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Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim;
But with my future actions trust my fame.
Let me, by stealth, this female plague o'ercome,
And from the field return inglorious home."

Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray'r, Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss'd in empty air.

He gives the death desir'd: his safe return
By southern tempests to the seas is borne.
Now, when the jav'lin whizz'd along the skies,
Both armies on Camilla turn'd their eyes,
Directed by the sound. Of either host,
Th' unhappy virgin, though concern'd the most,
Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent
On golden spoils, and on her prey intent;
Till in her pap the winged weapon stood
Infix'd, and deeply drunk the purple blood.
Her sad attendants hasten to sustain
Their dying lady drooping on the plain.
Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies,
With beating heart, and fear confus'd with joys;
Nor dares he further to pursue his blow,
Or e'en to bear the sight of his expiring foe.

As, when the wolf has torn a bullock's hide At unawares, or ranch'd a shepherd's side, Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies, And claps his quivering tail between his thighs: So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends, But, spurring forward, herds among his friends. She wrench'd the jav'lin with her dying hands: But wedg'd within her breast the weapon stands: The wood she draws, the steely point remains; She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains; (A gath'ring mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes; And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies) Then turns to her, whom, of her female train, She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain: "Acca 'tis past! he swims before my sight, Inexorable Death: and claims his right. Bear my last words to Turnus: fly with speed, And bid him timely to my charge succeed, Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve :Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive."

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But Cynthia's maid, high seated, from afar, Surveys the field, and fortune of the war, Unmov'd a while, till, prostrate on the plain, Welt'ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain, And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train.

Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew
A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue :
"Too dear a fine, ah, much lamented maid!
For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid:
Nor aught avail'd, in this unhappy strife,
Diana's sacred arms to save thy life.
Yet unreveng'd the goddess will not leave
Her vot'ry's death, nor with vain sorrow grieve.
Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr'd;
But after-ages shall thy praise record.
Th' inglorious coward soon shall press the plain:
Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates or-
dain.
[mound-

High o'er the field, there stood a hilly Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around Where, in a marble tomb, Dercenus, lay, A king that once in Latium bore the sway. The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight, To mark the traitor Aruns from the height. Him in refulgent arms she soon espied, Swoll❜n with success; and loudly thus she cried: "Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late:

Turn, like a man, at length, and meet thy fate.
Charg'd with my message to Camilla go,
And say I sent thee to the shades below-
An honour undeserv'd from Cynthia's bow."

She said, and from her quiver chose with speed

The winged shaft, predestin'd for the deed; Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied Till the far distant horns approach'd on either side. [she drew; The bow-string touch'd her breast, so strong Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew. At once the twanging bow and sounding dart The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart.

Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death, His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath. The conqu'ring damsel, with expanded wings, The welcome message to her mistress brings. Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field;

And, unsustain'd, the chiefs of Turnus yield. The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly, More on their speed than on their strength rely. Confus'd in flight, they bear each other down, And spur their horses headlong to the town. Driv'n by their foes, and to their fears resign'd, Not once they turn, but take their wounds be

hind.

These drop the shield, and those the lance forego, Or on their shoulders bear the slacken'd bow. The hoofs of horses with a rattling sound, Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground.

Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky, And o'er the darken'd walls and rampires fly. The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands, Rend heav'n with female shrieks, and wring their hands.

All pressing on, pursuers and pursu'd,
Are crush'd in crowds, a mingled multitude.
Some happy few escape: the throng too late
Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate.
E'en in the sight of home, the wretched sire
Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire.
Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close,
But leave their friends excluded with their foes.
The vanquish'd cry; the victors loudly shout:
'Tis terror all within, and slaughter all without.
Blind in their fear, they bounce against the
wall,

Or, to the moats pursu'd, precipitate their fall.
The Latian virgins, valiant with despair,
Arm'd on the tow'rs, the common danger share:
So much of zeal their country's cause inspir'd:
So much Camilla's great example fir'd.
Poles, sharpen'd in the flames, from high they

:

throw

With imitated darts to gall the foe.
Their lives, for godlike freedom they bequeath,
And crowd each other to be first in death.
Meantime to Turnus ambush'd in the shade,
With heavy tidings came th' unhappy maid:
"The Volscians overthrown-Camilla kill'd-
The foes, entirely masters of the field,
Like a resistless flood, come rolling on:
The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the
town."

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Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join'd; But westward to the sea the sun declin'd. Intrench'd before the town both armies lie, While night with sable wings involves the sky.

BOOK XII.

ARGUMENT.

Turnus challenges Eneas to a single combat: articles are agreed on, but broken by the Rutuli, who Wound Eneas. He is miraculously cured by Venus, forces Turnus to a duel, and concludes the poem with his death.

WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell'd,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honour question'd for the promis'd fight-
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress'd
The more his fury boil'd within his breast:
He rous'd his vigour for the last debate,
And rais'd his haughty soul to meet his fate.

As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace;
But, if the pointed jav'lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel; he roars for pain;
His, sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares: his eye-balls flash with
fire;

Through his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.

Trembling with rage, around the court he ran, At length approach'd the king, and thus began: "No more excuses or delays: I stand In arms prepar'd to combat, hand to hand, This base deserter of his native land. The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take The same conditions which himself did make. Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare, And to my single virtue trust the war. The Latians unconcern'd shall see the fight: This arm unaided shall assert your right: Then, if my prostrate body press the plain, To him the crown and beauteous bride remain." To whom the king sedately thus replied: "Brave youth! the more your valour has been tried, The more becomes it us, with due respect To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect. You want not wealth, or a successive throne, Or cities which your arms have made your own: My towns and treasures are at your command;

And stor❜d with blooming beauties is my land: Taurentum more than one Lavinia sees, Unmarried, fair, of noble families.

