While all these things were happening in various places, 
	Saturnian Juno sent Iris from heaven to brave Turnus, 
	who chanced to be sitting in a sacred valley, a grove to Pilumnus 
	his father. To him Thaumas’s daughter spoke, from her rosy lips:
5	‘Turnus, see, the circling days, unasked, have brought
	what you wished, but what no god dared to promise.
	Aeneas leaving the city, his friends and ships,
	seeks the Palatine kingdom, and Evander’s house.
	Unsatisfied he has reached Corythus’s furthest cities,
10	and, gathering men from the country, arms Lydian troops.
	Why wait? Now is the time to call on horse and chariot.
	End all delays: seize their camp, in its confusion.’
	She spoke, and rose into the sky on level wings,
	tracing a vast arc against the clouds in her flight.
15	The youth knew her, raised both his hands to the heavens,
	and sent these words after her as she flew:
	‘Iris, glory of the sky, who sent you down through
	the clouds, to me, on earth? Where does this sudden 
	bright moment spring from? I see the sky split apart
20	at its zenith, and the stars that roam the pole. I follow
	so mighty an omen, whoever calls me to arms.’
	Saying this he went to the river and scooped water
	from the surface of the stream, calling often
	to the gods, and weighting the air with prayers.
25	Now the whole army, rich in horses, rich in ornate clothes, 
	and gold, was engaged in moving over the open fields: 
	Messapus controlling the front ranks, Tyrrhus’s sons
	the rear, Turnus, the leader, in the centre of the line
	[He goes forth holding his arms, taller than the rest by a head]
30	Like the deep Ganges, swelling in silence, through 
	his seven placid streams, or Nile when his rich stream 
	inundates the fields, soon sinking down into his course.
	The Trojans suddenly see a black dust cloud 
	gathering there, and darkness rising over the plain.
35	Caicus shouted first from the forward rampart:
	‘What’s that rolling mass of black fog, countrymen?
	Bring your swords, quickly: hand out spears: mount the walls:
	ah, the enemy is here!’ With a great clamour the Trojans
	retreated through the gates, and filled the ramparts.
40	For Aeneas, wisest in warfare, had commanded, on leaving,
	if anything chanced in the meantime, they were not to dare
	to form ranks or trust themselves to the open field: they were
	only to guard the camp and walls, safe behind the ramparts.
	So, though anger and shame counselled the troops to fight,
45	still they shut the gates and followed his orders,
	awaiting the enemy, armed, within their hollow turrets.
	But Turnus had galloped forward ahead of his slow column,
	accompanied by twenty chosen horsemen, and reached
	the city unexpectedly: a piebald Thracian horse carried him,
50	a golden helmet with a crimson crest protected his head.
	‘Men,’ he shouted, ‘is there anyone who’ll be first with me
	among the enemy – ? Look,’ and twirling a javelin sent it
	skyward to start the fight, and rode proudly over the field.
	His friends welcomed him with a shout, and followed 
55	with fearful battle-cries: marvelling at the Trojan’s dull souls,
	not trusting themselves to a level field, nor facing men 
	carrying weapons, but hugging the camp. He rode to and fro
	wildly round the walls, seeking a way in where there was none.
	Like a wolf, lying in wait by a full sheepfold, that snarls
60	by the pens at midnight, enduring the wind and rain,
	the lambs bleating safe beneath their mothers, 
	and rages against the prey out of reach, fierce and persistent
	in its anger, tormented by its dry, bloodless jaws,
	and the fierceness of its long-increasing hunger:
65	so as Turnus scanned the wall and camp, the Rutulian’s anger
	was alight, and indignation burned in his harsh marrow.
	How could he try and enter, and hurl the penned-up 
	Trojans from their rampart, and scatter them over the plain?
	He attacked the ships, that lay close to a flank of the camp,
70	defended by earthworks, and the flowing river,
	calling out to his exultant friends for fire,
	and fervently grasped a blazing pine-brand in his hand.
	Then they set to (urged on by Turnus’s presence)
	and all the men armed themselves with dark torches.
75	They stripped the hearths: the smoking branches threw
	a pitchy glow, and Vulcan hurled the cloud of ashes to heaven.
	O Muse, what god, turned away such fierce flames 
	from the Trojans? Who drove such savage fires from the ships?
	Tell me: belief in the story’s ancient, its fame is eternal.
80	In the days when Aeneas first built his fleet on Phrygian Ida
	and prepared to set out over the deep ocean,
	they say the Mother of the gods herself, Berecyntian Cybele,
	spoke so to great Jupiter: ‘My son, lord of Olympus, 
	grant what your dear mother asks of you in request.
85	There was a pine-forest a delight to me for many years
	a grove on the summit of the mountain, where they brought
	offerings, dark with blackened firs and maple trunks.
	I gave these gladly to the Trojan youth, since he lacked
	a fleet: now, troubled, anxious fear torments me.
90	Relieve my fears, and let your mother by her prayers ensure
	they are not destroyed, shattered by voyaging or violent storm:
	let their origin on our mountain be of aid to them.’
	Her son, who turns the starry globe, replied: 
	‘O, my mother, to what do you summon fate? What do you seek 
95	for them? Should keels made by mortal hands have eternal rights?
	Should Aeneas travel in certainty through uncertain
	dangers? To what god are such powers permitted?
	No, one day when they’ve served their purpose, 
	and reached an Italian haven, I’ll take away, from those
100	that escape the waves, and bear the Trojan chief 
	to Laurentine fields, their mortal shape, and command 
	them to be goddesses  of the vast ocean, like Doto, Nereus’s
	child, and Galatea, who part the foaming sea with their breasts.’
