Although Book XI is probably one of the least read of the twelve books of the "Aeneid", it is full of examples of the high quality of Virgil's hexameter verse, to which Sabidius has paid tribute previously in the introductions to his translations of other works by the poet on this blogspot. The sorrow and guilt felt by Aeneas at the death of Pallas, and the lamentations of his father Evander are expressed in verses which feature Virgil's ability to engender a very moving sense of pathos, and these tones of pathos reappear in Aeneas' outburst against the horrors of war, and when Latinus proposes generous terms to settle the dispute with the Trojans, and also at the end of the book when the warrior-maid Camilla dies. Much of the book deals with the upbringing, deeds and death of Camilla, whose Amazonian aristeia makes her a much more sympathetic personality than the violent and bullying Turnus, her ally, and the cunning and cowardly Arruns, who successfully plots her downfall.  The book describes the gruesome deaths of many warriors on both sides of the struggle between the Latins and Rutulians on the one hand and the Trojan exiles, and their Arcadian and Etruscan allies on the other; and Virgil uses Homer's 'Iliad' as a treasury for parallel descriptions of martial action. Throughout the book Virgil uses both prosodic and alliterative techniques to illustrate and bring to life the passages of his narrative. As in the case of the other books in the second half of this great poetic work, one can well imagine just how fascinating the details of the story Virgil has to tell must have been for his Roman audience, who will not, of course, have been able to identify easily with one side or the other in what would to them have felt effectively like a civil war. Furthermore, the host of small details that he inserts - for instance, the information that Camilla's name was a variant of her mother's name, Casmilla - adds a degree of verisimilitude to the narrative that is almost irresistible  in its appeal to the reader. 


The text, which Sabidius has used for this translation is taken from "Virgil: Aeneid VII-XII" in Virgil II, edited by G.P. Goold, Loeb Classical Library (2002). This translation has also taken account of the English translation attached to this edition, as well as "Virgil: the Major Works," translated by A.S. Kline (2001-02), and available on line, and the commentary by John Connington (1876), which is available on the Perseus website. A further source of support to Sabidius has come from "Virgil: Aeneid VII-XII, edited by R. Deryck Williams, Bristol Classical Press (1973). 

In his translation, Sabidius, as is his wont, seeks to keep as closely as possible to the actual words and grammatical structure employed by Virgil, while at the same time using English which is readily understandable. At the end of the translation Sabidius enumerates some of the grammatical and prosodic irregularities, which appear in this book.


a) Having set up a trophy to the God of War in celebration of his victory over Mezentius, Aeneas exhorts his men to attend to the burial of their dead comrades (ll. 1-28).

Meanwhile, Dawn rose and left the Ocean: although his sorrows urge (him) to give time to the burial of his comrades, and his mind is disturbed by the death (i.e. that of Pallas), Aeneas, as the victor, began to pay his vows to the gods,  as soon as the Morning Star rose. He plants a huge oak-tree, its branches lopped on all sides, on a mound, and decks (it) out with the shining armour stripped from the chief Mezentius (as) a trophy to you, great God of War; (to it) he fastens crests dripping with blood, and the warrior's broken spears, and his breast-plate battered and pierced in twelve places, and he binds his bronze shield to his left (hand) and hangs his ivory-hilted sword from his neck. Then, he begins to exhort his rejoicing comrades - for the whole band of chieftains crowded around him in a circle - as follows: "Great things have been done (by us), my men; for the future, away with all fear; these are the spoils and the first fruits of a proud king, (and) here, by my efforts, is Mezentius. Now, we must march towards Latium's king and walls. Prepare your weapons with courage and anticipate this war with hope, so that, as soon as the gods above give us the nod to take up our standards and lead our army out of the camp, no delay may impede us unexpectedly, or any cowardly feeling hold (us) back through fear. Meanwhile, let us commit the unburied bodies of our comrades to the earth, which is the only courtesy (recognised) in the depths of Acheron (i.e. the Underworld). Go," he says, "honour with your last gifts these noble spirits, who have procured this country for us with their blood, and first let Pallas be sent to the grieving city of Evander, (he) whom, (though) not wanting in courage, a black day stole away and immersed in a bitter death."
b) Aeneas joins those who are mourning Pallas, and addresses the dead boy, reproaching both himself and Fortune, and expressing his compassion for Evander (ll. 29-58). 

So he speaks weeping, and he retraces his footsteps to the threshold (of the tent) where old Acoetes was watching over the body of the lifeless Pallas, (which had been) laid (there), (that Acoetes) who had once been armour-bearer to Parrhasian (i.e. Arcadian) Evander, but then, under less happy auspices, went (as) the appointed companion to his beloved foster-child. Around (stand) all his band of attendants, and a crowd of Trojans, and the women of Ilium, their hair loosened for mourning in accordance with custom. But, as Aeneas entered the lofty portals, they beat their breasts, and raised a mighty cry of lamentation to the heavens, and the royal palace resounds with their sorrowful wailing. When he saw the head and face of snowy-white Pallas propped up (on a couch), and the open wound from an Ausonian (i.e. Italian) spear on his smooth breast, he speaks thus amid welling tears: "Did Fortune begrudge you to me, unhappy boy," he says, "when she came smiling, so that you would not see my kingdom, nor ride back, victorious, to your father's house? This (was) not the promise concerning you I had given to your father, Evander, on leaving, when he embraced me as I was going, and sent (me) to (win) a great empire and anxiously warned (me) that the (enemy's) men were brave, with a stock (which was) tough in war. And now, utterly deluded by vain hopes, he even perhaps offers vows and piles the altars high with gifts, (while) we, in sorrow, attend with empty rites the lifeless young man, (who) no longer owes any (debt) to any of the gods above. Unhappy (man), you will see the cruel funeral of your son! (Is) this our return and our (long) awaited triumph? (Is) this my great pledge? But, Evander, you will not look upon (your son struck down) by shameful wounds (while) in flight, nor will you, (as) a father, long for an accursed death because your son (has returned) unharmed. Ah me! how great a protection you are losing, Ausonia, and how great (a protection you are losing too), Iülus!"

c) The funeral procession is formed, and Pallas' body placed on the bier, with spoils and human victims to accompany it. Aeneas briefly bids the corpse farewell (ll. 59-99).

When he had finished these bitter lamentations, he bids (them) raise the piteous corpse, and he sends a thousand men, picked from the whole of his army, to attend the last rites, and share in the father's tears, a meagre solace for such great grief, but due (indeed) to such a distressed father. Others, in haste, interweave a soft bier of wickerwork with shoots of arbutus and twigs of oak, and they cover the couch which (they have) heaped up with a canopy of leaves. Here, they lay the youth high on his rustic litter, like a flower picked by a maiden's fingers, or a tender violet or a drooping hyacinth, whose sheen and particular beauty have still not faded; (but) mother earth no longer nurtures (it) or gives (it) strength. Then, Aeneas brought out two robes, stiff with gold and purple (embroidery), which Sidonian Dido, herself, delighting in the task, had once made for him with her own hands, and had interwoven the texture with gold thread. Sadly, he drapes one of these around the youth (as) a last honour, and veils with its cloth the locks of hair that will soon be burned, and, in addition, he piles up many of the prizes (which he had won) in the battle of the Laurentian (fields), and orders the spoils to be borne in a long line; he adds the horses and weapons which he had plundered from the enemy. He had bound behind their backs the hands (of those) whom he had planned to send (as) funeral offerings to the shades, in order to sprinkle the flames with the blood of the dying, and he gives instructions for the chieftains, themselves, to carry the tree-trunks draped in the enemy's  weapons, and for the names of the foe to be affixed (to them). Unhappy Acoetes, worn out by age, marring now his chest with his fists, now his face with his nails, falls with his whole body prostrate on the ground;  and they also lead chariots drenched in Rutulian blood. Behind goes the war-horse Aethon, weeping, and he wets his face with big tear-drops. Some carry his spear and helmet, for Turnus possesses the other (things as) victor. Then follows a mournful host, Teucrians, all the Etruscans and Arcadians, with their weapons reversed. When the whole line of his comrades had proceeded for some distance, Aeneas halted and with a deep sigh added the following (words): "The same grim destiny of war calls me hence to other tears: my greetings forever, noble Pallas, farewell forever." Without speaking any further, he proceeded to the lofty walls, and directed his footsteps towards the camp.


a) An embassy comes from Latium, begging for a truce to bury the dead. Aeneas addresses them soothingly, grants their request, and suggests that the war be decided by single combat between himself and Turnus (ll. 100-121). 

