The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey,
And fear, misled the younger from his way.
But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste,
And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass'd,
And Alban plains (from Alba's name so call'd)
Where king Latinus then his oxen stall'd;
Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground,
And miss'd his friend, and cast his eyes around.
Ah, wretch!' he cried-' where have I left behind
Th' unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find? 530
Or what way take?' Again he ventures back,
And treads the mazes of his former track.
He winds the wood, and, list'ning, hears the noise
Of trampling coursers, and the riders' voice.
The sound approach'd; and suddenly he view'd 535
The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued,
Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain
The shelter of the friendly shades to gain.
What should he next attempt? what arms employ?
What fruitless force, to free the captive boy?
Or desp'rate should he rush and lose his life,
With odds oppress'd, in such unequal strife !
Resolved at length, his pointed spear he shook;
And, casting on the moon a mournful look,
Guardian of groves, and goddess of the night! 545
Fair queen!' he said, 'direct my dart aright.
If e'er my pious father, for my sake,
Did grateful off'rings on thy altars make,
Or I increased them with my sylvan toils,
And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils,
Give me to scatter these.' Then from his ear
He poised, and aim'd, and launch'd the trembling
The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove,
Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove;
Pierced his thin armor, drank his vital blood,
And in his body left the broken wood.
He staggers round: his eyeballs roll in death;
And with short sobs he gasps away his breath.
All stand amazed:-a second jav'lin flies
With equal strength, and quivers through the skies.
This through thy temples, Tagus, forced the way, 561
And in the brain-pan warmly buried lay.
Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round,
Descried not him who gave the fatal wound,
Nor knew to fix revenge: ‘But thou,' he cries, 565
'Shalt pay for both!' and at the pris'ner flies
With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep de-
That cruel sight the lover could not bear;
But from his covert rush'd in open view,
And sent his voice before him as he flew :
'Me! me!' he cried turn all your swords alone
On me-the fact confess'd, the fault my own.
He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth-
Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth!
His only crime (if friendship can offend)
Is too much love to his unhappy friend.'
Too late he speaks :-the sword, which fury guides,
Driv'n with full force, had pierced his tender sides.
Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound
Gush'd out a purple stream, and stain'd the ground.
His snowy neck reclines upon his breast,
Like a fair flow'r by the keen share oppress'd-
Like a white poppy sinking on the plain,
Whose heavy head is overcharged with rain.
Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow'd,
Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd.
Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends:
Borne back and bored by his surrounding friends,
Onward he press'd, and kept him still in sight,
Then whirl'd aloft his sword with all his might: 590
Th' unerring steel descended while he spoke,
Pierced his wide mouth, and through his weazon
Dying, he slew; and stagg'ring on the plain,
With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain;
Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell,
Content, in death, to be revenged so well.
O happy friends! for, if my verse can give
Immortal life, your fame shall ever live,
Fix'd as the capitol's foundation lies,
And spread, where'er the Roman eagle flies!
The conqu'ring party first divide the prey, Then their slain leader to the camp convey. With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill'd, To see such numbers whom so few had kill'd. Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found: Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround; And the yet reeking blood o'erflows the ground. All knew the helmet which Messapus lost, But mourn'd a purchase that so dear had cost. Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon's bed, And with the dawn of day the skies o'erspread; Nor long the sun his daily course withheld, But added colors to the world reveal'd; When early Turnus wak'ning with the light, All clad in armor, calls his troops to fight. His martial men with fierce harangues he fired, And his own ardor in their souls inspired. This done to give new terror to his foes, The heads of Nisus and his friends he shows, Raised high on pointed spears-a ghastly sight! 620 Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous de
Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls : They line their trenches, and they man their walls. In front extended to the left they stood : Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood. But, casting from their tow'rs a frightful view, They saw the faces, which too well they knew, Though then disguised in death, and smear'd all
With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore.
Soon hasty fame through the sad city bears
The mournful message to the mother's ears.
An icy cold benumbs her limbs: she shakes:
Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes.
She runs the ramparts round amidst the war,
Nor fears the flying darts: she rends her hair,
And fills with loud laments the liquid air.
'Thus, then, my loved Euryalus appears!
Thus looks the prop of my declining years!
Was 't on this face my famish'd eyes I fed ?
Ah! how unlike the living is the dead!
And could'st thou leave me, cruel, thus alone!
Not one kind kiss from a departing son!
No look, no last adieu before he went,
In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent!
Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay,
To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey!
Nor was I near to close his dying eyes,
To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies,
To call about his corpse his crying friends,
Or spread the mantle (made for other ends)
On his dear body, which I wove with care.
Nor did my daily pains or nightly labor spare.
Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains
His trunk dismember'd, and his cold remains ?
For this, alas! I left my needful ease,
Exposed my life to winds, and winter seas!
If any pity touch Rutulian hearts,
Here empty all your quivers, all your darts:
Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe,
And send me thunderstruck to shades below!'
Her shrieks and clamors pierce the Trojans' ears,
Unman their courage, and augment their fears :
Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain,
Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain,
But Actor and Idæus jointly sent,
To bear the madding mother to her tent.
And now the trumpets terribly, from far,
With rattling clangor, rouse the sleepy war.
The soldiers' shouts succeed the brazen sounds;
And heav'n, from pole to pole the noise rebounds;
The Volscians bear their shields upon their head, 671
And, rushing forward, form a moving shed.
These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down : Some raise the ladders; others scale the town.
But, where void spaces on the walls appear,
Or thin defence, they pour their forces there.
With poles and missive weapons, from afar,
The Trojans keep aloof the rising war.
Taught, by their ten years' siege, defensive fight,
They roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight,
To break the penthouse with the pond'rous blow, 681
Which yet the patient Volscians undergo-
But could not bear th' unequal combat long;
For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng,
The ruin falls: their shatter'd shields give way,
And their crush'd heads become an easy prey.
They shrink for fear, abated of their rage,
Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage
|