“No safety in war? Madman, sing such about the Trojan’s life
and your possessions. Go on, then, troubling everyone
with your great fears and extolling the powers of a race
twice-defeated, while disparaging Latinus’s army.
Now even Myrmidon princes, now Diomede, Tydeus’s
son, and Larissean Achilles, tremble at Trojan weapons,
and Aufidus’s1 river flows backwards from the Adriatic waves.
And what when he pretends he’s afraid to quarrel with me,
the cunning rascal, and intensifies the charge with false terror.
You’ll not lose a life like yours to my right hand
(don’t shrink): keep it, let it remain in your breast.
Now, old father, I return to you and your great debate.
If you place no further hope in our forces,
if we’re so desolate, if one reverse for our troops
has utterly destroyed us and our fortunes cannot return,
let’s stretch out our helpless hands and sue for peace.
Oh, if only our traditional courage was here, though!
That man to me would be happy in his efforts, and outstanding
in spirit, who had fallen in death so as not to see
such things, and who had bitten the dust once and for all.
Yet if we still have our wealth and manhood intact
and nations and cities of Italy are still our allies,
if the Trojans won glory with great bloodshed
(they too have their dead, the storm of war’s the same for all),
why do we lose heart, shamefully, on the very threshold?
Why does fear seize our limbs before the trumpets sound?
Many things change for the better with time and the various
labours of altering years: Fortune toys with many a man,
then, visiting him in turn, sets him on solid ground again.
The Aetolian and his Arpi will be no help to us:
but Messapus will, and Tolumnius the fortunate,
and all those leaders sent by many a people: no little glory
will accrue to the flower of Latium and Laurentine fields.
We have Camilla, too, of the glorious Volscian nation,
leading her troop of riders and squadrons bright with bronze.
But if the Trojans only call me to fight, and that’s your wish,
if I’m so great an obstacle to the common good, victory is far
from having fled these hands of mine with such hatred
that I should refuse to try anything for a hope so sweet.
I’d face him with courage though he outclassed great Achilles
and wore armour to match, fashioned by Vulcan’s hands.
I, Turnus, not second in virtue to any of my ancestors,
dedicate my life to you all, and to Latinus, father of my bride.
Aeneas challenges me alone? I pray that he does so challenge:
and, if the gods’ anger is in this, that it is not Drances rather than I
who appeases them in death, or if there’s worth and glory, takes it all.”
Arguing among themselves, they debated the issues
in doubt: while Aeneas was moving his camp and lines.
See, a messenger runs through the royal palace
with great commotion, filling the city with huge alarm:
the Trojans, ready for battle, and the Etruscan ranks
were sweeping down from the river Tiber over the plain.
At once people’s minds were troubled, their hearts shaken,
and their deep anger roused by the ungentle shock.
Anxiously they called for weapons; weapons, the young men
shouted, while their sad fathers wept and murmured.
And now a great clamour filled with discord rose to heaven
on every side, as when a flock of birds settles by chance
in some tall grove, or when the swans give their hoarse calls
among noisy pools by Padusa’s fish-filled streams.2
“Yes, oh citizens,” Turnus cried, seizing his moment,
“convene your council and sit there praising peace
while they attack us with weapons.” He said no more
but sprang up and went swiftly from the high halls.
“You, Volusus,” he shouted, “tell the Volscian troops to arm,
and lead the Rutulians. Messapus, and Coras with your brother,
deploy the cavalry under arms over the wide plain.
Let some secure the city gates and occupy the towers:
the rest carry their weapons with me, where I order.”
At once there was a rush to the walls all over the city.
King Latinus himself left the council, dismayed by the darkness
of the hour, and abandoned his great plan, reproaching himself
again and again for not having freely received Trojan Aeneas
and adopted him as his son-in-law for the city’s sake.
Some dug trenches in front of the gates or carried stones
and stakes. The harsh trumpet gave the cruel call to war.
Then a diverse circle of mothers and sons
ringed the walls: this final trial summoned them all.
Moreover the queen, with a great crowd of women,
drove to Pallas’s temple on the heights of the citadel
carrying gifts, virgin Lavinia next to her as her companion,
a source of so much trouble, her beautiful eyes cast down.
The women climbed to the temple, filled it with incense
fumes, and poured out sad prayers from the high threshold:
“Tritonian Virgin,3 mighty in weapons, ruler of war, shatter
the spear of the Trojan robber with your hand, hurl him flat
on the earth, stretch him prone beneath our high gates.”
Turnus, in a fury of zeal, armed himself for battle.
He was already dressed in his glowing breastplate,
bristling with bronze scales, his legs sheathed in gold,
his temples still bare, his sword buckled to his side,
shining, splendid, as he ran down from the citadel’s heights,
exultant in spirit, already anticipating the enemy in hope:
like a stallion breaking his tether and fleeing his stall,
free at last, lord of the open plain, who either heads
for the pastures and the herds of mares or, used to bathing
in some familiar river, gallops away and, with head held high,
neighs with pleasure, his mane playing over neck and shoulder.
