And he: 'Why seek to
frighten
me, fierce man, now my son is gone?
Virgil - Aeneid
now the wound is driven deep!
And I, even I, O my son,
stained thy name with crime, driven in hatred from the throne and
sceptre of my fathers. I owed vengeance to my country and my people's
resentment; might mine own guilty life but have paid it by every form of
death! Now I live, and leave not yet man and day; but I will. ' As he
speaks thus he raises himself painfully on his thigh, and though the
violence of the deep wound cripples him, yet unbroken he bids his horse
be brought, his beauty, his comfort, that ever had carried him
victorious out of war, and says these words to the grieving beast:
'Rhoebus, we have lived long, if aught at all lasts long with mortals.
This day wilt thou either bring back in triumph the gory head and spoils
of Aeneas, and we will avenge Lausus' agonies; or if no force opens a
way, thou wilt die with me: for I deem not, bravest, thou wilt deign to
bear an alien rule and a Teucrian lord. ' He spoke, and took his welcome
seat on the back he knew, loading both hands with keen javelins, his
head sheathed in glittering brass and shaggy horse-hair plumes. Thus he
galloped in. Through his heart sweep together the vast tides of shame
and mingling madness and grief. And with that he thrice loudly calls
Aeneas. Aeneas knew the call, and makes glad invocation: 'So the father
of gods speed me, so Apollo on high: do thou essay to close hand to
hand. . . . ' Thus much he utters, and moves up to meet him with levelled
spear.
And he: 'Why seek to frighten me, fierce man, now my son is gone?
this was thy one road to my ruin. We shrink not from death, nor relent
before any of thy gods. Cease; for I come to my death, first carrying
these gifts for thee. ' He spoke, and hurled a weapon at his enemy; then
plants another and yet another as he darts round in a wide circle; but
they are stayed on the boss of gold. Thrice he rode wheeling close round
him by the [886-908]left, and sent his weapons strongly in; thrice the
Trojan hero turns round, taking the grim forest on his brazen guard.
Then, weary of lingering in delay on delay, and plucking out spear-head
after spear-head, and hard pressed in the uneven match of battle, with
much counselling of spirit now at last he bursts forth, and sends his
spear at the war-horse between the hollows of the temples. The creature
raises itself erect, beating the air with its feet, throws its rider,
and coming down after him in an entangled mass, slips its shoulder as it
tumbles forward. The cries of Trojans and Latins kindle the sky. Aeneas
rushes up, drawing his sword from the scabbard, and thus above him:
'Where now is gallant Mezentius and all his fierce spirit? ' Thereto the
Tyrrhenian, as he came to himself and gazing up drank the air of heaven:
'Bitter foe, why these taunts and menaces of death? Naught forbids my
slaughter; neither on such terms came I to battle, nor did my Lausus
make treaty for this between me and thee. This one thing I beseech thee,
by whatsoever grace a vanquished enemy may claim: allow my body
sepulture. I know I am girt by the bitter hatred of my people. Stay, I
implore, their fury, and grant me and my son union in the tomb. ' So
speaks he, and takes the sword in his throat unfalteringly, and the
lifeblood spreads in a wave over his armour.
stained thy name with crime, driven in hatred from the throne and
sceptre of my fathers. I owed vengeance to my country and my people's
resentment; might mine own guilty life but have paid it by every form of
death! Now I live, and leave not yet man and day; but I will. ' As he
speaks thus he raises himself painfully on his thigh, and though the
violence of the deep wound cripples him, yet unbroken he bids his horse
be brought, his beauty, his comfort, that ever had carried him
victorious out of war, and says these words to the grieving beast:
'Rhoebus, we have lived long, if aught at all lasts long with mortals.
This day wilt thou either bring back in triumph the gory head and spoils
of Aeneas, and we will avenge Lausus' agonies; or if no force opens a
way, thou wilt die with me: for I deem not, bravest, thou wilt deign to
bear an alien rule and a Teucrian lord. ' He spoke, and took his welcome
seat on the back he knew, loading both hands with keen javelins, his
head sheathed in glittering brass and shaggy horse-hair plumes. Thus he
galloped in. Through his heart sweep together the vast tides of shame
and mingling madness and grief. And with that he thrice loudly calls
Aeneas. Aeneas knew the call, and makes glad invocation: 'So the father
of gods speed me, so Apollo on high: do thou essay to close hand to
hand. . . . ' Thus much he utters, and moves up to meet him with levelled
spear.
And he: 'Why seek to frighten me, fierce man, now my son is gone?
this was thy one road to my ruin. We shrink not from death, nor relent
before any of thy gods. Cease; for I come to my death, first carrying
these gifts for thee. ' He spoke, and hurled a weapon at his enemy; then
plants another and yet another as he darts round in a wide circle; but
they are stayed on the boss of gold. Thrice he rode wheeling close round
him by the [886-908]left, and sent his weapons strongly in; thrice the
Trojan hero turns round, taking the grim forest on his brazen guard.
Then, weary of lingering in delay on delay, and plucking out spear-head
after spear-head, and hard pressed in the uneven match of battle, with
much counselling of spirit now at last he bursts forth, and sends his
spear at the war-horse between the hollows of the temples. The creature
raises itself erect, beating the air with its feet, throws its rider,
and coming down after him in an entangled mass, slips its shoulder as it
tumbles forward. The cries of Trojans and Latins kindle the sky. Aeneas
rushes up, drawing his sword from the scabbard, and thus above him:
'Where now is gallant Mezentius and all his fierce spirit? ' Thereto the
Tyrrhenian, as he came to himself and gazing up drank the air of heaven:
'Bitter foe, why these taunts and menaces of death? Naught forbids my
slaughter; neither on such terms came I to battle, nor did my Lausus
make treaty for this between me and thee. This one thing I beseech thee,
by whatsoever grace a vanquished enemy may claim: allow my body
sepulture. I know I am girt by the bitter hatred of my people. Stay, I
implore, their fury, and grant me and my son union in the tomb. ' So
speaks he, and takes the sword in his throat unfalteringly, and the
lifeblood spreads in a wave over his armour.
