Meanwhile, with two white coursers to their car, the brothers Lucagus and Liger drove into the heart of battle: Liger kept with skilful hand the manage of the steeds; bold Lucagus swung wide his naked sword. Aeneas, by their wrathful brows defied, brooked not the sight, but to the onset flew, huge-looming, with adverse and threatening spear. Cried Liger, “Not Achilles' chariot, ours! Nor team of Diomed on Phrygia 's plain! The last of life and strife shall be thy meed upon this very ground.” Such raving word flowed loud from Liger's lip: not with a word the Trojan hero answered him, but flung his whirling spear; and even as Lucagus leaned o'er the horses, goading them with steel, and, left foot forward, gathered all his strength to strike—the spear crashed through the under rim of his resplendent shield and entered deep in the left groin; then from the chariot fallen, the youth rolled dying on the field, while thus pious Aeneas paid him taunting words: “O Lucagus, thy chariot did not yield because of horses slow to fly, or scared by shadows of a foe. It was thyself leaped o'er the wheel and fled.” So saying, he grasped the horses by the rein. The brother then, spilled also from the car, reached wildly forth his helpless hands: “O, by thy sacred head, and by the parents who such greatness gave, good Trojan, let me live! Some pity show to prostrate me!” But ere he longer sued, Aeneas cried, “Not so thy language ran a moment gone! Die thou! Nor let this day brother from brother part!” Then where the life hides in the bosom, he thrust deep his sword. Thus o'er the field of war the Dardan King moved on, death-dealing: like a breaking flood or cloudy whirlwind seemed his wrath. Straightway the boy Ascanius from the ramparts came, his warriors with him; for the siege had failed. Now Jupiter to Juno thus began: “O ever-cherished spouse and sister dear, surely 't is Venus—as thy mind misgave— whose favor props—O, what discernment thine! Yon Trojan power; not swift heroic hands, or souls of fury facing perilous war!” Juno made meek reply: “O noblest spouse! Why vex one sick at heart, who humbly fears thy stern command? If I could claim to-day what once I had, my proper right and due, love's induence, I should not plead in vain to thee, omnipotent, to give me power to lead off Turnus from the fight unscathed, and save him at his father Daunus' prayer. Aye, let him die! And with his loyal blood the Teucrians' vengeance feed! Yet he derives from our Saturnian stem, by fourth remove sprung from Pilumnus. Oft his liberal hands have heaped unstinted offering at thy shrine.” Thus in few words th' Olympian King replied: “If for the fated youth thy prayer implores delay and respite of impending doom, if but so far thou bidst me interpose,— go—favor Turnus' flight, and keep him safe in this imperilled hour; I may concede such boon. But if thy pleading words intend some larger grace, and fain would touch or change the issue of the war, then art thou fed on expectation vain.” With weeping eyes Juno made answer: “Can it be thy mind gives what thy words refuse, and Turnus' life, if rescued, may endure? Yet afterward some cruel close his guiltless day shall see— or far from truth I stray! O, that I were the dupe of empty fears! and O, that thou wouldst but refashion to some happier end the things by thee begun—for thou hast power!” She ceased; and swiftly from the peak of heaven moved earthward, trailing cloud-wrack through the air, and girdled with the storm. She took her way to where Troy 's warriors faced Laurentum's line. There of a hollow cloud the goddess framed a shape of airy, unsubstantial shade, Aeneas' image, wonderful to see, and decked it with a Dardan lance and shield, a crested helmet on the godlike head; and windy words she gave of soulless sound, and motion like a stride—such shapes, they say, the hovering phantoms of the dead put on, or empty dreams which cheat our slumbering eyes. Forth to the front of battle this vain shade stalked insolent, and with its voice and spear challenged the warrior. At it Turnus flew, and hurled a hissing spear with distant aim; the thing wheeled round and fled. The foe forthwith, thinking Aeneas vanquished, with blind scorn flattered his own false hope: “Where wilt thou fly, Aeneas? Wilt thou break a bridegroom's word? This sword will give thee title to some land thou hast sailed far to find!” So clamoring loud he followed, flashing far his naked sword; nor saw the light winds waft his dream away. By chance in covert of a lofty crag a ship stood fastened and at rest; her sides showed ready bridge and stairway; she had brought Osinius, king of Clusium . Thither came Aeneas' counterfeit of flight and fear, and dropped to darkness. Turnus, nothing loth, gave close chase, overleaping every bar, and scaling the high bridge; but scarce he reached the vessel's prow, when Juno cut her loose, the cables breaking, and along swift waves pushed her to sea. Yet in that very hour Aeneas to the battle vainly called the vanished foe, and round his hard-fought path stretched many a hero dead. No longer now the mocking shadow sought to hide, but soared visibly upward and was Iost in cloud, while Turnus drifted o'er the waters wide before the wind. Bewildered and amazed he looked around him; little joy had he in his own safety, but upraised his hands in prayer to Heaven: “O Sire omnipotent! Didst thou condemn me to a shame like this? Such retribution dire? Whither now? Whence came I here? What panic wafts away this Turnus—if 't is he? Shall I behold Laurentum's towers once more? But what of those my heroes yonder, who took oath to me, and whom—O sin and shame!—I have betrayed to horrible destruction? Even now I see them routed, and my ears receive their dying groans. What is this thing I do? Where will the yawning earth crack wide enough beneath my feet? Ye tempests, pity me! On rocks and reef—'t is Turnus' faithful prayer, let this bark founder; fling it on the shoals of wreckful isles, where no Rutulian eye can follow me, or Rumor tell my shame.” With such wild words his soul tossed to and fro, not knowing if to hide his infamy with his own sword and madly drive its blade home to his heart, or cast him in the sea, and, swimming to the rounded shore, renew his battle with the Trojan foe. Three times each fatal course he tried; but Juno's power three times restrained, and with a pitying hand the warrior's purpose barred. So on he sped o'er yielding waters and propitious tides, far as his father Daunus' ancient town. At Jove's command Mezentius, breathing rage, now takes the field and leads a strong assault against victorious Troy . The Tuscan ranks meet round him, and press hard on him alone, on him alone with vengeance multiplied their host of swords they draw. As some tall cliff, projecting to the sea, receives the rage of winds and waters, and untrembling bears vast, frowning enmity of seas and skies,— so he. First Dolichaon's son he slew, Hebrus ; then Latagus and Palmus, though they fled amain; he smote with mighty stone torn from the mountain, full upon the face of Latagus; and Palmus he let lie hamstrung and rolling helpless; he bestowed the arms on his son Lausus for a prize, another proud crest in his helm to wear; he laid the Phrygian Euanthus Iow; and Mimas, Paris' comrade, just his age,— born of Theano's womb to Amycus his sire, that night when royal Hecuba, teeming with firebrand, gave Paris birth: one in the city of his fathers sleeps; and one, inglorious, on Laurentian strand. As when a wild boar, harried from the hills by teeth of dogs (one who for many a year was safe in pine-clad Vesulus, or roamed the meres of Tiber , feeding in the reeds) falls in the toils at last, and stands at bay, raging and bristling, and no hunter dares defy him or come near, but darts are hurled from far away, with cries unperilous: not otherwise, though righteous is their wrath against Mezentius, not a man so bold as face him with drawn sword, but at long range they throw their shafts and with loud cries assail; he, all unterrified, makes frequent stand, gnashing his teeth, and shaking off their spears.