After such farewell word, he from the gatesin mighty stature strode, and swung on highhis giant spear. With him in serried lineAntheus and Mnestheus moved, and all the hostfrom the forsaken fortress poured. The plainwas darkened with their dust; the startled earthshook where their footing fell. From distant hillTurnus beheld them coming, and the eyesof all Ausonia saw: a chill of fearshot through each soldier's marrow; in their vanJuturna knew full well the dreadful sound,and fled before it, shuddering. But hehurried his murky cohorts o'er the plain.As when a tempest from the riven skydrives landward o'er mid-ocean, and from farthe hearts of husbandmen, foreboding woe,quake ruefully,—for this will come and rendtheir trees asunder, kill the harvests all,and sow destruction broadcast; in its pathfly roaring winds, swift heralds of the storm:such dire approach the Trojan chieftain showedbefore his gathered foes. In close arraythey wedge their ranks about him. With a swordThymbraeus cuts huge-limbed Osiris down;Mnestheus, Arcetius; from EpuloAchates shears the head; from Ufens, Gyas;Tolumnius the augur falls, the samewho flung the first spear to the foeman's line.Uprose to heaven the cries. In panic nowthe Rutules in retreating clouds of dustscattered across the plain. Aeneas scornedeither the recreant or resisting foeto slaughter, or the men who shoot from far:for through the war-cloud he but seeks the armsof Turnus, and to single combat calls.

The warrior-maid Juturna, seeing this,distraught with terror, strikes down from his placeMetiscus, Turnus' charioteer, who droppedforward among the reins and off the pole.Him leaving on the field, her own hand graspedthe loosely waving reins, while she took onMetiscus' shape, his voice, and blazoned arms.As when through some rich master's spacious hallsspeeds the black swallow on her lightsome wing,exploring the high roof, or harvestingsome scanty morsel for her twittering brood,round empty corridors or garden-poolsnoisily flitting: so Juturna roamsamong the hostile ranks, and wings her waybehind the swift steeds of the whirling car.At divers points she lets the people seeher brother's glory, but not yet allowsthe final tug of war; her pathless flightkeeps far away. Aeneas too must takea course circuitous, and follows closehis foeman's track; Ioud o'er the scattered lineshe shouts his challenge. But whene'er his eyesdiscern the foe, and fain he would confrontthe flying-footed steeds, Juturna veersthe 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 pausedin cover of his shield and crouched low downupon his haunches. But the driven spearbattered his helmet's peak and plucked awaythe 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 Jovethe altars of that broken oath to see.Now by the war-god's favor he begangrim, never-pitying slaughter, and flung freethe bridle of his rage.

What voice divinesuch horror can make known? What song declarethe bloodshed manifold, the princes slain,or flying o'er the field from Turnus' blade,or from the Trojan King? Did Jove ordainso vast a shock of arms should interpose'twixt nations destined to perpetual bond?Aeneas met the Rutule Sucro—thusstaying the Trojan charge—and with swift blowstruck at him sidewise, where the way of deathis quickest, cleaving ribs and rounded sidewith reeking sword. Turnus met Amycus,unhorsed him, though himself afoot, and slewDiores, his fair brother (one was piercedfronting the spear, the other felled to earthby strike of sword), and both their severed headshe hung all dripping to his chariot's rim.But Talon, Tanais, and Cethegus brave,three in one onset, unto death went downat great Aeneas' hand; and he dispatchedill-starred Onites of Echion's line,fair Peridia's child. Then Turnus slewtwo Lycian brothers unto Phoebus dear,and young Menoetes, an Arcadian,who hated war (though vainly) when he pliedhis native fisher-craft in Lerna's streams,where from his mean abode he ne'er went forthto wait at great men's doors, but with his sirereaped the scant harvest of a rented glebe.as from two sides two conflagrations sweepdry 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 swellseither indomitable heart; and noweach hero's full strength to the slaughter moves.

Behold Murranus, boasting his high birthfrom far-descended sires of storied name,the line of Latium's kings! Aeneas nowwith mountain-boulder lays him low in dust,smitten with whirlwind of the monster stone;and o'er him fallen under yoke and reinroll his own chariot wheels, while with swift treadthe mad hoofs of his horses stamp him down,not knowing him their lord. But Turnus foundproud Hyllus fronting him with frantic rage,and at his golden helmet launched the shaftthat pierced it; in his cloven brain it clung.Nor could thy sword, O Cretheus, save thee thenfrom Turnus, though of bravest Greeks the peer;nor did Cupencus' gods their priest defendagainst Aeneas, but his breast he gaveunto the hostile blade; his brazen shielddelayed no whit his miserable doom.Thee also, Aeolus, Laurentum sawspread thy huge body dying on the ground;yea, dying, thou whom Greeks in serried armssubdued not, nor Achilles' hand that hurledthe throne of Priam down: here didst thou touchthy goal of death; one stately house was thineon Ida's mountain, at Lyrnessus, one;Laurentum's hallowed earth was but thy grave.Now the whole host contends; all Latium meetsall Ilium; Mnestheus and Serestus bold;Messapus, the steed-breaker, and high-souredAsilas; Tuscans in a phalanx proud;Arcadian riders of Evander's train:each warrior lifts him to his height supremeof might and skill; no sloth nor lingering now,but in one far-spread conflict all contend.

His goddess-mother in Aeneas' mindnow stirred the purpose to make sudden wayagainst the city-wall, in swift advanceof all his line, confounding Latium sowith slaughter and surprise. His roving glance,seeking for Turnus through the scattered linesthis way and that, beholds in distant viewthe city yet unscathed and calmly freefrom the wide-raging fight. Then on his soulrushed 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 throngthe Teucrian legions, each man holding fasthis shield and spear. He, towering high,thus from the rampart to his people calls:“Perform my bidding swiftly: Jove's own handsustains our power. Be ye not slack, becausethe thing I do is sudden. For this dayI will pluck out th' offending root of war,—yon city where Latinus reigns. Unlessit bear our yoke and heed a conqueror's will,will lay low in dust its blazing towers.Must I wait Turnus' pleasure, till he deignto 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 warsome troops run charging at the city-gates,and slay the guards; some fling the whirling spearand 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 moreconflict is thrust upon him; that once moreItalians are his foes and violatetheir second pledge of peace. So blazes forthdissension 'twixt the frighted citizens:some would give o'er the city and fling wideits portals to the Trojan, or drag forththe King himself to parley; others flyto arms, and at the rampart make a stand.'T is thus some shepherd from a caverned cragstirs up the nested bees with plenteous fumeof bitter smoke; they, posting to and fro,fly desperate round the waxen citadel,and whet their buzzing fury; through their hallsthe stench and blackness rolls; within the cavesnoise and confusion ring; the fatal cloudpours forth incessant on the vacant air.