And now ambassadors came from the Latin city (i.e. Lavinium) wrapped in olive branches and seeking favour (for their plea): (they beg) that he would return the bodies which lay strewn by the sword across the plain and allow them to be placed under a mound of earth; (there can be) no quarrel with the vanquished and (those) deprived of the light (of day); let him spare (those who were) once called their hosts and their fathers-in-law. Aeneas courteously honours their prayers with a truce he could not spurn, and adds these words in addition: "What an undeserved misfortune, Latins, has entangled you in such a war that you flee from us (who are) your friends? Are you asking me for peace for the dead and for (those) who have been slain by the lot of war? I, indeed, would willingly have granted (it) to the living as well. I would not have come, if fate had not granted (me) this place to settle in, nor do I wage war on your people: your king abandoned our guest-friendship and entrusted himself rather to the arms of Turnus. It would have been more just for Turnus to expose himself to this death. If he is preparing to end this war by force and to drive out the Teucrians, he should have fought with me with these weapons: he would have survived, to whom god or his own right (hand) had granted life. Now go and kindle fire beneath your luckless countrymen." Aeneas finished speaking. They were struck dumb in silence, and they turned their eyes on one another and kept their faces (still).

b) Drances, one of the Latins, assures Aeneas of their gratitude and sympathy. Each side cuts down trees for funeral piles (ll. 122-138).

Then, Drances, an elder, always hostile to the young Turnus with his hatred and his accusations, in turn begins to speak as follows: "O Trojan hero, great in renown and greater in arms, with what praises can I equate you with the sky? Should I marvel mainly at your (sense of) justice or your efforts in war? Indeed, we shall gratefully carry back these (words of yours) to our native city, and, if some good-fortune grants a way, we shall ally you to our king, Latinus. Let Turnus seek treaties for himself. Indeed, it will even be a delight (for us) to raise the massive walls appointed by fate and to bear on our shoulders the stones of Troy." He finished speaking these (words), and with one voice they all murmured the same (sentiments). They agreed (a truce) for twelve days, and, under the protection of the truce, Teucrians and Latins, intermingled, roamed through the forests and on the mountain ridges in safety. The tall ash resounds under the two-headed axe, they fell pine-trees that soared up to the heavens, and they do not cease splitting oak-trees and the fragrant cedar with wedges, nor carrying away manna ash-trees in creaking wagons.

(The news has reached Pallanteum before the procession arrives. Evander rushes to meet the bier, bewails his son's rashness and his own length of life, but finds comfort in Pallas' trophies and sends a message to Aeneas, praying for revenge on Turnus.)

And by now Rumour in her flight, the harbinger of such great grief, fills (the ears of) Evander and Evander's palace and city, (that Rumour) which only recently was carrying (the news of) Pallas (as) victor in Latium. The Arcadians rushed to the gates, and, in accordance with ancient custom, snatched up torches for the funeral; the road is lit up with a long line of flames, and this picks out the fields far into the distance. As it comes to meet (them), the troop of Phrygians (i.e. Trojans) joins the column of mourners. When the women saw (them) coming near to their houses, they set the grief-stricken city ablaze with their cries. Then, there is no force (which) can restrain Evander, but he rushes into their midst. As soon as the bier is set down, he flings himself on top of Pallas, and clings (to him) with tears and groans, and at long last a path for his voice was, with difficulty, opened up by his grief: "This (was) not the promise (which) you gave to your father, O Pallas, that you would entrust yourself to the savage God of War with some caution. I was not unaware of how great fresh glory in arms and the very sweet honour (won) in first conflict can be. (O) the bitter first-fruits of youth and the harsh schooling of a war so near, and (alas! for) my vows and prayers, unheard by any of the gods! And you, O my queen of blessed memory, happy (are you) in your death, nor were you saved to (experience) this sorrow. On the other hand, I, by living on, have exceeded my destiny, (and) I have been left as a father, surviving (his son). Would that the Rutulians had overwhelmed (me) with their spears as (I) followed the allied arms of the Trojans! I should have given my life, and this procession should have carried me, not Pallas, home! (Yet), I would not blame you, Teucrians, or our treaty or the hands which we joined in friendship: this fate was owed to my old age. But if a premature death awaited my son, it will be a matter of joy (to me) that he fell, leading the Teucrians into Latium, after first slaying thousands of Volscians. Indeed, I could deem you worthy of no other funeral, Pallas, than (the one which) pious Aeneas, and which the mighty Phrygians, and which the Tyrrhenian (i.e. Etruscan) chieftains and the whole Tyrrhenian army (have chosen for you). (Those) to whom your right (hand) deals death bring mighty trophies; you too, Turnus, would now be standing (here), a monstrous tree-trunk (decked) in arms, (if) his age had been equal (to yours), and if his strength as measured in years (had been) the same (as yours). But why, unhappy (as I am), do I detain (you) Teucrians from battle? Go, and remember to take my messages to your king: if I prolong a life (which is) hateful (to me), now that Pallas has been slain, the reason is your right (hand), which you know owes Turnus to both son and father. This opportunity alone is open to your merits and your good fortune. I ask not for joy in life - nor (is it) possible -, but to bear (joyful tidings) to my son in the Shades beneath."

4) THE FUNERAL PYRES (LL. 182-224).

a) The Trojans burn their dead, following their customary rites (ll. 182-202).

Meanwhile, Dawn had raised up her kindly light for wretched men, recalling (them) to work and toil: now father Aeneas, now Tarchon, had erected pyres on the winding shore. Here, in accordance with the custom of their ancestors, they each brought the bodies of their (people), and, as the smoky fires are lit beneath, the high heavens are shrouded in darkness by a mist. Three times they went in procession around the blazing funeral piles, clad in their shining armour, three times they circled around the mournful funeral fire on horseback, and gave tongue to loud lamentations; and the earth is besprinkled with their tears, (and) their armour is besprinkled too: the cries of men, and the blare of trumpets, goes up to the sky. Then, some fling on to the fire spoils stripped from slain Latins, helmets and handsome swords, bridles and red-hot wheels; others, familiar offerings, their own shields, and their luckless weapons. Round about (these), many heads of cattle are sacrificed to Death, and over the flames they cut the throats of bristling boars and flocks seized from every field. Then, they watch their comrades burning all along the shore, and keep guard over the charred pyres, and they cannot be torn away (from them), until the humid night comes rolling over the sky (which is) studded with blazing stars.  

b) The Latins burn their dead also, burying them on the third day. There is a strong feeling against Turnus in the city, aggravated by Drances, but Turnus has his supporters too (ll. 203-224).

No less did the wretched Latins also construct countless pyres in different places, and, of the many bodies of men, some they bury in the earth and some they lift up and carry to the neighbouring fields or send back to their city; the rest, a vast pile of indistinguishable slaughter, they burn without count and without honour: then, in all directions, the broad fields compete in shining with their clusters of fire. The third dawn had dispersed the chill shadow from the sky: grieving, they raked from the pyres the deep (pile of) ash and the intermingled bones, and heaped a mound of warm earth (on top). But now, the main (source of) the clamour and the chief centre of the prolonged lamentation (comes) from the houses in the city of the very rich Latinus. Here, the mothers and their wretched daughters-in-law, and the loving hearts of grieving sisters and of boys deprived of their fathers curse the dreadful war and Turnus' wedding (plans); they decree that he, himself, and only he, (the man) who demands the kingdom of Italy and its foremost honours, should decide (the issue) with his armour and sword. The furious Drances adds his weight to this, and bears witness that Turnus alone was summoned (by Aeneas), that (he) alone was challenged to combat. At the same time, (there are) many contrary opinions, with different arguments on behalf of Turnus, and the queen's great name (i.e. that of Amata) shelters (him), (while) his great fame, (earned) by the trophies he has won, gains the hero support.

