That, for his love he proffer'd to bestow
His tuneful harp, and his unerring bow:
The pious youth, more studious how to save
His aged sire, now sinking to the grave,
Preferr'd the pow'r of plants, and silent praise
Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays.
Propp'd on his lance the pensive hero stood, 585 And heard and saw, unmov'd, the mourning crowd. The fam'd physician tucks his robes around With ready hands, and hastens to the wound. With gentle touches he performs his part,
way and that, soliciting the dart, And exercises all his heav'nly art.
All soft'ning simples, known of sov’reign use,
He presses out, and pours their noble juice.
These first infus'd, to lenify the pain-
He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain.
Then to the patron of his art he pray'd:.
The patron of his art refus'd his aid.
Meantime the war approaches to the tents: Th' alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments: The driving dust proclaims the danger near; And first their friends, and then their foes, appear: Their friends retreat their foes pursue the rear. The camp is fill'd with terror and affright:
The hissing shafts within the trench alight:
An undistinguish'd noise ascends the sky
The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those
But now the goddess mother, mov'd with grief, And pierc'd with pity, hastens her relief.
A branch of healing dittany she brought,
Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought-
(Rough is the stem, which woolly leaves surround;
The leaves with flow'rs, the flow'rs with purple crown'd)
Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief
To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief.
This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd, and brews 615
Th' extracted liquor with ambrosian dews,
And od'rous panacee. Unseen she stands,
Temp'ring the mixture with her heav'nly hands,
And pours it in a bowl, already crown'd
With juice of med'c'nal herbs prepar'd to bathe the
The leech, unknowing of superior art
Which aids the cure, with this foments the part;
And in a moment ceas'd the raging smart.
Stanch'd is the blood, and in the bottom stands :
The steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender hands,
Moves up, and follows of its own accord;
And health and vigour are at once restor❜d,
Iäpis first perceiv'd the closing wound;
And first the footsteps of a god he found.
"Arms! arms!" he cries: "the sword and shield
And send the willing chief, renew'd, to war.
This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,
Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine.
Some god our gen'ral to the battle sends;
Some god preserves his life for greater ends."
The hero arms in haste, his hands infold
His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold:
Inflam'd to fight, and rushing to the field,
That hand sustaining the celestial shield,
This gripes the lance, and with such vigour shakes,
That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes.
Then with a close embrace he strain'd his son,
And, kissing through his helmet, thus begun :
"My son! from my example learn the war,
In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare:
But happier chance than mine attend thy care!
This day my hand thy tender age shall shield,
And crown with honours of the conquer'd field:
Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth
To toils of war, be mindful of my worth:
Assert thy birth-right; and in arms be known,
For Hector's nephew, and Æneas' son."
He said; and, striding, issu'd on the plain.
Antheus and Mnestheus, and a num'rous train,
Attend his steps: the rest their weapons take, 655
And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake.
A cloud of blinding dust is rais'd around;
Labours. beneath their feet the trembling ground.
Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far
Beheld the progress of the moving war :
With him the Latins view'd the cover'd plains;
And the chill blood ran backward in their veins.
Juturna saw th' advancing troops appear,
And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear.
Æneas leads and draws a sweeping train,
Clos'd in their ranks, and pouring on the plain.
As, when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore
From the mid ocean, drives the waves before;
The painful hind with heavy heart foresees
The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees;
With such impetuous rage the prince appears,
Before his doubled front; nor less destruction bears.
And now both armies shock in open field;
Osiris is by strong Thymbræus kill'd.
Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain
(All fam'd in arms, and of the Latian train)
By Gyas', Mnestheus', and Achates' hand.
The fatal augur falls, by whose command
The truce was broken, and whose lance, embru'd
With Trojan blood, th' unhappy fight renew'd. 680
Loud shouts and clamours rend the liquid sky;
And o'er the fields the frighted Latins fly.
The prince disdains the dastards to pursue,
Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few.
Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain,
He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain.
Juturna heard, and, seis'd with mortal fear,
Forc'd' from the beam her brother's charioteer;
Assumes his shape, his armour, and his mien,
And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen.
As the black swallow near the palace plies:
O'er empty courts, and under arches, flies;
Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood,
To furnish her loquacious nest with food:
So drives the rapid goddess o'er the plains;
The smoking horses run with loosen❜d reins.
She steers a various course among the foes;
Now here, now there, her conqu'ring brother shows; Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight,
She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight.
Æneas, fir'd with fury, breaks the crowd,
And seeks his foe, amd calls by name aloud:
He runs within a narrower ring, and tries
To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies.
If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears,
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