'Tis hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft,
No means of safe return by flight are left."
To whom, with count'nance calm, and soul se-
date,

Thus Turnus: "Then begin; and try thy fate:
My message to the ghost of Priam bear;
Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there."

A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw, Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew: With his full force he whirl'd it first around, But the soft yielding air receiv'd the wound: Imperial Juno turn'd the course before, And fix'd the wand'ring weapon in the door. "But hope not thou," said Turnus, "when I strike,

To shun thy fate : our force is not alike,
Nor thy steel temper'd by the Lemnian god."
Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood,
And aim'd from high: the full descending blow
Cleaves the broad front, and beardless cheeks in

At last, though late, by Lynceus he was seen.
He calls new succours, and assaults the prince:
But weak his force, and vain is their defence.
Turn'd to the right, his sword the hero drew,
And at one blow the bold aggressor slew.
He joints the neck; and with a stroke so strong,
The helm flies off, and bears the head along.
Next him, the huntsman, Amycus, he kill'd,
In darts envenom'd, and in poison skill'd.
Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear,
And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear:

They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight. As, compass'd with a wood of spears around, The lordly lion still maintains his ground; Grins horrible, retires, and turns again; Threats his distended paws, and shakes his

mane:

He loses while in vain he presses on,
Nor will his courage let him dare to run:
So Turnus fares, and, unresolv'd of flight,
Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight.
Yet twice enrag'd, the combat he renews,
Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pur-

sues.

But now they swarm, and with fresh troops supplied,

Come rolling on, and rush from every side:
Nor Juno, who sustain'd his arms before,
Dares with new strength suffice th' exhausted
store;

For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down, To force th' invader from the frighted town.

With labour spent, no longer can he wield The heavy falchion, or sustain the shield, Q'erwhelm'd with darts, which from afar they

fling

The weapons round his hollow temples ring;

His golden helm gives way, with stony blows
Batter'd and flat, and beaten to his brows.
His crest is rash'd away; his ample shield
Is falsified, and round with jav'lins fill'd.

The foe now faint, the Trojans overwhelm;
And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm.
Sick sweat succeeds, he drops at ev'ry pore;
With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o'er;
Shorter and shorter ev'ry gasp he takes;
And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes.
Arm'd as he was, at length he leap'd from high,
Plung'd in the flood, and made the waters fly.
The yellow god the welcome burden bore,
And wip'd the sweat, and wash'd away the
gore;

Then gently wafts him to the farther coast, And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host.

"O pow'r immense ! eternal energy! (For to what else protection can we fly?) See'st thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare In fields, unpunish'd, and insult my care? How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, In shining arms triumphant on the plain ? E'en in their lines and trenches they contend; And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:

The town is fill'd with slaughter, and o'erfloats,
With a red deluge, their increasing moats.
Eneas, ignorant, and far from thence,
Has left a camp expos'd, without defence.
This endless outrage shall they still sustain ?
Shall Troy renew'd, be forc'd and fir'd again?
A second siege my banish'd 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 heaven consent with those of hell,
To promise Italy; who dare debate
The pow'r of Jove, or fix another fate?
What should I tell of tempests on the main,
Of Æolus usurping Neptune's 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, rais'd 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 heav'n 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 com mand,

No spot of earth, no hospitable land,
Which may my wand'ring fugitives receive,
(Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;}
Then, father, (if I still may use that name,)
By ruin'd Troy, yet smoking from the flame,
I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care,
Be freed from danger and dismiss'd 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 tow'rs:
In those recesses, and those sacred bow'rs,

Obscurely let him rest; his right resign
To promis'd empire, and his Julian line.
Then Carthage may th' Ausonian towns de-
stroy,

Nor fear the race of a rejected boy.
What profits it my son to 'scape the fire,
Arm'd 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 doom'd to fall?
Much better had he curb'd his high desires,
And hover'd o'er his ill-extinguish'd fires.
To Simoïs' banks the fugitive restore,
And give them back to war, and all the woes
before.

