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 deserv'd, the son I send :
It costs him dear to be the Phrygians' friend.
The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow,
Unask'd, to rest his wandering ghost below."
He said, and trampled down with all the force
Of his left foot, and spurn'd the wretched corse:
Then snatch'd the shining belt, with gold inlaid;
The belt Eurytion's artful hands had made:
Where fifty fatal brides, exprest to sight,
All, in the compass of one mournful night,
Depriv'd 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 untouch'd 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 restor'd
With praises to thy sire, at once deplor'd.
One day first sent thee to the fighting field,
Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill'd;
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 reliev'd by his victorious hand.
He whirls his sword around, without delay,
And hews through adverse foes an ample way;
To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud:
Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow'd
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 funeral fire.

At Magus next he threw: he stoop'd below
The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow:
Then, creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and
By young Iulus, by thy father's shade, [pray'd:
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, shall Troy the less prevail?
A single soul's too light to turn the scale."
He said. The hero sternly thus reply'd:
"Thy bars, and ingots, and the sums beside,
Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke
All rules of war, by one relentless stroke,
When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone,
My father's shadow, but my living son."
Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft,
He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left:
Then with his right-hand, whilst his neck he
wreath'd,

Up to the hilts his shining falchion sheath'd

Apollo's priest, Hæmonides, was Hear, His holy fillets on his front appear; Glittering in arms he shone amidst the crowd; Much of his god, more of his purple proud: Him the fierce Trojan follow'd through the field, The holy coward fell: and, forc'd to yield, The prince stood o'er the priest; and at one blow Sent him an offering to the shades below. His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears, Design'd a trophy to the god of wars.

Vulcanian Cæculus renews the fight;
And Umbro born upon the mountain's height.
The champion cheers his troops t' encounter those;
And seeks revenge himself on other foes.
At Anxur's 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 mutter'd spells: and from the spheres
Had life secur'd in vain, for length of years.
Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod;
A nymph his mother, and his sire a god.
Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince;
With his portended lance he makes defence:
Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on,
Arrests his better hand, and drags him down.
Stands o'er the prostrate wretch, and as he lay,
Vain tales inventing, and prepar'd to pray,
Mows off his head; the trunk a moment stood,
Then sunk, and roll'd along the sand in blood.

The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain;
Lie there, proud man, unpity'd on the plain :
Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb,
Far from thy mother, and thy native home:
Expos'd to savage beasts, and birds of prey;
Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea."

On Lycas and Antæus next he ran, Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van. They fled for fear; with these he chas'd along Camers the yellow-lock'd, 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 fix'd his silent easy reign.

And as geon, when with Heaven he strove, Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove; Mov'd all his hundred hands, provok'd the war, Defy'd 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 crops were strow'd, When once his falchion found the taste of blood. With fury scarce to be conceiv'd, he flew Against Niphæus, whom four coursers drew. They, when they see the fiery chief advance, And pushing at their chests his pointed lance, Wheel'd with so swift a motion, mad with fear, They drew 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 wav'd in air His flaming sword: Æneas couch'd his spear, Unus'd to threats, and more unus'd 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, nor Neptune's shield:
Thy fatal hour is come: and this the field."
Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer
Return'd his answer with his flying spear.
As Lucagus to lash his horses bends,

Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends,
Prepar'd for flight, the fatal dart arrives,
And through the border of his buckler drives;
Pass'd through, and pierc'd his groin; the deadly
wound,

Cast from his chariot, roll'd 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 seiz'd at once the loosen'd 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 form'd thee thus divine, I beg thee spare
This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant's prayer."
Thus much he spoke; and more he would have
said,

But the stern hero turn'd aside his head,
And cut him short: "I hear another man,
You talk'd not thus before the fight began:
Now take your turn: and, as a brother should,
Attend your brother to the Stygian flood:"
Then through 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 rag'd the prince, and scatter'd deaths around:
At length Ascanius, and the Trojan train,
Broke from the camp, so long besieg'd 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 Trojans, or themselves alone,
With inborn valour, force their fortune on?
How fierce in fight, with courage undecay'd!
Judge if such warriors want immortal aid."
To whom the goddess with the charming eyes,
Soft in her tone, submissively replies:

But if some secret meaning lies beneath,
To save the short-liv'd youth from destin'd 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 power) prolong his years."

