bookssland.com Ā» Other Ā» The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) šŸ“—

Book online Ā«The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) šŸ“—Ā». Author Virgil



1 ... 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 ... 95
Go to page:
by shame,
With sense of honour stung, and forfeit fame,
Fearful besides of what in fight had passā€™d,
His hands and haggard eyes to heavā€™n he cast;
ā€œO Jove!ā€ he cried, ā€œfor what offence have I
Deservā€™d to bear this endless infamy?
Whence am I forcā€™d, and whether am I borne?
How, and with what reproach, shall I return?
Shall ever I behold the Latian plain,
Or see Laurentumā€™s lofty towā€™rs again?
What will they say of their deserting chief
The war was mine: I fly from their relief;
I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave;
And evā€™n from hence their dying groans receive.
Here, overmatchā€™d in fight, in heaps they lie;
There, scatterā€™d oā€™er the fields, ignobly fly.
Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive!
Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve!
On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive;
Or set me shipwreckā€™d on some desert shore,
Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more,
Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame,
Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim.ā€

Thus Turnus ravā€™d, and various fates revolvā€™d:
The choice was doubtful, but the death resolvā€™d.
And now the sword, and now the sea took place,
That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace.
Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main,
By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain.
Thrice he the sword assayā€™d, and thrice the flood;
But Juno, movā€™d with pity, both withstood.
And thrice repressā€™d his rage; strong gales supplied,
And pushā€™d the vessel oā€™er the swelling tide.
At length she lands him on his native shores,
And to his fatherā€™s longing arms restores.

Meantime, by Joveā€™s impulse, Mezentius armā€™d,
Succeeding Turnus, with his ardour warmā€™d
His fainting friends, reproachā€™d their shameful flight,
Repellā€™d the victors, and renewā€™d the fight.
Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire;
Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire
Of wishā€™d revenge: on him, and him alone,
All hands employā€™d, and all their darts are thrown.
He, like a solid rock by seas inclosā€™d,
To raging winds and roaring waves opposā€™d,
From his proud summit looking down, disdains
Their empty menace, and unmovā€™d remains.

Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead,
Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled.
At Latagus a weighty stone he flung:
His face was flatted, and his helmet rung.
But Palmus from behind receives his wound;
Hamstringā€™d he falls, and grovels on the ground:
His crest and armour, from his body torn,
Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn.
Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew.
Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew,
Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire,
The queen producā€™d young Paris to his sire:
But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain,
Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain.

And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred,
With forest mast and fattā€™ning marshes fed,
When once he sees himself in toils inclosā€™d,
By huntsmen and their eager hounds opposā€™dā ā€”
He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war;
Thā€™ invaders dart their javā€™lins from afar:
All keep aloof, and safely shout around;
But none presumes to give a nearer wound:
He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide,
And shakes a grove of lances from his side:
Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspirā€™d,
And just revenge against the tyrant firā€™d,
Their darts with clamour at a distance drive,
And only keep the languishā€™d war alive.

From Coritus came Acron to the fight,
Who left his spouse betrothā€™d, and unconsummate night.
Mezentius sees him throā€™ the squadrons ride,
Proud of the purple favours of his bride.
Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds
A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds,
Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plainā ā€”
He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane,
He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws;
The prey lies panting underneath his paws:
He fills his famishā€™d maw; his mouth runs oā€™er
With unchewā€™d morsels, while he churns the gore:
So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes,
And first unhappy Acron overthrows:
Stretchā€™d at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground;
The lance, besmearā€™d with blood, lies broken in the wound.
Then with disdain the haughty victor viewā€™d
Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued,
Nor thought the dastardā€™s back deservā€™d a wound,
But, running, gainā€™d thā€™ advantage of the ground:
Then turning short, he met him face to face,
To give his victory the better grace.
Orodes falls, in equal fight oppressā€™d:
Mezentius fixā€™d his foot upon his breast,
And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries:
ā€œLo! here the champion of my rebels lies!ā€
The fields around with Io Paean! ring;
And peals of shouts applaud the conquā€™ring king.
At this the vanquishā€™d, with his dying breath,
Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death:
ā€œNor thou, proud man, unpunishā€™d shalt remain:
Like death attends thee on this fatal plain.ā€
Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied:
ā€œFor what belongs to me, let Jove provide;
But die thou first, whatever chance ensue.ā€
He said, and from the wound the weapon drew.
A hovā€™ring mist came swimming oā€™er his sight,
And sealā€™d his eyes in everlasting night.

By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain;
Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain;
Orses the strong to greater strength must yield;
He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo killā€™d.
Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew,
Who from Lycaonā€™s blood his lineage drew.
But from his headstrong horse his fate he found,
Who threw his master, as he made a bound:
The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground;
Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails:
The Trojan sinks, and Neptuneā€™s son prevails.
Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride,
To single fight the boldest foe defied;
Whom Tuscan Valerus by force oā€™ercame,
And not belied his mighty fatherā€™s fame.
Salius to death the great Antronius sent:
But the same fate the victor underwent,
Slain by Nealcesā€™ hand, well-skillā€™d to throw
The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow.

Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance;
By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance:
Victors and vanquishā€™d, in the various field,
Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield.
The gods from heavā€™n survey the fatal strife,
And mourn the miseries of human life.
Above the rest, two goddesses appear
Concernā€™d for each: here Venus, Juno there.
Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes
Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes.

Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain,
Brandishā€™d his spear, and rushā€™d into the plain,
Where towā€™ring in the midmost rank she stood,
Like tall Orion stalking oā€™er the flood.
(When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves,
His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves),
Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread,
Deep fixā€™d in earth; in clouds he hides his head.

The Trojan prince beheld him from afar,
And dauntless undertook the doubtful

1 ... 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 ... 95
Go to page:

Free e-book Ā«The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) šŸ“—Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment