Him when the Daunian hero spy'd from far, First a light dart he lanch'd in open air, Stops the fleet steeds, and, furious, quits the car; =Stood o'er the Trojan, prostrate as he lay,

Trod on his neck, and wrench'd the sword away. Then through his throat the deadly falchion thrust, And thus insults him grov'ling in the dust: "Lie there! possess the land thy valour gains! =And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains! Such, such deserv'd rewards I still bestow, When call'd to battle, on the vaunting foe; Thus may you build your town, and thus enjoy These realnis, ye proud presumptuous sons of Troy!

Next, by his flying spear Asbutes bled:
A second lance laid mighty Chlorus dead.*
In Dares' breast he plung'd the pointed steel,
And sent the bold Thersilochus to Hell:
Then pierc'd Thymates with a fatal wound,
Whose flound'ring steed had cast him to the
ground.

As o'er th' Ægean deeps when Boreas roars,
And rolls the waves tumultuous to the shores,
The driving clouds before the whirlwind fly,
And break, and scatter, through the ruffled sky:
So where bold Turnus rush'd, inflam'd with ire,
Their orders scatter, and whole hosts retire.
Whirl'd on his rapid car, the hero gains
New rage, new vigour, as he sweeps the plains.
High o'er his helm his crimson crest, inclin'd
By ev'ry breath, nods dreadful in the wind.

No more, in proud disdain, cou'd Phegeus bear
To see the hero rule the tide of war;
But, rashly furious, to the car proceeds,
Seiz'd the loose reins, and turn'd the flying steeds.
Him, as suspended on the yoke he hung,
By the swift chariot dragg'd in dust along,
Through the bor'd corslet, the sharp jav'lin found,
And rais'd the warrior with a slender wound.
Yet with his shield oppos'd he dares the blow,
And with his brandish'd sword assaults the foe.
The whirling wheels, with fiery speed impell'd,
Soon shoot him headlong on the sanguine field.
Swift Turnus follow'd, and his falchion drew;
Between the cuirass and the head it flew:
The gushing blood distains the sands around,
And the pale trunk lay grov'ling on the ground.
Thus while the conqu'ting chief his progress held,
Rag'd, storm'd, and reign'd the master of the
Achates, Mnestheus, and the royal heir.
Attend the Trojan prince with duteous care,
(As propt, and leaning on the spear, he went)
And plac'd the bleeding hero in the tent.
The steel, deep riveted, with eager hands
He tugs impatient, and their aid demands,
More wide to lay the wound, a passage bare,
Unroot the dart, and send him to the war.

[field;

The sage now hastens to the task assign'd,
And first dispatchful tucks his robes behind;
Tries all the vegetable pow'rs around,
To cool the smart, and mitigate the wound.
His hands solicit now with tender art;
Now tag in vain with vigour at the dart. [pray'r;
At length he pray'd; nor Phoebus heard the
And nearer every moment pour'd the war,
Thick and more thick the growing horrours rise;
[nigh,
A cloud of dust involves the golden skies.
The trampling steeds, the thund'ring foes, drew
And 'midst the camp the show'ring jav'lins fly.
The mingling cries from ev'ry part resound;
Some shout, some groan, some gasp upon the

ground.

Now, touch'd with pity for the hero's pain, Descends the goddess mother on the plain. A branch of sov'reign dittany she bore, From Ida gather'd, on the Cretan shore. Luxuriant leaves the taper stalk array; The stalk in flow'rs; the flow'rs in purple gay. The goats, when pierc'd at distance by the dart, Apply the med'cine to the wounded part. This juice, while clouds conceal her radiant face, The queen infuses in the golden vase! Tempers with scented panacee the whole, And with ambrosial liquors crowns the bowl. Nor knew the sage the succour that he found, But with the balmy mixture bathes the wound. At once the throbbing anguish past away; Stanch'd was the blood, and in the bottom lay. The dart, though deeply rooted, at command Moves up, and answers the physician's hand. His former vigour now succeeds to pain, And life burns bright in all her pow'rs again. lapis first perceiv'd th' immortal art, That cool'd the raging pangs, and clos'd the part. Raptur'd he saw the cure; and first impell'd The prince, renew'd in courage, to the field. "Arms for the chief," he cries, "prepare his arms; And instant send him to the dire alarms. This cure, great hero, is no work of mine, Not mortal art, but done by hands divine. Thy life some guardian god has made his care, Who sends thee back to fight, and conquer in the

war."