Thus having said, involv'd in clouds, she flies, And drives a storm before her through the skies, Swift she descends, alighting on the plain, Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain. Of air condens'd, a spectre soon she made, And what Eneas was, such seem'd the shade. Adorn'd with Dardan arms, the phantom bore His head aloft, a plumy crest he wore : This hand appear'd a shining sword to wield, And that sustain'd an imitated shield: With manly mien he stalk'd along the ground; Nor wanted voice bely'd, nor vaunting sound. (Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight, Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.) The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare, And flourishes his empty sword in air: At this advancing, Turnus hurl'd his spear; The phantom wheel'd, and seem'd to fly for fear. Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fied, And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed. "Whither, O coward!" (thus he calls aloud, Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas'd 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 pursu'd the flying shade. By chance a ship was fasten'd 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 skipp'd, and sculk'd, and under hatches went. Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste, Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass'd. Scarce had he reach'd the prow, Saturnia's hand The hausers cuts, and shoots the ship from land. With wind in poop, the vessel ploughs the sea, And measures back with speed her former way. Meantime Eneas seeks his absent foe, And sends his slaughter'd troops to shades below. The guileful phantom now forsook the shrowd, And flew sublime, and vanish'd in a cloud. Too late young Turnus the delusion found, Far on the sea, still making from the ground. Then, thankless for a life redeem'd by shame, With sense of honour stung, and forfeit fame, Fearful besides of what in fight had pass'd, His hands and haggard eyes to Heaven he cast. "O Jove!" he cry'd, "for what offence have I Deserv'd to bear this endless infamy? Whence am I forc'd, and whither am I borne, How, and with what reproach, shall I return! Shall ever I behold the Latian plain,' Or see Laurentum's lofty towers 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 ev'n from hence their dying groans receive,

Collected in his strength, and like a rock,
Pois'd on his base, Mezentius stood the shock.
He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes
The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries:
66 My strong right-hand, and sword, assist my
(Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.) [stroke;
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,
Reach'd the celestial shield that stopp'd the course;
But glancing thence, the yet-unbroken force
Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt
The sides and bowels fam'd Anthores fix'd.
Authores had from Argos travell❜d far,
Alcides' friend, and brother of the war:
Till, tir'd with toils, fair Italy he chose,
And in Evander's palace sought repose:
Now falling by another wound, his eyes
He cast to Heaven, on Argos thinks, and dies.
The pious Trojan then his javelin sent;
The shield gave way: through treble plates it went
Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll'd,

And three bull-hides, which round the buckler roll'd.
All these it pass'd, resistless in the course,
Transpierc'd his thigh, and spent its dying force.
The gaping wound gush'd out a crimson flood;
The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood,
His falchion drew, to closer fight address'd,
And with new force his fainting foe oppress'd.
His father's peril Lausus view'd with grief,
He sigh'd, 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.

Pain'd with his wound, and useless for the fight,
The father sought to save himself by flight:
Encumber'd, slow he dragg'd the spear along,
Which pierc'd his thigh, and in his buckler hung.
The pious youth, resolv'd on death, below
The lifted sword springs forth, to face the foe;
Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.
Shouts of applause ran ringing through the field,
To see the son the vanquish'd father shield:
All fir'd with generous indignation strive;
And, with a storm of darts, at distance drive
The Trojan chief: who, held at bay from far,
On his Vulcanian orb sustain'd the war.

As when thick hail comes rattling in the wind,
The ploughman, passenger, and labouring hind,
For shelter to the neighbouring covert fly;
Or hous'd, or safe in hollow caverns lie;
But, that o'erblown, when Heaven above them
Return to travel, and renew their toils; [smiles,
Eneas, thus, o'erwhelm'd on every side,
The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide; [cry'd:
And thus to Lausus loud, with friendly threatening,
"6 Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage
In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age,
Betray'd by pious love?" Nor, thus foreborn,
The youth desists, but with insulting scorn
Provokes the lingering prince, whose patience,

tir'd,

Gave place, and all his breast with fury fir'd.
For now the Fates prepar'd their sharpen'd sheers;
And, lifted high, the flaming sword appears,
Which full descending, with a frightful sway,
Thro' shield and corslet forc'd th' impetuous way,
And buried deep in his fair besom lay.

