Aid, O Calliope, the martial song! Tell me what carnage and how many deaths the sword of Turnus wrought: what peer in arms each hero to the world of ghosts sent down. Unroll the war's great book before these eyes. A tower was there, well-placed and looming large, with many a lofty bridge, which desperately th' Italians strove to storm, and strangely plied besieging enginery to cast it down: the Trojans hurled back stones, or, standing close, flung through the loopholes a swift shower of spears. But Turnus launched a firebrand, and pierced the wooden wall with flame, which in the wind leaped larger, and devoured from floor to floor, burning each beam away. The trembling guards sought flight in vain; and while they crowded close into the side unkindled yet, the tower bowed its whole weight and fell, with sudden crash that thundered through the sky. Along the ground half dead the warriors fell (the crushing mass piled over them) by their own pointed spears pierced to the heart, or wounded mortally by cruel splinters of the wreck. Two men, Helenor one, and Lyeus at his side, alone get free. Helenor of the twain was a mere youth; the slave Lycymnia bore him in secret to the Lydian King, and, arming him by stealth, had sent away to serve the Trojan cause. One naked sword for arms had he, and on his virgin shield no blazon of renown; but when he saw the hosts of Turnus front him, and the lines this way and that of Latins closing round, — as a fierce, forest-creature, brought to bay in circling pack of huntsmen, shows its teeth against the naked spears, and scorning death leaps upward on the javelins,—even so, not loth to die, the youthful soldier flew straight at the centre of his foes, and where the shining swords looked thickest, there he sprung. But Lyeus, swifter-footed, forced his way past the opposing spears and made escape far as the ciity-wall, where he would fain clutch at the coping and climb up to clasp some friend above: but Turnus, spear in hand, had hotly followed, and exulting loud thus taunted him, “Hadst thou the hope, rash fool, beyond this grasp to fly?” So, as he clung, he tore him down; and with him broke and fell a huge piece of the wall: not otherwise a frail hare, or a swan of snow-white wing, is clutched in eagle-talons, when the bird of Jove soars skyward with his prey; or tender lamb from bleating mother and the broken fold is stolen by the wolf of Mars. Wild shouts on every side resound. In closer siege the foe press on, and heap the trenches full, or hurl hot-flaming torches at the towers. Ilioneus with mountain-mass of stone struck down Lucetius, as he crept with fire too near the city-gate. Emathion fell by Liger's hand, and Corynteus' death Asilas dealt: one threw the javelin well; th' insidious arrow was Asilas' skill. Ortygius was slain by Caeneus, then victorious Geneus fell by Turnus' ire. Then smote he Dioxippus, and laid low Itys and Promolus and Sagaris and Clonius, and from the lofty tower shot Idas down. The shaft of Capys pierced Privernus, whom Themilla's javelin but now had lightly grazed, and he, too bold, casting his shield far from him, had outspread his left hand on the wound: then sudden flew the feathered arrow, and the hand lay pinned against his left side, while the fatal barb was buried in his breathing life. The son of Arcens now stood forth in glittering arms. His broidered cloak was red Iberian stain, and beautiful was he. Arcens his sire had sent him to the war; but he was bred in a Sicilian forest by a stream to his nymph-mother dear, where rose the shrine of merciful Palicus, blest and fair. But, lo! Mezentius his spear laid by, and whirled three times about his head the thong of his loud sling: the leaden bullet clove the youth's mid-forehead, and his towering form fell prostrate its full length along the ground. 'T was then Ascanius first shot forth in war the arrow swift from which all creatures wild were wont to fly in fear: and he struck down with artful aim Numanus, sturdy foe, called Remulus, who lately was espoused to Turnus' younger sister. He had stalked before the van, and made vociferous noise of truths and falsehoods foul and base, his heart puffed up with new-found greatness. Up and down he strode, and swelled his folly with loud words: “No shame have ye this second time to stay cooped close within a rampart's craven siege, O Phrygians twice-vanquished? Is a wall your sole defence from death? Are such the men who ask our maids in marriage? Say what god, what doting madness, rather, drove ye here to Italy ? This way ye will not find the sons of Atreus nor the trickster tongue of voluble Ulysses. Sturdy stock are we; our softest new-born babes we dip in chilling rivers, till they bear right well the current's bitter cold. Our slender lads hunt night and day and rove the woods at large, or for their merriment break