But at a distance where the river's flood had scattered rolling boulders and torn trees uprooted from the shore, young Pallas spied th' Arcadian band, unused to fight on foot, in full retreat, the Latins following close— who also for the roughness of the ground were all unmounted: he (the last resource of men in straits) to wild entreaty turned and taunts, enkindling their faint hearts anew: “Whither, my men! O, by your own brave deeds, O, by our lord Evander's happy wars, the proud hopes I had to make my name a rival glory,—think not ye can fly! Your swords alone can carve ye the safe way straight through your foes. Where yonder warrior-throng is fiercest, thickest, there and only there your Country's honor calls for men like you, and for your captain Pallas. Nay, no gods against us fight; we are but mortal men pressed by a mortal foe. Not more than ours the number of their lives or swords. Behold, the barrier of yonder spreading sea emprisons us, and for a craven flight yon lands are all too small. Ha! Shall we steer across the sea to Troy ?” He said, and sprang full in the centre of his gathered foes. First in his path was Lagus, thither led by evil stars; whom, as he tried to lift a heavy stone, the shaft of Pallas pierced where ribs and spine divide: backward he drew the clinging spear; But Hisbo from above surprised him not, though meaning it; for while (In anger blind for friend unpitying slain) at Pallas' face he flew:—he, standing firm, plunged deep into that swelling breast the sword. Then Sthenius he slew; and next Anchemolus of Rhoetus' ancient line, who dared defile his step-dame's bridal bed. And also ye, fair Thymber and Larides, Daucus' twins, fell on that Rutule field; so like were ye, your own kin scarce discerned, and parents proud smiled at the dear deceit; but now in death cruel unlikeness Pallas wrought; thy head fell, hapless Thymber, by Evander's sword; and thy right hand, Larides, shorn away, seemed feeling for its Iord; the fingers cold clutched, trembling, at the sword. Now all the troop of Arcady, their chief's great action seen, and by his warning roused, made at their foes, spurred on by grief and shame. Next Pallas pierced the flying Rhoetus in his car; this gained for Ilus respite and delay, for him the stout spear aimed at; but its flight was stopped by Rhoetus, as in swift retreat he rode, by the two high-born brothers close pursued, Teuthras and Tyres: from his car he rolled, making deep furrows with his lifeless heels along the Rutule plain. Oft when the winds of summer, long awaited, rise and blow, a shepherd fires the forest, and the blaze devours the dense grove, while o'er the fields, in that one moment, swift and sudden spread grim Vulcan's serried flames; from some high seat on distant hill, the shepherd peering down sees, glad at heart, his own victorious fires: so now fierce valor spreads, uniting all in one confederate rage, 'neath Pallas' eyes. But the fierce warrior Halaesus next led on the charge, behind his skilful shield close-crouching. Ladon and Demodocus and Pheres he struck down; his glittering blade cut Strymon's hand, which to his neck was raised, sheer off; with one great stone he crushed the brows of Thoas, scattering wide the broken skull, bones, brains, and gore. Halaesus' prophet-sire, foreseeing doom, had hid him in dark groves; but when the old man's fading eyes declined in death, the hand of Fate reached forth and doomed the young life to Evander's sword; him now Pallas assailed, first offering this prayer: “O Father Tiber, give my poising shaft through stout Halaesus' heart its lucky way! The spoil and trophy of the hero slain on thine own oak shall hang.” The god received the vow, and while Halaesus held his shield over Imaon, his ill-fated breast lay naked to th' Arcadian's hungry spear. But Lausus, seeing such a hero slain, bade his troop have no fear, for he himself was no small strength in war; and first he slew Abas, who fought hard, and had ever seemed himself the sticking-point and tug of war. Down went Arcadia 's warriors, and slain etruscans fell, with many a Trojan brave the Greek had spared. Troop charges upon troop well-matched in might, with chiefs of like renown; the last rank crowds the first;—so fierce the press scarce hand or sword can stir. Here Pallas stands, and pushes back the foe; before him looms Lausus, his youthful peer, conspicuous both in beauty; but no star will them restore to home and native land. Yet would the King of high Olympus suffer not the pair to close in battle, but each hero found a later doom at hands of mightier foes. Now Turnus' goddess-sister bids him haste to Lausus' help. So he, in wheeling car, cut through the lines; and when his friends he saw, “Let the fight stop! “ he cried, “for none but I may strike at Pallas; unto me alone the prize of Pallas falls. I would his sire stood by to see.” He spake: his troop withdrew a fitting space. But as they made him room, the young prince, wondering at the scornful words, looked upon Turnus, glancing up and down that giant frame, and with fierce-frowning brows scanned him from far, hurling defiant words in answer to the King's. “My honor now shall have the royal trophy of this war, or glorious death. For either fortune fair my sire is ready. Threaten me no more!” So saying, to the midmost space he strode, and in Arcadian hearts the blood stood still. Swift from his chariot Turnus leaped, and ran to closer fight. As when some lion sees from his far mountain-lair a raging bull that sniffs the battle from the grassy field, and down the steep he flies—such picture showed grim Turnus as he came. But when he seemed within a spear's cast, Pallas opened fight, expecting Fortune's favor to the brave in such unequal match; and thus he prayed: “O, by my hospitable father's roof, where thou didst enter as a stranger-guest, hear me, Alcides, and give aid divine to this great deed. Let Turnus see these hands strip from his half-dead breast the bloody spoil! and let his eyes in death endure to see his conqueror!” Alcides heard the youth: but prisoned in his heart a deep-drawn sigh, and shed vain tears; for Jove, the King and Sire, . spoke with benignant accents to his son: “To each his day is given. Beyond recall man's little time runs by: but to prolong life's glory by great deeds is virtue's power. Beneath the lofty walls of fallen Troy 