The fierce, impatient prince had cover'd o'er
His manly legs with golden greaves before.
Now, all on fire, his mighty lance he took,
And in his hand the pond'rous weapon shook.
High on his arm the heav'nly shield he rais'd;
And on his breast the radiant cuirass blaz'd.
Then, with a close embrace, he strain'd his son;
And kiss'd him thro' his helm, and thus begun:
"From me true courage, and in camps to dare,
From others learn, my son, success in war.
I go to labour in the bloody fray,

To fight, and guard thee, in the dreadful day;
To crown thee with a bright inmortal name;
To teach thy youth the glorious paths to fame.
Thou, in thy riper years, the virtues trace,
And copy all the worthics of thy race.
Thy soul may Hector and Æneas fire,
Thy godlike uncle, and thy martial sire !"
So spoke the hero, and, by rage impell'd,
Tow'r'd from the tent, majestic, to the field;
Shook an huge jav'lin in his vig'rous hand;
And with their chief pour'd forth the martial band.
Antheus and Mnestheus led th' embattled train,
And all rush'd furious to the deathful plain.

And clouds of dust involve the region round.

Now Turnus and his host the foe beheld
From a high mound, advancing o'er the field.
Th' astonish'd troops a gen❜ral fear confounds;
But first his sister heard the dreadful sounds.
Too well she knew the dire alarms from far,
And trembling fled before the moving war.
Fierce, with their leaders, march the Trojan train;
And the black squadrons darken all the plain.
As when some tempest o'er mid ocean roars,
And, wing'd with whirlwinds, gathers to the shores;
With boding hearts the peasants hear from far
The sullen murmurs of the distant war;
Foresee the harvests levell'd with the ground,
And all the forests spread in ruins round;
Swift to the land the hollow grumbling wind
Flies, and proclaims the furious storm behind.
So swift, so furious, great neas flew,
And led against the foes the martial crew.
The thick ning squadrons, wedg'd in close array,
In one black body win their desp'rate way.
By Mnestheus slain, in dust Archesius lies,
And by Thymbræus' sword Osiris dies.
Next Gyas' lance the mighty Ufens sped,
And Epulo by brave Achates bled.

Ev'n curs'd Tolumnius fell, whose fatal spear,
Lanch'd at the Dardan host, renew'd the war.
A peal of shouts, tumultuous, tore the sky,
And o'er the field the pale Rutulians fly.
But with disdain the Trojan hero glows;
Nor wastes his vengeance on inferior foes.

He scorns to fight the few who stand their ground,
Or in their backs the flying crowds to wound:
Turnus, and him alone, he calls aloud
To fight, and hunts him through the dusty cloud.
On this, his anxious sister, seiz'd with fear,
Hurl'd from his lofty seat the charioteer,
Metiscus the renown'd; tost far away,
The wond'ring chief beneath the harness lay,
Herself assumes his armour, voice, and air;
Snatches the reins, and vaults into the car.

As the black swallow, that, in quest of prey,
Round the proud palace wings her wanton way,
When for her children she provides the feast,
To still the clamours of the craving nest;
Now wild excursions round the cloyster takes;
Now, sportive winds, or skims along the lakes:
So flies the goddess on the rapid car,
From side to side, and traverses the war:
Now here, now there, she brings the chief to sight;
But still she turns him from the fatal fight.