stubborn steeds, or bend the horn-tipped bow. Our manly prime in willing labor lives, and is inured to poverty and scantness; we subdue our lands with rake and mattock, or in war bid strong-walled cities tremble. Our whole life is spent in use of iron; and we goad the flanks of bullocks with a javelin's end. Nor doth old age, arriving late, impair our brawny vigor, nor corrupt the soul to frail decay. But over silvered brows we bind the helmet. Our unfailing joy is rapine, and to pile the plunder high. But ye! your gowns-are saffron needlework or Tyrian purple; ye love shameful ease, or dancing revelry. Your tunics fiow long-sleeved, and ye have soft caps ribbon-bound. Aye, Phrygian girls are ye, not Phrygian men! Hence to your hill of Dindymus! Go hear the twy-mouthed piping ye have loved so long. The timbrel, hark! the Berecynthian flute calls you away, and Ida's goddess calls. Leave arms to men, true men! and quit the sword!” Of such loud insolence and words of shame Ascanius brooked no more, but laid a shaft athwart his bowstring, and with arms stretched wide took aim, first offering suppliant vow to Jove: “Almighty Jupiter, thy favor show to my bold deed! So to thy shrine I bear gifts year by year, and to thine altars lead a bull with gilded brows, snow-white, and tall as his own dam, what time his youth begins to lower his horns and fling the sand in air.” The Father heard, and from a cloudless sky thundered to leftward, while the deadly bow resounded and the arrow's fearful song hissed from the string; it struck unswervingly the head of Remulus and clove its way deep in the hollows of his brow. “Begone! Proud mocker at the brave! Lo, this reply twice-vanquished Phrygians to Rutulia send.” Ascanius said no more. The Teucrians with deep-voiced shout of joy applaud, and lift their exultation starward. Then from heaven the flowing-haired Apollo bent his gaze upon Ausonia's host, and cloud-enthroned looked downward o'er the city, speaking thus to fair Iulus in his victory: “Hail to thy maiden prowess, boy! This way the starward path to dwelling-place divine. O sired of gods and sire of gods to come, all future storms of war by Fate ordained shall into peace and lawful calm subside beneath the offspring of Assaracus. No Trojan destinies thy glory bound.” So saying, from his far, ethereal seat he hied him down, and, cleaving the quick winds drew near Ascanius. He wore the guise of aged Butes, who erewhile had borne Anchises, armor and kept trusty guard before his threshold, but attended now Ascanius, by commandment of his sire. Clad in this graybeard's every aspect, moved apollo forth,—his very voice and hue, his hoary locks and grimly sounding shield, — and to the flushed Iulus spoke this word: “Child of Aeneas, be content that now Numanus unavenged thine arrows feels. Such dawn of glory great Apollo's will concedes, nor envies thee the fatal shaft so like his own. But, tender youth, refrain hereafter from this war!” So said divine Apollo, who, while yet he spoke, put by his mortal aspect, and before their eyes melted to viewless air. The Teucrians knew the vocal god with armament divine of arrows; for his rattling quiver smote their senses as he fled. Obedient to Phoebus' voice they held back from the fray Iulus' fury, and their eager souls faced the fresh fight and danger's darkest frown. From tower to tower along the bastioned wall their war-cry flew: they bend with busy hand the cruel bow, or swing the whirling thong of javelins. The earth on every side is strewn with spent shafts, the reverberant shield and hollow helmet ring with blows; the fight more fiercely swells; not less the bursting storm from watery Kid-stars in the western sky lashes the plain, or multitudinous hail beats upon shallow seas, when angry Jove flings forth tempestuous and-boundless rain, and splits the bellied clouds in darkened air. The brothers Pandarus and Bitias, of whom Alcanor was the famous sire, on Ida born, and whom Iaera bred in sacred wood of Jove, an oread she, twin warriors, like their native hills and trees of stature proud, now burst those portals wide to them in ward consigned, and sword in hand challenge the foe to enter. Side by side, steel-clad, their tall heads in bright crested helms, to left and right, like towers, the champions stand as when to skyward, by the gliding waves of gentle Athesis or Padus wide, a pair of oaks uprise, and lift in air their shaggy brows and nodding crests sublime. In burst the Rutules where the onward way seemed open wide; Quercens no tarrying knows, nor proud Aquiculus in well-wrought arms; Tmarus sweeps on impetuous, and the host of Haemon, child of Mars. Some routed fly; some lay their lives-down at the gate. Wild rage o'erflows each martial breast, and gathered fast the Trojans rally to one point, and dare close conflict, or long sallies o'er the plain.