Aeneid XI.100-202

The Latins contemplate peace. The funeral rites continue.

And now ambassadors, shaded with olive branches,

came from the Latin city seeking favours: they asked him

to return the bodies of men felled by the sword, overflowing

the plain, and allow them to be buried under a mound of earth;

there could be no quarrel with the lost, devoid of the light:

let him spare those who were once hosts and fathers of brides.

Aeneas courteously granted prayers he could not refuse,

and added these words as well: “Latins, what shameful

mischance has entangled you in a war like this,

so that you fly from being our friends? Do you

seek peace for your dead killed by fate in battle?

I would gladly grant it to the living too. I would not

be here if fate had not granted me a place, a home,

nor do I wage war on your people; your king abandoned

our friendship and thought Turnus’s army greater.

It would have been more just for Turnus himself to meet

this death. If he seeks to end the war by force and drive out

the Trojans, he should have fought me with these weapons: he

whom the gods or his right hand granted life would have survived.

Now go and light the fires for your unfortunate countrymen.”

Aeneas had spoken. They were silent, struck dumb,

and kept their faces and their gaze fixed on one another.

Then Drances, an elder, always hostile to young Turnus,

shown in his dislike and reproaches, replied in turn, so:

“O, Trojan hero, great in fame, greater in battle,

how can I praise you to the skies enough? Should I

wonder first at your justice, or your efforts in war?

Indeed we will gratefully carry these words back

to our native city, and if Fortune offers a way, we will

ally you to our king. Let Turnus seek treaties for himself.

It will be a delight even to raise those massive walls

and lift the stones of Troy on our shoulders.”

He spoke, and they all murmured assent with one voice.

They fixed a twelve day truce¹ and, with peace as mediator,

Trojans and Latins wandered together, in safety,

through the wooded hills. The tall ash rang to the two-edged axe,

they felled pine-trees towering to the heavens, and they never

ceased splitting the oaks and fragrant cedars with wedges,

or carrying away the manna ash in rumbling wagons.

And now Rumour filled Evander’s ears, and the palace’s

and the city’s, flying there, bringing news of that great grief:

Rumour, that a moment since was carrying Pallas’s victory

to Latium. The Arcadians ran to the gates and, following

ancient custom, seized torches for the funeral; the road shone

with the long ranks of flames, parting the distant fields.

The Trojan column, approaching, merged its files of mourners

with them. When the women saw them nearing

the houses, grief set the city ablaze with its clamour.

But no force could restrain Evander, and he ran into their midst,

flung himself on Pallas’s body once the bier was set down,

clinging to it with tears and groans, till at last he spoke,

his grief scarcely allowing a path for his voice:

“O Pallas, this was not the promise you made your father,

that you would enter this savage war with caution.

I am not ignorant how great new pride in weapons

can be, and honour won in a first conflict is very sweet.

Alas for the first fruits of your young life, and your

harsh schooling in a war so near us, and for my vows

and prayers unheard by any god! Happy were you, O my

most sacred queen, in a death that saved you from this sorrow!

I, by living on, have exceeded my fate, to survive as father

without son. I should have marched with the allied armies

of Troy and been killed by those Rutulian spears! I should have

given my life, and this pomp should have carried me, not Pallas, home!

Yet I do not blame you, Trojans, or our treaty, or the hands

we clasped in friendship: my white hairs are the cause of this.

And if an untimely death awaited my son, it is my joy that he fell

leading the Trojans into Latium, killing Volscians in thousands.

Indeed, Pallas, I thought you worthy of no other funeral

than this that virtuous Aeneas, the great Phyrgians,

the Etruscan leaders and all the Etruscans chose.

Those whom your right hand dealt death to bring great trophies:

Turnus, you too would be standing here, a vast tree-trunk hung with

weapons, if years and mature strength had been alike in both.

But why in my unhappiness do I keep the Trojans from war?

Go, and remember to take this message to your king:

if I prolong a life that’s hateful to me, now Pallas is dead,

it’s because you know your right hand owes father and son

the death of Turnus. That is the one path of kindness to me

and success for you that lies open. I don’t ask for joy while alive

(that’s not allowed me), but to carry it to my son deep among the shades.”

Dawn, meanwhile, had raised her kindly light on high

for wretched men, calling them again to work and toil:

now Aeneas the leader, now Tarchon, had erected pyres

on the curving bay. Here according to ancestral custom they each

brought the bodies of their people, and as the gloomy fires

were lit beneath, the high sky was veiled in a dark mist.

Three times they circled the blazing piles, clad in gleaming

armour, three times they rounded the mournful

funeral flames on horseback and uttered wailing cries.

Tears sprinkled the earth and sprinkled the armour,

the clamour of men and blare of trumpets climbed to the heavens.

Then some flung spoils, stripped from the slaughtered Latins,

onto the fire, helmets and noble swords, bridles and swift wheels;

others, gifts familiar to the dead, their shields and luckless weapons.

Many head of cattle were sacrificed round these to Death.

They cut the throats of bristling boars, and flocks culled

from the whole country, over the flames. Then they watched

their comrades burn, all along the shore, and kept guard

over the charred pyres, and could not tear themselves away

till dew-wet night wheeled the sky round, inset with shining stars.

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Iamque oratores aderant ex urbe Latina               100

velati ramis oleae veniamque rogantes:

corpora, per campos ferro quae fusa iacebant,

redderet ac tumulo sineret succedere terrae;

nullum cum victis certamen et aethere cassis;

parceret hospitibus quondam socerisque vocatis.               105

quos bonus Aeneas haud aspernanda precantis

prosequitur venia et verbis haec insuper addit:

'quaenam vos tanto fortuna indigna, Latini,

implicuit bello, qui nos fugiatis amicos?

pacem me exanimis et Martis sorte peremptis               110

oratis? equidem et vivis concedere vellem.

nec veni, nisi fata locum sedemque dedissent,

nec bellum cum gente gero; rex nostra reliquit

hospitia et Turni potius se credidit armis.

aequius huic Turnum fuerat se opponere morti.               115

si bellum finire manu, si pellere Teucros

apparat, his mecum decuit concurrere telis:

vixet cui vitam deus aut sua dextra dedisset.

nunc ite et miseris supponite civibus ignem.'

dixerat Aeneas. illi obstipuere silentes               120

conversique oculos inter se atque ora tenebant.

Tum senior semperque odiis et crimine Drances

infensus iuveni Turno sic ore vicissim

orsa refert: 'o fama ingens, ingentior armis,

vir Troiane, quibus caelo te laudibus aequem?               125

iustitiaene prius mirer belline laborum?

nos vero haec patriam grati referemus ad urbem

et te, si qua viam dederit Fortuna, Latino

iungemus regi. quaerat sibi foedera Turnus.

quin et fatalis murorum attollere moles               130

saxaque subvectare umeris Troiana iuvabit.'

dixerat haec unoque omnes eadem ore fremebant.

bis senos pepigere dies, et pace sequestra

per silvas Teucri mixtique impune Latini

erravere iugis. ferro sonat alta bipenni               135

fraxinus, evertunt actas ad sidera pinus,

robora nec cuneis et olentem scindere cedrum

nec plaustris cessant vectare gementibus ornos.

Et iam Fama volans, tanti praenuntia luctus,

Evandrum Evandrique domos et moenia replet,               140

quae modo victorem Latio Pallanta ferebat.

Arcades ad portas ruere et de more vetusto

funereas rapuere faces; lucet via longo

ordine flammarum et late discriminat agros.

contra turba Phrygum veniens plangentia iungit               145

agmina. quae postquam matres succedere tectis

viderunt, maestam incendunt clamoribus urbem.

at non Evandrum potis est vis ulla tenere,

sed venit in medios. feretro Pallante reposto

procubuit super atque haeret lacrimansque gemensque,               150

et via vix tandem voci laxata dolore est:

'non haec, o Palla, dederas promissa parenti,

cautius ut saevo velles te credere Marti.

haud ignarus eram quantum nova gloria in armis

et praedulce decus primo certamine posset.               155

primitiae iuvenis miserae bellique propinqui

dura rudimenta, et nulli exaudita deorum

vota precesque meae! tuque, o sanctissima coniunx,

felix morte tua neque in hunc servata dolorem!

contra ego vivendo vici mea fata, superstes               160

restarem ut genitor. Troum socia arma secutum

obruerent Rutuli telis! animam ipse dedissem

atque haec pompa domum me, non Pallanta, referret!

nec vos arguerim, Teucri, nec foedera nec quas

iunximus hospitio dextras: sors ista senectae               165

debita erat nostrae. quod si immatura manebat

mors gnatum, caesis Volscorum milibus ante

ducentem in Latium Teucros cecidisse iuvabit.

quin ego non alio digner te funere, Palla,

quam pius Aeneas et quam magni Phryges et quam               170

Tyrrhenique duces, Tyrrhenum exercitus omnis.

magna tropaea ferunt quos dat tua dextera leto;

tu quoque nunc stares immanis truncus in arvis,

esset par aetas et idem si robur ab annis,

Turne. sed infelix Teucros quid demoror armis?               175

vadite et haec memores regi mandata referte:

quod vitam moror invisam Pallante perempto

dextera causa tua est, Turnum gnatoque patrique

quam debere vides. meritis vacat hic tibi solus

fortunaeque locus. non vitae gaudia quaero,               180

nec fas, sed gnato manis perferre sub imos.'

Aurora interea miseris mortalibus almam

extulerat lucem referens opera atque labores:

iam pater Aeneas, iam curvo in litore Tarchon

constituere pyras. huc corpora quisque suorum               185

more tulere patrum, subiectisque ignibus atris

conditur in tenebras altum caligine caelum.

ter circum accensos cincti fulgentibus armis

decurrere rogos, ter maestum funeris ignem

lustravere in equis ululatusque ore dedere.               190

spargitur et tellus lacrimis, sparguntur et arma,

it caelo clamorque virum clangorque tubarum.

hic alii spolia occisis derepta Latinis

coniciunt igni, galeas ensisque decoros

frenaque ferventisque rotas; pars munera nota,               195

ipsorum clipeos et non felicia tela.

multa boum circa mactantur corpora Morti,

saetigerosque sues raptasque ex omnibus agris

in flammam iugulant pecudes. tum litore toto

ardentis spectant socios semustaque servant               200

busta, neque avelli possunt, nox umida donec

invertit caelum stellis ardentibus aptum.

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Find the glossary for Aeneid Daily here; subscribe to receive daily posts.

1. Truces in order to bury the dead are called more than once in the Iliad, including a final twelve-day truce for Hector’s funeral.