He falls
spouting
streams of blood, and bites
the gory ground, and dying writhes himself upon his wound.
the gory ground, and dying writhes himself upon his wound.
Virgil - Aeneid
Aconteus, hurled off like a
thunderbolt or some mass slung from an engine, is dashed away, and
scatters his life in air. Immediately the lines waver, and the Latins
wheeling about throw their shields behind them and turn their horses
towards the town. The Trojans pursue; Asilas heads and leads on
[621-653]their squadrons. And now they drew nigh the gates, and again
the Latins raise a shout and wheel their supple necks about; the
pursuers fly, and gallop right back with loosened rein: as when the sea,
running up in ebb and flow, now rushes shoreward and strikes over the
cliffs in a wave of foam, drenching the edge of the sand in its curving
sweep; now runs swirling back, and the surge sucks the rolling stones
away. Twice the Tuscans turn and drive the Rutulians towards the town;
twice they are repelled, and look back behind them from cover of their
shields. But when now meeting in a third encounter, the lines are locked
together all their length, and man singles out his man; then indeed,
amid groans of the dying, deep in blood roll armour and bodies, and
horses half slain mixed up with slaughtered men. The battle swells
fierce. Orsilochus hurled his spear at the horse of Remulus, whom
himself he shrank to meet, and left the steel in it under the ear; at
the stroke the charger rears madly, and, mastered by the wound, lifts
his chest and flings up his legs: the rider is thrown and rolls over on
the ground. Catillus strikes down Iollas, and Herminius mighty in
courage, mighty in limbs and arms, bareheaded, tawny-haired,
bare-shouldered; undismayed by wounds, he leaves his vast body open
against arms. Through his broad shoulders the quivering spear runs
piercing him through, and doubles him up with pain. Everywhere the dark
blood flows; they deal death with the sword in battle, and seek a noble
death by wounds.
But amid the slaughter Camilla rages, a quivered Amazon, with one side
stripped for battle, and now sends tough javelins showering from her
hand, now snatches the strong battle-axe in her unwearying grasp; the
golden bow, the armour of Diana, clashes on her shoulders; and even when
forced backward in retreat, she turns in flight and [654-691]aims darts
from her bow. But around her are her chosen comrades, maiden Larina,
Tulla, Tarpeia brandishing an axe inlaid with bronze, girls of Italy,
whom Camilla the bright chose for her own escort, good at service in
peace and war: even as Thracian Amazons when the streams of Thermodon
clash beneath them as they go to war in painted arms, whether around
Hippolyte, or while martial Penthesilea returns in her chariot, and the
crescent-shielded columns of women dance with loud confused cry. Whom
first, whom last, fierce maiden, does thy dart strike down? First
Euneus, son of Clytius; for as he meets her the long fir shaft crashes
through his open breast.
He falls spouting streams of blood, and bites
the gory ground, and dying writhes himself upon his wound. Then Liris
and Pagasus above him; who fall headlong and together, the one thrown as
he reins up his horse stabbed under him, the other while he runs forward
and stretches his unarmed hand to stay his fall. To these she joins
Amastrus, son of Hippotas, and follows from far with her spear Tereus
and Harpalycus and Demophoon and Chromis: and as many darts as the
maiden sends whirling from her hand, so many Phrygians fall. Ornytus the
hunter rides near in strange arms on his Iapygian horse, his broad
warrior's shoulders swathed in the hide stripped from a bullock, his
head covered by a wolf's wide-grinning mouth and white-tusked jaws; a
rustic pike arms his hand; himself he moves amid the squadrons a full
head over all. Catching him up (for that was easy amid the rout), she
runs him through, and thus cries above her enemy: 'Thou wert hunting
wild beasts in the forest, thoughtest thou, Tyrrhenian? the day is come
for a woman's arms to refute thy words. Yet no light fame shalt thou
carry to thy fathers' ghosts, to have fallen under the weapon of
Camilla. ' Next Orsilochus and Butes, the two mightiest of mould among
the Teucrians; Butes she pierces in the [692-725]back with her
spear-point between corslet and helmet, where the neck shews as he sits,
and the shield hangs from his left shoulder; Orsilochus she flies, and
darting in a wide circle, slips into the inner ring and pursues her
pursuer; then rising her full height, she drives the strong axe deep
through armour and bone, as he pleads and makes much entreaty; warm
brain from the wound splashes his face. One met her thus and hung
startled by the sudden sight, the warrior son of Aunus haunter of the
Apennine, not the meanest in Liguria while fate allowed him to deceive.