	He spoke, and swore his assent, by his Stygian brother’s rivers,
105	by the banks that seethe with pitch on the black abyss,
	and with his nod shook all Olympus.
	So the day he had promised came, and the Fates fulfilled
	their appointed hour, when Turnus’s injury to the sacred fleet
	prompted the Mother to defend them from the flames. 
110	At first a strange light flared to the watchers, and a huge cloud
	was seen to travel across the sky from the east,
	with bands of her Idaean attendants: then a terrible voice
	rang through the air, echoing among the Trojan and Rutulian lines:
	‘Trojans, don’t rush to defend the ships, 
115	or take up arms. Turnus can burn the ocean, sooner 
	than my sacred pines. Go free, you Goddesses 
	of the sea: your mother commands it.’ And at once
	each ship tore her cable loose from the bank: 
	they dipped their noses like dolphins, and sought 
120	the watery deep. Then (strange wonder)
	[as many brazen prows as had stood previously on the shore]
	as many virgin shapes re-surfaced, and swam about the sea.
	The Rutulians were amazed in mind, Messapus himself
	was awe-struck, his horses panicked: and even the noisy flow
125	of the river halted, as Tiber retreated from the deep.
	But brave Turnus’s confidence never wavered:
	and he raised their spirits as well, and chided them:
	‘These marvels are aimed at the Trojans, Jupiter himself
	has deprived them of their usual allies: those didn’t wait
130	for Rutulian missiles and fires. So the seas are impassable
	for the Trojans, and they have no hope of flight: other regions
	are lost to them, and this land is in our hands, so many
	thousands of Italy’s peoples are in arms. I’m not afraid
	of all the fateful omens from the gods these Phrygians 
135	openly boast of: enough has been granted to Venus and the Fates,
	since the Trojans have reached Ausonia’s fertile fields.
	I have my own counter destiny, to root out the guilty race,
	that has snatched my bride, with the sword. That’s a sorrow
	that doesn’t touch Atrides alone, nor is Mycenae alone allowed
140	to take up arms. ‘But to die once is enough.’? To have sinned
	before should be enough for these men, to whom confidence 
	in a dividing wall, and slight obstacles to death, defensive moats,
	grant courage, to utterly detest well-nigh the whole tribe 
	of women. Did they not witness the work of Neptune’s 
145	hands, the battlements of Troy, sink in flames? But you, 
	O chosen ones, which of you is ready to uproot the ramparts
	with your steel, and invade their terrified camp with me?
	I don’t need Vulcan’s arms, or a thousand ships,
	against Trojans. Let all Etruria join them now in alliance.
150	They need not fear darkness, or cowardly theft
	‘of their Palladium, killing guards on the citadel’s heights’,
	we won’t hide in the dark belly of a horse:
	I intend to circle their walls in broad daylight with fire.
	I’ll make them concede its not Greeks, Pelasgic youth,
155	they’re dealing with, whom Hector held till the tenth year.
	Now, since the best part of the day’s gone, men, 
	refresh yourselves with what’s left, pleased with work
	well done, and look forward to starting the battle.
	Meanwhile the order was given to Messapus to picket
160	the gates alertly with sentries and ring the ramparts with flames.
	Fourteen Rutulians were chosen to guard the walls
	with their men, each with a hundred soldiers 
	under them, purple-plumed and glittering with gold. 
	They ran about, took turns on watch, or lifted 
165	the bronze bowls and enjoyed their wine, 
	stretched out on the grass. The fires shone, 
	while the guards spent the watchful night in games.
	The armed Trojans held the heights, looking down 
	on this from above, and also with anxious fears, 
170	checked the gates, built bulwarks and bridges, 
	and disposed their weapons. Mnestheus and brave Serestus,
	whom Aeneas their leader appointed to command the army
	and state, if adversity ever required it, urged them on. 
	Sharing the risk, the whole company kept watch and served
175	in turn, at whatever point was to be guarded by each.
	Nisus, bravest of warriors, son of Hyrtacus, was a guard
	at the gates, he whom Ida the huntress had sent 
	to accompany Aeneas, agile with javelin and light darts,
	and Euryalus was with him, than whom none was 
180	more beautiful among the Aenedae, or wearing Trojan armour,
	a boy, whose unshaven face, showed the first bloom of youth.
	One love was theirs, and they charged side by side into battle:
	now they were also guarding the gate at the same sentry-post. 
	Nisus said: ‘Euryalus, do the gods set this fire in our hearts,
185	or does each man’s fatal desire become godlike to him?
	My mind has long urged me to rush to battle, or high
	adventure, and is not content with peace and quiet.
	You see what confidence the Rutulians have in events:
	their lights shine far apart, and they lie drowned in sleep
190	and wine, everywhere is quiet. Listen to what I’m now
	thinking, and what purpose comes to mind. The army
	and the council all demand Aeneas be recalled, 
	and men be sent to report the facts to him.
	If they were to grant what I suggest to you (the glory 
195	of doing it is enough for me) I think I could find a way, 
	beyond that hill, to the walls and ramparts of Pallanteum.’
	Euryalus was dazzled, struck by a great desire for glory,
	and replied to his ardent friend at once, like this:
	‘Nisus, do you shun my joining in this great deed,
200	 then? Shall I send you into such danger alone?
	That’s not how my father Opheltes, seasoned in war,
	educated me, raising me among Greek terrors 
	and Troy’s ordeals, nor have I conducted myself so
	with you, following noble Aeneas and the ends of fate.
205	This is my spirit, one scornful of the day, that thinks
	the honour you aim at well bought with life itself.’
