Aeneid XI.725-835
Oh, no, Camilla!
But the father of gods and men with watchful eyes
sat throned on high Olympus observing it all.
The maker stirred the Etruscan, Tarchon, to fierce battle
and goaded him to anger with no gentle spur.
So Tarchon rode amidst the slaughter and the wavering ranks,
inciting his squadrons with varied shouts and calling
each man by name, rallying the routed to the fight.
“What fear, what utter cowardice has filled your hearts,
O, you ever-sluggish Tuscans, O you who are never ashamed?
Can a woman drive you in disorder and turn your ranks?
Why do we bear swords and spears idle in our right hands?
But you are not slow to love or for nocturnal battles, nor when
the curved pipe proclaims the Bacchic dance. Wait then for the feast
and wine-cups on the loaded tables (that is your passion
and your pleasure), while the happy seer reports the sacred
omens and the rich sacrifice calls you into the deep grove!”
So saying, and ready to die, he spurred his mount into the press,
tore at Venulus like a whirlwind, and snatched him from his horse,
and, clasping his enemy to his chest with his right arm
and stirring himself to a mighty effort, carried him off.
A shout rose to the skies and all the Latins turned their gaze
that way. Tarchon flew over the plain like lightning,
carrying weapons and man; then he broke off the iron tip
of his enemy’s spear and searched for an unguarded opening
where he might deal a deadly wound; Venulus, struggling with him,
kept the hand from his throat, meeting force with force.
As when a tawny eagle, soaring high, carries a snake it has caught,
entwined in its feet, with talons clinging, while the wounded serpent
writhes in sinuous coils and rears its bristling scales, hissing
with its mouth as it rises up, and none the less attacks
its struggling prey with curved beak while its wings beat the air:
so Tarchon carried his prize in triumph from the Tiburtian ranks.
Emulating their leader’s example and success, the Etruscans charged.
And now Arruns, a man whose life was owed to the fates,
began to circle swift Camilla with his javelin,
with skilful cunning, trying for the easiest of chances.
Wherever the girl rode among the ranks in her fury,
there Arruns shadowed her and followed her track in silence;
wherever she returned in triumph or withdrew from the foe,
there the youth secretly turned his quick reins.
He tried this approach and that, travelling the whole circuit
on every side, relentlessly brandishing his sure spear.
It chanced that Chloreus, once a priest, sacred to Cybele,
glittered some distance away, splendid in Phrygian armour,
spurring his foam-flecked horse, that a hide, plumed
with bronze scales and clasped with gold, protected.
He himself, shining with deep colours and foreign purple,
fired Gortynian arrows from a Lycian bow:1
the weapon was golden on his shoulder, and golden
the seer’s helm; his saffron cloak and its rustling folds of linen
were gathered into a knot with yellow gold, his tunic
and barbaric leg-coverings embroidered by the needle.
The virgin huntress, singling him out from all the press
of battle, either hoping to hang his Trojan weapons
in the temple, or to display herself in captured gold,
pursued him blindly and raged recklessly through the ranks
with a feminine desire for prizes and spoil,
when Arruns, finally seizing his chance, raised his spear
from ambush and prayed aloud, like this, to heaven:
“Highest of gods, Apollo, guardian of holy Soracte,2
whose chief followers are we for whom the blaze of the pine-wood
fire is fed, and who as worshippers, confident in our faith,
plant our steps on deep embers among the flames,
all-powerful father, grant that this shame be effaced
by our weapons. I seek no prize, no trophy of the girl’s defeat,
no spoils: some other deed will bring me fame;
only let this dreadful scourge fall wounded under my blow,
and I’ll return without glory to the cities of my ancestors.”
Phoebus heard him, and granted the success of half the prayer
in his mind, half he scattered on the passing breeze: he agreed
to the prayer that Arruns might bring Camilla to sudden death’s ruin,
but did not grant that his noble country should see him return,
and the gusts carried his words away on the southerly winds.
