After such farewell word, he from the gates in mighty stature strode, and swung on high his giant spear. With him in serried line Antheus and Mnestheus moved, and all the host from the forsaken fortress poured. The plain was darkened with their dust; the startled earth shook where their footing fell. From distant hill Turnus beheld them coming, and the eyes of all Ausonia saw: a chill of fear shot through each soldier's marrow; in their van Juturna knew full well the dreadful sound, and fled before it, shuddering. But he hurried his murky cohorts o'er the plain. As when a tempest from the riven sky drives landward o'er mid-ocean, and from far the hearts of husbandmen, foreboding woe, quake ruefully,—for this will come and rend their trees asunder, kill the harvests all, and sow destruction broadcast; in its path fly roaring winds, swift heralds of the storm: such dire approach the Trojan chieftain showed before his gathered foes. In close array they wedge their ranks about him. With a sword Thymbraeus cuts huge-limbed Osiris down; Mnestheus, Arcetius; from Epulo Achates shears the head; from Ufens, Gyas; Tolumnius the augur falls, the same who flung the first spear to the foeman's line. Uprose to heaven the cries. In panic now the Rutules in retreating clouds of dust scattered across the plain. Aeneas scorned either the recreant or resisting foe to slaughter, or the men who shoot from far: for through the war-cloud he but seeks the arms of Turnus, and to single combat calls. The warrior-maid Juturna, seeing this, distraught with terror, strikes down from his place Metiscus, Turnus' charioteer, who dropped forward among the reins and off the pole. Him leaving on the field, her own hand grasped the loosely waving reins, while she took on Metiscus' shape, his voice, and blazoned arms. As when through some rich master's spacious halls speeds the black swallow on her lightsome wing, exploring the high roof, or harvesting some scanty morsel for her twittering brood, round empty corridors or garden-pools noisily flitting: so Juturna roams among the hostile ranks, and wings her way behind the swift steeds of the whirling car. At divers points she lets the people see her brother's glory, but not yet allows the final tug of war; her pathless flight keeps far away. Aeneas too must take a course circuitous, and follows close his foeman's track; Ioud o'er the scattered lines he shouts his challenge. But whene'er his eyes discern the foe, and fain he would confront the flying-footed steeds, Juturna veers the chariot round and flies. What can he do? Aeneas' wrath storms vainly to and fro, and wavering purposes his heart divide. Against him lightly leaped Messapus forth, bearing two pliant javelins tipped with steel; and, whirling one in air, he aimed it well, with stroke unfailing. Great Aeneas paused in cover of his shield and crouched low down upon his haunches. But the driven spear battered his helmet's peak and plucked away the margin of his plume. Then burst his rage: his cunning foes had forced him; so at last, while steeds and chariot in the distance fly, he plunged him in the fray, and called on Jove the altars of that broken oath to see. Now by the war-god's favor he began grim, never-pitying slaughter, and flung free the bridle of his rage. What voice divine such horror can make known? What song declare the bloodshed manifold, the princes slain, or flying o'er the field from Turnus' blade, or from the Trojan King? Did Jove ordain so vast a shock of arms should interpose 'twixt nations destined to perpetual bond? Aeneas met the Rutule Sucro—thus staying the Trojan charge—and with swift blow struck at him sidewise, where the way of death is quickest, cleaving ribs and rounded side with reeking sword. Turnus met Amycus, unhorsed him, though himself afoot, and slew Diores, his fair brother (one was pierced fronting the spear, the other felled to earth by strike of sword), and both their severed heads he hung all dripping to his chariot's rim. But Talon, Tanais, and Cethegus brave, three in one onset, unto death went down at great Aeneas' hand; and he dispatched ill-starred Onites of Echion's line, fair Peridia's child. Then Turnus slew two Lycian brothers unto Phoebus dear, and young Menoetes, an Arcadian, who hated war (though vainly) when he plied his native fisher-craft in Lerna 