Deep indignation swell'd Saturnia's 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 fav'rite son advise,
With war unhop'd 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 heav'n, inspired, he sought a foreign
shore.

Did I persuade to trust his second Troy
To the raw conduct of a beardless boy,
With walls unfinish'd, which himself forsakes,
And through the waves a wand'ring voyage
takes?

When have I urg'd 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 't is just and lawful for your line [join;
To drive their fields, and force with fraud to
Realms, not your own, among your clans divide,
And from the bridegroom tear the promis'd
bride.

Petition, while you public arms prepare ;
Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war:
'Twas giv'n 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 turn'd the fire away,
And chang'd the ships to daughters of the sea.
But 't is my crime-the queen of heav'n offends
If she presume to save her suff'ring friends!

Your son, not knowing what his foes decree,
You say, is absent: absent let him be.
Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow'rs
The soft recesses, and the sacred bow'rs.
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 exil'd race?
Was I the cause of mischief, or the man,
Whose lawless lust the fatal war began?
Think on whose faith th' adult'rous youth relied;
Who promis'd, who procur'd the Spartan bride?
When all th' united states of Greece combin'd
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 mix'd ap
plause,

Just as they favour or dislike the cause.
So winds, when yet unfledg'd 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 heav'n's axles with his awful nod. When he begins, the silent senate stand, With rev'rence list'ning to the dread command: The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain;

And the hush'd waves lie flatted on the main.)
"Celestials! your attentive ears incline!
Since (said the god) the Trojans must not join
In wish'd alliance with the Latian line-
Since endless jarrings and immortal hate
Tend but to discompose our happy state-
The war henceforward be resign'd to fate.
Each to his proper fortune stand or fall:
Equal and unconcern'd 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 Thund'rer
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 heav'n; and earth con-
fess'd the nod.

Thin on the tow'rs they stand; and ev'n those few,

A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew.
Yet in the face of danger some there stood:
The two bold brothers of Sarpedon's blood,
Asius, and Acmon: both th' Assaraci ;
Young Hæmon, and, though young, resolv'd to
die.

•

With these were Clarus and Thymates join'd;
Tybris and Castor, both of Lycian kind.
From Acmon's hands a rolling stone there came,
So large, it half deserv'd a mountain's name!
Strong-sinew'd was the youth, and big of bone:
His brother Mnestheus could not more have
done,

Or the great father of th' intrepid son. Some firebands throw, some flights of arrows send;

And some with darts, and some with stones, defond.

Amid the press appears the beauteous boy,
The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy.
His lovely face unarm'd, has head was bare;
In ringlets o'er his shoulders hung his hair.
His forehead circled with a diadem;
Distinguish'd from the crowd, he shines a gem,
Enchas'd in gold, or polish'd iv'ry set,
Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet.

Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war,
Directing ointed arrows from afar,
And death with poison arm'd-in 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, increas'd in
fame,

Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame.

Thus mortal war was wag'd on either side. Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide. For, anxious, from Evander when he went, He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon's

tent;

Expos'd the cause of coming to the chief;
His name and country told, and ask'd relief;
Propos'd the terms; his own small strength de-
clar'd;
[par'd;

What vengeance proud Mezentius had pre-
What Turnus, bold and violent, design'd;
Then show'd the slipp'ry state of human-kind,
And fickle fortune; warn'd him to beware,
And to his wholesome counsel added pray'r.
Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs,
And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins.
They soon set sail; nor now the Fates with
stand;

Their forces trusted with a foreign hand.

Eneas leads; upon his stern appear
Two lions carv'd, which rising Ida bear-
Ida, to wand'ring Trojans ever dear.
Under their grateful shade Æneas sate,
Revolving war's events, and various fate,
His left young Pallas kept, fix'd to his side,
And oft of winds inquir'd, and of the tide :
Oft of the stars, and of their wat❜ry way;
And what he suffer'd both by land and sea.
Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring!
The Tuscan leaders, and their army, sing,
Which follow'd great Æneas to the war:
Their arms, their numbers, and their names
declare.

