Aeneas thus: then with uplifted eyes Latinus swore, his right hand raised to heaven: “I too, Aeneas, take the sacred vow. By earth and sea and stars in heaven I swear, by fair Latona's radiant children twain, and two-browed Janus; by the shadowy powers of Hades and th' inexorable shrines of the Infernal King; and may Jove hear, who by his lightnings hallows what is sworn! I touch these altars, and my lips invoke the sacred altar-fires that 'twixt us burn: we men of Italy will make this peace inviolate, and its bond forever keep, let come what will; there is no power can change my purpose, not if ocean's waves o'erwhelm the world in billowy deluge and obscure the bounds of heaven and hell. We shall remain immutable as my smooth sceptre is“ (By chance a sceptre in his hand he bore), “which wears no more light leaf or branching shade; for long since in the grove 't was plucked away from parent stem, and yielded to sharp steel its leaves and limbs; erewhile 't was but a tree, till the wise craftsman with fair sheath of bronze encircled it and laid it in the hands of Latium 's royal sires.” With words like these they swore the bond, in the beholding eyes of gathered princes. Then they slit the throats of hallowed victims o'er the altar's blaze, drew forth the quivering vitals, and with flesh on loaded chargers heaped the sacrifice. But to Rutulian eyes th' approaching joust seemed all ill-matched; and shifting hopes and fears disturbed their hearts the closer they surveyed th' unequal risks: still worse it was to see how Turnus, silent and with downcast eyes, dejectedly drew near the place of prayer, worn, pale, and wasted in his youthful bloom. The nymph Juturna, with a sister's fear, noted the growing murmur, and perceived how all the people's will did shift and change; she went from rank to rank, feigning the shape of Camers, scion of illustrious line, with heritage of valor, and himself dauntless in war; unceasingly she ran from rank to rank, spreading with skilful tongue opinions manifold, and thus she spoke: “Will ye not blush, Rutulians, so to stake one life for many heroes? Are we not their match in might and numbers? O, behold those Trojan sons of Heaven making league with exiled Arcady; see Tuscan hordes storming at Turnus. Yet we scarce could find one foe apiece, forsooth, if we should dare fight them with half our warriors. Of a truth your champion brave shall to those gods ascend before whose altars his great heart he vows; and lips of men while yet on earth he stays will spread his glory far. Ourselves, instead, must crouch to haughty masters, and resign this fatherland upon whose fruitful fields we dwell at ease.” So speaking, she inflamed the warriors' minds, and through the legions ran increasing whisper; the Laurentine host and even Latium wavered. Those who late prayed but for rest and safety, clamored loud for arms, desired annulment of the league, and pitied Turnus' miserable doom. Whereon Juturna tried a mightier stroke, a sign from heaven, which more than all beside confused the Latins and deceived their hearts with prodigy. For through the flaming skies Jove's golden eagle swooped, and scattered far a clamorous tribe of river-haunting birds; then, swiftly to the waters falling, seized one noble swan, which with keen, curving claws he ruthless bore away: th' Italians all watched eagerly, while the loud-screaming flock wheeled upward (wondrous sight!), with host of wings shadowed the sky, and in a legion-cloud chased through the air the foe; till, overborne by heavier odds, the eagle from his claws flung back his victim to the waves, and fled to the dim, distant heaven. The Rutules then hailed the good omen with consenting cry, and grasped the sword and shield. Tolumnius the augur spake first: “Lo, the sign I sought with many a prayer! I welcome and obey the powers divine. Take me for captain, me! And draw your swords, ye wretches, whom th' assault of yonder foreign scoundrel puts in fear like feeble birds, and with his violence lays waste your shore. He too shall fly away, spreading his ships' wings on the distant seas. Close up your ranks—one soul in all our breasts! Defend in open war your stolen King.” So saying, he hurled upon th' opposing foe his javelin, running forward. The strong shaft of corner whistled shrill, and clove the air unerring. Instantly vast clamor rose, and all th' onlookers at the spectacle leaped up amazed, and every heart beat high. The spear sped flying to the foeman's line, where stood nine goodly brethren, pledges all of one true Tuscan mother to her lord, Gylippus of Arcadia ; it struck full on one of these at his gold-belted waist, and where the clasp clung, pierced