BOOK X THE ARGUMENT. Jupiter, calling a council of the gods, forbids them to engage in either party. At Aeneas return there is a bloody battle: Turnus killing Pallas; Aeneas, Lausus, and Mezentius. Mezentius is described as an atheist; Lausus as a pious and virtuous youth. The different actions and death of these two are the subject of a noble episode. The gates of heavn unfold: Jove summons all The gods to council in the common hall. Sublimely seated, he surveys from far The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war, And all th inferior world. From first to last, The sovreign senate in degrees are placd. Then thus th almighty sire began: Ye gods, Natives or denizens of blest abodes, From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind, This backward fate from what was first designd? Why this protracted war, when my commands Pronouncd a peace, and gave the Latian lands? What fear or hope on either part divides Our heavns, and arms our powers on diffrent sides? A lawful time of war at length will come, (Nor need your haste anticipate the doom), When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome, Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains, And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains. Then is your time for faction and debate, For partial favour, and permitted hate. Let now your immature dissension cease; Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace. Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge; But lovely Venus thus replies at large: O powr immense, eternal energy, (For to what else protection can we fly?) Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare In fields, unpunishd, and insult my care? How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, In shining arms, triumphant on the plain? Evn in their lines and trenches they contend, And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend: The town is filld with slaughter, and oerfloats, With a red deluge, their increasing moats. Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence, Has left a camp exposd, without defence. This endless outrage shall they still sustain? Shall Troy renewd be forcd and fird again? A second siege my banishd issue fears, And a new Diomede in arms appears. One more audacious mortal will be found; And I, thy daughter, wait another wound. Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave, The Latian lands my progeny receive, Bear they the pains of violated law, And thy protection from their aid withdraw. But, if the gods their sure success foretell; If those of heavn consent with those of hell, To promise Italy; who dare debate The powr of Jove, or fix another fate? What should I tell of tempests on the main, Of Aeolus usurping Neptunes reign? Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat T inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet? Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends, Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends. That new example wanted yet above: An act that well became the wife of Jove! Alecto, raisd by her, with rage inflames The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames. Imperial sway no more exalts my mind; (Such hopes I had indeed, while Heavn was kind;) Now let my happier foes possess my place, Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race; And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace. Since you can spare, from all your wide command, No spot of earth, no hospitable land, Which may my wandring fugitives receive; (Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;) Then, father, (if I still may use that name,) By ruind Troy, yet smoking from the flame, I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care, Be freed from danger, and dismissd the war: Inglorious let him live, without a crown. The father may be cast on coasts unknown, Struggling with fate; but let me save the son. Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian towrs: In those recesses, and those sacred bowrs, Obscurely let him rest; his right resign To promisd empire, and his Julian line. Then Carthage may th Ausonian towns destroy, Nor fear the race of a rejected boy. What profits it my son to scape the fire, Armd with his gods, and loaded with his sire; To pass the perils of the seas and wind; Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind; To reach th Italian shores; if, after all, Our second Pergamus is doomd to fall? Much better had he curbd his high desires, And hoverd oer his ill-extinguishd fires. To Simois banks the fugitives restore, And give them back to war, and all the woes before. Deep indignation swelld Saturnias heart: And must I own, she said, my secret smart What with more decence were in silence kept, And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept? Did god or man your favrite son advise, With war unhopd the Latians to surprise? By fate, you boast, and by the gods decree, He left his native land for Italy! Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more Than Heavn inspird, he sought a foreign shore! Did I persuade to trust his second Troy To the raw conduct of a beardless boy, With walls unfinishd, which himself forsakes, And thro the waves a wandring voyage takes? When have I urgd him meanly to demand The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land? Did I or Iris give this mad advice, Or made the fool himself the fatal choice? You think it hard, the Latians should destroy With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy! Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw Their native air, nor take a foreign law! That Turnus is permitted still to live, To whom his birth a god and goddess give! But yet is just and lawful for your line To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join; Realms, not your own, among your clans divide, And from the bridegroom tear the promisd bride; Petition, while you public arms prepare; Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war! Twas givn to you, your darling son to shroud, To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd, And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud. From flaming fleets you turnd the fire away, And changd the ships to daughters of the sea. But is my crimethe Queen of Heavn offends, If she presume to save her suffring friends! Your son, not knowing what his foes decree, You say, is absent: absent let him be. Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian towrs, The soft recesses, and the sacred bowrs. Why do you then these needless arms prepare, And thus provoke a people prone to war? Did I with fire the Trojan town deface, Or hinder from return your exild race? Was I the cause of mischief, or the man Whose lawless lust the fatal war began? Think on whose faith th adultrous youth relied; Who promisd, who procurd, the Spartan bride? When all th united states of Greece combind, To purge the world of the perfidious kind, Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate: Your quarrels and complaints are now too late. Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mixd applause, Just as they favour or dislike the cause. So winds, when yet unfledgd in woods they lie, In whispers first their tender voices try, Then issue on the main with bellowing rage, And storms to trembling mariners presage. Then thus to both replied th imperial god, Who shakes heavns axles with his awful nod. (When he begins, the silent senate stand With revrence, listning to the dread command: The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain; And the hushd waves lie flatted on the main.) Celestials, your attentive ears incline! Since, said the god, the Trojans must not join In wishd alliance with the Latian line; Since endless jarrings and immortal hate Tend but to discompose our happy state; The war henceforward be resignd to fate: Each to his proper fortune stand or fall; Equal and unconcernd I look on all. Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me; And both shall draw the lots their fates decree. Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend; And, if she favours those, let those defend: The Fates will find their way. The Thundrer said, And shook the sacred honours of his head, Attesting Styx, th inviolable flood, And the black regions of his brother god. Trembled the poles of heavn, and earth confessd the nod. This end the sessions had: the senate rise, And to his palace wait their sovreign thro the skies. Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes Within their walls the Trojan host inclose: They wound, they kill, they watch at evry gate; Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate. Th Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief, Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief. Thin on the towrs they stand; and evn those few A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew. Yet in the face of danger some there stood: The two bold brothers of Sarpedons blood, Asius and Acmon; both th Assaraci; Young Haemon, and tho young, resolvd to die. With these were Clarus and Thymoetes joind; Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind. From Acmons hands a rolling stone there came, So large, it half deservd a mountains name: Strong-sinewd was the youth, and big of bone; His brother Mnestheus could not more have done, Or the great father of th intrepid son. Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send; And some with darts, and some with stones defend. Amid the press appears the beauteous boy, The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy. His lovely face unarmd, his head was bare; In ringlets oer his shoulders hung his hair. His forehead circled with a diadem; Distinguishd from the crowd, he shines a gem, Enchasd in gold, or polishd ivry set, Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet. Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war, Directing pointed arrows from afar, And death with poison armdin Lydia born, Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn; Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands, And leaves a rich manure of golden sands. There Capys, author of the Capuan name, And there was Mnestheus too, increasd in fame, Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame. Thus mortal war was wagd on either side. Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide: For, anxious, from Evander when he went, He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchons tent; Exposd the cause of coming to the chief; His name and country told, and askd relief; Proposd the terms; his own small strength declard; What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepard: What Turnus, bold and violent, designd; Then shewd the slippry state of humankind, And fickle fortune; warnd him to beware, And to his wholesome counsel added prayr. Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs, And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins. They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand; Their forces trusted with a foreign hand. Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear Two lions carvd, which rising Ida bear Ida, to wandring Trojans ever dear. Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate, Revolving wars events, and various fate. His left young Pallas kept, fixd to his side, And oft of winds enquird, and of the tide; Oft of the stars, and of their watry way; And what he sufferd both by land and sea. Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring! The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing, Which followd great Aeneas to the war: Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare. A thousand youths brave Massicus obey, Borne in the Tiger thro the foaming sea; From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care: For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear. Fierce Abas next: his men bright armour wore; His stern Apollos golden statue bore. Six hundred Populonia sent along, All skilld in martial exercise, and strong. Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins, An isle renownd for steel, and unexhausted mines. Asylas on his prow the third appears, Who heavn interprets, and the wandring stars; From offerd entrails prodigies expounds, And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds. A thousand spears in warlike order stand, Sent by the Pisans under his command. Fair Astur follows in the watry field, Proud of his managd horse and painted shield. Gravisca, noisome from the neighbring fen, And his own Caere, sent three hundred men; With those which Minios fields and Pyrgi gave, All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave. Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew, And brave Cupavo followd but by few; Whose helm confessd the lineage of the man, And bore, with wings displayd, a silver swan. Love was the fault of his famd ancestry, Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly. For Cycnus lovd unhappy Phaeton, And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone, Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief. Heavn heard his song, and hastend his relief, And changd to snowy plumes his hoary hair, And wingd his flight, to chant aloft in air. His son Cupavo brushd the briny flood: Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood, Who heavd a rock, and, threatning still to throw, With lifted hands alarmd the seas below: They seemd to fear the formidable sight, And rolld their billows on, to speed his flight. Ocnus was next, who led his native train Of hardy warriors thro the watry plain: The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream, From whence the Mantuan town derives the name An ancient city, but of mixd descent: Three sevral tribes compose the government; Four towns are under each; but all obey The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway. Hate to Mezentius armd five hundred more, Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore: Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead coverd oer. These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep With stretching oars at once the glassy deep. Him and his martial train the Triton bears; High on his poop the sea-green god appears: Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound, And at the blast the billows dance around. A hairy man above the waist he shows; A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows; And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides, And froth and foam augment the murmring tides. Full thirty ships transport the chosen train For Troys relief, and scour the briny main. Now was the world forsaken by the sun, And Phoebe half her nightly race had run. The careful chief, who never closd his eyes, Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies. A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood, Once his own galleys, hewn from Idas wood; But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep, As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep. They know him from afar; and in a ring Enclose the ship that bore the Trojan king. Cymodoce, whose voice excelld the rest, Above the waves advancd her snowy breast; Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides The curling ocean, and corrects the tides. She spoke for all the choir, and thus began With pleasing words to warn th unknowing man: Sleeps our lovd lord? O goddess-born, awake! Spread evry sail, pursue your watry track, And haste your course. Your navy once were we, From Idas height descending to the sea; Till Turnus, as at anchor fixd we stood, Presumd to violate our holy wood. Then, loosd from shore, we fled his fires profane (Unwillingly we broke our masters chain), And since have sought you thro the Tuscan main. The mighty Mother changd our forms to these, And gave us life immortal in the seas. But young Ascanius, in his camp distressd, By your insulting foes is hardly pressd. Th Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host, Advance in order on the Latian coast: To cut their way the Daunian chief designs, Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines. Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light, First arm thy soldiers for th ensuing fight: Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield, And bear aloft th impenetrable shield. Tomorrows sun, unless my skill be vain, Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain. Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force Pushd on the vessel in her watry course; For well she knew the way. Impelld behind, The ship flew forward, and outstrippd the wind. The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause, The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws. Then thus he prayd, and fixd on heavn his eyes: Hear thou, great Mother of the deities. With turrets crownd! (on Idas holy hill Fierce tigers, reind and curbd, obey thy will.) Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight; And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right. He said no more. And now renewing day Had chasd the shadows of the night away. He chargd the soldiers, with preventing care, Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare; Warnd of th ensuing fight, and bade em hope the war. Now, his lofty poop, he viewd below His camp incompassd, and th inclosing foe. His blazing shield, imbracd, he held on high; The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply. Hope arms their courage: from their towrs they throw Their darts with double force, and drive the foe. Thus, at the signal givn, the cranes arise Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies. King Turnus wonderd at the fight renewd, Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he viewd, The seas with swelling canvas coverd oer, And the swift ships descending on the shore. The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes, The radiant crest that seemd in flames to rise, And dart diffusive fires around the field, And the keen glittring of the golden shield. Thus threatning comets, when by night they rise, Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies: So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights, Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright: Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent To man the shores, and hinder their descent, And thus awakes the courage of his friends: What you so long have wishd, kind Fortune sends; In ardent arms to meet th invading foe: You find, and find him at advantage now. Yours is the day: you need but only dare; Your swords will make you masters of the war. Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands, And dearest wifes, are all within your hands. Be mindful of the race from whence you came, And emulate in arms your fathers fame. Now take the time, while staggring yet they stand With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand: Fortune befriends the bold. Nor more he said, But balancd whom to leave, and whom to lead; Then these elects, the landing to prevent; And those he leaves, to keep the city pent. Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore: Some are by boats exposd, by bridges more. With labring oars they bear along the strand, Where the tide languishes, and leap a-land. Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes, And, where no ford he finds, no water fries, Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar, But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore, That course he steerd, and thus he gave command: Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land: Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground. Let me securely landI ask no more; Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore. This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends: They tug at evry oar, and evry stretcher bends; They run their ships aground; the vessels knock, (Thus forcd ashore,) and tremble with the shock. Tarchons alone was lost, that stranded stood, Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood: She breaks her back; the loosend sides give way, And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea. Their broken oars and floating planks withstand Their passage, while they labour to the land, And ebbing tides bear back upon th uncertain sand. Now Turnus leads his troops without delay, Advancing to the margin of the sea. The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assaild The clowns new-raisd and raw, and soon prevaild. Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight; Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height. He first in open field defied the prince: But armour scald with gold was no defence Against the fated sword, which opend wide His plated shield, and piercd his naked side. Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born, Was from his wretched mother rippd and torn; Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee; For his beginning life from biting steel was free. Not far from him was Gyas laid along, Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong: Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assaild, Nor valour nor Herculean arms availd, Nor their famd father, wont in war to go With great Alcides, while he toild below. The noisy Pharos next receivd his death: Aeneas writhd his dart, and stoppd his bawling breath. Then wretched Cydon had receivd his doom, Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom, And sought with lust obscene polluted joys: The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys, Had not his sevn bold brethren stoppd the course Of the fierce champions, with united force. Sevn darts were thrown at once; and some rebound From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound: The rest had reachd him; but his mothers care Prevented those, and turnd aside in air. The prince then calld Achates, to supply The spears that knew the way to victory Those fatal weapons, which, inurd to blood, In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood: Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain Against our foes, on this contended plain. He said; then seizd a mighty spear, and threw; Which, wingd with fate, thro Maeons buckler flew, Piercd all the brazen plates, and reachd his heart: He staggerd with intolerable smart. Alcanor saw; and reachd, but reachd in vain, His helping hand, his brother to sustain. A second spear, which kept the former course, From the same hand, and sent with equal force, His right arm piercd, and holding on, bereft His use of both, and piniond down his left. Then Numitor from his dead brother drew Th ill-omend spear, and at the Trojan threw: Preventing fate directs the lance awry, Which, glancing, only markd Achates thigh. In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came, And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim. The spear flew hissing thro the middle space, And piercd his throat, directed at his face; It stoppd at once the passage of his wind, And the free soul to flitting air resignd: His forehead was the first that struck the ground; Lifeblood and life rushd mingled thro the wound. He slew three brothers of the Borean race, And three, whom Ismarus, their native place, Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace. Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads: The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds, Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand, These fight to keep, and those to win, the land. With mutual blood th Ausonian soil is dyed, While on its borders each their claim decide. As wintry winds, contending in the sky, With equal force of lungs their titles try: They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heavn Stands without motion, and the tide undrivn: Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield, They long suspend the fortune of the field. Both armies thus perform what courage can; Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man. But, in another part, th Arcadian horse With ill success engage the Latin force: For, where th impetuous torrent, rushing down, Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown, They left their coursers, and, unusd to fight On foot, were scatterd in a shameful flight. Pallas, who with disdain and grief had viewd His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued, Usd threatnings mixd with prayrs, his last resource, With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force Which way, companions? whether would you run? By you yourselves, and mighty battles won, By my great sire, by his establishd name, And early promise of my future fame; By my youth, emulous of equal right To share his honoursshun ignoble flight! Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way Thro yon black body, and that thick array: Tis thro that forward path that we must come; There lies our way, and that our passage home. Nor powrs above, nor destinies below Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go, With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe. See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore, The sea behind, our enemies before; No passage left, unless we swim the main; Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain. This said, he strode with eager haste along, And bore amidst the thickest of the throng. Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe, Had heavd a stone of mighty weight, to throw: Stooping, the spear descended on his chine, Just where the bone distinguished either loin: It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay, That scarce the victor forcd the steel away. Hisbon came on: but, while he movd too slow To wishd revenge, the prince prevents his blow; For, warding his at once, at once he pressd, And plungd the fatal weapon in his breast. Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust, Who staind his stepdams bed with impious lust. And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain, Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain; So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size, As causd an error in their parents eyes Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides The nice distinction, and their fate divides: For Thymbrus head was loppd; and Laris hand, Dismemberd, sought its owner on the strand: The trembling fingers yet the falchion strain, And threaten still th intended stroke in vain. Now, to renew the charge, th Arcadians came: Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame, And grief, with anger mixd, their minds inflame. Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain, Who chancd, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain: The flying spear was after Ilus sent; But Rhoeteus happend on a death unmeant: From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled, The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead: Rolld from his chariot with a mortal wound, And intercepted fate, he spurnd the ground. As when, in summer, welcome winds arise, The watchful shepherd to the forest flies, And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads, And catching flames infect the neighbring heads; Around the forest flies the furious blast, And all the leafy nation sinks at last, And Vulcan rides in triumph oer the waste; The pastor, pleasd with his dire victory, Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky: So Pallas troops their scatterd strength unite, And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight. Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood; But first collected in his arms he stood: Advancing then, he plied the spear so well, Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell. Around his head he tossd his glittring brand, And from Strymonius hewd his better hand, Held up to guard his throat; then hurld a stone At Thoas ample front, and piercd the bone: It struck beneath the space of either eye; And blood, and mingled brains, together fly. Deep skilld in future fates, Halesus sire Did with the youth to lonely groves retire: But, when the fathers mortal race was run, Dire destiny laid hold upon the son, And hauld him to the war, to find, beneath Th Evandrian spear, a memorable death. Pallas th encounter seeks, but, ere he throws, To Tuscan Tiber thus addressd his vows: O sacred stream, direct my flying dart, And give to pass the proud Halesus heart! His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear. Pleasd with the bribe, the god receivd his prayr: For, while his shield protects a friend distressd, The dart came driving on, and piercd his breast. But Lausus, no small portion of the war, Permits not panic fear to reign too far, Causd by the death of so renownd a knight; But by his own example cheers the fight. Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day. The Phrygian troops escapd the Greeks in vain: They, and their mixd allies, now load the plain. To the rude shock of war both armies came; Their leaders equal, and their strength the same. The rear so pressd the front, they could not wield Their angry weapons, to dispute the field. Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there: Of equal youth and beauty both appear, But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air. Their congress in the field great Jove withstands: Both doomd to fall, but fall by greater hands. Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief Of Lausus danger, urging swift relief. With his drivn chariot he divides the crowd, And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud: Let none presume his needless aid to join; Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine: To this right hand is Pallas only due; O were his father here, my just revenge to view! From the forbidden space his men retird. Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admird; Surveyd him oer and oer with wondring sight, Struck with his haughty mien, and towring height. Then to the king: Your empty vaunts forbear; Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear; Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name; Jove is impartial, and to both the same. He said, and to the void advancd his pace: Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face. Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light, Addressd himself on foot to single fight. And, as a lionwhen he spies from far A bull that seems to meditate the war, Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand: Imagine eager Turnus not more slow, To rush from high on his unequal foe. Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance Within due distance of his flying lance, Prepares to charge him first, resolvd to try If fortune would his want of force supply; And thus to Heavn and Hercules addressd: Alcides, once on earth Evanders guest, His son adjures you by those holy rites, That hospitable board, those genial nights; Assist my great attempt to gain this prize, And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes, His ravishd spoils. Twas heard, the vain request; Alcides mournd, and stifled sighs within his breast. Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began: Short bounds of life are set to mortal man. Tis virtues work alone to stretch the narrow span. So many sons of gods, in bloody fight, Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light: My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe; Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow. Evn Turnus shortly shall resign his breath, And stands already on the verge of death. This said, the god permits the fatal fight, But from the Latian fields averts his sight. Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw, And, having thrown, his shining falchion drew The steel just grazd along the shoulder joint, And markd it slightly with the glancing point, Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew, And poisd his pointed spear, before he threw: Then, as the winged weapon whizzd along, See now, said he, whose arm is better strung. The spear kept on the fatal course, unstayd By plates of irn, which oer the shield were laid: Thro folded brass and tough bull hides it passd, His corslet piercd, and reachd his heart at last. In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood; The soul comes issuing with the vital blood: He falls; his arms upon his body sound; And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground. Turnus bestrode the corpse: Arcadians, hear, Said he; my message to your master bear: Such as the sire deservd, the son I send; It costs him dear to be the Phrygians friend. The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow, Unaskd, to rest his wandring ghost below. He said, and trampled down with all the force Of his left foot, and spurnd the wretched corse; Then snatchd the shining belt, with gold inlaid; The belt Eurytions artful hands had made, Where fifty fatal brides, expressd to sight, All in the compass of one mournful night, Deprivd their bridegrooms of returning light. In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore. O mortals, blind in fate, who never know To bear high fortune, or endure the low! The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain, Shall wish untouchd the trophies of the slain; Shall wish the fatal belt were far away, And curse the dire remembrance of the day. The sad Arcadians, from th unhappy field, Bear back the breathless body on a shield. O grace and grief of war! at once restord, With praises, to thy sire, at once deplord! One day first sent thee to the fighting field, Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle killd; One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield. This dismal news, not from uncertain fame, But sad spectators, to the hero came: His friends upon the brink of ruin stand, Unless relievd by his victorious hand. He whirls his sword around, without delay, And hews thro adverse foes an ample way, To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud: Evander, Pallas, all that friendship owd To large deserts, are present to his eyes; His plighted hand, and hospitable ties. Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred, He took in fight, and living victims led, To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire, In sacrifice, before his funral fire. At Magus next he threw: he stoopd below The flying spear, and shunnd the promisd blow; Then, creeping, claspd the heros knees, and prayd: By young Iulus, by thy fathers shade, O spare my life, and send me back to see My longing sire, and tender progeny! A lofty house I have, and wealth untold, In silver ingots, and in bars of gold: All these, and sums besides, which see no day, The ransom of this one poor life shall pay. If I survive, will Troy the less prevail? A single souls too light to turn the scale. He said. The hero sternly thus replied: Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside, Leave for thy childrens lot. Thy Turnus broke All rules of war by one relentless stroke, When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone My fathers shadow, but my living son. Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft, He seizd his helm, and draggd him with his left; Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreathd, Up to the hilts his shining falchion sheathd. Apollos priest, Emonides, was near; His holy fillets on his front appear; Glittring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd; Much of his god, more of his purple, proud. Him the fierce Trojan followd thro the field: The holy coward fell; and, forcd to yield, The prince stood oer the priest, and, at one blow, Sent him an offring to the shades below. His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears, Designd a trophy to the God of Wars. Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight, And Umbro, born upon the mountains height. The champion cheers his troops t encounter those, And seeks revenge himself on other foes. At Anxurs shield he drove; and, at the blow, Both shield and arm to ground together go. Anxur had boasted much of magic charms, And thought he wore impenetrable arms, So made by mutterd spells; and, from the spheres, Had life securd, in vain, for length of years. Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod; A nymph his mother, his sire a god. Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince: With his protended lance he makes defence; Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on, Arrests his better hand, and drags him down; Stands oer the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay, Vain tales inventing, and prepard to pray, Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood, Then sunk, and rolld along the sand in blood. The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain: Lie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain; Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb, Far from thy mother and thy native home, Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey, Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea. On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran, Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van. They fled for fear; with these, he chasd along Camers the yellow-lockd, and Numa strong; Both great in arms, and both were fair and young. Camers was son to Volscens lately slain, In wealth surpassing all the Latian train, And in Amycla fixd his silent easy reign. And, as Aegaeon, when with heavn he strove, Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove; Movd all his hundred hands, provokd the war, Defied the forky lightning from afar; At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires, And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires; In his right hand as many swords he wields, And takes the thunder on as many shields: With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood; And soon the fields with falling corps were strowd, When once his falchion found the taste of blood. With fury scarce to be conceivd, he flew Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew. They, when they see the fiery chief advance, And pushing at their chests his pointed lance, Wheeld with so swift a motion, mad with fear, They threw their master headlong from the chair. They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before They bear the bounding chariot to the shore. Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains, With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins, And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains: Bold brethren both. The former wavd in air His flaming sword: Aeneas couchd his spear, Unusd to threats, and more unusd to fear. Then Liger thus: Thy confidence is vain To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain: Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode, Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode; Nor Venus veil is here, near Neptunes shield; Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field. Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer Returnd his answer with his flying spear. As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends, Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends, Prepard for fight; the fatal dart arrives, And thro the borders of his buckler drives; Passd thro and piercd his groin: the deadly wound, Cast from his chariot, rolld him on the ground. Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite: Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight; Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat; But you yourself forsake your empty seat. He said, and seizd at once the loosend rein; For Liger lay already on the plain, By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands, The recreant thus his wretched life demands: Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man! By her and him from whom thy breath began, Who formd thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliants prayr. Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said; But the stern hero turnd aside his head, And cut him short: I hear another man; You talkd not thus before the fight began. Now take your turn; and, as a brother should, Attend your brother to the Stygian flood. Then thro his breast his fatal sword he sent, And the soul issued at the gaping vent. As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground, Thus ragd the prince, and scatterd deaths around. At length Ascanius and the Trojan train Broke from the camp, so long besiegd in vain. Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man Held conference with his queen, and thus began: My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife, Still think you Venus aid supports the strife Sustains her Trojansor themselves, alone, With inborn valour force their fortune on? How fierce in fight, with courage undecayd! Judge if such warriors want immortal aid. To whom the goddess with the charming eyes, Soft in her tone, submissively replies: Why, O my sovreign lord, whose frown I fear, And cannot, unconcernd, your anger bear; Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still (As once I was) were mistress of your will, From your almighty powr your pleasing wife Might gain the grace of lengthning Turnus life, Securely snatch him from the fatal fight, And give him to his aged fathers sight. Now let him perish, since you hold it good, And glut the Trojans with his pious blood. Yet from our lineage he derives his name, And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came; Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine, And offers daily incense at your shrine. Then shortly thus the sovreign god replied: Since in my powr and goodness you confide, If for a little space, a lengthend span, You beg reprieve for this expiring man, I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence From instant fate, and can so far dispense. But, if some secret meaning lies beneath, To save the short-livd youth from destind death, Or if a farther thought you entertain, To change the fates; you feed your hopes in vain. To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes: And what if that request, your tongue denies, Your heart should grant; and not a short reprieve, But length of certain life, to Turnus give? Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth, If my presaging soul divines with truth; Which, O! I wish, might err thro causeless fears, And you (for you have powr) prolong his years! Thus having said, involvd in clouds, she flies, And drives a storm before her thro the skies. Swift she descends, alighting on the plain, Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain. Of air condensd a spectre soon she made; And, what Aeneas was, such seemd the shade. Adornd with Dardan arms, the phantom bore His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore; This hand appeard a shining sword to wield, And that sustaind an imitated shield. With manly mien he stalkd along the ground, Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound. (Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight, Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.) The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare, And flourishes his empty sword in air. At this, advancing, Turnus hurld his spear: The phantom wheeld, and seemd to fly for fear. Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled, And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed. Whether, O coward? (thus he calls aloud, Nor found he spoke to wind, and chasd a cloud,) Why thus forsake your bride! Receive from me The fated land you sought so long by sea. He said, and, brandishing at once his blade, With eager pace pursued the flying shade. By chance a ship was fastend to the shore, Which from old Clusium King Osinius bore: The plank was ready laid for safe ascent; For shelter there the trembling shadow bent, And skippt and skulkd, and under hatches went. Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste, Ascends the plank, and to the galley passd. Scarce had he reachd the prow: Saturnias hand The haulsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land. With wind in poop, the vessel plows the sea, And measures back with speed her former way. Meantime Aeneas seeks his absent foe, And sends his slaughterd troops to shades below. The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud, And flew sublime, and vanishd in a cloud. Too late young Turnus the delusion found, Far on the sea, still making from the ground. Then, thankless for a life redeemd by shame, With sense of honour stung, and forfeit fame, Fearful besides of what in fight had passd, His hands and haggard eyes to heavn he cast; O Jove! he cried, for what offence have I Deservd to bear this endless infamy? Whence am I forcd, and whether am I borne? How, and with what reproach, shall I return? Shall ever I behold the Latian plain, Or see Laurentums lofty towrs again? What will they say of their deserting chief The war was mine: I fly from their relief; I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave; And evn from hence their dying groans receive. Here, overmatchd in fight, in heaps they lie; There, scatterd oer the fields, ignobly fly. Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive! Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve! On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive; Or set me shipwreckd on some desert shore, Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more, Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame, Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim. Thus Turnus ravd, and various fates revolvd: The choice was doubtful, but the death resolvd. And now the sword, and now the sea took place, That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace. Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main, By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain. Thrice he the sword assayd, and thrice the flood; But Juno, movd with pity, both withstood. And thrice repressd his rage; strong gales supplied, And pushd the vessel oer the swelling tide. At length she lands him on his native shores, And to his fathers longing arms restores. Meantime, by Joves impulse, Mezentius armd, Succeeding Turnus, with his ardour warmd His fainting friends, reproachd their shameful flight, Repelld the victors, and renewd the fight. Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire; Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire Of wishd revenge: on him, and him alone, All hands employd, and all their darts are thrown. He, like a solid rock by seas inclosd, To raging winds and roaring waves opposd, From his proud summit looking down, disdains Their empty menace, and unmovd remains. Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead, Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled. At Latagus a weighty stone he flung: His face was flatted, and his helmet rung. But Palmus from behind receives his wound; Hamstringd he falls, and grovels on the ground: His crest and armour, from his body torn, Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn. Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew. Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew, Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire, The queen producd young Paris to his sire: But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain, Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain. And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred, With forest mast and fattning marshes fed, When once he sees himself in toils inclosd, By huntsmen and their eager hounds opposd, He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war; Th invaders dart their javlins from afar: All keep aloof, and safely shout around; But none presumes to give a nearer wound: He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide, And shakes a grove of lances from his side: Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspird, And just revenge against the tyrant fird, Their darts with clamour at a distance drive, And only keep the languishd war alive. From Coritus came Acron to the fight, Who left his spouse betrothd, and unconsummate night. Mezentius sees him thro the squadrons ride, Proud of the purple favours of his bride. Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds, Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane, He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws; The prey lies panting underneath his paws: He fills his famishd maw; his mouth runs oer With unchewd morsels, while he churns the gore: So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes, And first unhappy Acron overthrows: Stretchd at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground; The lance, besmeard with blood, lies broken in the wound. Then with disdain the haughty victor viewd Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued, Nor thought the dastards back deservd a wound, But, running, gaind th advantage of the ground: Then turning short, he met him face to face, To give his victory the better grace. Orodes falls, in equal fight oppressd: Mezentius fixd his foot upon his breast, And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries: Lo! here the champion of my rebels lies! The fields around with Io Paean! ring; And peals of shouts applaud the conquring king. At this the vanquishd, with his dying breath, Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death: Nor thou, proud man, unpunishd shalt remain: Like death attends thee on this fatal plain. Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied: For what belongs to me, let Jove provide; But die thou first, whatever chance ensue. He said, and from the wound the weapon drew. A hovring mist came swimming oer his sight, And seald his eyes in everlasting night. By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain; Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain; Orses the strong to greater strength must yield; He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo killd. Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew, Who from Lycaons blood his lineage drew. But from his headstrong horse his fate he found, Who threw his master, as he made a bound: The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground; Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails: The Trojan sinks, and Neptunes son prevails. Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride, To single fight the boldest foe defied; Whom Tuscan Valerus by force oercame, And not belied his mighty fathers fame. Salius to death the great Antronius sent: But the same fate the victor underwent, Slain by Nealces hand, well-skilld to throw The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow. Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance; By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance: Victors and vanquishd, in the various field, Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield. The gods from heavn survey the fatal strife, And mourn the miseries of human life. Above the rest, two goddesses appear Concernd for each: here Venus, Juno there. Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes. Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain, Brandishd his spear, and rushd into the plain, Where towring in the midmost rank she stood, Like tall Orion stalking oer the flood. (When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves, His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves), Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread, Deep fixd in earth; in clouds he hides his head. The Trojan prince beheld him from afar, And dauntless undertook the doubtful war. Collected in his strength, and like a rock, Poisd on his base, Mezentius stood the shock. He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries: My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke! (Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.) His armour, from the Trojan pirate torn, By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn. He said; and with his utmost force he threw The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew, Reachd the celestial shield, that stoppd the course; But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt The side and bowels famd Anthores fixd. Anthores had from Argos traveld far, Alcides friend, and brother of the war; Till, tird with toils, fair Italy he chose, And in Evanders palace sought repose. Now, falling by anothers wound, his eyes He cast to heavn, on Argos thinks, and dies. The pious Trojan then his javlin sent; The shield gave way; thro treble plates it went Of solid brass, of linen trebly rolld, And three bull hides which round the buckler fold. All these it passd, resistless in the course, Transpiercd his thigh, and spent its dying force. The gaping wound gushd out a crimson flood. The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood, His falchion drew, to closer fight addressd, And with new force his fainting foe oppressd. His fathers peril Lausus viewd with grief; He sighd, he wept, he ran to his relief. And here, heroic youth, tis here I must To thy immortal memory be just, And sing an act so noble and so new, Posterity will scarce believe tis true. Paind with his wound, and useless for the fight, The father sought to save himself by flight: Encumberd, slow he draggd the spear along, Which piercd his thigh, and in his buckler hung. The pious youth, resolvd on death, below The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe; Protects his parent, and prevents the blow. Shouts of applause ran ringing thro the field, To see the son the vanquishd father shield. All, fird with genrous indignation, strive, And with a storm of darts to distance drive The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far, On his Vulcanian orb sustaind the war. As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind, The plowman, passenger, and labring hind For shelter to the neighbring covert fly, Or housd, or