And now Iapix son of
Iasus came, beloved beyond others of Phoebus, to whom once of old,
smitten with sharp desire, Apollo gladly offered his own arts and gifts,
augury and the lyre and swift arrows: he, to lengthen out the destiny of
a parent given over to die, chose rather to know the potency of herbs
and the practice of healing, and deal in a silent art unrenowned.
Iasus came, beloved beyond others of Phoebus, to whom once of old,
smitten with sharp desire, Apollo gladly offered his own arts and gifts,
augury and the lyre and swift arrows: he, to lengthen out the destiny of
a parent given over to die, chose rather to know the potency of herbs
and the practice of healing, and deal in a silent art unrenowned.
Virgil - Aeneid
Turnus, when he saw Aeneas retreating from the
ranks and his captains in dismay, burns hot with sudden hope. At once he
calls for his horses and armour, and with a bound leaps proudly into his
chariot and handles the reins. He darts on, dealing many a brave man's
body to death; many an one he rolls half-slain, or crushes whole files
under his chariot, or seizes and showers spears on the fugitives. As
[331-364]when by the streams of icy Hebrus Mavors kindles to bloodshed
and clashes on his shield, and stirs war and speeds his furious
coursers; they outwing south winds and west on the open plain; utmost
Thrace groans under their hoof-beats; and around in the god's train rush
the faces of dark Terror, and Wraths and Ambushes; even so amid the
battle Turnus briskly lashes on his reeking horses, trampling on the
foes that lie piteously slain; the galloping hoof scatters bloody dew,
and spurns mingled gore and sand. And now hath he dealt Sthenelus to
death, and Thamyrus and Pholus, him and him at close quarters, the other
from afar; from afar both the sons of Imbrasus, Glaucus and Lades, whom
Imbrasus himself had nurtured in Lycia and equipped in equal arms,
whether to meet hand to hand or to outstrip the winds on horseback.
Elsewhere Eumedes advances amid the fray, ancient Dolon's brood,
illustrious in war, renewing his grandfather's name, his father's
courage and strength of hand, who of old dared to claim Pelides' chariot
as his price if he went to spy out the Grecian camp; to him the son of
Tydeus told out another price for his venture, and he dreams no more of
Achilles' horses. Him Turnus descried far on the open plain, and first
following him with light javelin through long space of air, stops his
double-harnessed horses and leaps from the chariot, and descends on his
fallen half-lifeless foe, and, planting his foot on his neck, wrests the
blade out of his hand and dyes its glitter deep in his throat, adding
these words withal: 'Behold, thou liest, Trojan, meting out those
Hesperian fields thou didst seek in war. Such guerdon is theirs who dare
to tempt my sword; thus do they found their city. ' Then with a
spear-cast he sends Asbutes to follow him, and Chloreus and Sybaris,
Dares and Thersilochus, and Thymoetes fallen flung over his horse's
neck. And as when [365-398]the Edonian North wind's wrath roars on the
deep Aegean, and the wave follows it shoreward; where the blast comes
down, the clouds race over the sky; so, wheresoever Turnus cleaves his
way, columns retreat and lines turn and run; his own speed bears him on,
and his flying plume tosses as his chariot meets the breeze. Phegeus
brooked not his proud approach; he faced the chariot, and caught and
twisted away in his right hand the mouths of his horses, spurred into
speed and foaming on the bit. Dragged along and hanging by the yoke he
is left uncovered; the broad lance-head reaches him, pins and pierces
the double-woven breastplate, and lightly wounds the surface of his
body. Yet turning, he advanced on the enemy behind his shield, and
sought succour in the naked point; when the wheel running forward on its
swift axle struck him headlong and flung him to ground, and Turnus'
sword following it smote off his head between the helmet-rim and the
upper border of the breastplate, and left the body on the sand.
And while Turnus thus victoriously deals death over the plains,
Mnestheus meantime and faithful Achates, and Ascanius by their side, set
down Aeneas in the camp, dabbled with blood and leaning every other step
on his long spear. He storms, and tries hard to pull out the dart where
the reed had broken, and calls for the nearest way of remedy, to cut
open the wound with broad blade, and tear apart the weapon's
lurking-place, and so send him back to battle.