Nor less the prince unravels all her ways, And hunts his foes through ev'ry various maze; Thrids all the shifting course, and breaks the crowd With furious speed, and calls the chief aloud. Oft has he spy'd him, and approach'd the car; As oft his sister plung'd amid the war. Where'er the Trojan hero bends his course; Averse the goddess turns the flying horse. What should he do? a thousand thoughts divide His wav'ring soul, that points to ev'ry side! When lo! Messapus cross'd him in the field, And in his hand two shining jav❜lins held. One, at the prince, with levell'd aim, he threw : Beneath his shield the cautious prince withdrew ; Low bending on his knee, secure he lay; But the swift jav'lin strikes his plume away. Then, when the meditated fraud he view'd, That still his rival fled, as he pursu'd;

The rites profan'd, and violated peace;
Then rush'd amid the train; nor check nor bound
His fury knew, but stretch'd the slaughter round.
The faithless fee he thinks it vain to spare,
And, fir'd with vengeance, gives a loose to war.

What god will now inspire me, to display
The rage of death, and horrours of the day?
What crowds of heroes perish'd on the plain,
By mighty Turnus, and Æneas, slain!
Was it thy will the nations should engage
(Great sire of Heav'n) with such unbounded rage?
So soon from war and violence to cease,
Leagu'd in a bond of everlasting peace?

Æneas first slew Sucro in the fight, Whose sword had turn'd the Trojan troops to flight. With a swift stroke, and all his force apply'd, He plung'd the deadly falchion in his side. Then, with his brother, Amycus was kill'd, Cast from their steed by Turnus on the field. With the long lance, this tow'ring chief he gor'd: Thro' that, impetuous, drove the pointed sword: Then, on his chariot hung, in triumph bore Their heads aloft, that dropp'd with livid gore: Next, at one charge, ou three bold chiefs he flew; Talos, and Tanais, and Cethegus, slew. With them, of Theban race, Onytes fell, Fair Peridia's son; and sunk to Hell. Then bled two brothers, who from Lycia come; Nor their own Phœbus could prevent their doom. Next poor Menotes by his arm was slain, Who shunn'd so long the dreadful war in vain ; A skilful angler; once he made abode, Bless'd with content, by Lerna's plenteous flood. There dress'd his father, to the great unknown, A stranger field, and furrows not his own.

As the fierce flames through the tall forest fly, This way and that, and kindle all the sky; Or rapid torrents from the mountains sweep, Roar down the sides, and thunder to the deep; With weight resistless, and destructive sway, O'er half a ruin'd country break their way: So through the field, iu diff'rent parts engag'd, As swift and fierce the rival heroes rag'd. They burst with wrath; they rise to ev'ry blow; They send their souls with ev'ry lance they throw, A rock's vast weight the great Eneas threw : Th' enormous fragment like a whirlwind flew, And hurl'd Murranus on the ground, who brings His vaunted lineage from the Latian kings. Headlong the warrior from the chariot flies Amidst the harness, and encumber'd lies: The coursers startle at the flaming sword; Paw down, and trample on their dying lord.

On Hyllus, Turnus rush'd with all his might, As, fir'd with rage, the chief advanc'd to fight. Full at his golden helmet, o'er the plain The jav'lin flew, and stung him to the brain: Nor thee, the bravest of the Grecian band, Thy valour, Creteus, sav'd from Turnus' hand! Next fell the priest Cupencus in the strife, Nor his own gods could guard his sacred life; Full in his breast Æneas plung'd the dart, That pierc'd the shield, and quiver'd in his heart. Then bled great Æolus, by Turnus kill'd, And sunk, a bulk enormous on the field! Whom not the Grecian heroes could destroy, Nor all their armies, in the wars of Troy, Nor great Achilles with his vengeful steel, Though by his arm the Phrygian empire fell

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མ བ །

ΤΗ

Here ends his life; his stately palace stood
Beneath fair Ida's consecrated wood :
There liv'd the mighty man; his cold remains
At length lie bury'd in the Latian plains.
Now in all parts the martial squadrons wage
A gen'ral war, with undistinguish'd rage.
The Latian, Trojan, and Rutulian force,
The Tuscan cohorts, and Arcadian horse,
Beneath their chiefs, embattled, spread the plain;
Here Mnestheus, there Serestus, Gires the train;
Here great Asylas swept the field; and there
Storm'd brave Messapus, the renown'd in war.
Each fights, as in his arm the mighty day,
With all the fate of his great gen'ral, lay;
No stop, no check the fiery warriors knew ;
With their long toils their kindling ardour grew,
And with fresh vigour to the combat flew.