the rib clean through. And stretched the fair youth in his glittering arms full length and lifeless on the yellow sand. His brothers then, bold band to wrath aroused by sorrow, seize the sword or snatch the spear and blindly charge. Opposing them, the host Laurentine makes advance, and close-arrayed the Trojans like a torrent pour, enforced by Tuscans and the gay-accoutred clans of Arcady. One passion moved in all to try the judgment of the sword. They tore the altars down: a very storm of spears rose angrily to heaven, in iron rain down-pouring: while the priests bore far away the sacrificial bowls and sacred fires. Even Latinus fled; his stricken gods far from his violated oath he bore. Some leaped to horse or chariot and rode with naked swords in air. Messapus, wild to break the truce, assailed the Tuscan King, Aulestes, dressed in kingly blazon fair, with fearful shock of steeds; the Tuscan dropped helplessly backward, striking as he fell his head and shoulders on the altar-stone that lay behind him. But Messapus flew, infuriate, a javelin in his hand, and, towering o'er the suppliant, smote him strong with the great beam-like spear, and loudly cried: “Down with him! Ah! no common victim he to give the mighty gods!” Italia 's men despoiled the dead man ere his limbs were cold. Then Corynaeus snatched a burning brand out of the altar, and as Ebysus came toward him for to strike, he hurled the flame full in his face: the big beard quickly blazed with smell of singeing; while the warrior bold strode over him, and seized with firm left hand his quailing foe's Iong hair; then with one knee he pushed and strained, compelled him to the `ground— and struck straight at his heart with naked steel. The shepherd Alsus in the foremost line came leaping through the spears; when o'er him towered huge Podalirius with a flashing sword in close pursuit; the mighty battle-axe clove him with swinging stroke from brow to chin, and spilt along his mail the streaming gore: so stern repose and iron slumber fell upon that shepherd's eyes, and sealed their gaze in endless night. But good Aeneas now stretched forth his unarmed hand, and all unhelmed thus Ioudly to his people called: “What means this frantic stir, this quarrel rashly bold? Recall your martial rage! The pledge is given and all its terms agreed. 'T is only I do lawful battle here. So let me forth, and tremble not. My own hand shall confirm the solemn treaty. For these rites consign Turnus to none but me.” Yet while he spoke, behold, a winged arrow, hissing loud, the hero pierced; but what bold hand impelled its whirling speed, none knew; nor if it were chance or some power divine that brought this fame upon Rutulia; for the glorious deed was covered o'er with silence: none would boast an arrow guilty of Aeneas' wound. When Turnus saw Aeneas from the line retreating, and the captains in dismay, with sudden hope he burned: he called for steeds, for arms, and, leaping to his chariot, rode insolently forth, the reins in hand. Many strong heroes he dispatched to die, as on he flew, and many stretched half-dead, or from his chariot striking, or from far raining his javelins on the recreant foe. As Mars, forth-speeding by the wintry stream of Hebrus , smites his sanguinary shield and whips the swift steeds to the front of war, who, flying past the winds of eve and morn, scour the wide champaign; the bounds of Thrace 
 beneath their hoof-beats thunder; the dark shapes of Terror, Wrath, and Treachery move on in escort of the god: in such grim guise bold Turnus lashed into the fiercest fray his streaming steeds, that pitiful to see trod down the slaughtered foe; each flying hoof scattered a bloody dew; their path was laid in mingled blood and sand. To death he flung Pholus and Sthenelus and Thamyris: two smitten in close fight and one from far: also from far he smote with fatal spear Glaucus and Lades, the Imbrasidae, whom Imbrasus himself in Lycia bred, and honored them with arms of equal skill when grappling with a foe, or o'er the field speeding a war-horse faster than the wind. Elsewhere Eumedes through a throng of foes to battle rode, the high-born Dolon's child, famous in war, who bore his grandsire's name, but seemed in might and courage like his sire: that prince, who reconnoitring crept so near the Argive camp, he dared to claim for spoil the chariot of Achilles; but that day great Diomed for such audacious deed paid wages otherwise,—and he no more dreamed to possess the steeds of Peleus' son. When Turnus recognized in open field this warrior, though far, he aimed and flung his javelin through the spacious air; then stayed his coursers twain, and, leaping from his car, found