But the
terrible
trumpet-note afar rang on the shrill brass; a shout
follows, and is echoed from the sky.
follows, and is echoed from the sky.
Virgil - Aeneid
Meanwhile Rumour on fluttering wings rushes with the news through
the alarmed town and glides to the ears of Euryalus' mother. But
instantly the warmth leaves her woeful body, the shuttle starts from her
hand and the threads unroll. She darts forth in agony, and with woman's
wailing and torn hair runs distractedly towards the walls and the
foremost columns, recking naught of men, naught of peril or weapons;
thereon she fills the air with her complaint: 'Is it thus I behold thee,
O Euryalus? Couldst thou, the latest solace of mine age, leave me alone
so cruelly? nor when sent into such danger was one last word of thee
allowed thine unhappy mother? Alas, thou liest in a strange land, given
for a prey to the dogs and fowls of Latium! nor was I, thy mother, there
for chief mourner, to lay thee out or close thine eyes or wash thy
wounds, and cover thee with the garment I hastened on for thee whole
nights and days, an anxious old woman taking comfort from the loom.
Whither shall I follow? or what land now holds thy mangled corpse, thy
body torn limb from limb? Is this all of what thou wert that returns to
me, O my son? is it this I have followed by land and sea? Strike me
through of your pity, on me cast all your weapons, Rutulians; make me
the first sacrifice of your steel. Or do thou, mighty lord of heaven, be
merciful, and with thine own weapon hurl this hateful life to the nether
deep, since in no wise else may I break away from life's cruelty. ' At
this weeping cry their courage falters, and a sigh of sorrow passes all
along; their strength is benumbed and broken for battle. Her, while
[500-535]her grief kindled, at Ilioneus' and weeping Iulus' bidding
Idaeus and Actor catch up and carry home in their arms.
But the terrible trumpet-note afar rang on the shrill brass; a shout
follows, and is echoed from the sky. The Volscians hasten up in even
line under their advancing roof of shields, and set to fill up the
trenches and tear down the palisades. Some seek entrance by scaling the
walls with ladders, where the defenders' battle-line is thin, and light
shows through gaps in the ring of men. The Teucrians in return shower
weapons of every sort, and push them down with stiff poles, practised by
long warfare in their ramparts' defence: and fiercely hurl heavy stones,
so be they may break the shielded line; while they, crowded under their
shell, lightly bear all the downpour. But now they fail; for where the
vast mass presses close, the Teucrians roll a huge block tumbling down
that makes a wide gap in the Rutulians and crashes through their
armour-plating. Nor do the bold Rutulians care longer to continue the
blind fight, but strive to clear the rampart with missiles. . . .
Elsewhere in dreadful guise Mezentius brandishes his Etruscan pine and
hurls smoking brands; but Messapus, tamer of horses, seed of Neptune,
tears away the palisading and calls for ladders to the ramparts.
Thy sisterhood, O Calliope, I pray inspire me while I sing the
destruction spread then and there by Turnus' sword, the deaths dealt
from his hand, and whom each warrior sent down to the under world; and
unroll with me the broad borders of war.
A tower loomed vast with lofty gangways at a point of vantage; this all
the Italians strove with main strength to storm, and set all their might
and device to overthrow it; the Trojans in return defended it with
stones and hurled showers of darts through the loopholes. Turnus,
leading the attack, threw a blazing torch that caught flaming on the
[536-570]side wall; swoln by the wind, the flame seized the planking
and clung devouring to the standards. Those within, in hurry and
confusion, desire retreat from their distress; in vain; while they
cluster together and fall back to the side free from the destroyer, the
tower sinks prone under the sudden weight with a crash that thunders
through all the sky. Pierced by their own weapons, and impaled on hard
splinters of wood, they come half slain to the ground with the vast mass
behind them. Scarcely do Helenor alone and Lycus struggle out; Helenor
in his early prime, whom a slave woman of Licymnos bore in secret to the
Maeonian king, and sent to Troy in forbidden weapons, lightly armed with
sheathless sword and white unemblazoned shield.
