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Then indeed his wrath swells; and
forced to it by their treachery, while chariot and horses disappear, he
calls Jove oft and again to witness, and the altars of the violated
treaty, and now at last plunges amid their lines. Sweeping terrible down
the tide of battle he wakens fierce indiscriminate carnage, and flings
loose all the reins of wrath.

What god may now unfold for me in verse so many woes, so many diverse
slaughters and death of captains whom now Turnus, now again the Trojan
hero, drives over all the field? Was it well, O God, that nations
destined to everlasting peace should clash in so vast a shock? Aeneas
[505-540]meets Sucro the Rutulian; the combat stayed the first rush of
the Teucrians, but delayed them not long; he catches him on the side,
and, when fate comes quickest, drives the harsh sword clean through the
ribs where they fence the breast. Turnus brings down Amycus from
horseback with his brother Diores, and meets them on foot; him he
strikes with his long spear as he comes, him with his sword-point, and
hangs both severed heads on his chariot and carries them off dripping
with blood. The one sends to death Talos and Tanais and brave Cethegus,
three at one meeting, and gloomy Onites, of Echionian name, and Peridia
the mother that bore him; the other those brethren sent from Lycia and
Apollo's fields, and Menoetes the Arcadian, him who loathed warfare in
vain; who once had his art and humble home about the river-fisheries of
Lerna, and knew not the courts of the great, but his father was tenant
of the land he tilled. And as fires kindled dispersedly in a dry forest
and rustling laurel-thickets, or foaming rivers where they leap swift
and loud from high hills, and speed to sea each in his own path of
havoc; as fiercely the two, Aeneas and Turnus, dash amid the battle;
now, now wrath surges within them, and unconquerable hearts are torn;
now in all their might they rush upon wounds. The one dashes Murranus
down and stretches him on the soil with a vast whirling mass of rock, as
he cries the names of his fathers and forefathers of old, a whole line
drawn through Latin kings; under traces and yoke the wheels spurned him,
and the fast-beating hoofs of his rushing horses trample down their
forgotten lord. The other meets Hyllus rushing on in gigantic pride, and
hurls his weapon at his gold-bound temples; the spear pierced through
the helmet and stood fast in the brain. Neither did thy right hand save
thee from Turnus, O Cretheus, bravest of the Greeks; nor did his gods
shield Cupencus when Aeneas came; he gave his [541-575]breast full to
the steel, nor, alas! was the brazen shield's delay aught of avail. Thee
likewise, Aeolus, the Laurentine plains saw sink backward and cover a
wide space of earth; thou fallest, whom Argive battalions could not lay
low, nor Achilles the destroyer of Priam's realm. Here was thy goal of
death; thine high house was under Ida, at Lyrnesus thine high house, on
Laurentine soil thy tomb. The whole battle-lines gather up, all Latium
and all Dardania, Mnestheus and valiant Serestus, with Messapus, tamer
of horses, and brave Asilas, the Tuscan battalion and Evander's Arcadian
squadrons; man by man they struggle with all their might; no rest nor
pause in the vast strain of conflict.
At this Aeneas' mother most beautiful inspired him to advance on the
walls, directing his columns on the town and dismaying the Latins with
sudden and swift disaster. As in search for Turnus he bent his glance
this way and that round the separate ranks, he descries the city free
from all this warfare, unpunished and unstirred. Straightway he kindles
at the view of a greater battle; he summons Mnestheus and Sergestus and
brave Serestus his captains, and mounts a hillock; there the rest of the
Teucrian army gathers thickly, still grasping shield and spear. Standing
on the high mound amid them, he speaks: 'Be there no delay to my words;
Jupiter is with us; neither let any be slower to move that the design is
sudden. This city to-day, the source of war, the royal seat of Latinus,
unless they yield them to receive our yoke and obey their conquerors,
will I raze to ground, and lay her smoking roofs level with the dust.
Must I wait forsooth till Turnus please to stoop to combat, and choose
again to face his conqueror? This, O citizens, is the fountain-head and
crown of the accursed war. Bring brands speedily, and reclaim the treaty
in fire. ' He ended; all with spirit alike emulous form a wedge and
advance in serried masses to the walls. Ladders are run [576-611]up,
and fire leaps sudden to sight. Some rush to the separate gates, and cut
down the guards of the entry, others hurl their steel and darken the sky
with weapons. Aeneas himself among the foremost, upstretching his hand
to the city walls, loudly reproaches Latinus, and takes the gods to
witness that he is again forced into battle, that twice now do the
Italians choose warfare and break a second treaty. Discord rises among
the alarmed citizens: some bid unbar the town and fling wide their gates
to the Dardanians, and pull the king himself towards the ramparts;
others bring arms and hasten to defend the walls: as when a shepherd
tracks bees to their retreat in a recessed rock, and fills it with
stinging smoke, they within run uneasily up and down their waxen
fortress, and hum louder in rising wrath; the smell rolls in darkness
along their dwelling, and a blind murmur echoes within the rock as the
smoke issues to the empty air.

This fortune likewise befell the despairing Latins, this woe shook the
whole city to her base. The queen espies from her roof the enemy's
approach, the walls scaled and firebrands flying on the houses; and
nowhere Rutulian ranks, none of Turnus' columns to meet them; alas! she
deems him destroyed in the shock of battle, and, distracted by sudden
anguish, shrieks that she is the source of guilt, the spring of ill, and
with many a mad utterance of frenzied grief rends her purple attire with
dying hand, and ties from a lofty beam the ghastly noose of death.