But Venus now inspires her godlike son
To leave the field, and storm th' imperial town.
As following Turnus through the ranks he flies,
From side to side he darts his eager eyes;
When, lo! before him, in a full survey,
Exempt from war, the fenceless city lay.
He views the promis'd prize with stern delight;
His soul takes fire, and kindles at the sight.
Sudden the hero calls his chiefs around,
With all his bands, and mounts a rising ground.
Then, as they rais'd their ample shields, and shook
Their pointed lances, their bold leader spoke.
a Attend, and instant these commands obey;
Inspir'd by favouring Jove, who points the way:
All speed this noble enterprise demands,
Claims all your care, and urges all your hands.
This day, this hour, unless the Latians yield,
And own your chief the victor of the field,

Ev'n from the lowest stone my rage shall tear
Yon town, the source of this destructive war.
**Yon perjur'd court my vengeance shall confound,
And those proud tow'rs lie smoking on the ground.
Twice have we vanquish'd the Rutulian train;
Stil! must I wait till Turnus will be slain;
No!at yon walls the sure destruction aim;
Revenge the broken league with sword and flame;
Your arms against the guilty city bend:
There the dire war began, and there shall end,"
Rous'd at the word, all wedg'd in firm array,
Straight to the town the squadrons urge their
way.

They toss the brands, the scaling engines rear,
And round the ramparts rose the sudden war.
Some to the portals fly with speed, and slay
The guards or citizens, who cross their way.
Some hurl the vengeful darts; the jav'lins fly
In dusky clouds, and intercept the sky.
= Eneas rais'd his hand amid the crowd,

Calls, and upbraids the Latian prince aloud,
Obtesting Heaven, that, wounded, and compell'd
By his perfidious foes, he took the field;
That twice the rites of peace their arms profane,
And from their impious rage a second war began.
But mad confusions in the city rise:
'Tis tumult all; for all at once advise.
These arm, and fly to guard the walls; and those,
More loud, demand admission for the foes.
Some, to renew the peace, with clamours bring
Ev'n to the gates the helpless hoary king.

So when the swain invades, with stifling smoke, The bees close-cluster'd in a cavern'd rock, They rise; and, trembling for th' endanger'd state, Inflam'd with wrath, with fell revenge and hate,

This way, and that, in loud tumultuous swarms,
Fly o'er their waxen town with hoarse alarms.
The steams offensive roll the cells around;
Their sullen murmurs through the rock resound
While thick'ning, thro' the cleft the smokes arise,
And in a length of vapours mount the skies.

But to complete and aggravate their fears, A new mischance involv'd the town in tears. For, when the wretched queen beheld on high O'er the proud domes the fiery tempest fly; The ramparts storm'd; th' exulting Trojans near; Nor Turnus' troops before the town appear; Many a long look she cast, but cast in vain ; And in her fears concludes the hero slain ; She raves against the gods in wild despair; She calls herself the auth'ress of the war: A thousand plaints she vented o'er and o'er, And in her rage her purple garments tore. Then, on a lofty beam, the matron ty'd The noose dishonest, and obscenely dy'd. Soon through the court the dreadful rumour ran; With frantic sorrow rave the female train. Struck with superior grief, Lavinia tears Her blooming rosy cheeks, and golden hairs. To their loud shrieks the palace walls reply; Thence through the town the fatal tidings fly. All feel the stroke; and all the loss lament; His royal robes the rev'rend monarch rent. In wild despair, with furious hands he spread A cloud of dust o'er all his hoary head; And weeps and mourns aloud (a moving scene!) His ruin'd empire, and self-murder'd queen. Oft, but in vain, he blam'd himself alone, That rashly he refus'd the Trojan for his son.