	Nisus replied: ‘Indeed I had no such doubts of you,
	that would be wrong: not so will great Jupiter, or whoever
	looks at this action with favourable gaze, bring me back to you
210	in triumph: but if (as you often see in such crises) 
	if chance or some god sweeps me to disaster,
	I want you to survive: your youth is more deserving of life.
	Let there be someone to entrust me to earth, my body
	rescued from conflict, or ransomed for a price,
215	or if Fortune denies the customary rites, to perform 
	them in my absence, and honour me with a stone.
	And don’t let me be a cause of grief to your poor mother,
	my boy, who alone among many mothers dared to follow 
	you, without thought of staying in great Acestes’s city.’
220	But the lad said: ‘You weave your excuses in vain,
	my purpose won’t change or yield to yours. Let’s hurry’, 
	and he roused guards, who came up to take their place:
	leaving his post he walked by Nisus’s side to seek the prince.
	Every other creature, throughout the land, was easing
225	its cares with sleep, its heart forgetful of toil:
	the Trojans’ chief captains, the pick of their manhood,
	were holding council on the most serious affairs of state,
	what to do, and who should go now as messenger to Aeneas.
	They stood, between the camp and the plain, leaning 
230	on their long spears, holding their shields. Nisus and Euryalus, 
	together, begged eagerly to be admitted at once:
	the matter being important, and worth the delay. Iulus was first
	to welcome the impatient pair, and ordered Nisus to speak. 
	So the son of Hyrtacus said: ‘Followers of Aeneas, listen
235	with fair minds, and don’t judge my words by our years.
	The Rutulians are quiet, drowned in sleep and wine.
	We ourselves have seen a place for a sortie: it opens 
	in a fork of the road by the nearest gate to the sea.
	There’s a gap between the fires, and black smoke rises
240	to the stars. If you allow us to seize the chance,
	you’ll soon see us back again burdened with spoils
	after carrying out vast slaughter. The road will not 
	deceive us as we seek Aeneas and Pallanteum’s walls. 
	In our frequent hunting through the secret valleys
245	we’ve seen the outskirts of the city, and know the whole river.’
	To this Aletes, heavy with years and wise in mind, replied:
	‘Gods of our fathers, under whose power Troy lies,
	you do not intend to obliterate the Trojan race as yet
	since you bring us such courage in our young men and such 
250	firm hearts.’ So saying, he took them both by the shoulder
	and hand while tears flooded his cheeks and lips.
	‘What possible prize could I consider worthy to be granted you men 
	for such a glorious action? The gods and tradition will give you 
	the first and most beautiful one: then good Aeneas, 
255	and Ascanius, who’s untouched by the years and never unmindful 
	of such service, will immediately award the rest.’
	Ascanius interrupted: ‘Rather I entreat you both, Nisus,
	since my well-being depends on my father’s return, 
	by the great gods of our house, by the Lar of Assaracus, 
260	and by grey-haired Vesta’s innermost shrine, I lay 
	all my fortune and my promise in your lap, call my father back,
	give me a sight of him: there’s no sorrow if he’s restored.
	I’ll give you a pair of wine-cups, all of silver, with figures
	in relief, that my father captured when Arisba was taken,
265	and twin tripods, two large talents of gold, 
	and an antique bowl Sidonian Dido gave me.
	If we truly manage to capture Italy, and take the sceptre,
	and assign the spoils by lot, you have seen the horse 
	golden Turnus rode, and the armour he wore, I’ll separate
270	from this moment, from the lots, that same horse, the shield, 
	and the crimson plumes as your reward, Nisus.
	Moreover my father will give you twelve women 
	of choicest person, and male captives all with their own armour,
	and, beyond that, whatever land King Latinus owns himself.
275	But now I truly welcome you wholly to my heart, Euryalus,
	a boy to be revered, whose age I come closer to in time,
	and embrace you as a friend for every occasion.
	I’ll never seek glory in my campaigns without you:
	whether I enjoy peace or war, you’ll have my firmest trust
280	in word and action.’ Euryalus spoke like this in reply:
	‘No day will ever find me separated from such
	bold action: inasmuch as fortune proves kind 
	and not cruel. But I ask one gift above all from you:
	I have a mother, of Priam’s ancient race, unhappy woman,
285	whom neither the land of Troy, nor King Acestes’s city
	could keep from accompanying me. I leave her now,
	ignorant of whatever risk to me there might be,
	and of my farewell, since ( this night and your 
	right hand bear witness) I could not bear 
290	a mother’s tears. But I beg you, comfort 
	her helplessness and aid her loss. Let me carry 
	this hope I place in you with me, I will meet all dangers 
	more boldly.’ Their spirits affected, the Trojans
	shed tears, noble Iulus above all, and this image 
295	of filial love touched his heart. Then he said:
	‘Be sure I’ll do everything worthy of your great venture.
	She’ll be as my mother to me, only lacking her name Creusa:
	no small gratitude’s due to her for bearing such a son.
	Whatever the outcome of your action, I swear by this life,
300	by which my father used once to swear: what I promised 
	to you when you return, your campaign successful,
	that same will accrue to your mother and your house.’ 
	So he spoke, in tears: and at the same time stripped the gilded
	sword from his shoulder, that Lycaon of Cnossos had made 
305	with marvellous art, and equipped for use with an ivory sheath.
	Mnestheus gave Nisus a pelt, taken from a shaggy lion,
	loyal Aletes exchanged helmets. They armed, and left 
	immediately: and the whole band of leaders, young and old,
	escorted them to the gate as they went, with prayers. 
310	And noble Iulus too, with mature mind and duties 
	beyond his years, gave them many commissions 
	to carry to his father: but the winds were to scatter 
	them all, and blow them vainly to the clouds.
