The Aeneid Virgil (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) đ
- Author: Virgil
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Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man.
But, in another part, thâ Arcadian horse
With ill success engage the Latin force:
For, where thâ impetuous torrent, rushing down,
Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown,
They left their coursers, and, unusâd to fight
On foot, were scatterâd in a shameful flight.
Pallas, who with disdain and grief had viewâd
His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued,
Usâd threatânings mixâd with prayârs, his last resource,
With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force
âWhich way, companions? whether would you run?
By you yourselves, and mighty battles won,
By my great sire, by his establishâd name,
And early promise of my future fame;
By my youth, emulous of equal right
To share his honoursâ âshun ignoble flight!
Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way
Throâ yon black body, and that thick array:
âTis throâ that forward path that we must come;
There lies our way, and that our passage home.
Nor powârs above, nor destinies below
Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go,
With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.
See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore,
The sea behind, our enemies before;
No passage left, unless we swim the main;
Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain.â
This said, he strode with eager haste along,
And bore amidst the thickest of the throng.
Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe,
Had heavâd a stone of mighty weight, to throw:
Stooping, the spear descended on his chine,
Just where the bone distinguished either loin:
It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay,
That scarce the victor forcâd the steel away.
Hisbon came on: but, while he movâd too slow
To wishâd revenge, the prince prevents his blow;
For, warding his at once, at once he pressâd,
And plungâd the fatal weapon in his breast.
Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust,
Who stainâd his stepdamâs bed with impious lust.
And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain,
Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain;
So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size,
As causâd an error in their parentsâ eyesâ â
Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides
The nice distinction, and their fate divides:
For Thymbrusâ head was loppâd; and Larisâ hand,
Dismemberâd, sought its owner on the strand:
The trembling fingers yet the falchion strain,
And threaten still thâ intended stroke in vain.
Now, to renew the charge, thâ Arcadians came:
Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame,
And grief, with anger mixâd, their minds inflame.
Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain,
Who chancâd, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain:
The flying spear was after Ilus sent;
But Rhoeteus happenâd on a death unmeant:
From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled,
The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead:
Rollâd from his chariot with a mortal wound,
And intercepted fate, he spurnâd the ground.
As when, in summer, welcome winds arise,
The watchful shepherd to the forest flies,
And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads,
And catching flames infect the neighbâring heads;
Around the forest flies the furious blast,
And all the leafy nation sinks at last,
And Vulcan rides in triumph oâer the waste;
The pastor, pleasâd with his dire victory,
Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky:
So Pallasâ troops their scatterâd strength unite,
And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight.
Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood;
But first collected in his arms he stood:
Advancing then, he plied the spear so well,
Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell.
Around his head he tossâd his glittâring brand,
And from Strymonius hewâd his better hand,
Held up to guard his throat; then hurlâd a stone
At Thoasâ ample front, and piercâd the bone:
It struck beneath the space of either eye;
And blood, and mingled brains, together fly.
Deep skillâd in future fates, Halesusâ sire
Did with the youth to lonely groves retire:
But, when the fatherâs mortal race was run,
Dire destiny laid hold upon the son,
And haulâd him to the war, to find, beneath
Thâ Evandrian spear, a memorable death.
Pallas thâ encounter seeks, but, ere he throws,
To Tuscan Tiber thus addressâd his vows:
âO sacred stream, direct my flying dart,
And give to pass the proud Halesusâ heart!
His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear.â
Pleasâd with the bribe, the god receivâd his prayâr:
For, while his shield protects a friend distressâd,
The dart came driving on, and piercâd his breast.
But Lausus, no small portion of the war,
Permits not panic fear to reign too far,
Causâd by the death of so renownâd a knight;
But by his own example cheers the fight.
Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay
Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day.
The Phrygian troops escapâd the Greeks in vain:
They, and their mixâd allies, now load the plain.
To the rude shock of war both armies came;
Their leaders equal, and their strength the same.
The rear so pressâd the front, they could not wield
Their angry weapons, to dispute the field.
Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there:
Of equal youth and beauty both appear,
But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air.
Their congress in the field great Jove withstands:
Both doomâd to fall, but fall by greater hands.
Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief
Of Laususâ danger, urging swift relief.
With his drivân chariot he divides the crowd,
And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud:
âLet none presume his needless aid to join;
Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine:
To this right hand is Pallas only due;
O were his father here, my just revenge to view!â
From the forbidden space his men retirâd.
Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admirâd;
Surveyâd him oâer and oâer with wondâring sight,
Struck with his haughty mien, and towâring height.
Then to the king: âYour empty vaunts forbear;
Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear;
Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name;
Jove is impartial, and to both the same.â
He said, and to the void advancâd his pace:
Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face.
Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light,
Addressâd himself on foot to single fight.
And, as a lionâ âwhen he spies from far
A bull that seems to meditate the war,
Bending his neck, and spurning back the sandâ â
Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand:
Imagine eager Turnus not more slow,
To rush from high on his unequal foe.
Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance
Within due distance of his flying lance,
Prepares to charge him first, resolvâd to try
If fortune would his want of force supply;
And thus to Heavân and Hercules addressâd:
âAlcides,
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