And now Iapix son of
Iasus came, beloved beyond others of Phoebus, to whom once of old,
smitten with sharp desire, Apollo gladly offered his own arts and gifts,
augury and the lyre and swift arrows: he, to lengthen out the destiny of
a parent given over to die, chose rather to know the potency of herbs
and the practice of healing, and deal in a silent art unrenowned. Aeneas
stood chafing bitterly, propped on his vast spear, mourning
[399-435]Iulus and a great crowd of men around, unstirred by their
tears. The aged man, with garment drawn back and girt about him in
Paeonian fashion, makes many a hurried effort with healing hand and the
potent herbs of Phoebus, all in vain; in vain his hand solicits the
arrow-head, and his pincers' grasp pulls at the steel. Fortune leads him
forward in nowise; Apollo aids not with counsel; and more and more the
fierce clash swells over the plains, and the havoc draws nigher on.
Already they see the sky a mass of dust, the cavalry approaching, and
shafts falling thickly amid the camp; the dismal cry uprises of warriors
fighting and falling under the War-god's heavy hand. At this, stirred
deep by her son's cruel pain, Venus his mother plucked from Cretan Ida a
stalk of dittamy with downy leaves and bright-tressed flowers, the plant
not unknown to wild goats when winged arrows are fast in their body.
This Venus bore down, her shape girt in a dim halo; this she steeps with
secret healing in the river-water poured out and sparkling abrim, and
sprinkles life-giving juice of ambrosia and scented balm. With that
water aged Iapix washed the wound, unwitting; and suddenly, lo! all the
pain left his body, all the blood in the deep wound was stanched. And
now following his hand the arrow fell out with no force, and strength
returned afresh as of old. 'Hasten! arms for him quickly! why stand
you? ' cries Iapix aloud, and begins to kindle their courage against the
enemy; 'this comes not by human resource or schooling of art, nor does
my hand save thee, Aeneas: a higher god is at work, and sends thee back
to higher deeds. ' He, eager for battle, had already clasped on the
greaves of gold right and left, and scorning delay, brandishes his
spear. When the shield is adjusted by his side and the corslet on his
back, he clasps Ascanius in his armed embrace, and lightly kissing him
through the helmet, cries: 'Learn of me, O boy, valour [436-470]and
toil indeed, fortune of others.
ranks and his captains in dismay, burns hot with sudden hope. At once he
calls for his horses and armour, and with a bound leaps proudly into his
chariot and handles the reins. He darts on, dealing many a brave man's
body to death; many an one he rolls half-slain, or crushes whole files
under his chariot, or seizes and showers spears on the fugitives. As
[331-364]when by the streams of icy Hebrus Mavors kindles to bloodshed
and clashes on his shield, and stirs war and speeds his furious
coursers; they outwing south winds and west on the open plain; utmost
Thrace groans under their hoof-beats; and around in the god's train rush
the faces of dark Terror, and Wraths and Ambushes; even so amid the
battle Turnus briskly lashes on his reeking horses, trampling on the
foes that lie piteously slain; the galloping hoof scatters bloody dew,
and spurns mingled gore and sand. And now hath he dealt Sthenelus to
death, and Thamyrus and Pholus, him and him at close quarters, the other
from afar; from afar both the sons of Imbrasus, Glaucus and Lades, whom
Imbrasus himself had nurtured in Lycia and equipped in equal arms,
whether to meet hand to hand or to outstrip the winds on horseback.
