (it), and noble Apollo too! May you begin to engage in battle .... ". Having said so much, he goes to meet (him) with levelled spear. But he (i.e. Mezentius) replies as follows: "Why do you try to frighten me, (you) most savage (of men), now that my son has been torn from me? This was the only way, by which you could destroy (me). I do not shrink from death, nor do I heed any of the gods. Stop (this): for I come (here) to die, and first I bring you these gifts." He spoke, and hurls a spear at his enemy; then he implants another on top of (this), and (then) another, as he speeds around (him) in a wide circle, but his bronze shield withstands (them). Three times he rode in left-wise circles around his steadfast (foe), throwing darts from his hands, (and) three times the Trojan hero carries around with him the vast forest (of spears fixed) in his bronze shield. Then, when he tires of dragging out so many delays (and) of plucking out so many shafts, and he is hard pressed because he is fighting in an unequal combat, (after) pondering many (things) in his mind, then at last he bursts out and hurls his spear between the hollow temples of the war-horse. The horse rears up and lashes the air with its hooves, and throwing its rider, (and then) itself following itself from above, it entangles (him), and falls head-first upon (him), breaking its shoulder. Trojans and Latins set the sky alight with their shouts. Aeneas rushes up, and plucks his sword from its scabbard, and, (standing) over (him), (says) this: "Where now (is) fierce Mezentius, and that wild strength of spirit of his?" In reply, the Etruscan (says), as, looking up at the sky, he drank in the heavens and regained his senses: "Bitter foe, why do you taunt (me) and threaten (me) with death? (There is) no wrong in slaying (me), and I did not come to battle (believing it to be) so, nor did my Lausus make such a pact between me and you. This one (thing) I ask, by whatever indulgence there may be for vanquished foes: that you may allow my body to be covered with earth. I know that my people's fierce hatred encompasses (me): protect (me), I beg (you) from their fury, and grant me a share of my son's tomb." Thus he speaks, and knowingly receives the sword in his throat, and pours forth his life upon his armour in streams of blood.