But now a new adversity befellthe weary Latins, which with common woeshook the whole city to its heart. The Queen,when at her hearth she saw the close assaultof enemies, the walls beset, and firespreading from roof to roof, but no defencefrom the Rutulian arms, nor front of warwith Turnus leading,—she, poor soul, believedher youthful champion in the conflict slain;and, mad with sudden sorrow, shrieked aloudagainst herself, the guilty chief and causeof all this ill; and, babbling her wild woein endless words, she rent her purple pall,and with her own hand from the rafter swunga noose for her foul death. The tidings direamong the moaning wives of Latium spread,and young Lavinia's frantic fingers toreher rose-red cheek and hyacinthine hair.Then all her company of women shriekedin anguish, and the wailing echoed faralong the royal seat; from whence the taleof sorrow through the peopled city flew;hearts sank; Latinus rent his robes, appalledto see his consort's doom, his falling throne;and heaped foul dust upon his hoary hair.

Meanwhile the warrior Turnus far afieldpursued a scattered few; but less his speed,for less and less his worn steeds worked his will;and now wind-wafted to his straining eara nameless horror came, a dull, wild roar,the city's tumult and distressful cry.“Alack,” he cried, “what stirs in yonder wallssuch anguish? Or why rings from side to sidesuch wailing through the city?” Asking so,he tightened frantic grasp upon the rein.To him his sister, counterfeiting stillthe charioteer Metiscus, while she swayedrein, steeds, and chariot, this answer made:“Hither, my Turnus, let our arms pursuethe sons of Troy. Here lies the nearest wayto speedy triumph. There be other swordsto keep yon city safe. Aeneas nowstorms against Italy in active war;we also on this Trojan host may hurlgrim havoc. Nor shalt thou the strife give o'erin glory second, nor in tale of slain.”Turnus replied, “O sister, Iong agoI knew thee what thou wert, when guilefullythou didst confound their treaty, and enlistthy whole heart in this war. No Ionger nowthy craft divine deceives me. But what godcompelled thee, from Olympus fallen so far,to bear these cruel burdens? Wouldst thou seethy wretched brother slaughtered? For what elseis in my power? What flattering hazard stillholds forth deliverance? My own eyes have seenMurranus (more than any now on earthmy chosen friend) who, calling on my name,died like a hero by a hero's sword.Ill-fated Ufens fell, enduring notto Iook upon my shame; the Teucriansdivide his arms for spoil and keep his bones.Shall I stand tamely, till my hearth and homeare levelled with the ground? For this would bethe only blow not fallen. Shall my swordnot give the lie to Drances' insolence?Shall I take flight and let my country seeher Turnus renegade? Is death a thingso much to weep for? O propitious dead,O spirits of the dark, receive and blessme whom yon gods of light have cast away!Sacred and guiltless shall my soul descendto join your company; I have not beenunworthy offspring of my kingly sires.”

Scarce had he said, when through the foeman's lineSaces dashed forth upon a foaming steed,his face gashed by an arrow. He cried loudon Turnus' name: “O Turnus, but in theeour last hope lies. Have pity on the woeof all thy friends and kin! Aeneas hurlshis thunderbolt of war, and menacesto crush the strongholds of all Italy,and lay them low; already where we dwellhis firebrands are raining. Unto theethe 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 fallenby her own hand; gone mad with grief and fear,she fled the light of day. At yonder gatesMessapus only and Atinas bearthe brunt of battle; round us closely drawthe serried ranks; their naked blades of steelare thick as ripening corn; wilt thou the whilespeed in thy chariot o'er this empty plain?”Dazed and bewildered by such host of ills,Turnus stood dumb; in his pent bosom stirredshame, frenzy, sorrow, a despairing lovegoaded to fury, and a warrior's prideof valor proven.

But when first the lightof reason to his blinded soul returned,he strained his flaming eyeballs to beholdthe distant wall, and from his chariot gazedin wonder at the lordly citadel.For, lo, a pointed peak of flame uprolledfrom tier to tier, and surging skyward seizeda tower—the very tower his own proud handshad 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 moreto stay the stroke. But let me hence pursuethat path where Heaven and cruel Fortune call.Aeneas I must meet; and I must bearthe bitterness of death, whate'er it be.O sister, thou shalt look upon my shameno longer. But first grant a madman's will!”He spoke; and leaping from his chariot, spedthrough foes and foemen's spears, not seeing nowhis sister's sorrow, as in swift careerhe burst from line to line. Thus headlong fallsa mountain-boulder by a whirlwind flungfrom lofty peak, or loosened by much rain,or by insidious lapse of seasons gone;the huge, resistless crag goes plunging downby leaps and bounds, o'erwhelming as it fliestall forests, Bocks and herds, and mortal men:so through the scattered legions Turnus ranstraight to the city walls, where all the groundwas drenched with blood, and every passing airshrieked with the noise of spears. His lifted handmade sign of silence as he loudly called:“Refrain, Rutulians! O ye Latins all,your spears withhold! The issue of the frayis all my own. I only can repairour 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 citadelunlingering tried, all lesser task laid by,with joy exultant and dread-thundering arms.Like Athos' crest he loomed, or soaring topof Eryx, when the nodding oaks resound,or sovereign Apennine that lifts in air his forehead of triumphant snow. All eyesof Troy, Rutulia, and Italy were fixed his way; and all who kept a guardon lofty rampart, or in siege belowwere battering the foundations, now laid bytheir implements and arms. Latinus toostood awestruck to behold such champions, bornin lands far-sundered, met upon one fieldfor one decisive stroke of sword with sword.Swift striding forth where spread the vacant plain,they hurled their spears from far; then in close fightthe brazen shields rang. Beneath their treadEarth groaned aloud, as with redoubling blowstheir falchions fell; nor could a mortal eye'twixt chance and courage the dread work divide.As o'er Taburnus' top, or spacious hillsof Sila, in relentless shock of war,two bulls rush brow to brow, while terror-palethe herdsmen fly; the herd is hushed with fear;the heifers dumbly marvel which shall betrue monarch of the grove, whom all the kineobedient follow; but the rival twain,commingling mightily wound after wound,thrust with opposing horns, and bathe their necksin streams of blood; the forest far and widerepeats their bellowing rage: not otherwiseTrojan Aeneas and King Daunus' sonclashed shield on shield, till all the vaulted skyfelt the tremendous sound. The hand of Joveheld scales in equipoise, and threw thereonth' unequal fortunes of the heroes twain:one to vast labors doomed and one to die.