A thousand youths brave Massicus obey, Borne in the Tiger through the foaming sea; From Clusuim 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 Apollo's golden statue bore.
Six hundred Populonia sent along,
All skill'd in martial exercise, and strong.
Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins,
An isle renown'd for steel, and unexhausted
mines.
Asylas on his prow the third appears,
Who heav'n interprets, and the wand'ring stars;
From offer'd 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 wat'ry field,
Proud of his manag'd horse, and painted shield
Gravisca, noisome from the neighb'ring fen,
And his own Care, sent three hundred men,
With those which Minio's fields, and Pyrgi,
gave;

All bred in arms, unanimous and brave.

Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew, And brave Cupavo follow'd but by few; Whose helm confess'd the lineage of the man, And bore, with wings display'd, a silver swan. Love was the fault of his fam'd ancestry, Whose forms and fortunes in his ensign fly. For Cycnus lov'd unhappy Phaeton, And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone, Beneath the sister shades, to sooth his grief. Heav'n heard his song, and hasten'b his relief, And chang'd to snowy plumes his hoary hair, And wing'd his flight, to chant aloft in air. His son Cupavo brush'd the briny flood: Upon his stern a brawny centaur stood, Who heav'd a rock, and threat'ning still to throw,

With lifted hands alarm'd the seas below; They seem'd to fear the formidable sight, And roll'd their billows on, to speed his flight.

Ocnus was next, who led his native train Of hardy warriors through the wat'ry plain— The son of Manto, by the Tuscan stream, From whence the Mantuan town derives the

name

An ancient city, but of mix'd descent:
Three sev'ral tribes compose the government;
Four towns are under each; but all obey
The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway.

Hate to Mezentius arm'd five hundred more, Whom Mincius from his sire Banacus boreMincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover'd o'er.

These grave Aulestes 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 murm'ring
tides.

Full thirty ships transport the chosen train, For Troy's 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 clos'd his eyes, Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies. A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood, Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida's 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 excell'd the rest, Above the waves advanc'd 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 lov'd lord? O goddess-born, awake!

Spread ev'ry sail, pursue your wat❜ry track, And haste your course. Your navy once were

we,

From Ida's height descending to the sea;
Till Turnus, as at anchor fix'd we stood,
Presum'd to violate our holy wood.
Then, loos'd from shore, we fled his fires pro-

fane,

(Unwillingly we broke our master's chain,) And since have sought you through the Tuscan main.

But young Ascanius, in his camp distress'd,
By your insulting foes is hardly press'd.
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.
To-morrow's sun, unless my skill be vain,
Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain.
Parting she spoke; and with immortal force
Push'd on the vessel in the wat❜ry course;
For well she knew the way. Impell'd behind,
The ship flew forward, and outstript the wind.
The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause,
The chief admires their speed, and happy omens
draws.

Then thus he pray'd, and fix'd on heav'n his eyes:

"Hear thou, great Mother of the deities,
With turrets crown'd! (on Ida's holy hill,
Fierce tigers, rein'd and curb'd, 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 chas'd the shadows of the night away.
He charg'd the soldiers, with preventing care,
Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare;
Warn'd of th' ensuing fight, and bade them
hope the war.

Now, from his lofty poop, he view'd below His camp encompass'd and th' enclosing foe. His blazing shield embrac'd, he held on high: The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply.

Hope arms their courage: from their tow'rs they throw

Their darts with double force, and drive the foe. Thus, at the signal giv'n, the cranes arise Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies.

King Turnus wonder'd at the fight renew'd, Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view'd, The seas with swelling canvass cover'd o'er, And the swift ships descending on the shore. The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes, The radiant crest that seem'd in flames to rise, And dart diffusive fires around the field; And the keen glitt'ring of the golden shield. Thus threat'ning comets, when by night they rise,

Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies: