The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) š
- Author: Virgil
Book online Ā«The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) šĀ». Author Virgil
Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man.
But, in another part, thā Arcadian horse
With ill success engage the Latin force:
For, where thā impetuous torrent, rushing down,
Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown,
They left their coursers, and, unusād to fight
On foot, were scatterād in a shameful flight.
Pallas, who with disdain and grief had viewād
His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued,
Usād threatānings mixād with prayārs, his last resource,
With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force
āWhich way, companions? whether would you run?
By you yourselves, and mighty battles won,
By my great sire, by his establishād name,
And early promise of my future fame;
By my youth, emulous of equal right
To share his honoursā āshun ignoble flight!
Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way
Throā yon black body, and that thick array:
āTis throā that forward path that we must come;
There lies our way, and that our passage home.
Nor powārs above, nor destinies below
Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go,
With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.
See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore,
The sea behind, our enemies before;
No passage left, unless we swim the main;
Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain.ā
This said, he strode with eager haste along,
And bore amidst the thickest of the throng.
Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe,
Had heavād a stone of mighty weight, to throw:
Stooping, the spear descended on his chine,
Just where the bone distinguished either loin:
It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay,
That scarce the victor forcād the steel away.
Hisbon came on: but, while he movād too slow
To wishād revenge, the prince prevents his blow;
For, warding his at once, at once he pressād,
And plungād the fatal weapon in his breast.
Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust,
Who stainād his stepdamās bed with impious lust.
And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain,
Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain;
So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size,
As causād an error in their parentsā eyesā ā
Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides
The nice distinction, and their fate divides:
For Thymbrusā head was loppād; and Larisā hand,
Dismemberād, sought its owner on the strand:
The trembling fingers yet the falchion strain,
And threaten still thā intended stroke in vain.
Now, to renew the charge, thā Arcadians came:
Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame,
And grief, with anger mixād, their minds inflame.
Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain,
Who chancād, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain:
The flying spear was after Ilus sent;
But Rhoeteus happenād on a death unmeant:
From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled,
The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead:
Rollād from his chariot with a mortal wound,
And intercepted fate, he spurnād the ground.
As when, in summer, welcome winds arise,
The watchful shepherd to the forest flies,
And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads,
And catching flames infect the neighbāring heads;
Around the forest flies the furious blast,
And all the leafy nation sinks at last,
And Vulcan rides in triumph oāer the waste;
The pastor, pleasād with his dire victory,
Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky:
So Pallasā troops their scatterād strength unite,
And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight.
Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood;
But first collected in his arms he stood:
Advancing then, he plied the spear so well,
Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell.
Around his head he tossād his glittāring brand,
And from Strymonius hewād his better hand,
Held up to guard his throat; then hurlād a stone
At Thoasā ample front, and piercād the bone:
It struck beneath the space of either eye;
And blood, and mingled brains, together fly.
Deep skillād in future fates, Halesusā sire
Did with the youth to lonely groves retire:
But, when the fatherās mortal race was run,
Dire destiny laid hold upon the son,
And haulād him to the war, to find, beneath
Thā Evandrian spear, a memorable death.
Pallas thā encounter seeks, but, ere he throws,
To Tuscan Tiber thus addressād his vows:
āO sacred stream, direct my flying dart,
And give to pass the proud Halesusā heart!
His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear.ā
Pleasād with the bribe, the god receivād his prayār:
For, while his shield protects a friend distressād,
The dart came driving on, and piercād his breast.
But Lausus, no small portion of the war,
Permits not panic fear to reign too far,
Causād by the death of so renownād a knight;
But by his own example cheers the fight.
Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay
Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day.
The Phrygian troops escapād the Greeks in vain:
They, and their mixād allies, now load the plain.
To the rude shock of war both armies came;
Their leaders equal, and their strength the same.
The rear so pressād the front, they could not wield
Their angry weapons, to dispute the field.
Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there:
Of equal youth and beauty both appear,
But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air.
Their congress in the field great Jove withstands:
Both doomād to fall, but fall by greater hands.
Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief
Of Laususā danger, urging swift relief.
With his drivān chariot he divides the crowd,
And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud:
āLet none presume his needless aid to join;
Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine:
To this right hand is Pallas only due;
O were his father here, my just revenge to view!ā
From the forbidden space his men retirād.
Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admirād;
Surveyād him oāer and oāer with wondāring sight,
Struck with his haughty mien, and towāring height.
Then to the king: āYour empty vaunts forbear;
Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear;
Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name;
Jove is impartial, and to both the same.ā
He said, and to the void advancād his pace:
Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face.
Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light,
Addressād himself on foot to single fight.
And, as a lionā āwhen he spies from far
A bull that seems to meditate the war,
Bending his neck, and spurning back the sandā ā
Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand:
Imagine eager Turnus not more slow,
To rush from high on his unequal foe.
Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance
Within due distance of his flying lance,
Prepares to charge him first, resolvād to try
If fortune would his want of force supply;
And thus to Heavān and Hercules addressād:
āAlcides,
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