Aeneas now is near; and waving wide a spear like some tall tree, he called aloud with unrelenting heart: “What stays thee now? Or wherefore, Turnus, backward fly? Our work is not a foot-race, but the wrathful strife of man with man. Aye, hasten to put on tricks and disguises; gather all thou hast of skill or courage; wish thou wert a bird to fly to starry heaven, or hide thy head safe in the hollow ground!” The other then shook his head, saying: “It is not thy words, not thy hot words, affright me, savage man! Only the gods I fear, and hostile Jove.” Silent he stood, and glancing round him saw a huge rock Iying by, huge rock and old, a landmark justly sundering field from field, which scarce six strong men's shoulders might upraise, such men as mother-Earth brings forth to-day: this grasped he with impetuous hand and hurled, stretched at full height and roused to all his speed, against his foe. Yet scarcely could he feel it was himself that ran, himself that moved with lifted hand to fling the monster stone; for his knees trembled, and his languid blood ran shuddering cold; nor could the stone he threw, tumbling in empty air, attain its goal nor strike the destined blow. But as in dreams, when helpless slumber binds the darkened eyes, we seem with fond desire to tread in vain along a lengthening road, yet faint and fall when straining to the utmost, and the tongue is palsied, and the body's wonted power obeys not, and we have no speech or cry: so unto Turnus, whatsoever way his valiant spirit moved, the direful Fiend stopped in the act his will. Swift-changing thoughts rush o'er his soul; on the Rutulian host, then at the town he glares, shrinks back in fear, and trembles at th' impending lance; nor sees what path to fly, what way confront the foe:— no chariot now, nor sister-charioteer! Above his faltering terror gleams in air Aeneas' fatal spear; whose eye perceived the moment of success, and all whose strength struck forth: the vast and ponderous rock outflung from engines which make breach in sieged walls not louder roars nor breaks in thunder-sound more terrible; like some black whirlwind flew the death-delivering spear, and, rending wide the corselet's edges and the heavy rim of the last circles of the seven-fold shield, pierced, hissing, through the thigh. Huge Turnus sinks o'erwhelmed upon the ground with doubling knee. Up spring the Rutules, groaning; the whole hill roars answering round them, and from far and wide the lofty groves give back an echoing cry. Lowly, with suppliant eyes, and holding forth his hand in prayer: “I have my meed,” he cried, “Nor ask for mercy. Use what Fate has given! But if a father's grief upon thy heart have power at all,—for Sire Anchises once to thee was dear,—I pray thee to show grace to Daunus in his desolate old age; and me, or, if thou wilt, my lifeless clay, to him and his restore. For, lo, thou art my conqueror! Ausonia's eyes have seen me suppliant, me fallen. Thou hast made Lavinia thy bride. Why further urge our enmity?”With swift and dreadful arms Aeneas o'er him stood, with rolling eyes, but his bare sword restraining; for such words moved on him more and more: when suddenly, over the mighty shoulder slung, he saw that fatal baldric studded with bright gold which youthful Pallas wore, what time he fell vanquished by Turnus' stroke, whose shoulders now carried such trophy of a foeman slain. Aeneas' eyes took sure and slow survey of spoils that were the proof and memory of cruel sorrow; then with kindling rage and terrifying look, he cried, “Wouldst thou, clad in a prize stripped off my chosen friend, escape this hand? In this thy mortal wound 't is Pallas has a victim; Pallas takes the lawful forfeit of thy guilty blood!” He said, and buried deep his furious blade in the opposer's heart. The failing limbs sank cold and helpless; and the vital breath with moan of wrath to darkness fled away.