And he, when he discerns that no fleetness of foot may now save him from
battle or turn the princess from pursuit, essays to wind a subtle device
of treachery, and thus begins: 'How hast thou glory, if a woman trust in
her horse's strength? Debar retreat; trust thyself to level ground at
close quarters with me, and prepare to fight on foot. Soon wilt thou
know how windy boasting brings one to harm. ' He spoke; but she, furious
and stung with fiery indignation, hands her horse to an attendant, and
takes her stand in equal arms on foot and undismayed, with naked sword
and shield unemblazoned. But he, thinking his craft had won the day,
himself flies off on the instant, and turning his rein, darts off in
flight, pricking his beast to speed with iron-armed heel. 'False
Ligurian, in vain elated in thy pride! for naught hast thou attempted
thy slippery native arts, nor will thy craft bring thee home unhurt to
treacherous Aunus.
thunderbolt or some mass slung from an engine, is dashed away, and
scatters his life in air. Immediately the lines waver, and the Latins
wheeling about throw their shields behind them and turn their horses
towards the town. The Trojans pursue; Asilas heads and leads on
[621-653]their squadrons. And now they drew nigh the gates, and again
the Latins raise a shout and wheel their supple necks about; the
pursuers fly, and gallop right back with loosened rein: as when the sea,
running up in ebb and flow, now rushes shoreward and strikes over the
cliffs in a wave of foam, drenching the edge of the sand in its curving
sweep; now runs swirling back, and the surge sucks the rolling stones
away. Twice the Tuscans turn and drive the Rutulians towards the town;
twice they are repelled, and look back behind them from cover of their
shields. But when now meeting in a third encounter, the lines are locked
together all their length, and man singles out his man; then indeed,
amid groans of the dying, deep in blood roll armour and bodies, and
horses half slain mixed up with slaughtered men. The battle swells
fierce. Orsilochus hurled his spear at the horse of Remulus, whom
himself he shrank to meet, and left the steel in it under the ear; at
the stroke the charger rears madly, and, mastered by the wound, lifts
his chest and flings up his legs: the rider is thrown and rolls over on
the ground. Catillus strikes down Iollas, and Herminius mighty in
courage, mighty in limbs and arms, bareheaded, tawny-haired,
bare-shouldered; undismayed by wounds, he leaves his vast body open
against arms. Through his broad shoulders the quivering spear runs
piercing him through, and doubles him up with pain. Everywhere the dark
blood flows; they deal death with the sword in battle, and seek a noble
death by wounds.
But amid the slaughter Camilla rages, a quivered Amazon, with one side
stripped for battle, and now sends tough javelins showering from her
hand, now snatches the strong battle-axe in her unwearying grasp; the
golden bow, the armour of Diana, clashes on her shoulders; and even when
forced backward in retreat, she turns in flight and [654-691]aims darts
from her bow. But around her are her chosen comrades, maiden Larina,
Tulla, Tarpeia brandishing an axe inlaid with bronze, girls of Italy,
whom Camilla the bright chose for her own escort, good at service in
peace and war: even as Thracian Amazons when the streams of Thermodon
clash beneath them as they go to war in painted arms, whether around
Hippolyte, or while martial Penthesilea returns in her chariot, and the
crescent-shielded columns of women dance with loud confused cry. Whom
first, whom last, fierce maiden, does thy dart strike down? First
Euneus, son of Clytius; for as he meets her the long fir shaft crashes
through his open breast.
He falls spouting streams of blood, and bites
the gory ground, and dying writhes himself upon his wound. Then Liris
and Pagasus above him; who fall headlong and together, the one thrown as
he reins up his horse stabbed under him, the other while he runs forward
and stretches his unarmed hand to stay his fall. To these she joins
Amastrus, son of Hippotas, and follows from far with her spear Tereus
and Harpalycus and Demophoon and Chromis: and as many darts as the
maiden sends whirling from her hand, so many Phrygians fall. Ornytus the
hunter rides near in strange arms on his Iapygian horse, his broad
warrior's shoulders swathed in the hide stripped from a bullock, his
head covered by a wolf's wide-grinning mouth and white-tusked jaws; a
rustic pike arms his hand; himself he moves amid the squadrons a full
head over all. Catching him up (for that was easy amid the rout), she
runs him through, and thus cries above her enemy: 'Thou wert hunting
wild beasts in the forest, thoughtest thou, Tyrrhenian? the day is come
for a woman's arms to refute thy words. Yet no light fame shalt thou
carry to thy fathers' ghosts, to have fallen under the weapon of
Camilla. ' Next Orsilochus and Butes, the two mightiest of mould among
the Teucrians; Butes she pierces in the [692-725]back with her
spear-point between corslet and helmet, where the neck shews as he sits,
and the shield hangs from his left shoulder; Orsilochus she flies, and
darting in a wide circle, slips into the inner ring and pursues her
pursuer; then rising her full height, she drives the strong axe deep
through armour and bone, as he pleads and makes much entreaty; warm
brain from the wound splashes his face. One met her thus and hung
startled by the sudden sight, the warrior son of Aunus haunter of the
Apennine, not the meanest in Liguria while fate allowed him to deceive.
And he, when he discerns that no fleetness of foot may now save him from
battle or turn the princess from pursuit, essays to wind a subtle device
of treachery, and thus begins: 'How hast thou glory, if a woman trust in
her horse's strength? Debar retreat; trust thyself to level ground at
close quarters with me, and prepare to fight on foot. Soon wilt thou
know how windy boasting brings one to harm. ' He spoke; but she, furious
and stung with fiery indignation, hands her horse to an attendant, and
takes her stand in equal arms on foot and undismayed, with naked sword
and shield unemblazoned. But he, thinking his craft had won the day,
himself flies off on the instant, and turning his rein, darts off in
flight, pricking his beast to speed with iron-armed heel. 'False
Ligurian, in vain elated in thy pride! for naught hast thou attempted
thy slippery native arts, nor will thy craft bring thee home unhurt to
treacherous Aunus.