safe in hollow caverns lie; But, that oerblown, when heavn above em smiles, Return to travel, and renew their toils: Aeneas thus, oerwhelmed on evry side, The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide; And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threatning cried: Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age, Betrayd by pious love? Nor, thus forborne, The youth desists, but with insulting scorn Provokes the lingring prince, whose patience, tird, Gave place; and all his breast with fury fird. For now the Fates prepard their sharpend shears; And lifted high the flaming sword appears, Which, full descending with a frightful sway, Thro shield and corslet forcd th impetuous way, And buried deep in his fair bosom lay. The purple streams thro the thin armour strove, And drenchd th imbroiderd coat his mother wove; And life at length forsook his heaving heart, Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart. But when, with blood and paleness all oerspread, The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead, He grievd; he wept; the sight an image brought Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought: Then stretchd his hand to hold him up, and said: Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid To love so great, to such transcendent store Of early worth, and sure presage of more? Accept whateer Aeneas can afford; Untouchd thy arms, untaken be thy sword; And all that pleasd thee living, still remain Inviolate, and sacred to the slain. Thy body on thy parents I bestow, To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know, Or have a sense of human things below. There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell: Twas by the great Aeneas hand I fell. With this, his distant friends he beckons near, Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear: Himself assists to lift him from the ground, With clotted locks, and blood that welld from out the wound. Meantime, his father, now no father, stood, And washd his wounds by Tibers yellow flood: Oppressd with anguish, panting, and oerspent, His fainting limbs against an oak he leant. A bough his brazen helmet did sustain; His heavier arms lay scatterd on the plain: A chosen train of youth around him stand; His drooping head was rested on his hand: His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought; And all on Lausus ran his restless thought. Careful, concernd his danger to prevent, He much enquird, and many a message sent To warn him from the fieldalas! in vain! Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain! Oer his broad shield still gushd the yawning wound, And drew a bloody trail along the ground. Far off he heard their cries, far off divind The dire event, with a foreboding mind. With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head; Then both his lifted hands to heavn he spread; Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said: What joys, alas! could this frail being give, That I have been so covetous to live? To see my son, and such a son, resign His life, a ransom for preserving mine! And am I then preservd, and art thou lost? How much too dear has that redemption cost! Tis now my bitter banishment I feel: This is a wound too deep for time to heal. My guilt thy growing virtues did defame; My blackness blotted thy unblemishd name. Chasd from a throne, abandond, and exild For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild: I owd my people these, and, from their hate, With less resentment could have borne my fate. And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight Of hated men, and of more hated light: But will not long. With that he raisd from ground His fainting limbs, that staggerd with his wound; Yet, with a mind resolvd, and unappalld With pains or perils, for his courser calld Well-mouthd, well-managd, whom himself did dress With daily care, and mounted with success; His aid in arms, his ornament in peace. Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke, The steed seemd sensible, while thus he spoke: O Rhoebus, we have livd too long for me If life and long were terms that could agree! This day thou either shalt bring back the head And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead; This day thou either shalt revenge my woe, For murderd Lausus, on his cruel foe; Or, if inexorable fate deny Our conquest, with thy conquerd master die: For, after such a lord, I rest secure, Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load endure. He said; and straight th officious courser kneels, To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills With pointed javlins; on his head he lacd His glittring helm, which terribly was gracd With waving horsehair, nodding from afar; Then spurrd his thundring steed amidst the war. Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought, Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought Of inborn worth, his labring soul oppressd, Rolld in his eyes, and ragd within his breast. Then loud he calld Aeneas thrice by name: The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came. Great Jove, he said, and the far-shooting god, Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good! He spoke no more; but hastend, void of fear, And threatend with his long protended spear. To whom Mezentius thus: Thy vaunts are vain. My Lausus lies extended on the plain: Hes lost! thy conquest is already won; The wretched sire is murderd in the son. Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy. Forbear thy threats: my busness is to die; But first receive this parting legacy. He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent; Another after, and another went. Round in a spacious ring he rides the field, And vainly plies th impenetrable shield. Thrice rode he round; and thrice Aeneas wheeld, Turnd as he turnd: the golden orb withstood The strokes, and bore about an iron wood. Impatient of delay, and weary grown, Still to defend, and to defend alone, To wrench the darts which in his buckler light, Urgd and oer-labourd in unequal fight; At length resolvd, he throws with all his force Full at the temples of the warrior horse. Just where the stroke was aimd, th unerring spear Made way, and stood transfixd thro either ear. Seizd with unwonted pain, surprisd with fright, The wounded steed curvets, and, raisd upright, Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind. Down comes the rider headlong from his height: His horse came after with unwieldy weight, And, floundring forward, pitching on his head, His lords encumberd shoulder overlaid. From either host, the mingled shouts and cries Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies. Aeneas, hastning, wavd his fatal sword High oer his head, with this reproachful word: Now; where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain? Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies, With scarce recoverd sight he thus replies: Why these insulting words, this waste of breath, To souls undaunted, and secure of death? Tis no dishonour for the brave to die, Nor came I here with hope victory; Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design: As I had usd my fortune, use thou thine. My dying son contracted no such band; The gift is hateful from his murdrers hand. For this, this only favour let me sue, If pity can to conquerd foes be due: Refuse it not; but let my body have The last retreat of humankind, a grave. Too well I know th insulting peoples hate; Protect me from their vengeance after fate: This refuge for my poor remains provide, And lay my much-lovd Lausus by my side. He said, and to the sword his throat applied. The crimson stream distaind his arms around, And the disdainful soul came rushing thro the wound.