5) AN ANSWER FROM ARPI (LL. 225-295).

a) The feeling is aggravated by the return of the deputation sent to Diomedes without success. A council is summoned, and the leader starts to report the result of his mission (ll. 225-242).

Amidst these disturbances, (and) in the middle of this fiery tumult, behold, on top of (everything else), his gloomy envoys bring an answer from the city of the great Diomedes (i.e. Arpi): nothing (had been) achieved despite all the great efforts they had expended, neither had their gifts, nor their gold, nor their heartfelt prayers availed anything, (but) the Latins must seek other arms or they must sue for peace with the Trojan king. Even King Latinus is overcome by his great grief: the anger of the gods, and the fresh graves before his eyes, warn (him) that Aeneas is brought (to them as a man) of destiny by the clear will of heaven. Therefore, he summons his high council and the leaders of his (people) by (royal) command, and gathers (them) within his lofty portals. They assembled, and flock to the royal palace through the crowded streets. Latinus, both the greatest in age and the foremost in authority, sits in their midst with a joyless brow. And he bids his envoys, (who have) returned from the Aetolian city, tell what (tidings) they bring back, and he demands full answers in their turn. Then, silence falls on (all) tongues, and Venulus, obedient  to his command, begins to speak as follows:

b) Diomedes warns the envoys, by his example and that of the other Greeks, and advises them to conciliate Aeneas, whose prowess he extols (ll. 243-295).

"O citizens, we have seen Diomedes and his Argive camp, and, (in) completing our journey, we have overcome all hazards, and have grasped the hand, by which the land of Ilium fell. (As) victor over the fields of Iapygia on (Mount) Garganus (i.e. in Apulia), he was (busy) founding the city of Argyripa (i.e. Arpi), named after his father's race. When we had entered, and the opportunity (was) given (to us) of speaking in his presence, we offer (him) our gifts and inform (him) of our name and country, of who has made war (upon us), (and) what reason has drawn (us) to Arpi. Having heard (us), he replied thus with a calm countenance: 'O happy peoples, from the realms of Saturn, ancient (sons of) Ausonia, what chance (event) disturbs your peace, and urges (you) to provoke warfare (in which you) lack experience? We, who violated the fields of Ilium with our swords - I omit those (things) which (were) endured to the end in the fighting beneath her high walls, (and) those warriors, whose (bodies) the famous (River) Simois (now) conceals - have suffered unspeakable tortures and every kind of punishment for our crimes throughout the world, a band (of men) worthy to be pitied even by Priam: Minerva's baleful star, and the crags of Euboea, and the avenging (Cape) Caphereus, bear witness to (it). Driven from that warfare to remote shores, Menelaus, the son of Atreus, is an exile as far as the Pillars of Proteus (i.e. the island of Pharos, off Alexandria in Egypt), (and) Ulysses has seen the Cyclopes of (Mount) Aetna. Even the Mycenaean leader of the mighty Achaeans (i.e. Agamemnon) died at the hand of his atrocious wife (i.e. Clytemnestra) as soon as (he was) over the threshold; an adulterer (i.e. Aegisthus) lay in wait for the conqueror of Asia. Need I speak of the kingdom of Neoptolemus and the household of Idomeneus being overthrown? Or of the Locrians living on the coast of Libya? Or of how the gods begrudged that, having returned to my native altars, I might see the wife I longed for and my lovely Calydon (i.e. Diomedes' birthplace in Aetolia)? Now even portents dreadful to see pursue (me), and my lost comrades, (like) birds, have made for the sky on their wings, and haunt the streams - alas! the dreadful sufferings of my (people) - and fill the rocks with their mournful cries. This was just (what) I had to expect from that moment, when, I madly attacked those celestial bodies with my sword and harmed Venus' hand with a wound. But do not, do not impel me into such conflicts (as these). I (do) not (have) any quarrel with the Teucrians, since Pergama (i.e. the citadel of Troy) (has been) demolished, nor do I think about, or rejoice over, those former unhappy (times). Direct the gifts which you bring to me from your native shores to Aeneas. I have stood against his fierce weapons and have fought (him) hand-to-hand: trust (one) who has experienced (it), how mightily he rises up upon his shield, (and) with what a whirlwind he hurls his spear. Moreover, if the land of Ida had borne two men such as (him), the Dardanian (i.e. the Trojans as a whole) would have come against the cities of Inachus (i.e. the cities of Greece in general) of his own accord, and Greece would be in mourning, with fate having been reversed. Whatever (time) was spent before the walls of stubborn Troy, the victory of the Greeks was checked by the hands of Hector and Aeneas, and our return was delayed to the tenth year. Both (were) renowned for their courage, both (were renowned) for their excellence in arms, (but) the latter (was) foremost in piety. May your hands be joined in a treaty, on whatever (terms) are offered; but beware lest your arms clash with (his) arms.' You have heard, noblest of kings, both what were the responses of the king at the time, and what his advice was on our great war."

6) LATINUS' PROPOSALS (LL. 296-335).

a) After Venulus' speech, Latinus prepares to speak to the assembly (ll. 296-301). 

Scarcely (had) the envoys (said) these (things), when a murmur of conflicting (opinions) ran across the troubled lips of the (sons of) Ausonia, like, when rocks obstruct rapidly flowing rivers, a roar rises from the blocked eddies, and the neighbouring banks echo with splashing waves. As soon as their minds (are) calm and their anxious lips are quiet, the King, calling first upon the gods, begins (to speak) from his lofty throne:

b) Latinus proposes that a part of his kingdom be assigned to the Trojans, or that they should fit out a fleet for them to go elsewhere; furthermore, he suggests that the envoys charged with bringing these proposals should carry gifts to Aeneas (ll. 302-335)

"Latins, I could have wished we had decided about this most important matter before (now), and it would have been better not to have convened a council at a time such as this, when the enemy is besieging our walls. Citizens, we are waging an ill-omened war with a race of divine origin, and with men (who are) unconquered, whom no battles can weary and (who) cannot relinquish the sword (even when they are) beaten. If you have any hope of winning an alliance with Aetolian arms, set (it) aside. Each one (of us has) his own hopes, but you can see how slender they (are). How all other (aspects) of our cause lie shattered in ruins, they are all before your eyes and within your grasp. I do not accuse anyone: what the greatest courage could achieve, has been done; we have fought with the utmost strength of the realm. So now , I shall explain what is the judgment of my wavering mind, and I shall outline (it) in  a few (words) - (so) pay attention! I have in my possession an ancient (piece of) land, bordering on the Tuscan river (i.e. the Tiber), (stretching) westward as far as the Sicanian borders; Auruncans and Rutulians sow (the seed) and work the stubborn hills with the ploughshare, and on the roughest of them they graze (animals). Let this whole region and its pine-clad zone of high mountains accrue to our friendship with the Teucrians, and let us spell out the just terms of a treaty and call (them) partners in our kingdom: let them settle (there), if such (is) their desire, and build a city. But, if they are of a mind to lay hold of other territories and another nation, and can leave our soil, let us construct twenty ships of Italian oak; or, if they can fill more, all the timber lies close to the water; let them prescribe both the number and the type of their ships themselves, (and) let us deliver the bronze, the labour, (and) the  shipyards. Furthermore, to bear the news and seal the treaty, I would have a hundred envoys, Latins from the foremost families, go forth, holding branches of peace in their hands, (and) bearing gifts, both talents of gold and ivory, and a throne and a robe (as) symbols of our sovereignty. (Now) consult together and repair our tired fortunes."


(Drances delivers a violent invective against Turnus, declaring his pretensions to be the cause of all their difficulties, bidding him either to abandon them or support them in single-combat, and urging Latinus to offer his daughter in marriage to Aeneas.)

