Arms, arms, he cries, the sword and shield prepare, 630
And fend the willing chief, renew'd to war.
This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,
Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine:
Some god our general to the battle fends
Some god preferves his life for greater ends.
The hero arms in hafte: his hands infold
His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold:
Inflam'd to fight, and rufhing to the field,
That hand sustaining the cœleftial shield,
This gripes the lance; and with such vigour shakes, That to the reft the beamy weapon quakes.
Then, with a clofe embrace, he ftrain'd his fon;
And, kiffing through his helmet, thus begun :
My fon, from my example learn the war,
In camps to fuffer, and in fields to dare:
But happier chance than mine attend thy care!
This day my hand thy tender age shall shield,
And crown with honours of the conquer'd field:
Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth,
To toils of war, be mindful of my worth,
Affert thy birthright; and in arms be known,
For Hector's nephew, and Æneas' fon.
He faid; and, ftriding, iffued on the plain;
Anteus, and Mneftheus, and a numerous train,
Attend his steps: the reft their weapons take,
And, crowding to the field, the camp forfake.
A cloud of blinding duft is rais'd around;
Labours beneath their feet the trembling ground.
Now Turnus, pofted on a hill, from far
Beheld the progress of the moving war:
With him the Latins view'd the cover'd plains;
And the chill blood ran backward in their veins.
Juturna faw th' advancing troops appear;
And heard the hoftile found, and fled for fear.
Æneas leads; and draws a sweeping train,
Clos'd in their ranks, and pouring on the plain.
As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore,
From the mid ocean drives the waves before:
The painful hind, with heavy heart, foresees
The flatted fields, and flaughter of the trees;
With fuch impetuous rage the prince appears,
Before his doubled front; nor lefs deftruction bears.
And now both armies fhock, in open field;
Ofyris is by ftrong Thymbræus kill'd.
Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are flain
(All fam'd in arms, and of the Latian train);
By Gyas, Mneftheus, and Achates' hand:
The fatal augur falls, by whofe command
The truce was broken, and whofe lance, embrued
With Trojan blood, th' unhappy fight renew'd. 680
Loud fhouts and clamours rend the liquid fky ;
And o'er the field the frighted Latins fly.
The prince difdains the daftards to pursue,
Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few:
Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain,
He feeks, and to the combat calls in vain.
Juturna heard, and, feiz'd with mortal fear,
Forc'd from the beam her brother's charioteer;
Affumes his fhape, his armour, and his mien;
And like Metifcus in his feat is feen.
As the black fwallow near the palace plies ;
O'er empty courts, and under arches flies:
Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood,
To furnish her loquacious nest with food:
So drives the rapid goddess o'er the plains;
The fmoking horfes run with loofen'd reins.
She fteers a various courfe among the foes;
Now here, now there, her conquering brother fhows:
Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight,
She turns, and bends, but fhuns the fingle fight.
Æneas, fir'd with fury, breaks the croud,
And feeks his foe, and calls by name aloud:
He runs within a narrower ring, and tries
To ftop the chariot; but the chariot flies.
If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears,
And far away the Daunian hero bears.
What should he do? Nor arts nor arms avail;
And various cares in vain his mind assail;
The great Meffapus thundering through the field,
In his left hand two pointed javelins held :
Encountering on the prince, one dart he drew,
And with unerring aim and utmost vigour threw.
Æneas faw it come, and stooping low
Beneath his buckler, shunn'd the threatening blow.
The weapon hiss'd above his head, and tore
The waving plume, which on his helm he wore.
Forc'd by this hostile act, and fir'd with spite,
That flying Turnus ftill declin'd the fight;
The prince, whofe piety had long repell'd
His inborn ardour, now invades the field:
Invokes the powers of violated peace,
Their rites and injur'd altars to redress:
Then, to his rage abandoning the rein,
With blood and flaughter'd bodies fills the plain.
What god can tell, what numbers can display, 725
The various labours of that fatal day?-
What chiefs and champions fell on either fide,
In combat flain, or by what deaths they dy'd?
Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill'd :
Who fhar'd the fame and fortune of the field?
Jove, could't thou view, and not avert thy fight,
Two jarring nations join'd in cruel fight,
Whom leagues of lafting love. fo fhortly fhall unite!
Æneas first Rutulian Sucro found,
Whofe valour made the Trojans quit their ground. 735
Betwixt his ribs the javelin drove so just,
It reach'd his heart, nor needs a fecond thrust.
Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren flew ;
First from his horfe fierce Amicus he threw ;
Then leaping on the ground, on foot affail'd
Diores, and in equal fight prevail'd.
Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place;
Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace.
Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw ;
Whom without refpite at one charge he flew:
Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell opprefs'd,
And fad Onythes, added to the reft;
Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore.
Turnus two brothers from the Lycian fhore,
And from Apollo's fane to battle fent,
O'erthrew, nor Phœbus could their fate prevent.
Peaceful Menetes after these he kill'd,
Who long had shunn'd the dangers of the field:
On Lerna's lake a filent life he led,
And with his nets and angle earn'd his bread.
Nor pompous cares, nor palaces he knew,
But wifely from th' infectious world withdrew.
Poor was his houfe; his father's painful hand
Discharg'd his rent, and plough'd another's land.
As flames among the lofty woods are thrown, 760
On different fides, and both by winds are blown,
The laurels crackle in the sputtering fire;
The frighted fylvans from their shades retire:
Or as two neighbouring torrents fall from high,
Rapid they run; the foamy waters fry :
They roll to fea, with unrefifted force,
And down the rocks precipitate their course:
Not with lefs rage the rival heroes take
Their different ways; nor less destruction make.
With fpears afar, with fwords at hand they strike, 770
And zeal of flaughter fires their fouls alike.
Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field,
And hearts are pierc'd unknowing how to yield:
They blow for blow return, and wound for wound;
And heaps of bodies raise the level ground.
Murranus, boafting of his blood, that fprings
along royal race of Latin kings,
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