Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head, When the great Trojan on his bank appears; For that's as true as thy dissembled fears Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity: Thou, Drances, art below a death from me.

Let that vile soul in that vile body rest; The lodging is well worthy of the guest.

"Now, royal father, to the present state Of our affairs, and of this high debate: If in your arms thus early you diffide, And think your fortune is already tried; If one defeat has brought us down so low, As never more in fields to meet the foe; Then I conclude for peace: 't is time to treat, And lie like va.s.sals at the victor's feet.

But, O! if any ancient blood remains, One drop of all our fathers', in our veins, That man would I prefer before the rest, Who dar'd his death with an undaunted breast; Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound, To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw'd the ground.

But, if we still have fresh recruits in store, If our confederates can afford us more; If the contended field we bravely fought, And not a bloodless victory was bought; Their losses equal'd ours; and, for their slain, With equal fires they fill'd the shining plain; Why thus, unforc'd, should we so tamely yield, And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field?

Good unexpected, evils unforeseen, Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene: Some, rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain; Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again.

If Diomede refuse his aid to lend, The great Messapus yet remains our friend: Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours; Th' Italian chiefs and princes join their pow'rs: Nor least in number, nor in name the last, Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac'd Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon Contains an army in herself alone, And heads a squadron, terrible to sight, With glitt'ring shields, in brazen armor bright.

Yet, if the foe a single fight demand, And I alone the public peace withstand; If you consent, he shall not be refus'd, Nor find a hand to victory unus'd.

This new Achilles, let him take the field, With fated armor, and Vulcanian shield!

For you, my royal father, and my fame, I, Turnus, not the least of all my name, Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand, And I alone will answer his demand.

Drances shall rest secure, and neither share The danger, nor divide the prize of war."

While they debate, nor these nor those will yield, Aeneas draws his forces to the field, And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed Return, and thro' the frighted city spread Th' unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried, In battle marching by the river side, And bending to the town. They take th' alarm: Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm.

Th' impetuous youth press forward to the field; They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield: The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry; Old feeble men with fainter groans reply; A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky, Like that of swans remurm'ring to the floods, Or birds of diff'ring kinds in hollow woods.

Turnus th' occasion takes, and cries aloud: "Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd: Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls, And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls."

He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace, Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place: "Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band.

Messapus and Catillus, post your force Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse.

Some guard the pa.s.ses, others man the wall; Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call."

They swarm from ev'ry quarter of the town, And with disorder'd haste the rampires crown.

Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late, The gath'ring storm just breaking on the state, Dismiss'd the council till a fitter time, And own'd his easy temper as his crime, Who, forc'd against his reason, had complied To break the treaty for the promis'd bride.

Some help to sink new trenches; others aid To ram the stones, or raise the palisade.

Hoa.r.s.e trumpets sound th' alarm; around the walls Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labor calls.

A sad procession in the streets is seen, Of matrons, that attend the mother queen: High in her chair she sits, and, at her side, With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride.

They mount the cliff, where Pallas' temple stands; Pray'rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands, With censers first they fume the sacred shrine, Then in this common supplication join: "O patroness of arms, unspotted maid, Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid!

Break short the pirate's lance; p.r.o.nounce his fate, And lay the Phrygian low before the gate."

Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast Well-temper'd steel and scaly bra.s.s invest: The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold Are mingled metal damask'd o'er with gold.

His faithful fauchion sits upon his side; Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide: But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends, With G.o.dlike grace, he from the tow'r descends.

Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare His absent rival, and to promise war.

Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins, The wanton courser prances o'er the plains, Or in the pride of youth o'erleaps the mounds, And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds.

Or seeks his wat'ring in the well-known flood, To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood: He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain, And o'er his shoulder flows his waving mane: He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high; Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly.

Soon as the prince appears without the gate, The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien, Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen: Her squadron imitates, and each descends; Whose common suit Camilla thus commends: "If sense of honor, if a soul secure Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure, Can promise aught, or on itself rely Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die; Then, I alone, sustain'd by these, will meet The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat.

Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown: You, gen'ral, stay behind, and guard the town:"

Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise, And on the fierce virago fix'd his eyes; Then thus return'd: "O grace of Italy, With what becoming thanks can I reply?

Not only words lie lab'ring in my breast, But thought itself is by thy praise oppress'd.

Yet rob me not of all; but let me join My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine.

The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill'd, Sends his light horse before to scour the field: Himself, thro' steep ascents and th.o.r.n.y brakes, A larger compa.s.s to the city takes.

This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare To foil his cunning, and his force to dare; With chosen foot his pa.s.sage to forelay, And place an ambush in the winding way.

Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse; The brave Messapus shall thy troops inforce With those of Tibur, and the Latian band, Subjected all to thy supreme command."

This said, he warns Messapus to the war, Then ev'ry chief exhorts with equal care.

All thus encourag'd, his own troops he joins, And hastes to prosecute his deep designs.