's streams, where from his mean abode he ne'er went forth to wait at great men's doors, but with his sire reaped the scant harvest of a rented glebe. as from two sides two conflagrations sweep dry woodlands or full copse of crackling bay, or as, swift-leaping from the mountain-vales, two flooded, foaming rivers seaward roar, each on its path of death, not less uproused, speed Turnus and Aeneas o'er the field; now storms their martial rage; now fiercely swells either indomitable heart; and now each hero's full strength to the slaughter moves. Behold Murranus, boasting his high birth from far-descended sires of storied name, the line of Latium 's kings! Aeneas now with mountain-boulder lays him low in dust, smitten with whirlwind of the monster stone; and o'er him fallen under yoke and rein roll his own chariot wheels, while with swift tread the mad hoofs of his horses stamp him down, not knowing him their lord. But Turnus found proud Hyllus fronting him with frantic rage, and at his golden helmet launched the shaft that pierced it; in his cloven brain it clung. Nor could thy sword, O Cretheus, save thee then from Turnus, though of bravest Greeks the peer; nor did Cupencus' gods their priest defend against Aeneas, but his breast he gave unto the hostile blade; his brazen shield delayed no whit his miserable doom. Thee also, Aeolus, Laurentum saw spread thy huge body dying on the ground; yea, dying, thou whom Greeks in serried arms subdued not, nor Achilles' hand that hurled the throne of Priam down: here didst thou touch thy goal of death; one stately house was thine on Ida's mountain, at Lyrnessus, one; Laurentum's hallowed earth was but thy grave. Now the whole host contends; all Latium meets all Ilium ; Mnestheus and Serestus bold; Messapus, the steed-breaker, and high-soured Asilas; Tuscans in a phalanx proud; Arcadian riders of Evander's train: each warrior lifts him to his height supreme of might and skill; no sloth nor lingering now, but in one far-spread conflict all contend. His goddess-mother in Aeneas' mind now stirred the purpose to make sudden way against the city-wall, in swift advance of all his line, confounding Latium so with slaughter and surprise. His roving glance, seeking for Turnus through the scattered lines this way and that, beholds in distant view the city yet unscathed and calmly free from the wide-raging fight. Then on his soul rushed the swift vision of a mightier war. Mnestheus, Sergestus, and Serestus brave, his chosen chiefs, he summons to his side, and stands upon a hillock, whither throng the Teucrian legions, each man holding fast his shield and spear. He, towering high, thus from the rampart to his people calls: “Perform my bidding swiftly: Jove's own hand sustains our power. Be ye not slack, because the thing I do is sudden. For this day I will pluck out th' offending root of war,— yon city where Latinus reigns. Unless it bear our yoke and heed a conqueror's will, will lay low in dust its blazing towers. Must I wait Turnus' pleasure, till he deign to meet my stroke, and have a mind once more, though vanquished, to show fight? My countrymen, see yonder stronghold of their impious war! Bring flames; avenge the broken oath with fire!” Scarce had he said, when with consenting souls, they speed them to the walls in dense array, forming a wedge. Ladders now leap in air, and sudden-blazing fires. In various war some troops run charging at the city-gates, and slay the guards; some fling the whirling spear and darken heaven with arrows. In their van, his right hand lifted to the wails and towers, Aeneas, calling on the gods to hear, loudly upbraids Latinus that once more conflict is thrust upon him; that once more Italians are his foes and violate their second pledge of peace. So blazes forth dissension 'twixt the frighted citizens: some would give o'er the city and fling wide its portals to the Trojan, or drag forth the King himself to parley; others fly to arms, and at the rampart make a stand. 'T is thus some shepherd from a caverned crag stirs up the nested bees with plenteous fume of bitter smoke; they, posting to and fro, fly desperate round the waxen citadel, and whet their buzzing fury; through their halls the stench and blackness rolls; within the caves noise and confusion ring; the fatal cloud pours forth incessant on the vacant air.