	Leaving, they crossed the ditches, seeking the enemy camp
315	in the shadow of night, destined yet to first bring many deaths.
	They saw bodies in drunken sleep, stretched here and there 
	on the grass, chariots tilted upwards on the shore, men, among
	wheels and harness, and weapons and wine-cups lying about. 
	Nisus, Hyrtacus’s son, spoke first, saying: 
320	‘Euryalus, now the occasion truly calls for a daring 
	right hand. This is our road. You must see that no arm’s
	raised against us at our back, and keep watch carefully:
	I’ll deal destruction here, and cut you a wide path.’
	So he spoke, and checked his speech, and at once 
325	drove his sword at proud Rhamnes, who chanced to be
	breathing deeply in sleep, piled with thick coverlets,
	He was King Turnus’s best-beloved augur, and a king 
	himself, but he could not avert destruction with augury.
	Nisus killed three of his servants nearby, lying careless
330	among their weapons, and Remus’s armour bearer, and his charioteer, 
	found at the horses’ feet: he severed lolling necks with his sword. 
	Then he struck off the head of their lord himself, and left 
	the trunk spurting blood, the ground and the bed drenched 
	with dark warm blood. And Lamyrus too, and Lamum,
335	and young Serranus, noted for his beauty, 
	who had sported much that night, and lay there 
	limbs drowned by much wine –happy if he’d 
	carried on his game all night till dawn:
	So a starving lion churning through a full sheepfold, (driven 
340	by its raging hunger) gnaws and tears at the feeble flock 
	mute with fear, and roars from its bloodstained mouth.
	Nor was Euryalus’s slaughter any less: he too raged, ablaze,
	and among the nameless crowd he attacked Fadus,
	and Herbesus, and Abaris, while they were unconscious:
345	and Rhoetus, but Rhoetus was awake and saw it all,
	but crouched in fear behind a huge wine-bowl. As he rose, 
	in close encounter, Euryalus plunged his whole blade
	into Rhoetus’s chest, and withdrew it red with death. Rhoetus
	choked out his life in dark blood, and, dying, brought up wine
350	mixed with gore: the other pressed on fervently and stealthily.
	Now he approached Messapus’s followers: there he saw
	the outermost fires flickering, and the horses, duly tethered,
	cropping the grass: Nisus (seeing him carried away 
	by slaughter and love of the sword’s power) said briefly:
355	‘Let’s go, since unhelpful dawn is near. Enough: vengeance 
	has been satisfied: a path has been made through the enemy.’
	They left behind many of the men’s weapons 
	fashioned from solid silver, and wine-bowls and splendid hangings.
	Euryalus snatched Rhamnes’s trappings, and gold-studded
360	sword-belt, gifts that wealthy Caedicus had once sent to Remulus
	of Tibur, expressing friendship in absence: he when dying 
	gave them to his grandson as his own, and after his death in turn
	the Rutulians captured them during the war in battle: now
	Euryalus fitted them over his brave shoulders, though in vain. 
365	Then he put on Messapus’s excellent helmet with its handsome 
	plumes. The left the camp and headed for safety.
	Meanwhile riders arrived, sent out from the Latin city,
	while the rest of the army waited in readiness, 
	on the plain, bringing a reply for King Turnus:
370	three hundred, carrying shields, led by Volcens.
	They were already near the camp, and below the walls,
	when they saw the two men turning down a path on the left:
	his helmet, gleaming in the shadow of night, betrayed
	the unthinking Euryalus, and reflected back the rays.
375	It was not seen in vain. Volcens shouted from his column:
	‘You men, halt, what’s the reason for your journey? Who are you,
	 you’re armed? Where are you off to?’ They offered no response,
	but hastened their flight to the woods, trusting to the dark.
	The riders closed off the known junctions, on every side,
380	and surrounded each exit route with guards.
	The forest spread out widely, thick with brambles 
	and holm-oaks, the dense thorns filling it on every side:
	there the path glinted through the secret glades.
	Euryalus was hampered by shadowy branches, and the weight
385	of his plunder, and his fear confused the path’s direction.
	Nisus was clear: and already unaware had escaped the enemy,
	and was at the place later called Alba from Alba Longa
	(at that time King Latinus had his noble stalls there)
	when he stopped, and looked back vainly for his missing friend.
390	‘Euryalus, unhappy boy, where did I separate from you? 
	Which way shall I go?’ he said, considering all the tangled tracks
	of the deceptive wood, and at the same time scanning 
	the backward traces he could see, criss-crossing the silent thickets.
	He heard horses, heard the cries and signals of pursuit:
395	and it was no great time before a shout reached his ears
	and he saw Euryalus, betrayed by the ground and the night,
	confused by the sudden tumult, whom the whole troop
	were dragging away, overpowered, struggling violently in vain.
	What can he do? With what force, or weapons, can he dare 
400	to rescue the youth? Should he hurl himself to his death among
	the swords, and by his wounds hasten to a glorious end?
	He swiftly drew back his spear arm and gazing upwards
	at the moon above, prayed, with these words:
	‘O you, goddess, O you, Latona’s daughter, glory of the stars,
405	and keeper of the woods, be here and help us in our trouble.
	If ever my father, Hyrtacus, brought offerings on my behalf
	to your altars, if ever I added to them from my own hunting, 
	hung them beneath your dome, or fixed them to the sacred eaves,
	let me throw their troop into confusion, guide my spear through the air.’
410	He spoke and flung the steel, straining with his 
	whole body. The flying javelin divided the shadows, 
	struck Sulmo’s back, as he turned, 
	and snapped, the broken shaft piercing the heart.