Then, Drances, whom the glory of Turnus tormented with the stings of secret envy, lavish with his money, rather good with his tongue, but his hand (was) frozen in battle, being no mean author of advice (and) powerful in faction - his mother's nobility granted him his proud lineage, but from his father he drew a doubtful (status) -, rises, as hostile (to Turnus) as before, and heaps up and stokes the anger (against him) with these words: "O gracious king, you are discussing a matter not unclear to anyone and not in need of our voice: everyone acknowledges that they know what the people's prosperity requires, but they hesitate to say (it). Let (that man), on account of whose ill-starred leadership and perverse ways - yes, I shall speak, though he may threaten me with violence and death - we see that so many of our leaders' (shining) lights have fallen and that our whole city has sunk in mourning, while, trusting in flight, he assails the Trojan camp and frightens heaven with his weapons, (let) him grant freedom of speech and abate his puffed-up pride. May you add one more to those many gifts, which you order to be sent or promised to the Dardanians, one (more), most excellent king, and let no man's violence intimidate you from giving your daughter, (as) a father (may do), to a distinguished son-in-law in a worthy marriage, and may you associate this peace with a lasting contract. But if such terror takes hold of our minds and hearts, let us entreat (the prince) himself (i.e. Turnus) and let us beg a favour from him: let him yield, (and) give back to his king and country their proper rights. O (you who are) the source and cause of these woes to Latium, why do you so often hurl your (fellow-)citizens into such obvious dangers? (There is) no safety (for us) in war; we are all demanding peace from you, Turnus, together with the only inviolable pledge of peace. I, first (of all), whom you suppose to be hostile to you (and I do not contest that I am), see, I come (as) your suppliant. Pity your (people), set aside your pride, and, beaten (as you are), give way. Routed, we have seen enough of death, and have left our broad fields desolate. But if your reputation moves (you), if you harbour such strength (of feeling) in your heart, and, if a palace (as) your dowry is so dear (to you), be bold and bear your breast with confidence to meet your foe. Of course, we, (whose) lives (are) worthless, can be strewn over the fields, an unburied and unlamented mob, (can't we)? (But) you, too, if you (have) any strength, if you possess any of your father's martial spirit, look face-to-face at him who challenges (you) ...."

 8) TURNUS REPLIES (LL. 376-444).

a) Turnus replies furiously to Drances, whose cowardice he contrasts with his own valour (ll. 376-409).

At these remarks, Turnus' violent (wrath) blazed forth; he gives a groan, and, from the bottom of his heart, gives vent to these words: "Drances, it's true that you always (have) a large amount to say whenever war calls for men, and, when the council is called, you are the first to appear. But there is no need to fill the council-house with words, which fly so splendidly from your (lips so long as you are) safe, while the rampart on the walls holds back the enemy, and the trenches are not (yet) overflowing with blood. So, thunder on in your eloquence, [as you (are) accustomed (to do)], Drances, and accuse me of cowardice, when your right (hand) has produced so many mounds of dead Teucrians, and you adorn the fields everywhere with trophies. You are free to try out what lively courage can (do), and we certainly do not need to look very far for enemies: they are surrounding our walls on every side. Are we going against our enemies? Why do you hesitate? Will your warlike spirit always remain in your windy words and those run-away feet of yours? I, beaten, (you say)? (You), foulest (of villains), shall anyone who takes the trouble to look at the Tiber flowing, swollen with Trojan blood, and all Evander's house and stock (i.e. Pallas) laid prostrate, and all his Arcadians stripped of their arms, rightly claim that (I am) beaten? Not so did Bitias and the giant Pandarus experience me, nor (did) the thousand (men) whom I, as victor, sent down to Tartarus (i.e. Hell), shut in, though I was, within their walls and enclosed by enemy ramparts. 'There is no safety in war,' (you say)? Say such (things), (you) madman, about the Dardanian's life and your own possessions. Go on then, do not cease to disturb everything with your great alarms, and extol the strengths of a twice conquered race (i.e. by Hercules and then by the Greeks), (while) on the other hand you decry the arms of Latinus. Now even the chiefs of the Myrmidons, now even the son of Tydeus (i.e. Diomedes) and Larisaean Achilles, shudder at the arms of the Phrygians, and the River Aufidus flows upstream away from the Adriatic waves. Or (what about) when he pretends that he is afraid to face my taunts - the act of a scoundrel - and he aggravates the charge (against me) with (false) fear. Never will you lose a soul such as yours through this right (arm); so stop worrying: let it stay with you and remain within that (craven) breast of yours.
b) Then, turning to Latinus, Turnus pleads that a reverse in a single battle may well be retrieved, and that they have many allies, who may yet do much to help them; he adds, however, that he is quite prepared to meet Aeneas in single combat (ll. 410-444).

"Now, father, I return to you and your weighty proposals. If you place no further hope in our arms, if we are so forsaken, and, when our army has suffered a defeat on (but) one occasion, we are utterly destroyed, and our fortune has no power to retrace its steps, let us pray for peace, and stretch forth our helpless hands. And yet, if only some of our wonted valour were present! The man (who) to me (is) both happy in his labours and noble in his spirit (is he) who, lest he should see any such (thing) as this, has fallen in death and has bitten the dust with his mouth once (and for all). But if we still have the means and a manhood still intact, and the cities and peoples of Italy continue in our support, and if glory has come to the Trojans too at the cost of much bloodshed - they (too) have their deaths and a similar storm (has swept) through all (their ranks) - why do we lose (heart) so shamefully at the (very) first threshold? Why does trembling seize our limbs before the trumpet (sounds)? Time, and the shifting toil of changing years, has altered many (things) for the better; Fortune, revisiting many (a man) in alternate forms, has mocked (him) and (then) set (him) on solid (ground) again. The Aetolian (i.e. Diomedes) and Arpi will not be of any help to us: but Messapus and lucky Tolumnius and (all) those leaders, whom so many peoples have sent, will be (of help), and no small glory will attend (those) chosen by Latium and the Laurentine fields. We, also, have Camilla from the glorious nation of the Volscians, leading her troop of horsemen and her squadrons blooming with bronze. But if the Teucrians call me only to combat, and that is acceptable (to you), and I am obstructing the common good so much, Victory has not shunned these hands of mine with such hatred, that I should refuse to face anything for a hope so great. I shall go against (him) with courage, even though he should excel mighty Achilles, and wear armour matching (his), wrought by the hands of Vulcan. I, Turnus, not inferior in valour to any of my ancestors, have dedicated this life (of mine) to (all of) you, and to my father-in-law Latinus. 'Aeneas challenges (me) alone,' you say? I, too, pray that he challenges (me); and that, if this (crisis) involves the wrath of the gods, (it is) not Drances rather (than I who) appeases (them) with his death, or that, if there is (an opportunity here for displaying) valour and (winning) glory, (it is not) he (rather than I who) rises (to it)."

9. THE TROJANS ATTACK (LL. 445-531).

a) An alarm is given that Aeneas is marching on the city. Turnus breaks up the assembly and gives orders for defence and attack (ll. 445-467)

Arguing thus, they were discussing among themselves those matters (which were) in doubt: (meanwhile) Aeneas was moving his camp and his battle-line. Behold, a messenger runs through the royal palace amid a wild uproar, and fills the city with great alarms: (he cries out) that the Teucrians and the Tyrrhenian war-band, drawn up in battle array, are sweeping down over the whole plain. Immediately, the minds of the people (are) confused, and their hearts shaken, and their passions (are) aroused by these far from gentle goads. Shaking their fists, they call for their arms, (and) the young men shout for their weapons, (but) their fathers weep in sadness and murmur (doubtfully). Then, a loud noise, with various (voices of) dissent, rises to the heavens, just as when flocks of birds chance to have settled in some tall grove, or swans give their hoarse sounds among noisy pools by Padusa's fish-filled river. "O yes, my (fellow-)citizens," cries Turnus, seizing his moment, "convene your council and sit there, praising peace: with their weapons, they are invading our kingdom." Saying no more, he sprang up, and strode forth from the lofty palace. "Volusus, bid the companies of Volscians arm themselves," he cries, "and lead out the Rutulians. Messapus and Coras, with your brother (i.e. Catillus), deploy the cavalry over the wide plain. Let some guard the entrance to the city and man the towers; let the rest attack with me (by a route) which I shall direct."

b) Latinus retires in despair. Queen Amata and Lavinia go with a train of matrons to the temple of Pallas, and pray for the defeat and death of Aeneas (ll. 468-485). 

