No More Learning

If you
had hope in appeal to Aetolian arms, abandon it; though each man's hope
is his own, you discern how narrow a path it is. Beyond that you see
with your eyes and handle with your hands the total ruin of our
fortunes. I blame no one; what valour's utmost could do is done; we have
fought with our whole kingdom's strength. Now I will unfold what I
doubtfully advise and purpose, and with your attention instruct you of
it in brief. There is an ancient land of mine bordering the Tuscan
river, stretching far westward beyond the Sicanian borders. Auruncans
and Rutulians sow on it, work the stiff hills with the ploughshare, and
pasture them where they are roughest. Let all this tract, with a
pine-clad belt of mountain height, pass to the Teucrians in friendship;
let us name fair terms of treaty, and invite them as allies to our
realm; let them settle, if they desire it so, and found a city. But if
they have a mind to try other coasts and another people, and can abide
to leave our soil, let us build twice ten ships of Italian oak, or as
many more as they can man; timber lies at the water's edge for all; let
them assign the number and fashion of the vessels, and we will supply
brass, labour, dockyards. Further, it is our will that an hundred
ambassadors of the highest rank in Latium shall go to bear our words and
ratify the treaty, holding forth in their hands the boughs of peace, and
carrying for gifts weight of gold and ivory, and the chair and striped
robe, our royal array. Give counsel openly, and succour our exhausted
state. '

Then Drances again, he whose jealous ill-will was [337-370]wrought to
anger and stung with bitterness by Turnus' fame, lavish of wealth and
quick of tongue though his hand was cold in war, held no empty
counsellor and potent in faction--his mother's rank ennobled a lineage
whose paternal source was obscure--rises, and with these words heaps and
heightens their passion:

'Dark to no man and needing no voice of ours, O gracious king, is that
whereon thou takest counsel. All confess they know how our nation's
fortune sways; but their words are choked. Let him grant freedom of
speech and abate his breath, he by whose disastrous government and
perverse way (I will speak out, though he menace me with arms and death)
we see so many stars of battle gone down and all our city sunk in
mourning; while he, confident in flight, assails the Trojan camp and
makes heaven quail before his arms. Add yet one to those gifts of thine,
to all the riches thou bidst us send or promise to the Dardanians, most
gracious of kings, but one; let no man's passion overbear thee from
giving thine own daughter to an illustrious son and a worthy marriage,
and binding this peace by perpetual treaty. Yet if we are thus
terror-stricken heart and soul, let us implore him in person, in person
plead him of his grace to give way, to restore king and country their
proper right.
Why again and again hurlest thou these unhappy citizens on
peril so evident, O source and spring of Latium's woes? In war is no
safety; peace we all implore of thee, O Turnus, and the one pledge that
makes peace inviolable. I the first, I whom thou picturest thine enemy,
as I care not if I am, see, I bow at thy feet. Pity thine allies;
relent, and retire before thy conqueror. Enough have we seen of rout and
death, and desolation over our broad lands. Or if glory stir thee, if
such strength kindle in thy breast, and if a palace so delight thee for
thy dower, be bold, and advance stout-hearted upon the foe. We verily,
that Turnus [371-406]may have his royal bride, must lie scattered on
the plains, worthless lives, a crowd unburied and unwept. Do thou also,
if thou hast aught of might, if the War-god be in thee as in thy
fathers, look him in the face who challenges. . . . '

At these words Turnus' passion blazed out. He utters a groan, and breaks
forth thus in deep accents:

'Copious indeed, Drances, and fluent is ever thy speech at the moment
war calls for action; and when the fathers are summoned thou art there
the first. But we need no words to fill our senate-house, safely as thou
wingest them while the mounded walls keep off the enemy, and the
trenches swim not yet with blood. Thunder on in rhetoric, thy wonted
way: accuse thou me of fear, Drances, since thine hand hath heaped so
many Teucrians in slaughter, and thy glorious trophies dot the fields.
Trial is open of what live valour can do; nor indeed is our foe far to
seek; on all sides they surround our walls.