But now more slow his progress Turnus held,
And chas'd a few poor stragglers o'er the field.
With heartless chear, dejected, he proceeds;
And with their master flag the fiery steeds.
He hears the tumult in the walls behind, [wind.
Shrieks, cries, and shouts, that thicken in the
"Alas!" he cries, "what clamours strike my ear!
What sounds distressful from the town I hear!"
Then to the hero, as the steeds he stay'd,
Thus in the driver's form the sister said;
"This way, my lord, your former course pursue,
And urge your conquest o'er the hostile crew.
Your friends defend the town; th' Italians there
Wage with the Dardan chief an equal war.
Against his Trojans let us bend our way,
As num'rous, valiant, and renown'd, as they."
"Sister," the chief replies, "whom well I knew
(Though in a mortal form conceal'd from view)
When you dissolv'd the league, by art with-held
The single fight, and mingled in the field,

O say! what pow'r dispatch'd thee from the skies,
With this sad scene to shock thy mournful eyes?
To share the labours of the dire debate,
A weeping witness of thy brother's fate?
That brother soon must perish on the plains!
For ah! what chance, what beam of hope remains?
I saw my dear Murranus yield his breath,
Who call'd on Turnus in the pangs of death;
Ev'n yet I see the warrior bite the ground,
And the soul rushing through the mighty wound!
I saw, where, stretch'd in dust, brave Ufens lay,
Nor liv'd this scene of ruin to survey,
But shut out bondage from his closing eyes;
His corse and arms remain the victor's prize.
And shall I see the city wrapt in flame?
What else was wanting to complete my shame ?

A stranger hilt he spies, and shakes in vain :
All, all his hopes in flight alone remain ;
And, swifter than the wind, he darts along the
plain.

For when the chief first vaulted on the car
With headlong haste, and rush'd into the war,
He left his father's temper'd sword, 'tis said,
And seiz'd his charioteer Metiscus' blade;
And, ev'n with this, the growing slaughter spread,
While from his rage the trembling Trojans fled.
But when the mortal steel a stroke bestow'd
On heav'nly arms, the labour of a god!
The falchion, faithless to the warrior's hand,
*Broke short-the fragments glitter'd on the sand.
O'er the wide field distracted Turnus springs,
And flies with wild affright in mazy rings:
For here he views th' embattled Trojan pow'rs;
Here a vast lake; and there the Latian tow'rs.
But still his foe, though tardy from his wound,
Treads all his steps, unrav'ling ev'ry round.
As the fleet stag, by the stanch hound pursu'd,
Now bounds above the banks, now shoots along the
flood;

[sky.

Now from the meshy toils with terrour springs,
Scar'd by the plumes, that dance upon the strings:
He starts, he pants, he stares with wild amaze,
And flies his op'ning foe a thousand ways.
Close at his heels, the deep-mouth'd furious hound
Turns, as he turns, and traces all the ground.
On his full stretch he makes his eager way,
And bolds, or thinks he holds, the trembling prey.
Forth darts the stag-his foe, cast far behind,
Catches but empty air, and bites the wind.
The hunters shout; the streams, the rocks, reply;
And the tumultuous peals run rattling round the
Thus, flying in distress, the Daunian lord
Calls on his friends; demands his trusty sword.
But the great Trojan, with a lofty cry,
Forbids the bands the weapon to supply;
Denouncing death, and threat'ning all around,
Th' imperial town to level with the ground.
O'er ten large circuits, with a rapid pace,
This hero leads, and that pursues, the chase.
No light reward must crown their eager strife;
The long-contending prize is Turnus' noble life!
To Faunus sacred had an olive stood:
The shipwreck'd sailors, on the hallow'd wood,
Hung their devoted vests in honour of the god.
But late, to leave the field for combat free,
The Trojans fell'd the venerable tree.
Full in the root, Æneas drove his spear:
The dart, deep riveted, stood trembling there :
The hero, struggling with incessant pain,
Now bends to disengage the lance again;
And with his dart, at least, o'ertake the foe,
Who, frighted, to the god preferr'd his vow.
"Thy suppliant's pray'r, in pity, Faunus, hear,
And thou, kind mother Earth, detain the spear;
If still I honour'd with a pious hand
Your plant, by guilty Troy with steel profan'd."
Thus he; the god attends his humble strain;
The Trojan labours at the root in vain :
There as he tugs the lance with all his might,
Fierce, and impatient to renew the fight,
Once more Juturna to the chief restor'd
(in brave Metiscus' form) his temper'd sword.
This heav'nly Venus view'd with high disdain,
And from the root releas'd the dart again.
Renew'd in might, the tow'ring chiefs advance;
One shook the sword, and one the flaming lance.

