Ah, what
slaughter
awaits the wretched Laurentines!
Virgil - Aeneid
" At that, terrified by the divine warning, the Etruscan lines
have encamped on the plain; Tarchon himself hath sent ambassadors to me
with the crown [506-539]and sceptre of the kingdom, and offers the
royal attire will I but enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene realm.
But old age, frozen to dulness, and exhausted with length of life,
denies me the load of empire, and my prowess is past its day. I would
urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother
make this half his native land. Thou, to whose years and race alike the
fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a
leader supreme in bravery over Teucrians and Italians. Mine own Pallas
likewise, our hope and comfort, I will send with thee; let him grow used
to endure warfare and the stern work of battle under thy teaching, to
regard thine actions, and from his earliest years look up to thee. To
him will I give two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the choice of our warlike
strength, and Pallas as many more to thee in his own name. '
Scarce had he ended; Aeneas, son of Anchises, and trusty Achates gazed
with steadfast face, and, sad at heart, were revolving inly many a
labour, had not the Cytherean sent a sign from the clear sky. For
suddenly a flash and peal comes quivering from heaven, and all seemed in
a moment to totter, and the Tyrrhene trumpet-blast to roar along the
sky. They look up; again and yet again the heavy crash re-echoes. They
see in the serene space of sky armour gleam red through a cloud in the
clear air, and ring clashing out. The others stood in amaze; but the
Trojan hero knew the sound for the promise of his goddess mother; then
he speaks: 'Ask not, O friend, ask not in any wise what fortune this
presage announces; it is I who am summoned of heaven. This sign the
goddess who bore me foretold she would send if war assailed, and would
bring through the air to my succour armour from Vulcan's hands. . . .
Ah, what slaughter awaits the wretched Laurentines! what a price, O
Turnus, wilt thou pay me! how many shields and helmets and brave bodies
of men shalt thou, [540-573]Lord Tiber, roll under thy waves! Let them
call for armed array and break the league! '
These words uttered, he rises from the high seat, and first wakes with
fresh fire the slumbering altars of Hercules, and gladly draws nigh his
tutelar god of yesternight and the small deities of the household. Alike
Evander, and alike the men of Troy, offer up, as is right, choice sheep
of two years old. Thereafter he goes to the ships and revisits his crew,
of whose company he chooses the foremost in valour to attend him to war;
the rest glide down the water and float idly with the descending stream,
to come with news to Ascanius of his father's state. They give horses to
the Teucrians who seek the fields of Tyrrhenia; a chosen one is brought
for Aeneas, housed in a tawny lion skin that glitters with claws of
gold. Rumour flies suddenly, spreading over the little town, that they
ride in haste to the courts of the Tyrrhene king. Mothers redouble their
prayers in terror, as fear treads closer on peril and the likeness of
the War God looms larger in sight. Then Evander, clasping the hand of
his departing son, clings to him weeping inconsolably, and speaks thus:
'Oh, if Jupiter would restore me the years that are past, as I was when,
close under Praeneste, I cut down their foremost ranks and burned the
piled shields of the conquered! Then this right hand sent King Erulus
down to hell, though to him at his birth his mother Feronia (awful to
tell) had given three lives and triple arms to wield; thrice must he be
laid low in death; yet then this hand took all his lives and as often
stripped him of his arms. Never should I now, O son, be severed from thy
dear embrace; never had the insolent sword of Mezentius on my borders
dealt so many cruel deaths, widowed the city of so many citizens. But
you, O heavenly powers, and thou, Jupiter, Lord and Governor of Heaven,
have compassion, I pray, on [574-609]the Arcadian king, and hear a
father's prayers. If your deity and decrees keep my Pallas safe for me,
if I live that I may see him and meet him yet, I pray for life; any toil
soever I have patience to endure. But if, O Fortune, thou threatenest
some dread calamity, now, ah now, may I break off a cruel life, while
anxiety still wavers and expectation is in doubt, while thou, dear boy,
my one last delight, art yet clasped in my embrace; let no bitterer
message wound mine ear.
have encamped on the plain; Tarchon himself hath sent ambassadors to me
with the crown [506-539]and sceptre of the kingdom, and offers the
royal attire will I but enter their camp and take the Tyrrhene realm.