	He rolled over, a hot stream pouring from his chest,
415	and deep gasps shook his sides, as he grew cold. 
	They gazed round them, in every direction. See, Nisus, 
	all the more eager, levelled another spear against his ear.
	While they hesitated, the javelin hissed through both
	of Tagus’s temples, and fixed itself still warm in the pierced
420	brain. Fierce Volcens raged, but could not spy out the author 
	of the act, nor any place that he could vent his fire.
	He rushed at Euryalus with his naked sword, as he
	cried out: ‘In the mean time you’ll pay in hot blood 
	and give me revenge for both your crimes.’
425	Then, truly maddened with fear, Nisus shouted aloud, unable
	to hide himself in the dark any longer, or endure such agony:
	‘On me, Rutulians, turn your steel on me, me who did the deed!
	The guilt is all mine, he neither dared nor had the power:
	the sky and the all-knowing stars be witnesses:
430	he only loved his unfortunate friend too much.’
	He was still speaking, but the sword, powerfully driven,
	passed through the ribs and tore the white breast.
	Euryalus rolled over in death, and the blood flowed 
	down his lovely limbs, and his neck, drooping, 
435	sank on his shoulder, like a bright flower scythed
	by the plough, bowing as it dies, or a poppy weighed 
	down by a chance shower, bending its weary head.
	But Nisus rushed at them, seeking Volcens 
	above all, intent on Volcens alone.
440	The enemy gathered round him, to drive him off,
	in hand to hand conflict. He attacked none the less, whirling 
	his sword like lightning, until he buried it full in the face
	of the shrieking Rutulian, and, dying, robbed his enemy of life. 
	Then, pierced through, he threw himself on the lifeless body
445	of his friend, and found peace at last in the calm of death.
	Happy pair! If my poetry has the power, 
	while the House of Aeneas lives beside the Capitol’s 
	immobile stone, and a Roman leader rules the Empire,
	no day will raze you from time’s memory.
450	The victorious Rutulians, gaining new plunder, and the spoils,
	weeping carried the lifeless Volcens to the camp.
	Nor was there less grief in that camp when Rhamnes
	was discovered, drained of blood, and so many other leaders,
	killed in a single slaughter, with Serranus and Numa. A huge 
455	crowd rushed towards the corpses and the dying, and the place
	fresh with hot killing, and foaming streams full of blood. 
	Between them they identified the spoils, Messapus’s 
	gleaming helmet, and his trappings re-won with such sweat.
	And now Aurora, early, leaving Tithonus’s saffron bed, 
460	sprinkled her fresh rays onto the earth. And now
	as the sun streamed down, now as day revealed all things,
	Turnus armed himself, and roused his heroes to arms:
	they gathered their bronze-clad troops for the battle,
	each his own, and whetted their anger with various tales.
465	They even fixed the heads of Euryalus and Nisus 
	on raised spears (wretched sight), and followed
	behind them, making a great clamour.
	The tough sons of Aeneas had fixed their opposing lines
	on the left side of the ramparts (the right bordered on the river)
470	and they held the wide ditches and stood grieving 
	on the high turrets: moved as one, made wretched by seeing the heads 
	of men they know only too well transfixed and streaming dark blood.
	Meanwhile winged Rumour, flying through the anxious town,
	sped the news, and stole to the ears of Euryalus’s mother.
475	And suddenly all warmth left her helpless bones,
	the shuttle was hurled from her hands, the thread unwound.
	The wretched woman rushed out and sought the ramparts
	and the front line, shrieking madly, her hair dishevelled:
	she ignored the soldiers, the danger, the weapons, 
480	then she filled the heavens with her lament:’
	‘Is it you I see, Euryalus? You who brought peace at last 
	to my old age, how could you bring yourself to leave me alone, 
	cruel child? Why did you not give your poor mother the chance 
	for a final goodbye when you were being sent into so much danger?
485	Ah, you lie here in a strange land, given as prey to the carrion 
	birds and dogs of Latium! I, your mother, did not escort you
	in funeral procession, or close your eyes, or bathe your wounds, 
	or shroud you with the robes I laboured at night and day 
	for you, soothing the cares of old age at the loom.
490	Where shall I go? What earth now holds your body,
	your torn limbs, your mangled corpse? My son, 
	is this what you bring home to me? Is this why I followed you
	by land and sea? O Rutulians, if you have feelings, pierce me: 
	hurl all your spears at me: destroy me above all with your steel:
495	or you, great father of the gods, pity me, and with 
	your lightning bolt, hurl this hated being down to Tartarus,
	since I can shatter this cruel life no other way.’
	This wailing shook their hearts, and a groan of sorrow swept 
	them all: their strength for battle was numbed and weakened.
500	She was igniting grief and Idaeus and Actor, 
	at Ilioneus’s order, with Iulus weeping bitterly, 
	caught her up, and carried her inside in their arms. 
	But the war-trumpet, with its bronze singing, rang out
	its terrible sound, a clamour followed, that the sky re-echoed.
505	The Volscians, raising their shields in line, ran forward,
	ready to fill in the ditches, and tear down the ramparts:
	Some tried for an entrance, and to scale the wall with ladders,
	where the ranks were thin, and a less dense cordon of men
	allowed the light through. The Trojans accustomed to defending
510	their walls by endless warfare, hurled missiles at them
	of every sort, and fended them off with sturdy poles.
	They rolled down stones too, deadly weights, 
	in the hope of breaking through the well-protected ranks,
	which under their solid shields, however, rejoiced
515	in enduring every danger. But soon even they were inadequate
	since the Trojans rolled a vast rock to where a large formation
	threatened, and hurled it down, felling the Rutulians 
	far and wide, and breaking their armoured shell. 