At once, there is a rush to the walls from all over the city. Father Latinus, himself, abandons the council and his momentous designs, and, dismayed by the sadness of the hour, he postpones (it), and he reproaches himself many times because he has not welcomed Dardanian Aeneas of his own accord, and admitted him to the city (as) his son-in-law. Some dig (trenches) in front of the gates, or carry up stones and stakes (on to the defences). The harsh (sound of) the trumpet gives the bloody signal for war. Then, women and boys in a motley circle fringed the walls; the ultimate test summons (them) all. Moreover, the queen, with a large crowd of women, rides up to the temple and the great citadel of Pallas, bearing gifts, and beside (her as) a companion (is) the maiden Lavinia, the source of so much trouble, with her beautiful eyes downcast. The women go in, and fumigate the temple with incense, and they pour out their sorrowful prayers from the high threshold: "(O) Tritonian Maid, mighty in arms, who presides over war, shatter with your hand the spear of the Phrygian pirate and lay him prostrate on the ground and throw (him) down beneath your own high gates."
c) Turnus arms himself and hastens to the battle-field (ll. 486-497).

With feverish zeal, Turnus arms himself for battle. And now indeed, having donned his glowing breastplate, he was bristling in his bronze scales, and had sheathed the calves (of his legs) in gold, (though) his temples (were) still bare, and he had buckled his sword to his side; he shone with gold as he ran down from the heights of the citadel, and he exults in his courage, and in his hopes he already anticipates the foe; (it is) just like when a horse, breaking his tether, has fled his stalls, (and,) free at last and master of the open plains, he either heads for the pastures and the herds of mares, or, accustomed to being bathed in water in a familiar river, he dashes off, and, with his head raised high, he neighs in delight, and his mane frolics over his neck and shoulders.

d) Turnus is met by Camilla, who offers to go and meet the Trojans while he protects the city. He suggests that she should meet the Trojan cavalry, while he occupies a mountain pass, along which the Trojan infantry are coming (ll. 498-521). 

Camilla sped to meet him, accompanied by her Volscian troops, and the queen leapt down from her horse near by the very gates, and her whole company, following her example, got off their horses and slid down to the ground; then she speaks the following (words): "Turnus, if the brave rightly have some confidence in themselves, I venture and promise to meet the cavalry of Aeneas' army, and to go alone to meet with the Tyrrhenian horsemen. Let me try the war's first perils with my hand, (while) you stay on foot by the walls and guard the ramparts." To these (words) Turnus, fixing his eyes on the awe-inspiring maiden, (replies): "O maiden, glory of Italy, what thanks should I prepare to utter or to repay (in deeds)? But now, since your spirit surpasses all (bounds), share this toil with me. As rumour reports, and (as) scouts (who have been) sent out (provide) confirmation, that evil (man), Aeneas, has sent ahead his lightly-armed cavalry in order to scour the plains; he, himself, climbing the ridge, is advancing rapidly through the desolate heights of the mountain towards the city. I am preparing an ambush on an over-arched pathway through the woods, so as to block both entrances to the pass with an armed force. When battle has been joined, you must await the Tyrrhenian cavalry (charge); brave Messapus will be with you, and also the Latin squadrons and Tiburtus' contingent, (but) you, too, must take charge as leader." So he speaks, and exhorts Messapus and the allied leaders to battle with similar words, and (then) proceeds against the foe.

e) Turnus prepares to ambush Aeneas' forces (ll. 522-531).
There is a valley with a winding bend, suitable for the delusions and tricks of war, which a dark side (wall) of dense foliage hems in on both sides, (and) to which a tiny path leads, and a narrow pass and an awkward approach brings (you). Above it, among the watch-towers on the high mountain tops, lies a hidden plateau and a safe refuge, whether you are minded to charge from the right (side) or the left, or to take a stand on the ridge and roll down huge boulders. Hither the warrior hastens by a well-known network of roads, and he took up his position and occupied the treacherous woods.


a) Diana tells Opis, one of her nymphs, the story of Camilla, who had been brought up by her father, the exiled tyrant of Privernum (ll. 532-556).

Meanwhile, in heaven's halls, Latona's daughter (i.e. Diana) was addressing swift Opis, one of her maiden companions and (a member of) of her sacred band, and spoke these words of sorrow with her lips: "O, our virgin Camilla, dear to me before (all) others, is marching to that cruel war, and is vainly girding on our arms. For this (is) no new love (that) has comes upon Diana, nor has it stirred my heart with a sudden sweetness. When Metabus, driven from his throne on account of the hatred (aroused) by his tyrannical (use of) power, was leaving the ancient city of Privernum, as he fled right through the midst of the conflicts of war, he took (with him) his infant (child as) his companion in exile, and, from her mother's name, Casmilla, (which he) changed slightly, he called (her) Camilla. Carrying (her) before him on his breast, he, himself, made for a long ridge of lonely forests: fierce weapons assailed (him) on every side, and the Volscians, their troops having surrounded (him), were hovering about. Behold, in the midst of their flight, the (River) Amasenus overflowed and foamed over the top of its banks; so great a downpour had burst from the clouds. He, preparing to swim across, is held back by love of his child, and he fears for his beloved burden. Pondering all (options) within himself, this idea suddenly settled (on him). The giant spear, solid with knots and (made) of seasoned oak, which the warrior chanced to be carrying in his stout hand, to this he fastens his daughter, and he wraps (her) in the bark of a forest cork-tree, and ties (her) handily (i.e. so that it would be possible to throw her) to the centre of the spear-shaft: (then,) poising it in his mighty right (hand), he cries out thus to the heavens:

b) Having been saved her by her father throwing her across the River Amasenus attached to a spear-shaft, Camilla was brought up by him in the woods, and becomes a virgin huntress attached to weapons of war. Diana bids Opis keep an eye on her and avenge her if she should fall (ll. 557-596).

'Gracious virgin, daughter of Latona, who dwells in the woods, I, her very own father, dedicate this (child) as your servant; holding her first weapon, she flees the foe through the air (as) your suppliant. Accept, goddess, (as) your own, I implore (you), this (child), who is now committed to the hazards of the breezes.' He spoke, and, drawing back his arm, he launches the spinning spear-shaft: the waters roared, (as) poor Camilla flees on the whistling spear over the top of that rushing river. But Metabus, with a great crowd (of his enemies) now pressing (him) closely, gives himself to the stream, and plucks victoriously from the grassy turf the spear and the (little) maid, (as) his offering to Trivia (i.e. Diana). No city would accept him within their houses or their walls - nor would he, in his wild state, have yielded himself (to them); and he passed his time among shepherds on lonely mountains. Here, among the thickets and the rugged lairs (of wild beasts), he nourished his daughter at the udders of a mare of the herd, and on the milk of wild creatures, squeezing their teats between her tender lips. As soon as the infant had taken the first steps on her feet, he placed a pointed lance in her hands, and hung a quiver and a bow from her small shoulder. In place of a golden headband and the covering of a long robe, the pelts of a tiger hang from her head across her back. Even at that time, she hurled her child's spear with a tender hand, and whirled a sling around her head with a well-twisted thong, and brought down a Strymonian crane and a white swan (with it). Many a mother throughout the towns of Tyrrhenia longed for her (as) a daughter-in-law in vain. Content with Diana alone, she cherishes, untouched, a lifelong love of her weapons and of her virginity. I could have wished that she had not been caught up in warfare such as this, trying to challenge the Teucrians: and that she were still my darling and one of my companions. But, come now, since she is driven by a merciless fate, slip down, nymph, from the sky, and take a look at the Latin territories, where sad battle is being joined under an unlucky omen. Take these (i.e. her bow and arrows), and draw from this quiver an avenging arrow: with this, may anyone, Trojan or Italian, who violates her body with a wound, pay an equal penalty in his blood. Afterwards, I shall carry the body and the unspoiled arms of the hapless (maid) to her tomb in a hollow mist, and I shall bury (her) in her native land." She spoke, and the other (i.e. Opis) slipped down through the light breezes of the sky, and she made a whirring sound, her form surrounded by a dark whirlwind.
11) THE ARMIES ENGAGE (LL. 597-647).

