questioning, as she in seeming clad
Of that Metiscus, all the rule of battle-chariot had,
And steeds and bridle:
"Hereaway, O Turnus, drive we on
The sons of Troy; where victory shows a road that may be won:
For other hands there are, belike, the houses to defend.
AEneas falls on Italy, and there doth battle blend;
So let our hands give cruel death to Teucrian men this day,
No less in tale: so shalt thou hold thine honour in the fray." 630

But Turnus sayeth thereunto:
"Sister, I knew thee long ago, when first by art and craft
Thou brok'st the troth-plight, and therewith amidst the battle went;
And now thou hidest God in vain. But whose will thee hath sent
From high Olympus' house to bear such troubles, and so great?
Was it to see thy brother's end and most unhappy fate?
For what do I? What heal is left in aught that may befall?
Mine eyes beheld Murranus die, on me I heard him call:
No dearer man in all the world is left me for a friend:
Woe's me I that mighty man of men a mighty death must end. 640
Ufens is dead, unhappy too lest he our shame behold;
E'en as I speak the Teucrians ward his arms and body cold.
And now--the one shame wanting yet--shall I stand deedless by
Their houses' wrack, nor let my sword cast back that Drances' lie?
Shall I give back, and shall this land see craven Turnus fled?
Is death, then, such a misery? O rulers of the dead,
Be kind! since now the high God's heart is turned away from me;
A hallowed soul I go adown, guiltless of infamy,
Not all unworthy of the great, my sires of long ago."

Scarce had he said when, here behold, from midmost of the foe, 650
Comes Saces on his foaming steed, an arrow in his face,
Who, crying prayers on Turnus' name, onrusheth to the place:
"Turnus, in thee our last hope lies! pity thy wretched folk!
AEneas thundereth battle there, and threateneth with his stroke
The overthrow of tower and town, and wrack of Italy.
The flames are flying toward the roofs; all mouths of Latins cry
On thee; all eyes are turned to thee: yea, the king wavereth there,
Whom shall he call his son-in-law, to whom for friendship fare.
The Queen to wit, thy faithfullest, is dead by her own hand,
And, fearful of the things to come, hath left the daylight land. 660
Messapus and Atinas keen