	The brave Rutulians no longer cared to fight blindly, 
520	but tried to clear the ramparts with missiles.
	Elsewhere, Mezentius, deadly to behold, brandished
	Tuscan pine, and hurled smoking firebrands:
	while Messapus, tamer of horses, scion of Neptune,
	tore at the rampart, and called for scaling ladders.
525	I pray to you, O Calliope, Muses, inspire my singing
	of the slaughter, the deaths Turnus dealt with his sword
	that day, and who each warrior was, that he sent down to Orcus,
	and open the lips of mighty war with me,
	[since, goddesses, you remember, and have the power to tell:]
530	There was a turret, tall to look at, with high access-ways,
	and a good position, that all the Italians tried with utmost power
	to storm, and to dislodge with the utmost power of their efforts:
	the Trojans in turn defended themselves with stones
	and hurled showers of missiles through the open loopholes.
535	Turnus was first to throw a blazing torch and root the flames
	in its flank, that, fanned by a strong wind, seized
	the planking, and clung to the entrances they devoured.
	The anxious men inside were afraid, and tried in vain
	to escape disaster. While they clung together and retreated
540	to the side free from damage, the turret suddenly 
	collapsed, and the whole sky echoed to the crash.
	Half-dead they fell to earth, the huge mass following,
	pierced by their own weapons, and their chests impaled 
	on the harsh wood. Only Helenor and Lycus managed 
545	to escape: Helenor being in the prime of youth, one
	whom a Licymnian slave had secretly borne to the Maeonian king,
	and sent to Troy, with weapons he’d been forbidden,
	lightly armed with naked blade, and anonymous white shield.
	When he found himself in the midst of Turnus’s thousands,
550	Latin ranks standing to right and left of him,
	as a wild creature, hedged in by a close circle of hunters,
	rages against theirs weapons, and hurls itself, consciously, 
	to death, and is carried by its leap on to the hunting spears,
	so the youth rushed to his death among the enemy,
555	and headed for where the weapons appeared thickest.
	But Lycus, quicker of foot, darting among the enemy
	and their arms reached the wall, and tried to grasp 
	the high parapet with his hands, to reach his comrades’ grasp.
	Turnus following him closely on foot, with his spear,
560	taunted in triumph: ‘Madman, did you hope to escape
	my reach?’ He seized him, there and then, as he hung,
	and pulled him down, with a large piece of the wall,
	like an eagle, carrier of Jove’s lightning bolt, soaring high,
	lifting a hare or the snow-white body of a swan in its talons,
565	or a wolf, Mars’s creature, snatching a lamb from the fold,
	that its mother searches for endlessly bleating. A shout rose
	on all sides: the Rutulians drove forwards, some filling the ditches 
	with mounds of earth, others throwing burning brands onto the roofs. 
	Ilioneus felled Lucetius with a rock, a vast fragment
570	of the hillside, as he neared the gate, carrying fire, 
	Liger killed Emathion, Asilas killed Corynaeus, the first skilled 
	with the javelin, the other with deceptive long-range arrows:
	Caenus felled Ortygius, Turnus victorious Caeneus, 
	and Itys and Clonius, Dioxippus and Promolus, 
575	and Sagaris, and Idas as he stood on the highest tower, 
	and Capys killed Privernus. Themillas had grazed him slightly first 
	with his spear, foolishly he threw his shield down, and placed his hand 
	on the wound: so the arrow winged silently, 
	fixed itself deep in his left side, and, burying itself within, 
580	tore the breathing passages with a lethal wound. 
	Arcens son stood there too in glorious armour, 
	his cloak embroidered with scenes, bright with Spanish blue,
	a youth of noble features, whom his father Arcens had sent,
	reared in Mars’s grove by Symaethus’s streams,
585	where the rich and gracious altars of Palicus stand:
	Mezentius, dropping his spears, whirled a whistling sling
	on its tight thong, three times round his head, and split 
	his adversary’s forehead open in the middle, with 
	the now-molten lead, stretching him full length in the deep sand.
590	Then they say Ascanius first aimed his swift arrows 
	in war, used till now to terrify wild creatures in flight,
	and with his hand he felled brave Numanus,
	who was surnamed Remulus, and had 
	lately won Turnus’s sister as his wife.
595	Numanus marched ahead of the front rank, shouting words 
	that were fitting and unfitting to repeat, his heart swollen 
	with new-won royalty and boasting loudly of his greatness:
	‘Twice conquered Trojans aren’t you ashamed to be besieged
	and shut behind ramparts again, fending off death with walls?
600	Behold, these are the men who’d demand our brides through war!
	What god, what madness has driven you to Italy?
	Here are no Atrides, no Ulysses, maker of fictions:
	a race from hardy stock, we first bring our newborn sons 
	to the river, and toughen them with the water’s fierce chill:
605	as children they keep watch in the chase, and weary the forest,
	their play is to wheel their horses and shoot arrows from the bow:
	but patient at work, and used to little, our young men
	tame the earth with the hoe, or shake cities in battle.
	All our life we’re abraded by iron: we goad our bullocks’
610	flanks with a reversed spear, and slow age
	doesn’t weaken our strength of spirit, or alter our vigour:
	we set a helmet on our white hairs, and delight
	in collecting fresh spoils, and living on plunder.
	You wear embroidered saffron and gleaming purple,
615	idleness pleases you, you delight in the enjoyment of dance,
	and your tunics have sleeves, and your hats have ribbons.
	O truly you Phrygian women, as you’re not Phrygian men, run over the heights 
	of Dindymus, where a double-reed makes music for accustomed ears. 
