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.