He said no more, but, with a sigh, repressed
The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast.
Then, as he rolled his troubled eyes around,
An antique stone he saw, the common bound
Of neighbouring fields, and barrier of the ground-
So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days
The enormous weight from earth could hardly raise.
He heaved it at a lift, and, poised on high,
Ran staggering on against his enemy,
But so disordered, that he scarcely knew
His way, or what unwieldy weight he threw.
His knocking knees are bent beneath the load,
And shivering cold congeals his vital blood.
The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short
For want of vigour, mocks his vain effort.
And as, when heavy sleep has closed the sight,
The sickly fancy labours in the night;
We seem to run; and, destitute of force,
Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course:
In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry;
The nerves, unbraced, their usual strength deny ;
And on the tongue the faltering accents die;
So Turnus fared; whatever means he tried,
All force of arms, and points of art employed,
The Fury flew athwart, and made the endeavour
void.

A thousand various thoughts his soul confound; He stared about, nor aid nor issue found;

His own men stop the pass, and his own walls surround.

Once more he pauses, and looks out again,
And seeks the goddess charioteer in vain.
Trembling he views the thundering chief advance,
And brandishing aloft the deadly lance :
Amazed he cowers beneath his conquering foe,
Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow.
Astonished while he stands, and fixed with fear,
Aimed at his shield he sees the impending spear.

}

The hero measured first, with narrow view, The destined mark; and, rising as he threw, With its full swing the fatal weapon flew. Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls, Or stones from battering-engines break the walls : Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong, The lance drove on, and bore the death along. Nought could his sevenfold shield the prince avail, Nor aught, beneath his arms, the coat of mail: It pierced through all, and with a grisly wound Transfixed his thigh, and doubled him to ground. With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky: Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply.

Now low on earth the lofty chief is laid, With eyes cast upwards, and with arms displayed, And, recreant, thus to the proud victor prayed:"I know my death deserved, nor hope to live: Use what the gods and thy good fortune give. Yet think, oh! think, if mercy may be shown, (Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son,) Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave; And, for Anchises' sake, old Daunus save! Or, if thy vowed revenge pursue my death, Give to my friends my body void of breath! The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life: Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife: Against a yielded man, 'tis mean ignoble strife."

In deep suspense the Trojan seemed to stand, And, just prepared to strike, repressed his hand. He rolled his eyes, and every moment felt His manly soul with more compassion melt; When, casting down a casual glance, he spied The golden belt that glittered on his side, The fatal spoil which haughty Turnus tore From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore. Then, roused anew to wrath, he loudly cries, (Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes)

<Traitor! dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend, Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend? To his sad soul a grateful offering go! "Tis Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow." He raised his arm aloft, and, at the word, Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword.

The streaming blood distained his arms around, And the disdainful soul came rushing through the wound.

NOTES

ON

ENEÏS, BOOK XII.

Note I.

At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed;

A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread,
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.

Amata, ever partial to the cause of Turnus, had just before desired him, with all manner of earnestness, not to engage his rival in single fight; which was his present resolution. Virgil, though (in favour of his hero) he never tells us directly that Lavinia preferred Turnus to Eneas, yet has insinuated this preference twice before. For mark, in the seventh Æneïd, she left her father, (who had promised her to Æneas without asking her consent,) and followed her mother into the woods, with a troop of Bacchanals, where Amata sung the marriage-song, in the name of Turnus; which, if she had disliked, she might have opposed. Then, in the eleventh Æneïd, when her mother went to the temple of Pallas, to invoke her aid against Æneas, whom she calls by no better name than Phrygius prædo, Lavinia sits by her in the same chair or litter, juxtaque comes Lavinia virgo,---oculos dejecta decoros. What greater sign of love, than fear and concernment for the lover? In the lines which I have quoted, she not only sheds tears, but changes colour. She had been bred up with Turnus; and Æneas was wholly a stranger to her. Turnus, in probability, was her

1

first love, and favoured by her mother, who had the ascendant over her father. But I am much deceived, if (besides what I have said) there be not a secret satire against the sex, which is lurking under this description of Virgil, who seldom speaks well of women---better indeed of Camilla, than any other-for he commends her beauty and valour---because he would concern the reader for her death. But valour is no very proper praise for womankind; and beauty is common to the sex. He says also somewhat of Andromache, but transiently and his Venus is a better mother than a wife; for she owns to Vulcan she had a son by another man. The rest are Junos, Dianas, Didos, Amatas, two mad prophetesses, three Harpies on earth, and as many Furies under ground. This fable of Lavinia includes a secret moral; that women, in their choice of husbands, prefer the younger of their suitors to the elder; are insensible of merit, fond of handsomeness, and, generally speaking, rather hurried away by their appetite, than governed by their reason.

Note II.

Sea-born Messupus, with Atinas, heads

The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads.-P. 166.

7

The poet had said, in the preceding lines, that Mnestheus, Serestus, and Asylas, led on the Trojans, the Tuscans, and the Arcadians: but none of the printed copies, which I have seen, mention any leader of the Rutulians and Latins, but Messapus the son of Neptune. Ruæus takes notice of this passage, and seems to wonder at it; but gives no reason, why Messapus is alone without a coadjutor.

The four verses of Virgil run thus:

Tota adeo conversæ acies, omnesque Latini,

Omnes Dardanida; Mnestheus, acerque Serestus,
Et Messapus equúm domitor, et fortis Asylas,
Tuscorumque phalanx, Evandrique Arcades ala.

I doubt not but the third line was originally thus:
Et Messapus equum domitor, et fortis Atinas:

for the two names of Asylas and Atinas are so like, that one might easily be mistaken for the other by the transcribers. And to fortify this opinion, we find afterward, in the relation of Saces to Turnus, that Atinas is joined with Messapus:

Soli, pro portis, Messapus et acer Atinas

Sustentant aciem

In general I observe, not only in this neïd, but in all the six last Books, that Æneas is never seen on horseback, and but once