Now let me speak, and you with patience hear,
Things which perhaps may grate a lover's ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs have manifestly shown,
No prince, Italian born, shall heir my throne:
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill'd,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal'd.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib'd by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg'd by my wife, who would not be denied,
I promis'd my Lavinia for your bride :
Her from her plighted lord by force I took :
All ties of treaties, and of honour, broke :
On your account I wag'd an impious war-
With what success, 't is needless to declare;
I and my subjects feel;
and
have had your
you

share. Twice vanquish'd while in bloody fields we strive Scarce in our walls, we keep our hopes alive: The rolling flood runs warm with human gore; The bones of Latians blanch the neighb'ring shore.

Why put I not an end to this debate,
Still unresolv'd, and still a slave to fate?
If Turnus' death a lasting peace can give,
Why should I not procure it whilst you live?
Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray,
What would my kinsmen, the Rutulians, say ?
And should you fall in fight, (which heav'n de-
fend!)

How curse the cause, which hasten'd to his end The daughter's lover, and the father's friend? Weigh in your mind the various chance of war: Pity your parent's age, and ease his care."

Such balmy words he pour'd, but all in vain : The proffer'd med'cine but provok'd the pain, The wrathful youth, disdaiming the relief, With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief: "The care, O best of fathers! which you take For my concerns, at my desire forsake. Permit me not to languish out my days, But make the best exchange of life for praise; This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize, And the blood follows, where the weapon flies. His goddess-mother is not near, to shroud The flying coward with an empty cloud."

But now the queen, who fear'd for Turnus'
life,

And loath'd the hard conditions of the strife,
Held him by force; and, dying in his death,
In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath:
"O Turnus! I adjure thee by these tears,
And whate'er price Amata's honour bears
Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope,
My sickly mind's repose, my sinking age's

prop

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Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride,` Glitt'ring with gold, and vests in purple died Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line, And there Messapus, born of seed divine. The sign is giv'n; and, round the listed space, Each man in order fills his proper place. Reclining on their ample shields, they stand, And fix their pointed lances in the sand. Now, studious of the sight, a num'rous throng Of either sex promiscuous, old and young, Swarm from the town: by those who rest behind, The gates and walls, and houses' tops, are lin'd. Meantime the queen of heav'n beheld the sight. [height: With eyes unpleas'd, from mount Albano's (Since call'd Albano by succeeding fame, But then an empty hill, without a name) She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan pow'rs, The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow'rs. Then thus the goddess of the skies bespake, With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake; King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid, Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray'dCompress'd by force, but, by the grateful god, Now made the Naïs of the neighb'ring flood. "O nymph, the pride of living lakes! (said she) O most renown'd, and most belov'd by me! Long hast thou known, nor need I to record, The wanton sallies of my wand'ring lord. Of ev'ry Latian fair, whom Jove misled To mount by stealth my violated bed, To thee alone I grudg'd not his embrace, But gave a part of heav'n, and an unenvied place. Now learn from me thy near approaching grief, Nor think my wishes want to thy relief. [nied While Fortune favour'd, nor heav'n's king deTo lend my succour to the Latian side, I sav'd thy brother, and the sinking state: But now he struggles with unequal fate, And goes, with gods averse, o'ermatch'd in might,

To meet inevitable death in fight; [sight.
Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the
Thou, if thou dar'st, thy present aid supply:
It well becomes a sister's care to try."

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

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And now in pomp the peaceful kings appear: Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear: Twelve golden beams around his temples play, To mark his lineage from the god of day. Two snowy coursers Turnus' chariot yoke, And in his hand two massy spears he shook : Then issu'd from the camp in arms divine, Æneas, author of the Roman line; And by his side Ascanius took his place, The second hope of Rome's immortal race. Adorn'd in white, a rev'rend priest appears, And, off 'rings to the flaming altars bearsA porket, and a lamb that never suffer'd shears. Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes, And strews the beasts design'd for sacrifice, With salt and meal: with like officious care He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair.

Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds,
With the same gen'rous juice the flame he feeds.
Eneas then unsheath'd his shining sword,
And thus with pious pray'rs the gods ador'd
"All-seeing sun! and thou, Ausonian soil,
For which I have sustain'd so long a toil;
Thou, king of heav'n! and thou, the queen of air,
Propitious now, and reconcil'd by pray'r!
Thou, god of war, whose unresisted sway
The labours and events of arms obey!
Ye living fountains, and ye running floods!
All powers of ocean, all ethereal gods!
Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field,
Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield,
My Trojans shall increase Evander's town;
Ascanius shall renounce th' Ausonian crown:
All claims, all questions of debate shall cease,
Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace.
But, my juster arms prevail in fight,
(As sure they shall, if I divine aright)
My Trojans shall not o'er th' Italians reign:
Both equal, both unconquer'd, shall remain,
Join'd in their laws, their lands, and their
abodes;

I ask but altars for my weary gods.
The care of those religious rites be mine:
The crown to king Latinus I resign:
His be the sov'reign sway. Nor will I share
His pow'r in peace, or his command in war.
For me, my friends another town shall frame,
And bless the rising tow'rs with fair Lavinia's

"9

name.

Thus he. Then with erected eyes and hands, The Latian king before his altar stands. 'By the same heav'n, (said he) and earth and main,

And all the pow'rs that all the three contain;
By hell below, and by that upper god,
Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it
with his nod;

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