No More Learning

. . 'Not Diomede's horses dost thou discern, nor Achilles'
chariot, nor the plains of Phrygia: now on this soil of ours the war and
thy life shall end together. ' Thus fly mad Liger's random words. But not
in words does the Trojan hero frame his reply: for he hurls his javelin
at the foe. As Lucagus spurred on his horses, bending forward over the
whip, with left foot advanced ready for battle, the spear passes through
the lower rim of his shining shield and pierces his left groin, knocks
him out of the chariot, and stretches him in death on the fields. To him
good Aeneas speaks in bitter words: 'Lucagus, no slackness in thy
coursers' flight hath betrayed thee, or vain shadow of the foe turned
them back; thyself thou leapest off the harnessed wheels. ' In such wise
he spoke, and caught the horses. His brother, slipping down from the
chariot, pitiably outstretched helpless hands: 'Ah, by the parents who
gave thee birth, great Trojan, spare this life and pity my prayer. ' More
he was pleading; but Aeneas: 'Not such were the words thou wert
uttering. Die, and be brother undivided from brother. ' With that his
sword's point pierces the breast where the life lies hid. Thus the
Dardanian captain dealt death over the plain, like some raging torrent
stream or black whirlwind. At last the boy Ascanius and his troops burst
through the ineffectual leaguer and issue from the camp.

Meanwhile Jupiter breaks silence to accost Juno: 'O sister and wife best
beloved, it is Venus, as thou deemedst, [609-639]nor is thy judgment
astray, who sustains the forces of Troy; not their own valour of hand in
war, and untamable spirit and endurance in peril.
' To whom Juno
beseechingly:

'Why, fair my lord, vexest thou one sick at heart and trembling at thy
bitter words? If that force were in my love that once was, and that was
well, never had thine omnipotence denied me leave to withdraw Turnus
from battle and preserve him for his father Daunus in safety. Now let
him perish, and pay forfeit to the Trojans of his innocent blood. Yet he
traces his birth from our name, and Pilumnus was his father in the
fourth generation, and oft and again his bountiful hand hath heaped thy
courts with gifts. '

To her the king of high heaven thus briefly spoke: 'If thy prayer for
him is delay of present death and respite from his fall, and thou dost
understand that I ordain it thus, remove thy Turnus in flight, and
snatch him from the fate that is upon him. For so much indulgence there
is room. But if any ampler grace mask itself in these thy prayers, and
thou dreamest of change in the whole movement of the war, idle is the
hope thou nursest. '

And Juno, weeping: 'Ah yet, if thy mind were gracious where thy lips are
stern, and this gift of life might remain confirmed to Turnus! Now his
portion is bitter and guiltless death, or I wander idly from the truth.
Yet, oh that I rather deluded myself with false alarms, and thou who
canst wouldst bend thy course to better counsels. '

These words uttered, she darted through the air straight from high
heaven, cloud-girt in driving tempest, and sought the Ilian ranks and
camp of Laurentum. Then the goddess, strange and ominous to see,
fashions into the likeness of Aeneas a thin and pithless shade of hollow
mist, decks it with Dardanian weapons, and gives it the mimicry of
shield and divine helmet plume, gives unsubstantial [640-673]words and
senseless utterance, and the mould and motion of his tread: like shapes
rumoured to flit when death is past, or dreams that delude the
slumbering senses. But in front of the battle-ranks the phantom dances
rejoicingly, and with arms and mocking accents provokes the foe. Turnus
hastens up and sends his spear whistling from far on it; it gives back
and turns its footsteps. Then indeed Turnus, when he believed Aeneas
turned and fled from him, and his spirit madly drank in the illusive
hope: 'Whither fliest thou, Aeneas? forsake not thy plighted bridal
chamber.