the wretch helpless fallen; so planted he his foot upon his neck, and from his hand wrested the sword and thrust it glittering deep in the throat, thus taunting as he slew: “There's land for thee, thou Trojan! Measure there th' Hesperian provinces thy sword would find. Such reward will I give to all who dare draw steel on me; such cities they shall build.” To bear him company his spear laid low Asbutes, Sybaris, Thersilochus, Chloreus and Dares, and Thymoetes thrown sheer off the shoulders of his balking steed. As when from Thrace the north wind thunders down the vast Aegean , flinging the swift flood against the shore, and where his blasts assail the cloudy cohorts vanish out of heaven: so before Turnus, where his path he clove, the lines fell back, the wheeling legions fled. The warrior's own wild impulse swept him on, and every wind that o'er his chariot blew shook out his plume in air. But such advance so bold, so furious, Phegeus could not brook, but, fronting the swift chariot's path, he seized the foam-flecked bridles of its coursers wild, while from the yoke his body trailed and swung; the broad lance found his naked side, and tore his double corselet, pricking lightly through the outer flesh; but he with lifted shield still fought his foe and thrust with falchion bare; but the fierce pace of whirling wheel and pole flung him down prone, and stretched him on the plain. Then Turnus, aiming with relentless sword between the corselet's edge and helmet's rim struck off his whole head, leaving on the sands the mutilated corpse. While thus afield victorious Turnus dealt out death and doom, Mnestheus, Achates true, and by their side Ascanius, have carried to the camp Aeneas, gashed and bleeding, whose long lance sustained his limping step. With fruitless rage he struggled with the spear-head's splintered barb, and bade them help him by the swiftest way to carve the wound out with a sword, to rip the clinging weapon forth, and send him back to meet the battle. Quickly to his side came Iapyx, dear favorite and friend of Phoebus, upon whom the god bestowed his own wise craft and power, Iove-impelled. The gifts of augury were given, and song, with arrows of swift wing: he when his sire was carried forth to die, deferred the doom for many a day, by herbs of virtue known to leechcraft; and without reward or praise his silent art he plied. Aeneas stood, bitterly grieving, propped upon his spear; a throng of warriors were near him, and Iulus, sorrowing. The aged man gathered his garments up as leeches do, and with skilled hand and Phoebus' herbs of power bustled in vain; in vain his surgery pried at the shaft, and with a forceps strong seized on the buried barb. But Fortune gave no remedy, nor did Apollo aid his votary. So more and more grim fear stalks o'er the field of war, and nearer hies the fatal hour; the very heavens are dust; the horsemen charge, and in the midmost camp a rain of javelins pours. The dismal cry of men in fierce fight, and of men who fall beneath relentless Mars, rends all the air. Then Venus, by her offspring's guiltless woe sore moved, did cull from Cretan Ida's crest some dittany, with downy leaf and stem and flowers of purple bloom—a simple known to mountain goats, when to their haunches clings an arrow gone astray. This Venus brought, mantling her shape in cloud; and this she steeped in bowls of glass, infusing secretly ambrosia's healing essence and sweet drops of fragrant panacea. Such a balm aged Iapyx poured upon the wound, though unaware; and sudden from the flesh all pain departed and the blood was staunched, while from the gash the arrow uncompelled followed the hand and dropped: his wonted strength flowed freshly through the hero's frame. “Make haste! Bring forth his arms! Why tarry any more?” Iapyx shouted, being first to fire their courage 'gainst the foe. “This thing is done not of man's knowledge, nor by sovereign skill; nor has my hand, Aeneas, set thee free. Some mighty god thy vigor gives again for mighty deeds.” Aeneas now put on, all fever for the fight, his golden greaves, and, brooking not delay, waved wide his spear. Soon as the corselet and the shield were bound on back and side, he clasped Ascanius to his mailed breast, and through his helmet grim tenderly kissed his son. “My boy", he cried, “What valor is and patient, genuine toil learn thou of me; let others guide thy feet to prosperous fortune. Let this hand and sword defend thee through the war and lead thee on to high rewards. Thou also play the man! And when thy riper vigor soon shall bloom, forget not in thy heart to ponder well the story of our line. Heed honor's call, like Sire Aeneas and Hector thy close kin.”