a) The Rutulian and Trojan cavalry meet in battle (ll. 597-617).
But, meanwhile, the Trojan war-band and the Etruscan chieftains and all their array of cavalry, marshalled by number into squadrons, draw near to the walls. The war-horse neighs, as it prances over the whole plain, and it fights against its tight reins, wheeling this way and that; then, steely with spears, the field bristles far and wide, and the plains shine with weapons raised aloft. On the other side too, Messapus and the speedy Latins, and Coras with his brother, and the virgin Camilla's (cavalry) wing appear on the plain in opposition, and, drawing their right (arms) far back, they thrust their spears forward and shake their javelins; the movements of men and the neighing of horses grow hotter. And now, each (group of cavalry) had halted in its advance, within a spear's throw (of the other): (then,) with a sudden shout, they burst forth and spur on their maddened horses; spears (as) thick as snow-flakes pour down at once from all sides, and the sky is covered in darkness. Immediately, Tyrrhenus and brave Aconteus, striving with levelled spears, charge (each other), and, (are) the first (to) fall upon (each other) with a mighty crash, and the breast-bones of their galloping horses (are) fractured and break on the breast-bones (of the other): Aconteus, dispatched like a thunderbolt or a weight shot from a siege-engine, falls headlong some distance away (from his horse), and disperses his life among the breezes.

b) After various advances and retreats, they engage in earnest (ll. 618-647).

At once, the ranks waver, and the routed Latins throw their shields over their shoulders, and turn their horses towards the walls. The Trojans pursue (the Latins); their chieftain Asilas leads their squadrons against (them). And now they were approaching the gates, and the Latins again raise a shout, and turn their (horses') supple necks around again: they (i.e. the Trojans) flee and retreat with the reins completely slackened. As when the ocean, advancing with alternate flood, now rushes towards land, dashing over the rocks, with foaming wave, and drenching the furthest shore with its swell, now it flees rapidly backwards, sucking back again pebbles sent spinning by its tide its tide, and leaving dry sand as its shallows ebb: twice the Tuscans drove the routed Rutulians to the walls, twice, having been repulsed, they look back, covering their backs with their armour. But, when they met in a third encounter, their lines locked together along their whole (length), and man chose man: then, indeed, (there are) the groans of the dying and arms and bodies, deep in blood, and half-dead horses roll around, intermingled with the carnage of men, (as) the battle swells fiercely. Orsilochus hurled a lance at Remulus' horse, since he shrank from approaching the (man) himself, and the steel(-point) remained behind its ear. The rearing charger rages at this blow, and, unable to bear the wound, raises its chest and flings its fore-legs on high; knocked off (his horse), the man (i.e. Remulus) rolls on the ground. Catillus strikes down Iollas, and Herminius, mighty in courage (and) mighty in body and shoulders, who (has) tawny hair on his bare head and bare shoulders, as he has no fear of wounds; so great (is the front) he exposes to the weapons (of the enemy). The spear quivers as it is driven through his broad shoulders, and, having been thrust through (him), doubles the man up with pain. Dark blood pours everywhere; clashing with swords, they dealt destruction, and seek a glorious death through their wounds.
12) CAMILLA IN ACTION (LL. 648-724).

a) Camilla's fighting practices; her companions (ll. 648-663).

But, in the midst of the slaughter, Camilla, wearing her quiver, exults, (like) an Amazon, (with) one breast bared for battle; and now she hurls volleys of vibrating javelins from her hand, now she tirelessly snatches up a battle-axe in her hand; a golden bow, Diana's weapon too, twangs from her shoulder. And even if she has withdrawn, when pressed from behind, she reverses her bow and aims arrows in her flight. And around (her are) her chosen  companions, the maiden Larina, Tulla, and Tarpeia, brandishing her axe, daughters of Italy, whom godlike Camilla, herself, chose (as) an ornament to her, trusty servants both in peace and in war: such (are) the Amazons of Thrace, when they tread the streams of Thermodon (i.e. the river of Pontus, the home of the Amazons) and fight with painted armour, whether around Hippolyte, or, when Penthesilea, the daughter of Mars, returns in her chariot, and the ranks of women, with their crescent-shaped shields, exult in a loud whooping noise.

b) The actions of Camilla: she kills many of the Trojans and their allies by arrow or spear (ll.664-689).

Whom do you strike down first with your spear, whom last, (you) fierce maiden? Or how many bodies do you stretch dying on the ground? The first (is) Eunaeus, fathered by Clytius, whose exposed breast, as he faces up (to her), she transfixes with a (shaft of) pine-wood: he falls, spewing up streams of blood, and bites the gory dust and, as he dies, he writhes upon his wound. Then, (she strikes down) Liris, and Pagasus as well, the first of whom, while he gathers up the reins as he rolls off his injured horse, (and) the other, while he comes up and stretches out an unharmed hand to (assist) the falling (man), and they fall headlong together. To these she adds Amastrus, the son of Hippotas, and, looming over (them) from afar, she pursues Tereus and Harpalycus, Demophoon and Chromis with her spear. And, as many as the darts that the maiden sent spinning from her hand, so many Phrygian warriors fell. The huntsman Ornytus rides afar off in novel armour and on an Iapygian (i.e. Apulian) horse, and a hide stripped from a bullock covers his broad shoulders when fighting, (while) the huge cleft of a wolf's mouth and its jaws with white teeth have protected his head, and a rustic hunting spear is in his hands; he, himself, moves along in the centre of the troops, and he towers above (them) by a full head. She caught up with him - for no (great) effort (was required) when the column had been routed - and stabbed (him), and says these (words) over (him) with hate in her heart: "Did you think you were chasing wild beasts in the forests, Tyrrhenian? The day is come which will refute your words with a woman's weapons. But you will carry no mean fame to your fathers' shades for this (reason), that you fell to Camilla's spear."

c) Camilla kills two further Trojan warriors, the second one by the use of her battle-axe (ll. 690-698). 

Next, (she slays) Orsilochus and Butes, two of the Teucrians with the mightiest bodies, but she pierced Butes with her lance in the back, between his breastplate and helmet, where the neck of the rider is visible, and (while) his shield hangs from his left arm; fleeing Orsilochus, and being chased in a wide circle, she outmanoeuvres (him by) wheeling inwards, and (now) pursues her pursuer; then, rising higher (in the saddle), she redoubles (the blows of) her powerful axe through his armour and bones, while the man begs and many times beseeches (her) for mercy; the wounding bespatters his face with warm brains.

d) Then, one of her enemies induces her to dismount, and attempts to escape on horseback; but she overtakes and kills him (ll. 699-724).