But old age, frozen to dulness, and exhausted with length of life,
denies me the load of empire, and my prowess is past its day. I would
urge it on my son, did not the mixture of blood by his Sabellian mother
make this half his native land. Thou, to whose years and race alike the
fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a
leader supreme in bravery over Teucrians and Italians. Mine own Pallas
likewise, our hope and comfort, I will send with thee; let him grow used
to endure warfare and the stern work of battle under thy teaching, to
regard thine actions, and from his earliest years look up to thee. To
him will I give two hundred Arcadian cavalry, the choice of our warlike
strength, and Pallas as many more to thee in his own name. '
Scarce had he ended; Aeneas, son of Anchises, and trusty Achates gazed
with steadfast face, and, sad at heart, were revolving inly many a
labour, had not the Cytherean sent a sign from the clear sky. For
suddenly a flash and peal comes quivering from heaven, and all seemed in
a moment to totter, and the Tyrrhene trumpet-blast to roar along the
sky. They look up; again and yet again the heavy crash re-echoes. They
see in the serene space of sky armour gleam red through a cloud in the
clear air, and ring clashing out. The others stood in amaze; but the
Trojan hero knew the sound for the promise of his goddess mother; then
he speaks: 'Ask not, O friend, ask not in any wise what fortune this
presage announces; it is I who am summoned of heaven. This sign the
goddess who bore me foretold she would send if war assailed, and would
bring through the air to my succour armour from Vulcan's hands. . . .
Ah, what slaughter awaits the wretched Laurentines! what a price, O
Turnus, wilt thou pay me! how many shields and helmets and brave bodies
of men shalt thou, [540-573]Lord Tiber, roll under thy waves! Let them
call for armed array and break the league! '
These words uttered, he rises from the high seat, and first wakes with
fresh fire the slumbering altars of Hercules, and gladly draws nigh his
tutelar god of yesternight and the small deities of the household. Alike
Evander, and alike the men of Troy, offer up, as is right, choice sheep
of two years old. Thereafter he goes to the ships and revisits his crew,
of whose company he chooses the foremost in valour to attend him to war;
the rest glide down the water and float idly with the descending stream,
to come with news to Ascanius of his father's state. They give horses to
the Teucrians who seek the fields of Tyrrhenia; a chosen one is brought
for Aeneas, housed in a tawny lion skin that glitters with claws of
gold. Rumour flies suddenly, spreading over the little town, that they
ride in haste to the courts of the Tyrrhene king. Mothers redouble their
prayers in terror, as fear treads closer on peril and the likeness of
the War God looms larger in sight. Then Evander, clasping the hand of
his departing son, clings to him weeping inconsolably, and speaks thus:
'Oh, if Jupiter would restore me the years that are past, as I was when,
close under Praeneste, I cut down their foremost ranks and burned the
piled shields of the conquered! Then this right hand sent King Erulus
down to hell, though to him at his birth his mother Feronia (awful to
tell) had given three lives and triple arms to wield; thrice must he be
laid low in death; yet then this hand took all his lives and as often
stripped him of his arms. Never should I now, O son, be severed from thy
dear embrace; never had the insolent sword of Mezentius on my borders
dealt so many cruel deaths, widowed the city of so many citizens. But
you, O heavenly powers, and thou, Jupiter, Lord and Governor of Heaven,
have compassion, I pray, on [574-609]the Arcadian king, and hear a
father's prayers. If your deity and decrees keep my Pallas safe for me,
if I live that I may see him and meet him yet, I pray for life; any toil
soever I have patience to endure. But if, O Fortune, thou threatenest
some dread calamity, now, ah now, may I break off a cruel life, while
anxiety still wavers and expectation is in doubt, while thou, dear boy,
my one last delight, art yet clasped in my embrace; let no bitterer
message wound mine ear.