Elsewhere Eumedes advances amid the fray, ancient Dolon's brood,
illustrious in war, renewing his grandfather's name, his father's
courage and strength of hand, who of old dared to claim Pelides' chariot
as his price if he went to spy out the Grecian camp; to him the son of
Tydeus told out another price for his venture, and he dreams no more of
Achilles' horses. Him Turnus descried far on the open plain, and first
following him with light javelin through long space of air, stops his
double-harnessed horses and leaps from the chariot, and descends on his
fallen half-lifeless foe, and, planting his foot on his neck, wrests the
blade out of his hand and dyes its glitter deep in his throat, adding
these words withal: 'Behold, thou liest, Trojan, meting out those
Hesperian fields thou didst seek in war. Such guerdon is theirs who dare
to tempt my sword; thus do they found their city. ' Then with a
spear-cast he sends Asbutes to follow him, and Chloreus and Sybaris,
Dares and Thersilochus, and Thymoetes fallen flung over his horse's
neck. And as when [365-398]the Edonian North wind's wrath roars on the
deep Aegean, and the wave follows it shoreward; where the blast comes
down, the clouds race over the sky; so, wheresoever Turnus cleaves his
way, columns retreat and lines turn and run; his own speed bears him on,
and his flying plume tosses as his chariot meets the breeze. Phegeus
brooked not his proud approach; he faced the chariot, and caught and
twisted away in his right hand the mouths of his horses, spurred into
speed and foaming on the bit. Dragged along and hanging by the yoke he
is left uncovered; the broad lance-head reaches him, pins and pierces
the double-woven breastplate, and lightly wounds the surface of his
body. Yet turning, he advanced on the enemy behind his shield, and
sought succour in the naked point; when the wheel running forward on its
swift axle struck him headlong and flung him to ground, and Turnus'
sword following it smote off his head between the helmet-rim and the
upper border of the breastplate, and left the body on the sand.
And while Turnus thus victoriously deals death over the plains,
Mnestheus meantime and faithful Achates, and Ascanius by their side, set
down Aeneas in the camp, dabbled with blood and leaning every other step
on his long spear. He storms, and tries hard to pull out the dart where
the reed had broken, and calls for the nearest way of remedy, to cut
open the wound with broad blade, and tear apart the weapon's
lurking-place, and so send him back to battle.
And now Iapix son of
Iasus came, beloved beyond others of Phoebus, to whom once of old,
smitten with sharp desire, Apollo gladly offered his own arts and gifts,
augury and the lyre and swift arrows: he, to lengthen out the destiny of
a parent given over to die, chose rather to know the potency of herbs
and the practice of healing, and deal in a silent art unrenowned. Aeneas
stood chafing bitterly, propped on his vast spear, mourning
[399-435]Iulus and a great crowd of men around, unstirred by their
tears. The aged man, with garment drawn back and girt about him in
Paeonian fashion, makes many a hurried effort with healing hand and the
potent herbs of Phoebus, all in vain; in vain his hand solicits the
arrow-head, and his pincers' grasp pulls at the steel. Fortune leads him
forward in nowise; Apollo aids not with counsel; and more and more the
fierce clash swells over the plains, and the havoc draws nigher on.
Already they see the sky a mass of dust, the cavalry approaching, and
shafts falling thickly amid the camp; the dismal cry uprises of warriors
fighting and falling under the War-god's heavy hand. At this, stirred
deep by her son's cruel pain, Venus his mother plucked from Cretan Ida a
stalk of dittamy with downy leaves and bright-tressed flowers, the plant
not unknown to wild goats when winged arrows are fast in their body.
This Venus bore down, her shape girt in a dim halo; this she steeps with
secret healing in the river-water poured out and sparkling abrim, and
sprinkles life-giving juice of ambrosia and scented balm. With that
water aged Iapix washed the wound, unwitting; and suddenly, lo! all the
pain left his body, all the blood in the deep wound was stanched. And
now following his hand the arrow fell out with no force, and strength
returned afresh as of old. 'Hasten! arms for him quickly! why stand
you? ' cries Iapix aloud, and begins to kindle their courage against the
enemy; 'this comes not by human resource or schooling of art, nor does
my hand save thee, Aeneas: a higher god is at work, and sends thee back
to higher deeds. ' He, eager for battle, had already clasped on the
greaves of gold right and left, and scorning delay, brandishes his
spear. When the shield is adjusted by his side and the corslet on his
back, he clasps Ascanius in his armed embrace, and lightly kissing him
through the helmet, cries: 'Learn of me, O boy, valour [436-470]and
toil indeed, fortune of others.
