Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr'd;
But after-ages fhall thy praise record.
Th' inglorious coward foon fhall prefs the plain; 1230
Thus vows thy queen, and thus the fates ordain.
High o'er the field there ftood a hilly mound,
Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around;
Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay,
A king that once in Latium bore the fway.
The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight,
To mark the traitor Aruns from the height.
Him, in refulgent arms, the foon espy'd,
Swoln with fuccefs, and loudly thus the cry'd:
Thy backward steps, vain boafter, are too late; 1240
Turn, like a man, at length, and meet thy fate.
Charg'd with my meffage to Camilla go;
And fay I fent thee to the fhades below;
An honour undeferv'd from Cynthia's bow.
She faid and from her quiver chofe with speed
The winged shaft, predeftin'd for the deed: 1246
Then, to the ftubborn eugh her ftrength apply'd ;.
Till the far diftant horns aproach'd on either fide.
The bow-ftring touch'd her breast, so strong she drew
Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew.
At once the twanging bow and founding dart
The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart
Him, beating with his heels, in pangs of death,
His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath.
The conquering damfel, with expanded wings, 1255
The welcome meffage to her mistress brings.
Their leader loft, the Volfcians quit the field;
And, unfuftain'd, the chiefs of Turnus yield.
The frighted foldiers, when their captains fly,
More on their speed than on their strength rely.
Confus'd in flight, they bear each other down,
And spur their horfes headlong to the town.
Driven by their foes, and to their fears refign'd,
Not once they turn; but take their wounds behind.
Thefe drop the fhield, and those the lance forego; 1265
Or on their fhoulders bear the flacken'd bow.
The hoofs of horses, with a rattling found,
Beat short, and thick, and shake the rotten ground.
Black clouds of duft come rolling in the sky,
And o'er the darken'd walls and rampires fly.
The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands,
Rend heaven with female shrieks, and wring their hands.
All preffing on, pursuers and pursued,
Are crush'd in crowds, a mingled multitude.
Some happy. few efcape: the throng too late.
Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate.
Ev'n in the fight of home, the wretched fire
Looks on, and fees his helpless fon expire.
Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close :
But leave their friends excluded with their foes. 1280>
The vanquish'd cry; the victors loudly fhout;
'Tis terror all within; and flaughter all without.
Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall,
Or, to the moats purfu'd, precipitate their fall.
The Latian virgins, valiant with despair, 1285
Arm'd on the towers, the common danger fhare :
So much of zeal their country's cause inspir'd;
So much Camilla's great example fir'd.
Poles, fharpen'd in the flames, from high they throw,
With imitated darts, to gaul the foe;
Their lives, for god-like freedom they bequeath,
And crowd each other to be first in death.
Meantime to Turnus, ambush'd in the shade,
With heavy tidings, came th' unhappy maid.
The Volfcians overthrown, Camilla kill'd,
The foes entirely mafters of the field,
Like a refiftless flood, come rolling on:
off the plain, and thickens to the town. Inflam'd with rage, (for fo the furies fire.
The Daunian's breast, and so the fates require,) 1300
He leaves the hilly pafs, the woods in vain
Poffefs'd, and downward issues on the plain :
Scarce was he gone, when to the straights, now freed
From fecret foes, the Trojan troops fucceed.
Through the black forest, and the ferny brake, 1305
Unknowingly fecure, their way they take.
From the rough mountains to the plain descend,
And there, in order drawn, their line extend.`
Both armies, now, in open fields are feen :
Nor far the diftance of the space between.
Both to the city bend: Æneas fees,
Through fmoaking fields, his haftening enemies..
And Turnus views the Trojans in array,
And hears th' approaching horfes proudly neigh.
Soon had their hofts in bloody battle join'd;
But weftward to the fea the fun declin’d.
Intrench'd before the town, both armies lie:
While night, with fable wings, involves the Iky.
THE ARGUMEN T.
TURNUS challenges Æneas to a fingle combat: articles are agreed on, but broken by the Rutuli, who wound Æneas: he is miraculously cured by Venus, forces Turnus to a duel, and concludes the poem with his death,
WHEN Turnus faw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell'd; Himself become the mark of public fpight, His honour question'd for the promis'd fight: The more he was with vulgar hate oppress'd, The more his fury boil'd within his breast: He rouz'd his vigour for the late debate; And rais'd his haughty foul, to meet his fate. As when the fwains the Libyan lion chace, He makes a four retreat, nor mends his pace: But if the pointed javelin pierce his fide, The lordly beaft returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the fteel, he roars for pain;
His fides he lashes, and erects his mane :
So Turnus fares; his eye-balls flash with fire,
Through his wide noftrils clouds of finoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran ;
At length approach'd the king, and thus began:
No more excufes or delays: I stand
In arms prepar'd to combat, hand to hand,
This bafe deferter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The fame conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce, the folemn rites prepare,
And to my fingle virtue truft the war.
The Latians, unconcern'd, shall see the fight;
This arm, unaided, fhall affert your right:
Then, if my proftrate body prefs the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain,
To whom the king fedately thus reply'd:
Brave youth, the more your valour has been try'd,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, wnich you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a fucceffive throne,
Or cities, which your arms have made your own;
My town and treasures are at your command;
And stor'd with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia fees,
Unmarry'd, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear,
Things which perhaps may grate a lover's ear:
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