The purple streams through the thin armour strove And drench'd th' embroider'd 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 o'erspread,
The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead;
He griev'd, he wept, the sight an image brought
Of his own filial love; a sadly pleasing thought!
Then stretch'd his hand to hold him up, and said,
"Poor halpless youth! what praises can be paid
To love so great, to such transcendent store
Of early worth, and sure presage of more!
Accept whate'er Æneas can afford:
Untouch'd thy arms, untaken be thy sword!
And all that pleas'd 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 Æneas' 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 well'd from out
the wound.

Meantime his father, now no father, stood, And wash'd his wounds by Tiber's yellow flood: Opprest with anguish, panting, and o'erspent, His fainting limbs against an oak he leant. A bough his brazen helmet did sustain, His heavier arms lay scatter'd 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, concern'd his danger to prevent, He much inquir'd, and many a message sent To warn him from the field: alas ! in vain ; Behold his mournful followers bear him slain : O'er his broad shield still gush'd the yawning wound,

And drew a bloody trail along the ground.

Far off he heard their cries, far off divin'd
The dire event with a foreboding mind.
With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head,
Then both his lifted hands to Heaven 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 preserv'd, 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 unblemish'd name.
Chas'd from a throne, abandon'd, and exil'd,
For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild:
I ow'd 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 rais'd from
ground

His fainting limbs, that stagger'd with his wound
Yet with a mind resolv'd, and unappall'd
With pains or perils, for his courser call'd a

Well-mouth'd, well-manag'd, whom himself did
With daily care, and mounted with success: [dress
His aid in arms, his ornament in peace.

Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke,
The steed seem'd sensible while thus he spoke :
"O Rhæbus, we have liv'd 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 murder'd Lausus, on his cruel foe;
Or, if inexorable fate deny

Our conquest, with thy conquer'd 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 javelins: on his head he lac'd
His glittering helm, which terribly was grac'd
With waving horse-hair, nodding from afar;
Then spurr'd his thundering steed amidst the war.
Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness

:

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 Eneas wheel'd,
Turn'd as he turn'd; 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,
Urg'd and o'erlabour'd in unequal fight:
At length resolv'd, he throws with all his force
Full at the temples of the warrior-horse.

Just where the stroke was aim'd, th' unerring spear
Made way, and stood transfixt through either ear.
Seiz'd with unwonted pain, surpris'd with fright,
The wounded steed curvets; and, rais'd 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, floundering forward, pitching on his head,
His lord's encumber'd shoulder overlaid :
From either host the mingled shouts and cries
Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies.
Eneas, hastening, wav'd his fatal sword
High o'er 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 recover'd 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 of victory. Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design: As I had us'd my fortune, use thou thine. My dying son contracted no such band; The gift is hateful from his murderer's hand, For this, this only favour let me sue: If pity can to conquer'd foes be due, Refuse it not but let my body have The last retreat of human kind, a grave. Too well I know th' insulting people's hate; Protect me from their vengeance after fate: This refuge for my poor remains provide, And lay my much-lov'd Lausus by my side." He said, and to the throat his sword apply'd. The crimson stream distain'd his arms around, And the disdainful soul came rushing through the wound.

THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF THE ENEIS.

THE ARGUMENT,

ÆNEAS erects a trophy of the spoils of Mezentius grants a truce for burving the dead; and sends home the body of Pallas with great solemnity. Latius calls a council to propose offers of peace to Eneas, which occasions great animosity betwixt Turnus and Drances: in the mean time there is a sharp engagement of the horse; wherein Camilla signalizes herself; is killed; and the Latine troops are entirely defeated.

SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais'd her head
Above the waves, and left her watery bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unbury'd soldiers, and his friend:
Yet first to Heaven perform'd a victor's vows
He bar'd an ancient oak of all her boughs:
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac'd;
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac'd
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked shag in triumph borne,
Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar:
A trophy sacred to the god of war.
Above his arms, fixt on the leafless wood,
Appear'd his plumy crest, besmear'd with blood
His brazen buckler on the left was seen;
Truncheons of shiver'd lances hung between:
And on the right was plac'd his corslet, bor'd;
And to the neck was ty'd bis unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs enclose the godlike man;
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began:

"Our toils, my friends, are crown'd with sure

success:

The greater part perform'd, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more for fierce Mezentius lies,
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall stand extended on the plain;
And in this omen is already slain.
Prepar'd in arms, pursue your happy chance;
That none, unwarn'd, may plead his ignorances