the alarmed town and glides to the ears of Euryalus' mother. But
instantly the warmth leaves her woeful body, the shuttle starts from her
hand and the threads unroll. She darts forth in agony, and with woman's
wailing and torn hair runs distractedly towards the walls and the
foremost columns, recking naught of men, naught of peril or weapons;
thereon she fills the air with her complaint: 'Is it thus I behold thee,
O Euryalus? Couldst thou, the latest solace of mine age, leave me alone
so cruelly? nor when sent into such danger was one last word of thee
allowed thine unhappy mother? Alas, thou liest in a strange land, given
for a prey to the dogs and fowls of Latium! nor was I, thy mother, there
for chief mourner, to lay thee out or close thine eyes or wash thy
wounds, and cover thee with the garment I hastened on for thee whole
nights and days, an anxious old woman taking comfort from the loom.
Whither shall I follow? or what land now holds thy mangled corpse, thy
body torn limb from limb? Is this all of what thou wert that returns to
me, O my son? is it this I have followed by land and sea? Strike me
through of your pity, on me cast all your weapons, Rutulians; make me
the first sacrifice of your steel. Or do thou, mighty lord of heaven, be
merciful, and with thine own weapon hurl this hateful life to the nether
deep, since in no wise else may I break away from life's cruelty. ' At
this weeping cry their courage falters, and a sigh of sorrow passes all
along; their strength is benumbed and broken for battle. Her, while
[500-535]her grief kindled, at Ilioneus' and weeping Iulus' bidding
Idaeus and Actor catch up and carry home in their arms.
But the terrible trumpet-note afar rang on the shrill brass; a shout
follows, and is echoed from the sky. The Volscians hasten up in even
line under their advancing roof of shields, and set to fill up the
trenches and tear down the palisades. Some seek entrance by scaling the
walls with ladders, where the defenders' battle-line is thin, and light
shows through gaps in the ring of men. The Teucrians in return shower
weapons of every sort, and push them down with stiff poles, practised by
long warfare in their ramparts' defence: and fiercely hurl heavy stones,
so be they may break the shielded line; while they, crowded under their
shell, lightly bear all the downpour. But now they fail; for where the
vast mass presses close, the Teucrians roll a huge block tumbling down
that makes a wide gap in the Rutulians and crashes through their
armour-plating. Nor do the bold Rutulians care longer to continue the
blind fight, but strive to clear the rampart with missiles. . . .
Elsewhere in dreadful guise Mezentius brandishes his Etruscan pine and
hurls smoking brands; but Messapus, tamer of horses, seed of Neptune,
tears away the palisading and calls for ladders to the ramparts.
Thy sisterhood, O Calliope, I pray inspire me while I sing the
destruction spread then and there by Turnus' sword, the deaths dealt
from his hand, and whom each warrior sent down to the under world; and
unroll with me the broad borders of war.
A tower loomed vast with lofty gangways at a point of vantage; this all
the Italians strove with main strength to storm, and set all their might
and device to overthrow it; the Trojans in return defended it with
stones and hurled showers of darts through the loopholes. Turnus,
leading the attack, threw a blazing torch that caught flaming on the
[536-570]side wall; swoln by the wind, the flame seized the planking
and clung devouring to the standards. Those within, in hurry and
confusion, desire retreat from their distress; in vain; while they
cluster together and fall back to the side free from the destroyer, the
tower sinks prone under the sudden weight with a crash that thunders
through all the sky. Pierced by their own weapons, and impaled on hard
splinters of wood, they come half slain to the ground with the vast mass
behind them. Scarcely do Helenor alone and Lycus struggle out; Helenor
in his early prime, whom a slave woman of Licymnos bore in secret to the
Maeonian king, and sent to Troy in forbidden weapons, lightly armed with
sheathless sword and white unemblazoned shield.
