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Turnus no lingering knows, but fiercely hurls
his whole line on the Teucrians, and makes stand
along the shore. Now peals the trumpet's call.
Aeneas in the van led on his troop
against the rustic foe, bright augury
for opening war, and laid the Latins low,
slaughtering Theron, a huge chief who dared
offer Aeneas battle; through the scales
of brazen mail and corselet stiff with gold
the sword drove deep, and gored the gaping side.
Then smote he Lichas, from his mother's womb
ripped in her dying hour, and unto thee,
O Phoebus, vowed, because his infant days
escaped the fatal steel. Hard by him fell
stout Cisseus and gigantic Gyas; these
to death were hurled, while with their knotted clubs
they slew opposing hosts; but naught availed
Herculean weapons, nor their mighty hands,
or that Melampus was their sire, a peer
of Hercules, what time in heavy toils
through earth he roved. See next how Pharon boasts!
But while he vainly raves, the whirling spear
smites full on his loud mouth. And also thou,
Cydon, wast by the Trojan stroke o'erthrown,
while following in ill-omened haste the steps
of Clytius, thy last joy, whose round cheek wore
its youthful golden down: soon hadst thou lain
in death, unheeding of thy fancies fond
which ever turned to youth;—but now arose
the troop of all thy brothers, Phorcus' sons,
a close array of seven, and seven spears
they hurled: some from Aeneas' helm or shield
glanced off in vain; some Venus' kindly power,
just as they touched his body, turned away.
Aeneas then to true Achates cried:
“Bring on my spears: not one shall fruitless fly
against yon Rutules, even as they pierced
the breasts of Greeks upon the Ilian plain.”
Then one great shaft he seized and threw; it sped
straight into Maeon's brazen shield, and clove
his mail-clad heart. Impetuous to his aid
brother Alcanor came, and lifted up
with strong right hand his brother as he fell:
but through his arm a second skilful shaft
made bloody way, and by the sinews held
the lifeless right hand from the shoulder swung.
Then from his brother's body Numitor
the weapon plucked and hurled it, furious,
upon Aeneas; but it could not strike
the hero's self, and grazed along the thigh
of great Achates.

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load focus Notes (Georgius Thilo, 1881)
load focus Notes (John Conington, 1876)
load focus Latin (J. B. Greenough, 1900)
load focus English (John Dryden)
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