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the billows sweep,
As rode before tall vessels on the deep.

The foes, surprisā€™d with wonder, stood aghast;
Messapus curbā€™d his fiery courserā€™s haste;
Old Tiber roarā€™d, and, raising up his head,
Callā€™d back his waters to their oozy bed.
Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock,
And with these words his trembling troops bespoke:
ā€œThese monsters for the Trojansā€™ fate are meant,
And are by Jove for black presages sent.
He takes the cowardsā€™ last relief away;
For fly they cannot, and, constrainā€™d to stay,
Must yield unfought, a base inglorious prey.
The liquid half of all the globe is lost;
Heavā€™n shuts the seas, and we secure the coast.
Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground
Which myriads of our martial men surround.
Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles.
ā€™Twas givā€™n to Venus they should cross the seas,
And land secure upon the Latian plains:
Their promisā€™d hour is passā€™d, and mine remains.
ā€™Tis in the fate of Turnus to destroy,
With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy.
Shall such affronts as these alone inflame
The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name?
My cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife,
And final ruin, for a ravishā€™d wife.
Was ā€™t not enough, that, punishā€™d for the crime,
They fell; but will they fall a second time?
One would have thought they paid enough before,
To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more.
Can they securely trust their feeble wall,
A slight partition, a thin interval,
Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, thoā€™ built
By hands divine, yet perishā€™d by their guilt?
Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands,
To force from out their lines these dastard bands.
Less than a thousand ships will end this war,
Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare.
Let all the Tuscans, all thā€™ Arcadians, join!
Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design.
Let them not fear the treasons of the night,
The robbā€™d Palladium, the pretended flight:
Our onset shall be made in open light.
No wooden engine shall their town betray;
Fires they shall have around, but fires by day.
No Grecian babes before their camp appear,
Whom Hectorā€™s arms detainā€™d to the tenth tardy year.
Now, since the sun is rolling to the west,
Give we the silent night to needful rest:
Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare;
The morn shall end the small remains of war.ā€

The post of honour to Messapus falls,
To keep the nightly guard, to watch the walls,
To pitch the fires at distances around,
And close the Trojans in their scanty ground.
Twice seven Rutulian captains ready stand,
And twice seven hundred horse these chiefs command;
All clad in shining arms the works invest,
Each with a radiant helm and waving crest.
Stretchā€™d at their length, they press the grassy ground;
They laugh, they sing, (the jolly bowls go round,)
With lights and cheerful fires renew the day,
And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play.

The Trojans, from above, their foes beheld,
And with armā€™d legions all the rampires fillā€™d.
Seizā€™d with affright, their gates they first explore;
Join works to works with bridges, towā€™r to towā€™r:
Thus all things needful for defence abound.
Mnestheus and brave Seresthus walk the round,
Commissionā€™d by their absent prince to share
The common danger, and divide the care.
The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall,
By turns relieve each other on the wall.

Nigh where the foes their utmost guards advance,
To watch the gate was warlike Nisusā€™ chance.
His father Hyrtacus of noble blood;
His mother was a huntress of the wood,
And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear
His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear,
But better skillā€™d unerring shafts to send.
Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend:
Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host
No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boastā ā€”
Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun.
One was their care, and their delight was one:
One common hazard in the war they sharā€™d,
And now were both by choice upon the guard.

Then Nisus thus: ā€œOr do the gods inspire
This warmth, or make we gods of our desire?
A genā€™rous ardour boils within my breast,
Eager of action, enemy to rest:
This urges me to fight, and fires my mind
To leave a memorable name behind.
Thou seeā€™st the foe secure; how faintly shine
Their scatterā€™d fires! the most, in sleep supine
Along the ground, an easy conquest lie:
The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply;
All hushā€™d around. Now hear what I revolveā ā€”
A thought unripeā ā€”and scarcely yet resolve.
Our absent prince both camp and council mourn;
By message both would hasten his return:
If they confer what I demand on thee,
(For fame is recompense enough for me,)
Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied
A way that safely will my passage guide.ā€

Euryalus stood listā€™ning while he spoke,
With love of praise and noble envy struck;
Then to his ardent friend exposā€™d his mind:
ā€œAll this, alone, and leaving me behind!
Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be joinā€™d?
Thinkā€™st thou I can my share of glory yield,
Or send thee unassisted to the field?
Not so my father taught my childhood arms;
Born in a siege, and bred among alarms!
Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend,
Nor of the heavā€™n-born hero I attend.
The thing callā€™d life, with ease I can disclaim,
And think it over-sold to purchase fame.ā€

Then Nisus thus: ā€œAlas! thy tender years
Would minister new matter to my fears.
So may the gods, who view this friendly strife,
Restore me to thy lovā€™d embrace with life,
Condemnā€™d to pay my vows, (as sure I trust,)
This thy request is cruel and unjust.
But if some chanceā ā€”as many chances are,
And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of warā ā€”
If one should reach my head, there let it fall,
And spare thy life; I would not perish all.
Thy bloomy youth deserves a longer date:
Live thou to mourn thy loveā€™s unhappy fate;
To bear my mangled body from the foe,
Or buy it back, and funā€™ral rites bestow.
Or, if hard fortune shall those dues deny,
Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply.
O let not me the widowā€™s tears renew!
Nor let a motherā€™s curse my name pursue:
Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee,
Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily,
Her age committing to the seas and wind,
When evā€™ry weary matron stayā€™d behind.ā€
To this, Euryalus: ā€œYou plead in vain,
And but protract the cause you cannot gain.
No more delays, but haste!ā€ With that, he wakes
The nodding watch; each to his office takes.
The guard relievā€™d, the genā€™rous couple went
To find the council at the royal tent.

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