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.