But now a new adversity befell the weary Latins, which with common woe shook the whole city to its heart. The Queen, when at her hearth she saw the close assault of enemies, the walls beset, and fire spreading from roof to roof, but no defence from the Rutulian arms, nor front of war with Turnus leading,—she, poor soul, believed her youthful champion in the conflict slain; and, mad with sudden sorrow, shrieked aloud against herself, the guilty chief and cause of all this ill; and, babbling her wild woe in endless words, she rent her purple pall, and with her own hand from the rafter swung a noose for her foul death. The tidings dire among the moaning wives of Latium spread, and young Lavinia's frantic fingers tore her rose-red cheek and hyacinthine hair. Then all her company of women shrieked in anguish, and the wailing echoed far along the royal seat; from whence the tale of sorrow through the peopled city flew; hearts sank; Latinus rent his robes, appalled to see his consort's doom, his falling throne; and heaped foul dust upon his hoary hair. Meanwhile the warrior Turnus far afield pursued a scattered few; but less his speed, for less and less his worn steeds worked his will; and now wind-wafted to his straining ear a nameless horror came, a dull, wild roar, the city's tumult and distressful cry. “Alack,” he cried, “what stirs in yonder walls such anguish? Or why rings from side to side such wailing through the city?” Asking so, he tightened frantic grasp upon the rein. To him his sister, counterfeiting still the charioteer Metiscus, while she swayed rein, steeds, and chariot, this answer made: “Hither, my Turnus, let our arms pursue the sons of Troy . Here lies the nearest way to speedy triumph. There be other swords to keep yon city safe. Aeneas now storms against Italy in active war; we also on this Trojan host may hurl grim havoc. Nor shalt thou the strife give o'er in glory second, nor in tale of slain.” Turnus replied, “O sister, Iong ago I knew thee what thou wert, when guilefully thou didst confound their treaty, and enlist thy whole heart in this war. No Ionger now thy craft divine deceives me. But what god compelled thee, from Olympus fallen so far, to bear these cruel burdens? Wouldst thou see thy wretched brother slaughtered? For what else is in my power? What flattering hazard still holds forth deliverance? My own eyes have seen Murranus (more than any now on earth my chosen friend) who, calling on my name, died like a hero by a hero's sword. Ill-fated Ufens fell, enduring not to Iook upon my shame; the Teucrians divide his arms for spoil and keep his bones. Shall I stand tamely, till my hearth and home are levelled with the ground? For this would be the only blow not fallen. Shall my sword not give the lie to Drances' insolence? Shall I take flight and let my country see her Turnus renegade? Is death a thing so much to weep for? O propitious dead, O spirits of the dark, receive and bless me whom yon gods of light have cast away! Sacred and guiltless shall my soul descend to join your company; I have not been unworthy offspring of my kingly sires.” Scarce had he said, when through the foeman's line Saces dashed forth upon a foaming steed, his face gashed by an arrow. He cried loud on Turnus' name: “O Turnus, but in thee our last hope lies. Have pity on the woe of all thy friends and kin! Aeneas hurls his thunderbolt of war, and menaces to crush the strongholds of all Italy , and lay them low; already where we dwell his firebrands are raining. Unto thee the Latins Iook, and for thy valor call. The King sits dumb and helpless, even he, in doubt which son-in-law, which cause to choose. Yea, and the Queen, thy truest friend, is fallen by her own hand; gone mad with grief and fear, she fled the light of day. At yonder gates Messapus only and Atinas bear the brunt of battle; round us closely draw the serried ranks; their naked blades of steel are thick as ripening corn; wilt thou the while speed in thy chariot o'er this empty plain?” Dazed and bewildered by such host of ills, Turnus stood dumb; in his pent bosom stirred shame, frenzy, sorrow, a despairing love goaded to fury, and a warrior's pride of valor proven. But when first the light of reason to his blinded soul returned, he strained his flaming eyeballs to behold the distant wall, and from his chariot gazed in wonder at the lordly citadel. For, lo, a pointed peak of flame uprolled from tier to tier, and surging skyward seized a tower—the very tower his own proud hands had built of firm-set beams and wheeled in place, and slung its Iofty bridges high in air. “Fate is too strong, my sister! Seek no more to stay the stroke. But let me hence pursue that path where Heaven and cruel Fortune call. Aeneas I must meet; and I must bear the bitterness of death, whate'er it be. O sister, thou shalt look upon my shame no longer. But first grant a madman's will!” He spoke; and leaping from his chariot, sped through foes and foemen's spears, not seeing now his sister's sorrow, as in swift career he burst from line to line. Thus headlong falls a mountain-boulder by a whirlwind flung from lofty peak, or loosened by much rain, or by insidious lapse of seasons gone; the huge, resistless crag goes plunging down by leaps and bounds, o'erwhelming as it flies tall forests, Bocks and herds, and mortal men: so through the scattered legions Turnus ran straight to the city walls, where all the ground was drenched with blood, and every passing air shrieked with the noise of spears. His lifted hand made sign of silence as he loudly called: “Refrain, Rutulians! O ye Latins all, your spears withhold! The issue of the fray is all my own. I only can repair our broken truce by judgment of the sword.” Back fell the hostile lines, and cleared the field. But Sire Aeneas, hearing Turnus' name, down the steep rampart from the citadel unlingering tried, all lesser task laid by, with joy exultant and dread-thundering arms. Like Athos ' crest he loomed, or soaring top of Eryx , when the nodding oaks resound, or sovereign Apennine that lifts in air his forehead of triumphant snow. All eyes of Troy , Rutulia, and Italy 
 were fixed his way; and all who kept a guard on lofty rampart, or in siege below were battering the foundations, now laid by their implements and arms. Latinus too stood awestruck to behold such champions, born in lands far-sundered, met upon one field for one decisive stroke of sword with sword. Swift striding forth where spread the vacant plain, they hurled their spears from far; then in close fight the brazen shields rang. Beneath their tread Earth groaned aloud, as with redoubling blows their falchions fell; nor could a mortal eye 'twixt chance and courage the dread work divide. As o'er Taburnus' top, or spacious hills of Sila, in relentless shock of war, two bulls rush brow to brow, while terror-pale the herdsmen fly; the herd is hushed with fear; the heifers dumbly marvel which shall be true monarch of the grove, whom all the kine obedient follow; but the rival twain, commingling mightily wound after wound, thrust with opposing horns, and bathe their necks in streams of blood; the forest far and wide repeats their bellowing rage: not otherwise Trojan Aeneas and King Daunus' son clashed shield on shield, till all the vaulted sky felt the tremendous sound. The hand of Jove held scales in equipoise, and threw thereon th' unequal fortunes of the heroes twain: one to vast labors doomed and one to die.