There falls in her (way), and, terrified at the sudden sight (of her), he came to a standstill, the warrior son of Aunus, a dweller in the Appennines, not the least of the Ligurians, while fate allowed (him) to deceive. When he sees that he cannot now evade combat by any fleetness, nor divert the queen from her pursuit, he begins to devise a stratagem with craft and guile, and speaks as follows: "What is so wonderful (about you), woman, if you rely on a strong horse? Forget flight, and trust yourself (to meet) with me hand-to-hand on equal ground, and gird (yourself) to fight on foot. You will soon know to whom windy boasting brings deception." He spoke, but she, raging and burning with bitter resentment, hands over her horse to a comrade, and faces (him) with matching weapons, on foot (and) fearless, with a naked sword and a plain (i.e. unemblazoned) shield. But the young man, thinking that he has won through guile, himself darts away - without delay - and, tugging at the reins, he takes to flight, and goads his charger to the gallop with an iron spur. "Foolish Ligurian, vainly puffed up by your boastful spirits, you have tried your slippery native tricks in vain, and cunning will not take you home to deceitful Aunus unscathed!" Thus cries the maiden, and, on fire on her nimble feet, she outstrips his horse in running, and, seizing the reins, she meets (him) face-to-face and takes vengeance from his hated blood: as easily as a falcon, a sacred bird (i.e. sacred to Apollo, god of augury) on a high rock, overtakes a dove, aloft in a cloud on its wings, and, holding (it) in its grasp, disembowels (it) with its hooked talons; then, blood and torn feathers float down from the sky.


a) Jupiter prompts Tarchon to vigorous action. Having upbraided his troops, he rides against one of the enemy, and, seizing him in his arms, carries him off on his horse (ll. 725-759).

But the Father of men and gods sits enthroned on high Olympus, watching these (things) with not inattentive eyes: the Father stirs the Tyrrhenian Tarchon to fierce battle, and incites (him) to rage with no gentle spurs. So, Tarchon rides on his horse amid the slaughter and the retreating ranks, and goads his cavalry squadrons with various shouts, calling each (man) by name, and he rallies the routed into battle. "What fear, what sheer cowardice has come upon your hearts, (O you who are) never likely to feel shame, O (you) ever sluggish Tyrrhenians? Does a woman drive (you) into disarray, and put these ranks (of yours) to flight? For what (reason do you have) a sword, and why do we bear these useless spears in our hands? But you are not sluggish (when it comes) to love-making and nocturnal forays, nor when the curved pipe proclaims the Bacchic dances. Wait for the feasts and the cups on the loaded tables - this (is) your passion, this (is) your love  - while the favouring seer reports the sacred omens and the rich sacrifice calls (you) into the deep groves!" Thus speaking, (and) ready to die himself too, he spurs his horse into the midst (of the fray) and rushes straight at Venulus, and, having dragged (him) from his horse, he clasps his enemy to his chest with his right (arm) and, stirring himself to a mighty effort, he carries (him) off. A roar rises to the sky, and all the Latins turned their eyes (in that direction). Tarchon flies over the plain (like) lightning, carrying weapons and man; then, he breaks off the the iron (point) from the tip of his spear and searches for an exposed place where he may deal a deadly wound; the other, struggling against him, keeps (his enemy's) hand away from his throat, and meets force with force. And, as when a tawny eagle, soaring on high, carries a snake it has caught, and it has entwined its feet (around it) and clung (to it) with its claws, but the snake twists its sinuous coils, and bristles with its scales protruding, and it hisses with its mouth as it rises up, (but,) nonetheless, (the eagle) assails its struggling (prey) with its hooked beak, (and) beats the air with its wings at the same time: in just this way does Tarchon joyfully carry his prey from the Tiber's ranks. Following their leader's example and achievement, the Maeonidae (i.e. the Etruscans) attack.

b) Arruns plans to follow Camilla (ll. 759-767).
Then, Arruns, (a man) owed to fate, first encircles swift Camilla with his javelin and with great cunning, and and tries what would be the easiest of opportunities. Wherever the maiden rode in her fury through the midst of the ranks, there Arruns steals up and silently scans her steps; where she returns victorious and retires from the enemy, there the youth secretly turns his swift reins. (He tries) this approach, and now that approach, and roams everywhere over the whole circuit, and he persistently brandishes his unerring spear.

14) THE DEATH OF CAMILLA (LL. 768-835).

a) Arruns awaits his opportunity to throw a spear at Camilla, and prays to Apollo for success (ll. 768-793).

Chloreus, sacred to (Mount) Cybelus, and once a priest, happened to be shining from afar in his splendid Phrygian armour, and spurred his foam-flecked steed, which a horse-cloth, with bronze scales for its plumes (and) fastened with golden (buckles), protected. He, himself, shining in an exotic dark-red and purple hue, fired Gortynian (i.e. Cretan) arrows from a Lycian bow; the bow on his shoulders was golden, and golden (was) the seer's helmet; now, he had compressed his saffron cloak and its rustling linen folds into a knot by a (brooch) of yellow (gold), and had embroidered his tunic and barbarous leg coverings (i.e. trousers) with golden (thread). In order to hang up his Trojan arms in a temple or to flaunt herself in captured gold, the virgin huntress was blindly pursuing him alone out of all the press of battle, and was recklessly raging through all the ranks with a woman's desire for booty and spoils, when Arruns, finally seizing the moment, rouses his spear from (his place of) ambush, and prays thus to the gods above in a (loud) voice: "Apollo, highest of gods, guardian of holy Soracte (i.e. a mountain in Etruria, on the top of which was a temple of Apollo), whose chief worshippers we are, (and) in whose (honour) a pine-wood blaze is fed by a heap (of wood), (while) we, (as) your votaries trusting in our faith even through the midst of the fire, set down our footsteps firmly on the embers, grant, (O) Father Almighty, that this disgrace (i.e. the success of Camilla) be effaced by our arms. I seek no plunder nor trophy of the maid's defeat, nor any spoils - other deeds will bring me fame: yet, let this dreadful scourge fall stricken beneath my blow, (and) I shall return to the cities of my native-land inglorious."
b) Apollo grants Arruns' prayer (ll. 794-798).

Phoebus heard (him), and in his decision granted that a part of his prayer should be successful, (but) he dispersed the (other) part among the fleeting breezes: he assents to the prayer that he might surprise and overthrow Camilla in sudden death; (but) he did not grant that his lofty native-land should see (him) returned, and the gales turned over his words to the Southerly Winds.

c) The spear pierces Camilla, who sinks and dies; the Trojans are inspired and redouble their efforts (ll. 799-835).
So, as the spear gave a (whistling) sound, as it was dispatched from his hand through the air, all the Volscians turned their attention and raised their eyes intently towards the queen. (She,) herself, (was) aware of nothing, neither winds, nor sounds, nor the weapon coming from the sky, until the spear pierced (her) and lodged beneath her naked breast, and, driven deep, drank of her virgin's blood. Her comrades rush (to her) anxiously, and catch their falling mistress. Arruns, more alarmed than (all) the rest, flees in fear mixed with joy, and he does not now dare to trust his spear further, nor face the virgin's weapons. And, just as that wolf that has killed a shepherd or a large bullock immediately hides itself out of the way among the high mountains, before the hostile spears pursue (it), (and,) conscious of its audacious deed, and drooping its tail, he tucks (it) quivering beneath its belly, and makes for the woods: just so did Arruns, in turmoil, withdraw himself from sight, and, happy to escape, he immersed himself in the midst of the armed throng. Dying, she tugs at the weapon with her hand, but the iron point is fixed deep in the wound between her bones near the ribs: she sinks back, bloodless, her eyes chill with death, (and) her once radiant colour has left her face. Then, (while) she breathes her last, she addresses thus Acca, one of her peers, (and) faithful to Camilla before (all) the others, who (was) the only (one) with whom she shared her cares; and so she utters these (words): "Till now, sister Acca, I have been strong: (but) now this bitter wound overcomes me, and everything around (me) grows dark with shadows. Hurry away, and bear these latest instructions of mine to Turnus: let him take my place in the battle, and keep the Trojans away from the city. And now, farewell!" At the same time as she said these (words), she was letting go of the reins, (and,) despite all her efforts, slipping to the ground. Then, (growing) cold, she gradually freed herself completely from her body, and laid down her nerveless neck and her head, (which had been) seized by death, (and) relinquishes her weapons, and, with a groan, her life flees resentfully to the shades below. Then, indeed, an enormous uproar rises up and strikes the golden stars: with Camilla having fallen, the battle intensifies; all the host of Teucrians, the Tyrrhenian chieftains, and Evander's and the Arcadian squadrons rush forward together in a mass.