Inclos'd with hills, a winding valley lies, By nature form'd for fraud, and fitted for surprise.

A narrow track, by human steps untrode, Leads, thro' perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode.

High o'er the vale a steepy mountain stands, Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands.

The top is level, an offensive seat Of war; and from the war a safe retreat: For, on the right and left, is room to press The foes at hand, or from afar distress; To drive 'em headlong downward, and to pour On their descending backs a stony show'r.

Thither young Turnus took the well-known way, Possess'd the pa.s.s, and in blind ambush lay.

Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies, Beheld th' approaching war with hateful eyes, And call'd the light-foot Opis to her aid, Her most belov'd and ever-trusty maid; Then with a sigh began: "Camilla goes To meet her death amidst her fatal foes: The nymphs I lov'd of all my mortal train, Invested with Diana's arms, in vain.

Nor is my kindness for the virgin new: 'T was born with her; and with her years it grew.

Her father Metabus, when forc'd away From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway, s.n.a.t.c.h'd up, and sav'd from his prevailing foes, This tender babe, companion of his woes.

Casmilla was her mother; but he drown'd One hissing letter in a softer sound, And call'd Camilla. Thro' the woods he flies; Wrapp'd in his robe the royal infant lies.

His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace; With shout and clamors they pursue the chase.

The banks of Amasene at length he gains:

The raging flood his farther flight restrains, Rais'd o'er the borders with unusual rains.

Prepar'd to plunge into the stream, he fears, Not for himself, but for the charge he bears.

Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste; Then, desp'rate in distress, resolves at last.

A knotty lance of well-boil'd oak he bore; The middle part with cork he cover'd o'er: He clos'd the child within the hollow s.p.a.ce; With twigs of bending osier bound the case; Then pois'd the spear, heavy with human weight, And thus invok'd my favor for the freight: 'Accept, great G.o.ddess of the woods,' he said, 'Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid!

Thro' air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine; And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.'

He said; and with full force the spear he threw: Above the sounding waves Camilla flew.

Then, press'd by foes, he stemm'd the stormy tide, And gain'd, by stress of arms, the farther side.

His fasten'd spear he pull'd from out the ground, And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound; Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose, Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes; But, rough, in open air he chose to lie; Earth was his couch, his cov'ring was the sky.

On hills unshorn, or in a desart den, He shunn'd the dire society of men.

A shepherd's solitary life he led; His daughter with the milk of mares he fed.

The dugs of bears, and ev'ry salvage beast, He drew, and thro' her lips the liquor press'd.

The little Amazon could scarcely go: He loads her with a quiver and a bow; And, that she might her stagg'ring steps command, He with a slender jav'lin fills her hand.

Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound; Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground.

Instead of these, a tiger's hide o'erspread Her back and shoulders, fasten'd to her head.

The flying dart she first attempts to fling, And round her tender temples toss'd the sling; Then, as her strength with years increas'd, began To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan, And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane.

The Tuscan matrons with each other vied, To bless their rival sons with such a bride; But she disdains their love, to share with me The sylvan shades and vow'd virginity.

And, O! I wish, contented with my cares Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars!

Then had she been of my celestial train, And shunn'd the fate that dooms her to be slain.

But since, opposing Heav'n's decree, she goes To find her death among forbidden foes, Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight.

Where, with the G.o.ds, averse, the Latins fight.

This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath, This chosen arrow, to revenge her death: By whate'er hand Camilla shall be slain, Or of the Trojan or Italian train, Let him not pa.s.s unpunish'd from the plain.

Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid To bear the breathless body of my maid: Unspoil'd shall be her arms, and unprofan'd Her holy limbs with any human hand, And in a marble tomb laid in her native land."

She said. The faithful nymph descends from high With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky: Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly.

By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse, Drawn up in squadrons, with united force, Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound, Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground.

Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far; And the fields glitter with a waving war.

Oppos'd to these, come on with furious force Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse; These in the body plac'd, on either hand Sustain'd and clos'd by fair Camilla's band.

Advancing in a line, they couch their spears; And less and less the middle s.p.a.ce appears.

Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen The neighing coursers, and the shouting men.

In distance of their darts they stop their course; Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse.

The face of heav'n their flying jav'lins hide, And deaths unseen are dealt on either side.

Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear, By mettled coursers borne in full career, Meet first oppos'd; and, with a mighty shock, Their horses' heads against each other knock.

Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast, As with an engine's force, or lightning's blast: He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last.

The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright, And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew; Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue, And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase; Till, seiz'd, with shame, they wheel about and face, Receive their foes, and raise a threat'ning cry.

The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly.

So swelling surges, with a thund'ring roar, Driv'n on each other's backs, insult the sh.o.r.e, Bound o'er the rocks, incroach upon the land, And far upon the beach eject the sand; Then backward, with a swing, they take their way, Repuls'd from upper ground, and seek their mother sea; With equal hurry quit th' invaded sh.o.r.e, And swallow back the sand and stones they spew'd before.

Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field, Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell'd.