Their heaving bosoms swell with stern delight,
Pant for the combat, and demand the fight.
Then to his consort, who the war survey'd
Thron'd on a golden cloud, the thund'rer said:
"What schemes, my queen, are left, with vain
debate,

Ev'n yet to check the ripe events of fate?
You know, and own, Æneas soon must rise
From Earth, already sacred to the skies..
Long since, those glories to the chief are ow'd,
And Heav'n now opens to receive the god.
To what fond purpose then this fruitless care?
To linger in the clouds, and urge the war?
Say, was it just, to wake the dire alarms?
To violate a god with mortal arms,
When the bold sister to the chief restor❜d,
By thy assistance, his paternal sword?
(For what without thy succour could she dare?)
And sent the vanquish'd Turnus to the war?
At length, at length, the needless strife give o'er,
At my request, indulge your rage no more;
Nor let revenge, dire enemy to rest,
For ever prey on that immortal breast.
Oh! let thy lord thy secret sorrow share, ¡
Or, more than share it, give me all thy care!
To their last sacred point the fates are come;
Here, here they fix'd th' unalterable doom.
The Latian court in ruins could you lay,
And drive the Trojans o'er the land and sea;
Profane with blood the holy bridal rite,
Rekindle war, and urge them to the fight;
This we indulg'd: now give thy efforts o'er
At our command; and thwart the fates no more.?
So spoke th' imperial sov'reign of the skies;
And, in submissive terms, the queen replies:
"Great sire! because thy sacred will I know,
I left my Turnus to his doom below.
Nor had I sat, but at the will of Jove,
Disgrac'd and pensive, in the clouds above;
But in the front of fight my foes engag'd,
And, wrapt in flames, thro' all the battle rag'd;
I bade Juturna mingle in the strife,
Nay, venture more, to save a brother's life.
That charge I own; but not to bend a bow,
Or hurl a single jav'lin at the foe.

This, this, I swear, by the black Stygian floods,
The sole dread sanction of th' immortal gods:
Now back to Heav'n, great father, I repair,
And from this hour renounce the hateful war,
But yet I beg, O sov'reign of the sky!
What not the hardest laws of fate deny;
For your own Latium I implore this grace,
This honour for your own majestic race;
When by these nuptials both the realms combine,
And in firm leagues of peace and friendship join;.
Still may the Latians, still remain the same,
Nor take from Troy their language, garb, or
name!

May the great race of Alban monarchs reign;
Kings after kings the regal line sustain ;
And from th' Italian blood may Rome arise,
In all her pride and glory, to the skies.
But may a long oblivion quite destroy,
The last, last ruins, with the name of Troy !"
The goddess spoke; and, with a smile, replies
The sire of men, and monarch of the skies:
"Can Saturn's other heir, who reigns above,
Th' imperial sister, and the wife, of Jove,
With endless schemes of vengeance break her rest?
Why burns such wrath in a celestial breast?