	The timbrels call to you, and the Berecynthian boxwood flute of the 
620	Mother of Ida: leave weapons to men and abandon the sword.’
	Ascanius did not tolerate such boastful words 
	and dire warnings, but facing him, fitted an arrow 
	to the horsehair string, and, straining his arms apart, 
	paused, and first prayed humbly to Jove, making these vows: 
625	‘All-powerful Jupiter, assent to my bold attempt.
	I myself will bring gifts each year to your temple,
	and I’ll place before your altar a snow-white bullock 
	with gilded forehead, carrying his head as high as his mother,
	already butting with his horns, and scattering sand with his hooves.’
630	The Father heard, and thundered on the left 
	from a clear sky, as one the fatal bow twanged.
	The taut arrow sped onwards with a dreadful hiss,
	and passed through Remulus’s brow, and split the hollow
	temples with its steel. ‘Go on, mock at virtue with proud words!
635	This is the reply the twice-conquered Phrygians send the Rutulians’:
	Ascanius said nothing more. The Trojans followed this 
	with cheers, shouted for joy, and raised their spirits to the skies.
	Now, by chance, long-haired Apollo, seated in the cloudy
	skies, looked down on the Italian ranks and the town,
640	and spoke to the victorious Iulus as follows:
	‘Blessings on your fresh courage, boy, scion of gods and ancestor 
	of gods yet to be, so it is man rises to the stars. All the wars that destiny 
	might bring will rightly cease under the rule of Assaracus’s house,
	Troy does not limit you.’ With this he launched himself
645	from high heaven, parted the living air, and found 
	Ascanius: then changed the form of his features
	to old Butes. He was once armour-bearer to Trojan 
	Anchises, and faithful guardian of the threshold:
	then Ascanius’s father made him the boy’s companion.
650	As he walked Apollo was like the old man in every way,
	in voice and colouring, white hair, and clanging of harsh 
	weapons, and he spoke these words to the ardent Iulus:
	‘Enough, son of Aeneas, that Numanus has fallen to your bow
	and is un-avenged. Mighty Apollo grants you this first glory,
655	and does not begrudge you your like weapons:
	but avoid the rest of the battle, boy.’ So Apollo 
	spoke and in mid-speech left mortal sight 
	and vanished far from men’s eyes into clear air. 
	The Trojan princes recognised the god and his celestial 
660	weapons, and heard his quiver rattling as he flew.
	So, given the god’s words and his divine will, they stopped
	Ascanius, eager for the fight, while themselves returning 
	to the battle, and openly putting their lives at risk.
	The clamour rang through the towers along the whole wall,
665	they bent their bows quickly and whirled their slings.
	The whole earth was strewn with spears: shields and hollow
	helmets clanged as they clashed together, the battle grew fierce: 
	vast as a rainstorm from the west, lashing the ground 
	beneath watery Auriga, and dense as the hail the clouds hurl
670	into the waves, when Jupiter, bristling with southerlies,
	twirls the watery tempest, and bursts the sky’s cavernous vapours.
	Pandarus and Bitias, sons of Alcanor from Ida, whom Iaera 
	the wood-nymph bore in Jupiter’s grove, youths tall 
	as the pine-trees on their native hills, threw open the gate
675	entrusted to them by their leader’s command, and, relying on
	their weapons, drew the Rutulian enemy within the walls.
	They themselves stood in the gate, in front of the towers to right
	and left, steel armoured, with plumes waving on their noble heads:
	just as twin oaks rise up into the air, by flowing rivers,
680	on the banks of the Po, or by delightful Athesis, 
	lifting their shaggy heads to the sky, 
	and nodding their tall crowns.
	When they saw the entrance clear the Rutulians rushed through.
	At once Quercens and Aquicolus, handsome in his armour,
685	Tmarus, impulsive at heart, and Haemon, a son of Mars,
	were routed with all their Rutulian ranks, and took to their heels,
	or laid down their lives on the very threshold of the gate.
	Then the anger grew fiercer in their fighting spirits,
	and soon the Trojans gathering massed in the same place,
690	and dared to fight hand to hand, and advance further outside. 
	The news reached Turnus, the Rutulian leader, as he raged
	and troubled the lines in a distant part of the field, that the enemy,
	hot with fresh slaughter, were laying their doors wide open.
	He left what he had begun, and, roused to savage fury,
695	he ran towards the Trojan gate, and the proud brothers.
	And first he brought Antiphates down with a spear throw,
	(since he was first to advance), bastard son of noble Sarpedon
	by a Theban mother: the Italian cornel-wood shaft flew through
	the clear air and, fixing in his belly, ran deep up into his chest:
700	the hollow of the dark wound released a foaming flow,
	and the metal became warm in the pierced lung.
	Then he overthrew Meropes and Erymas with his hand,
	and then Aphidnus, then Bitias, fire in his eyes, clamour
	in his heart, not to a spear (he would never have lost his life
705	to a spear) but a javelin arrived with a great hiss, hurled
	and driven like a thunderbolt, that neither two bulls’ hides 
	nor the faithful breastplate with double scales of gold
	could resist: the mighty limbs collapsed and fell,
	earth groaned and the huge shield clanged above him.
710	So a rock pile sometimes falls on Baiae’s Euboic shore,
	first constructed of huge blocks, then toppled into the sea:
	as it falls it trails havoc behind, tumbles into the shallows
	and settles in the depths: the sea swirls in confusion, 
	and the dark sand rises upwards, then Procida’s 
715	lofty island trembles at the sound and Ischia’s isle’s
	harsh floor, laid down over Typhoeus, at Jove’s command.