So as the spear whistled through the air, speeding from his hand,
all the Volscians turned their eager eyes and minds
towards the queen. She herself noticed neither breeze
nor sound, nor the weapon falling from the sky,
till the spear went home, fixing itself under her naked
breast, and, driven deep, drank of her virgin blood.3
Her friends rushed to her anxiously and caught
their falling queen. Arruns, more fearful than the rest,
fled in joy and terror, not daring to trust
his spear further or meet the virgin’s weapons.
And as a wolf that has killed a shepherd or a great bullock
immediately hides itself deep in the pathless mountains
before the hostile spears can reach it, conscious
of its audacious actions, and holds its lowered tail
quivering between its legs as it heads for the woods:
so Arruns, in turmoil, stole away from sight
and, content to escape, plunged into the midst of the army.
Camilla tugged at the weapon with dying hands,
but the iron point was fixed between the bones,
near the ribs, deep in the wound. She sank back
bloodless, her eyes sank, chill with death,
the once radiant colour had left her cheeks.
Then, expiring, she spoke to Acca, one of her peers, faithful
to Camilla beyond all others, sole sharer of her sorrows,
and uttered these words to her: “Acca, my sister,
my strength lasted this far: now the bitter wound
exhausts me, and all around me darkens with shadows.
Fly, and carry my final commands to Turnus: he must take
my place in the battle and keep the Trojans from the city.
Now farewell.” With these words she let go the reins, slipping
helplessly to earth. Then, little by little growing cold, she loosed
herself from her body completely, dipping the unresponsive neck
and that head death had seized, letting go her weapons,
and with a sob her life fled angrily to the shades below.
Then indeed an immense shout rose, reaching
the golden stars: with Camilla fallen, the battle swelled;
the Trojan host, the Etruscan leaders, and Evander’s
Arcadian squadrons rushed on in a mass together.
At non haec nullis hominum sator atque deorum 725
observans oculis summo sedet altus Olympo.
Tyrrhenum genitor Tarchonem in proelia saeva
suscitat et stimulis haud mollibus inicit iras.
ergo inter caedes cedentiaque agmina Tarchon
fertur equo variisque instigat vocibus alas 730
nomine quemque vocans, reficitque in proelia pulsos.
'quis metus, o numquam dolituri, o semper inertes
Tyrrheni, quae tanta animis ignavia venit?
femina palantis agit atque haec agmina vertit!
quo ferrum quidve haec gerimus tela inrita dextris? 735
at non in Venerem segnes nocturnaque bella,
aut ubi curva choros indixit tibia Bacchi.
exspectate dapes et plenae pocula mensae
(hic amor, hoc studium) dum sacra secundus haruspex
nuntiet ac lucos vocet hostia pinguis in altos!' 740
haec effatus equum in medios moriturus et ipse
concitat, et Venulo adversum se turbidus infert
dereptumque ab equo dextra complectitur hostem
et gremium ante suum multa vi concitus aufert.
tollitur in caelum clamor cunctique Latini 745
convertere oculos. volat igneus aequore Tarchon
arma virumque ferens; tum summa ipsius ab hasta
defringit ferrum et partis rimatur apertas,
qua vulnus letale ferat; contra ille repugnans
sustinet a iugulo dextram et vim viribus exit. 750
utque volans alte raptum cum fulva draconem
fert aquila implicuitque pedes atque unguibus haesit,
saucius at serpens sinuosa volumina versat
arrectisque horret squamis et sibilat ore
arduus insurgens, illa haud minus urget obunco 755
luctantem rostro, simul aethera verberat alis:
haud aliter praedam Tiburtum ex agmine Tarchon
portat ovans. ducis exemplum eventumque secuti
Maeonidae incurrunt. tum fatis debitus Arruns
velocem iaculo et multa prior arte Camillam 760
circuit, et quae sit fortuna facillima temptat.
qua se cumque furens medio tulit agmine virgo,
hac Arruns subit et tacitus vestigia lustrat;
qua victrix redit illa pedemque ex hoste reportat,
hac iuvenis furtim celeris detorquet habenas. 765
hos aditus iamque hos aditus omnemque pererrat
undique circuitum et certam quatit improbus hastam.