‘nulla salus bello? capiti cane talia, demens,
Dardanio rebusque tuis. proinde omnia magno 400
ne cessa turbare metu atque extollere viris
gentis bis victae, contra premere arma Latini.
nunc et Myrmidonum proceres Phrygia arma tremescunt,
nunc et Tydides et Larisaeus Achilles,
amnis et Hadriacas retro fugit Aufidus undas. 405
vel cum se pavidum contra mea iurgia fingit,
artificis scelus, et formidine crimen acerbat.
numquam animam talem dextra hac (absiste moveri)
amittes: habitet tecum et sit pectore in isto.
nunc ad te et tua magna, pater, consulta revertor. 410
si nullam nostris ultra spem ponis in armis,
si tam deserti sumus et semel agmine verso
funditus occidimus neque habet Fortuna regressum,
oremus pacem et dextras tendamus inertis.
quamquam o si solitae quicquam virtutis adesset! 415
ille mihi ante alios fortunatusque laborum
egregiusque animi, qui, ne quid tale videret,
procubuit moriens et humum semel ore momordit.
sin et opes nobis et adhuc intacta iuventus
auxilioque urbes Italae populique supersunt, 420
sin et Troianis cum multo gloria venit
sanguine (sunt illis sua funera, parque per omnis
tempestas), cur indecores in limine primo
deficimus? cur ante tubam tremor occupat artus?
multa dies variique labor mutabilis aevi 425
rettulit in melius, multos alterna revisens
lusit et in solido rursus Fortuna locavit.
non erit auxilio nobis Aetolus et Arpi:
at Messapus erit felixque Tolumnius et quos
tot populi misere duces, nec parva sequetur 430
gloria delectos Latio et Laurentibus agris.
est et Volscorum egregia de gente Camilla
agmen agens equitum et florentis aere catervas.
quod si me solum Teucri in certamina poscunt
idque placet tantumque bonis communibus obsto, 435
non adeo has exosa manus Victoria fugit
ut tanta quicquam pro spe temptare recusem.
ibo animis contra, vel magnum praestet Achillem
factaque Volcani manibus paria induat arma
ille licet. vobis animam hanc soceroque Latino 440
Turnus ego, haud ulli veterum virtute secundus,
devovi. solum Aeneas vocat? et vocet oro;
nec Drances potius, sive est haec ira deorum,
morte luat, sive est virtus et gloria, tollat.'
Illi haec inter se dubiis de rebus agebant 445
certantes: castra Aeneas aciemque movebat.
nuntius ingenti per regia tecta tumultu
ecce ruit magnisque urbem terroribus implet:
instructos acie Tiberino a flumine Teucros
Tyrrhenamque manum totis descendere campis. 450
extemplo turbati animi concussaque vulgi
pectora et arrectae stimulis haud mollibus irae.
arma manu trepidi poscunt, fremit arma iuventus,
flent maesti mussantque patres. hic undique clamor
dissensu vario magnus se tollit in auras, 455
haud secus atque alto in luco cum forte catervae
consedere avium, piscosove amne Padusae
dant sonitum rauci per stagna loquacia cycni.
'immo,' ait 'o cives,' arrepto tempore Turnus,
'cogite concilium et pacem laudate sedentes; 460
illi armis in regna ruunt.' nec plura locutus
corripuit sese et tectis citus extulit altis.
'tu, Voluse, armari Volscorum edice maniplis,
duc' ait 'et Rutulos. equitem Messapus in armis,
et cum fratre Coras latis diffundite campis. 465
pars aditus urbis firment turrisque capessant;
cetera, qua iusso, mecum manus inferat arma.'
Ilicet in muros tota discurritur urbe.
concilium ipse pater et magna incepta Latinus
deserit ac tristi turbatus tempore differt, 470
multaque se incusat qui non acceperit ultro
Dardanium Aenean generumque asciverit urbi.
praefodiunt alii portas aut saxa sudesque
subvectant. bello dat signum rauca cruentum
bucina. tum muros varia cinxere corona 475
matronae puerique, vocat labor ultimus omnis.
nec non ad templum summasque ad Palladis arces
subvehitur magna matrum regina caterva
dona ferens, iuxtaque comes Lavinia virgo,
causa mali tanti, oculos deiecta decoros. 480
succedunt matres et templum ture vaporant
et maestas alto fundunt de limine voces:
'armipotens, praeses belli, Tritonia virgo,
frange manu telum Phrygii praedonis, et ipsum
pronum sterne solo portisque effunde sub altis.' 485
cingitur ipse furens certatim in proelia Turnus.
iamque adeo rutilum thoraca indutus aenis
horrebat squamis surasque incluserat auro,
tempora nudus adhuc, laterique accinxerat ensem,
fulgebatque alta decurrens aureus arce 490
exsultatque animis et spe iam praecipit hostem:
qualis ubi abruptis fugit praesepia vinclis
tandem liber equus, campoque potitus aperto
aut ille in pastus armentaque tendit equarum
aut adsuetus aquae perfundi flumine noto 495
emicat, arrectisque fremit cervicibus alte
luxurians luduntque iubae per colla, per armos.
Find the glossary for Aeneid Daily here; subscribe to receive daily posts.
a violent river in Italy
Padusa = the region around the river Padus, another name for the Po
Minerva
"virgin Lavinia... a source of so much trouble" literally she didn't even do anythinggggg! Leave her alone!