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.