	At this Mars, powerful in war, gave the Latins strength
	and courage, and twisted his sharp goad in their hearts,
	and sent Rout and dark Fear against the Trojans. 
720	Given the chance for action, the Latins came together
	from every side, and the god of battle possessed their souls.
	Pandarus, seeing his brother’s fallen corpse, and which side
	fortune was on, and what fate was driving events,
	pushed with a mighty heave of his broad shoulders
725	and swung the gate on its hinges, leaving many a comrade
	locked outside the wall in the cruel conflict: but the rest
	he greeted as they rushed in and shut in there, with himself,
	foolishly, not seeing the Rutulian king bursting through
	among the mass, freely closing him inside the town,
730	like a huge tiger among a helpless herd.
	At once fresh fire flashed from Turnus’s eyes
	his weapons clashed fearfully, the blood-red plumes
	on his helmet quivered, and lightning glittered from his shield.
	In sudden turmoil the sons of Aeneas recognised that hated form
735	and those huge limbs. Then great Pandarus sprang forward,
	blazing with anger at his brother’s death, shouting:
	This is not Queen Amata’s palace, given in dowry, or the heart 
	of Ardea, surrounding Turnus with his native walls.
	You see an enemy camp: you can’t escape from here.’
740	Turnus, smiling, his thoughts calm, replied to him:
	‘Come then, if there’s courage in your heart, close with me:
	 you can go tell Priam that, here too, you found an Achilles.’
	He spoke. Pandarus, straining with all his force, hurled 
	his spear rough with knots and un-stripped bark:
745	the wind took it, Saturnian Juno deflected 
	the imminent blow, and the spear stuck fast in the gate.
	Turnus cried: ‘But you’ll not escape this weapon
	my right arm wields with power, the source of this weapon 
	and wound is not such as you.’: and he towered up, his sword
750	lifted, and, with the blade, cleft the forehead in two between 
	the temples, down to the beardless jaw, in an evil wound.
	There was a crash: the ground shook under the vast weight.
	Pandarus, dying, lowered his failing limbs and brain-spattered
	weapons to the ground, and his skull split in half 
755	hung down on either side over both his shoulders.
	The Trojans turned and fled in sudden terror,
	and if Turnus had thought at once to burst the bolts
	by force, and let in his comrades through the gates,
	that would have been the end of the war and the nation.
760	But rage and insane desire for slaughter drove him,
	passionate, against the enemy. 
	First he caught Phaleris and Gyges whom he hamstrung, 
	then flung their spears, which he seized, at the backs 
	of the fleeing crowd. Juno aided him in strength and spirit. 
765	He sent Halys and Phegeus, his shield pierced, to join them, 
	then Alcander and Halius, Noemon and Prytanis
	unawares, as they roused those on the walls to battle.
	As Lynceus calling to his comrades moved towards him,
	he anticipated him with a stroke of his glittering sword
770	from the right-hand rampart, Lynceus’s head, severed
	by the single blow at close quarters, fell to the ground
	with the helmet some distance away. Then Amycus, that threat to wild creatures, 
	than whom none was better at coating spears and arming steel with poison,
	and Clytius, son of Aeolus, and Cretheus, friend to the Muses,
775	Cretheus the Muses’ follower, to whom song and lyre
	and striking measures on the strings were always a delight,
	always he sang of horses, of soldiers’ weapons and battles.
	At last the Trojan leaders, Mnestheus and brave Serestus,
	hearing of this slaughter of their men, arrived to see 
780	their troops scattered and the enemy within. 
	Mnestheus shouted: ‘Where are you running to, off where?
	What other walls or battlements do you have, but these? 
	O citizens, shall one man, hemmed in on all sides by ramparts,
	cause such carnage through this our city, and go unpunished? 
785	Shall he send so many of our noblest youths to Orcus?
	Cowards, have you no pity, no shame, for your wretched 
	country, for your ancient gods, for great Aeneas?’
	Inflamed by such words they were strengthened, and they halted,
	densely packed. Turnus little by little retreated from the fight,
790	heading for the river, and a place embraced by the waves.
	The Trojans pressed towards him more fiercely, with a great clamour,
	and massed together, as a crowd of hunters with levelled spears
	close in on a savage lion: that, fearful but fierce, 
	glaring in anger, gives ground, though fury and courage 
795	won’t let it turn its back, nor will men 
	and spears allow it to attack, despite its wish. 
	So Turnus wavering retraced his steps 
	cautiously, his mind seething with rage.
	Even then he charged amongst the enemy twice,
800	and twice sent them flying a confused rabble along the walls:
	but the whole army quickly gathered en masse from the camp,
	and Saturnian Juno didn’t dare empower him against them,
	since Jupiter sent Iris down through the air from heaven,
	carrying no gentle commands for his sister, 
805	if Turnus did not leave the high Trojan ramparts. 
	Therefore the warrior, overwhelmed 
	by so many missiles hurled from every side, couldn’t so much as 
	hold his own with shield and sword-arm. The helmet protecting
	his hollow temples rang with endless noise, the solid bronze gaped
810	from the hail of stones, his crest was torn off, and his shield-boss
	couldn’t withstand the blows: the Trojans, with deadly Mnestheus 
	himself, redoubled their rain of javelins. Then the sweat ran all over
	Turnus’s body, and flowed in a dark stream (he’d no time to breathe)
	and an agonised panting shook his exhausted body.
815	Then, finally, leaping headlong, he plunged down into the river
	in full armour. The Tiber welcomed him to its yellow flood 
	as he fell, lifted him on its gentle waves, and, washing away
	the blood, returned him, overjoyed, to his friends.