 fell many a son of Heaven. Yea, there was slain Sarpedon, my own offspring. Turnus too is summoned to his doom, and nears the bounds of his appointed span.” So speaking, Jove turned from Rutulia's war his eyes away. But Pallas hurled his lance with might and main, and from its hollow scabbard flashed his sword. The flying shaft touched where the plated steel over the shoulders rose, and worked its way through the shield's rim—then falling, glanced aside from Turnus' giant body. Turnus then poised, without haste, his iron-pointed spear, and, launching it on Pallas, cried, “Look now will not this shaft a good bit deeper drive?” He said: and through the mid-boss of the shield, steel scales and brass with bull's-hide folded round, the quivering spear-point crashed resistlessly, and through the corselet's broken barrier pierced Pallas' heart. The youth plucked out in vain the hot shaft from the wound; his life and blood together ebbed away, as sinking prone on his rent side he fell; above him rang his armor; and from lips with blood defiled he breathed his last upon his foeman's ground. Over him Turnus stood: “Arcadians all,” He cried, “take tidings of this feat of arms to King Evander. With a warrior's wage his Pallas I restore, and freely grant what glory in a hero's tomb may lie, or comfort in a grave. They dearly pay who bid Aeneas welcome at their board.” So saying, with his left foot he held down the lifeless form, and raised the heavy weight of graven belt, which pictured forth that crime of youthful company by treason slain, all on their wedding night, in bridal bowers to horrid murder given,—which Clonus, son of Eurytus, had wrought in lavish gold; this Turnus in his triumph bore away, exulting in the spoil. O heart of man, not knowing doom, nor of events to be! Nor, being lifted up, to keep thy bounds in prosperous days! To Turnus comes the hour when he would fain a prince's ransom give had Pallas passed unscathed, and will bewail cuch spoil of victory. With weeping now and lamentations Ioud his comrades lay young Pallas on his shield, and thronging close carry him homeward with a mournful song: alas! the sorrow and the glorious gain thy sire shall have in thee. For one brief day bore thee to battle and now bears away; yet leavest thou full tale of foemen slain. No doubtful rumor to Aeneas breaks the direful news, but a sure messenger tells him his followers' peril, and implores prompt help for routed Troy . His ready sword reaped down the nearest foes, and through their line clove furious path and broad; the valiant blade through oft-repeated bloodshed groped its way, proud Turnus, unto thee! His heart beholds Pallas and Sire Evander, their kind board in welcome spread, their friendly league of peace proffered and sealed with him, the stranger-guest. So Sulmo's sons, four warriors, and four of Ufens sprung, he took alive—to slay as victims to the shades, and pour a stream of captives' blood upon a flaming pyre. Next from afar his hostile shaft he threw at Mago, who with wary motion bowed beneath the quivering weapon, as it sped clean over him; then at Aeneas' knees he crouched and clung with supplicating cry: “O, by thy father's spirit, by thy hope in young Iulus, I implore thee, spare for son and father's sake this life of mine. A lofty house have I, where safely hid are stores of graven silver and good weight of wrought and unwrought gold. The fate of war hangs not on me; nor can one little life thy victory decide.” In answer spoke Aeneas: “Hoard the silver and the gold for thy own sons. Such bartering in war finished with Turnus, when fair Pallas fell. Thus bids Anchises' shade, Iulus—thus!” He spoke: and, grasping with his mighty left the helmet of the vainly suppliant foe, bent back the throat and drove hilt-deep his sword. A little space removed, Haemonides, priest of Phoebus and pale Trivia, stood, whose ribboned brows a sacred fillet bound: in shining vesture he, and glittering arms. Him too the Trojan met, repelled, and towered above the fallen form, o'ermantling it in mortal shade; Serestus bore away those famous arms a trophy vowed to thee, Gradivus, Iord of war! Soon to fresh fight came Caeculus, a child of Vulcan's line, and Umbro on the Marsic mountains bred: these met the Trojan's wrath. His sword shore off Anxur 's left hand, and the whole orbed shield dropped earthward at the stroke: though Anxur 's tongue had boasted mighty things, as if great words would make him strong, and lifting his proud heart as high as heaven, had hoped perchance to see gray hairs and length of days. Then Tarquitus strode forth, exulting in his burnished arms (Him Dryope, the nymph, to Faunus bore), and dared oppose Aeneas' rage. But he drew back his lance and, charging, crushed at once corselet and ponderous shield; then off he struck the supplicating head, which seemed in vain preparing speech; while o'er the reeking corpse the victor stood, and thrusting it away spoke thus with wrathful soul: “Now lie thou there, thou fearsome sight! No noble mother's hand shall hide thee in the ground, or give those limbs to their ancestral tomb. Thou shalt be left to birds of ravin; or go drifting far along yon river to engulfing seas, where starving fishes on those wounds shall feed.” Antceus next and Lucas he pursues, though all in Turnus' van; and Numa bold and Camers tawny-tressed, the son and heir of Volscens the stout-hearted, whose domain surpassed the richest of Ausonia's lords, when over hushed Amyclae he was king. Like old Aegaeon of the hundred arms, the hundred-handed, from whose mouths and breasts blazed fifty fiery blasts, as he made war with fifty sounding shields and fifty swords against Jove's thunder;—so Aeneas raged victorious o'er the field, when once his steel warmed to its work. But lo, he turns him now where come Niphaeus' bold-advancing wheels and coursers four, who, when at furious speed they faced his giant stride and dreadful cry, upreared in panic, and reversing spilled their captain to the ground, and bore away the chariot to the river's distant shore.