Forte sacer Cybelo Chloreus olimque sacerdos
insignis longe Phrygiis fulgebat in armis
spumantemque agitabat equum, quem pellis aenis 770
in plumam squamis auro conserta tegebat.
ipse peregrina ferrugine clarus et ostro
spicula torquebat Lycio Gortynia cornu;
aureus ex umeris erat arcus et aurea vati
cassida; tum croceam chlamydemque sinusque crepantis 775
carbaseos fulvo in nodum collegerat auro
pictus acu tunicas et barbara tegmina crurum.
hunc virgo, sive ut templis praefigeret arma
Troia, captivo sive ut se ferret in auro
venatrix, unum ex omni certamine pugnae 780
caeca sequebatur totumque incauta per agmen
femineo praedae et spoliorum ardebat amore,
telum ex insidiis cum tandem tempore capto
concitat et superos Arruns sic voce precatur:
'summe deum, sancti custos Soractis Apollo, 785
quem primi colimus, cui pineus ardor acervo
pascitur, et medium freti pietate per ignem
cultores multa premimus vestigia pruna,
da, pater, hoc nostris aboleri dedecus armis,
omnipotens. non exuvias pulsaeve tropaeum 790
virginis aut spolia ulla peto, mihi cetera laudem
facta ferent; haec dira meo dum vulnere pestis
pulsa cadat, patrias remeabo inglorius urbes.'
Audiit et voti Phoebus succedere partem
mente dedit, partem volucris dispersit in auras: 795
sterneret ut subita turbatam morte Camillam
adnuit oranti; reducem ut patria alta videret
non dedit, inque Notos vocem vertere procellae.
ergo ut missa manu sonitum dedit hasta per auras,
convertere animos acris oculosque tulere 800
cuncti ad reginam Volsci. nihil ipsa nec aurae
nec sonitus memor aut venientis ab aethere teli,
hasta sub exsertam donec perlata papillam
haesit virgineumque alte bibit acta cruorem.
concurrunt trepidae comites dominamque ruentem 805
suscipiunt. fugit ante omnis exterritus Arruns
laetitia mixtoque metu, nec iam amplius hastae
credere nec telis occurrere virginis audet.
ac velut ille, prius quam tela inimica sequantur,
continuo in montis sese avius abdidit altos 810
occiso pastore lupus magnove iuvenco,
conscius audacis facti, caudamque remulcens
subiecit pavitantem utero silvasque petivit:
haud secus ex oculis se turbidus abstulit Arruns
contentusque fuga mediis se immiscuit armis. 815
illa manu moriens telum trahit, ossa sed inter
ferreus ad costas alto stat vulnere mucro.
labitur exsanguis, labuntur frigida leto
lumina, purpureus quondam color ora reliquit.
tum sic exspirans Accam ex aequalibus unam 820
adloquitur, fida ante alias quae sola Camillae
quicum partiri curas, atque haec ita fatur:
'hactenus, Acca soror, potui: nunc vulnus acerbum
conficit, et tenebris nigrescunt omnia circum.
effuge et haec Turno mandata novissima perfer: 825
succedat pugnae Troianosque arceat urbe.
iamque vale.' simul his dictis linquebat habenas
ad terram non sponte fluens. tum frigida toto
paulatim exsoluit se corpore, lentaque colla
et captum leto posuit caput, arma relinquens, 830
vitaque cum gemitu fugit indignata sub umbras.
tum vero immensus surgens ferit aurea clamor
sidera: deiecta crudescit pugna Camilla;
incurrunt densi simul omnis copia Teucrum
Tyrrhenique duces Evandrique Arcades alae. 835
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an Etrurian mountain
One of my professors found this death so over-the-top that it had to be gendered parody—she dies for a girlish love of shiny things, and instead of having a real baby, she’s “breastfeeding death.” The other professor I read this scene with thought that was silly, so your mileage may vary.