15) OPIS TAKES REVENGE (LL. 836-915).

a) Opis mourns Camilla, and takes aim at Arruns, who falls in the moment of his triumph and dies uncared for (ll. 836-867).

Meanwhile, Trivia's sentinel, Opis, has long been seated high among the mountain peaks, and watches the fighting fearlessly. And, when she saw in the distance, in the midst of the clamour of raging warriors, that Camilla (had been) punished by  a sad death, she sighed, and uttered these words from the depths of her heart: "Alas! Too (cruel), too cruel (is) the penalty you have paid, maiden, (for) trying to challenge the Teucrians in war! It has not helped that, living alone in the woods, you worshipped Diana, or that you bore our arrows on your shoulder. Yet, your queen has not left you without honour, even in the extremity of death, neither will your death be without renown among the nations, nor will you suffer the report of being unavenged. For whoever violated your body with that wound shall pay the price of a deserved death." The vast tomb of Decennus, an ancient Laurentine king, (built) of a mound of earth and covered with shadowy holm-oak, stood beneath a high mountain; here the goddess, most beautiful in her swift motion, first appears, and espies Arruns from this lofty barrow. When she saw (him) shining in his armour and swelling with pride, she cries out, "Why are you going so far away? Turn your steps in this direction, come here, you who are due to die, to receive a reward (which is) worthy of Camilla. Shall you, too, die by Diana's darts? She spoke, and (then) the Thracian (nymph) plucked a winged arrow from her gold-plated quiver and stretched her bow with hostile intent, and drew (it) far back until its curved ends met each other, and now with level hands she touched the steel tip with her left, (and) her breast with her right and with the bow-string. Immediately, Arruns heard the hissing dart and the whirring air at the same time, and the steel stuck fast in his body. Oblivious, his comrades leave him, breathing his last and groaning in his extremity in the unknown dust of the plain; Opis is carried on her wings back to heavenly Olympus.
b) There is a general rout of the Rutulians, who fly to the town. The gates are closed, and many perish miserably outside. Even the women, in desperation, attempt to defend the wall (ll.868-895).

With their mistress having been lost, Camilla's light squadron is the first to flee; the Rutulians flee in confusion; brave Atinas flees, and scattered chieftains and abandoned troops seek safety, and, wheeling their horses around, they direct (them) horses towards the walls. No one can check with their weapons, or stand against, the death-dealing Teucrians, who are hard on their heels, but they sling their unstrung bows on their drooping shoulders, and the hooves of their horses shake the crumbling plain in their gallop. Murky dust in a black cloud rolls towards the walls, and from the watch-towers, mothers, beating their breasts, raise a womanish cry to the stars of heaven. Blending their ranks, the enemy throng presses hard upon those, who first broke through the open gates at full speed, nor do they escape a wretched death, but even in the gateway, on their native city-walls, and within the shelter of their homes, (they are) stabbed and gasp away their lives. Some close the gates: and they do not dare to open a way for their comrades, not to receive (them) within the walls, despite their entreaties, and a most pitiful slaughter arises of (those) defending the entrance with their arms and of (those) rushing right on to the weapons. Some, shut out before the eyes and faces of their weeping parents, with the rout driving (them), roll headlong into the ditches; others, blindly charging with loosened reins, batter at the gates and the unyielding barrier of the doors. The mothers, themselves, in keenest rivalry, when they saw Camilla, throw weapons from the walls with trembling hands, and, in their haste, do the work of steel with poles of tough oak and stakes hardened by fire, and burn (to be) the first to die in defence of the walls.

c) Acca takes the news of Camilla's death to Turnus, who breaks up his ambush and hastens to the city. Immediately afterwards Aeneas comes up, passes the defile safely, and marches towards the city himself. Night, however, prevents an engagement (ll. 896-915). 

Meanwhile, in the forests the most woeful message comes with all its force to (the ears of) Turnus, and Acca gives the warrior the news of the terrible disaster: that the Volscian ranks (have been) destroyed, that Camilla has fallen, that the enemy are advancing fiercely and have swept all before (them) in triumphant warfare, and that panic has already reached the city. In wild frenzy, he (i.e. Turnus) abandons the hills which he had been blockading - so Jupiter's stern will demands - (and) leaves the wild woodlands. He had scarcely passed from their sight and reached the plain, when father Aeneas, having entered the (now) unguarded pass, both mounts the ridge and emerges from the dark woods. So, they both march towards the walls, swiftly and in full force, and they are not separated from each other by any long distance; and, at the very same moment, Aeneas viewed from afar the plain smoking with dust, and saw the Laurentine  columns (i.e. the Latins and the Rutulians), and Turnus recognised Aeneas in arms and heard the marching of feet and the snorting of horses. They would have entered the fray at once, and essayed the test of battle, if ruddy Phoebus (i.e. the Sun) had not already bathed his weary steeds in the Iberian flood (i.e. the Atlantic Ocean) and, as the day ebbed, brought back the night. They make camp before the city, and fortify their defences.

APPENDIX: Prosodic and grammatical features contained in Aeneid Book XI.

1) Examples of the retained accusative with a passive verb:

In the examples given below, the relevant accusatives are underlined. These accusatives are either examples of a passive participle being used in the sense of the middle voice in Greek, or an accusative of respect relating to parts of the body:

l. 35.  Iliades crinem ... solutae: the women of Ilium, their hair loosened (lit. having been loosened in respect of their hair) ...

l. 480.  virgo ... oculos deiecta decoros: the maiden with her beautiful eyes cast down (lit. cast down in respect of her beautiful eyes) ...

l. 487.  rutilum thoraca indutus ... horrebat: having donned his glowing breastplate, he bristled ...

l. 507. Turnus ... oculos horrenda in virgine fixus: Turnus, fixing his eyes on the awe-inspiring maiden ...

l. 596.  illa ... nigro circumdata turbine corpus: the other, her form surrounded (lit. surrounded in respect of her form) by a dark whirlwind.

l. 649.  unum exserta latus pugnae ... Camilla: Camilla, with one breast bared (lit. bared in respect of one breast) for battle ...

l. 777. auro pictus acu tunicas et barbara tegmina crurum: he had embroidered his tunic and barbarous leg coverings with gold (thread) ...

l. 877.  percussae pectora matres: mothers beating their breasts (lit. beaten in respect of their breasts) ...
 2.  Spondaic fifth foot with a hiatus.

This occurs only five times in the "Aeneid", always when proper names are involved.

l. 31.  Parrhasio Evandro: to Parrhasian Evander.

3.  Synezesis.

In the following instances a short syllable is compressed or elided into a following long one.

l. 57.  Ei: Oh!

l. 262. Protei: of Proteus.

l. 268.  Idomenei: of Idomeneus.

l. 383.  Proinde: so.

4. Syllable lengthened 'in arsis'.

In the instances below, the underlined short syllable is lengthened as it coincides with the beat or 'ictus' which falls on the first syllable of the foot. In Latin verse, the first part of the foot is called the 'arsis' as it involves the 'raising' of the voice, and the second part the 'thesis', when the voice sinks down again.

l. 69.   languen/tis hya/cinthi: a drooping hyacinth.

l. 111.  ora/tis? Equi/dem: Are you asking .... (I) indeed ...

l. 323.  tantus a/mor, et/: such (is) their desire, and ...

l. 469.  ipse pa/ter et/: father (Latinus) himself ... and ...


Bucolics (Eclogues):

11 March 2011


Book I: 9 November 2015
Book II: 24 January 2017
Book III: 17 March 2017
Book IV: 11 November 2010


Book I: 12 May 2010
Book II: 14 February 2011
Book III: 22 January 2015
Book IV: 20 January 2010
Book V: 8 June 2011
Book VI: 16 February 2010
Book VII: 26 April 2017
Book VIII: 20 October 2015
Book IX: 10 August 2010
Book X: 3 August 2017
Book XI: 17 September 2017
Book XII: 23 September 2011.
Last modified onSaturday, 07 April 2018 15:48

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