A bough his brazen helmet did sustain;
His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain :
A chosen train of youth around him stand;
His dropping head was rested on his hand :
His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought;
And all on Lausus ran his restless thought.
Careful, concern'd his danger to prevent,
He much inquired, and many a message sent
To warn him from the field-alas! in vain!
Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain!
O'er his broad shield still gush'd theyawning wound,
And drew a bloody trail along the ground.
Far off he heard their cries, far off divined
The dire event with a foreboding mind.
With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head;
Then both his lifted hands to heaven he spread;
Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said :-
"What joys, alas! could this frail being give,
That I have been so covetous to live?
To see my son, and such a son, resign
His life, a ransom for preserving mine?
And am I then preserved, and art thou lost?
How much too dear has that redemption cost!
'Tis now my bitter banishment I feel:
This is a wound too deep for time to heal.
My guilt thy growing virtues did defame;
My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd name.
Chased from a throne, abandon'd, and exiled
For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild:
I owed my people these, and, from their hate,
With less resentment could have borne my fate.
And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight
Of hated men, and of more hated light-
But will not long." With that he raised from ground
His fainting limbs, that stagger'd with his wound;
Yet, with a mind resolved, and unappall'd
With pains or perils, for his courser call'd-
Well-mouth'd, well-managed, whom himself did dress
With daily care, and mounted with success-
His aid in arms, his ornament in peace.
Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke,
The steed seem'd sensible, while thus he spoke :-
"O Rhoebus! we have lived too long for me-
If life and long were terms that could agree.
This day thou either shalt bring back the head
And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead-
This day thou either shalt revenge my woe,
For murder'd Lausus, on his cruel foe;
Or, if inexorable Fate deny
Our conquest, with thy conquer'd master die
For, after such a lord, I rest secure,
Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojanload,* endure."
He said; and straight the officious courser kneels,
To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills
With pointed javelins; on his head he laced.
His glittering helm, which terribly was graced
With waving horse-hair, nodding from afar;
Then spurr'd his thundering steed amidst the war.
Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought,
Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought
Of inborn worth, his labouring soul oppress'd,
Roll'd in his eyes, and raged within his breast.
Then loud he called Eneas thrice by name :
The loud repeated voice to glad Æneas came.
"Great Jove," he said, " and the far-shooting god,
Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!"
* Dr Carey proposes to read lord, which is doubtless the more close translation of
dominos dignabere Teucros.
But all the old editions have load, which is excellent good sense.
He spoke no more, but hasten'd, void of fear,
And threaten'd with his long protended spear.
To whom Mezentius thus: "Thy vaunts are vain.
My Lausus lies extended on the plain :
He's lost! thy conquest is already won;
The wretched sire is murder'd in the son.
Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy.
Forbear thy threats: my business is to die;
But first receive this parting legacy."
He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent;
Another after, and another, went.
Round in a spacious ring he rides the field,
And vainly plies the impenetrable shield.
Thrice rode he round; and thrice Æneas wheel'd,
Turn'd as he turn'd: the golden orb withstood
The strokes, and bore about an iron wood.
Impatient of delay, and weary grown,
Still to defend, and to defend alone,
To wrench the darts which in his buckler light,
Urg'd, and o'er-labour'd in unequal fight-
At length resolved, he throws, with all his force,
Full at the temples of the warrior horse.
Just where the stroke was aim'd, the unerring spear
Made way, and stood transfix'd through either ear.
Seized with unwonted pain, surprised with fright,
The wounded steed curvets, and raised upright,
Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind
Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind.
Down comes the rider headlong from his height:
His horse came after with unwieldy weight,
And, flound'ring forward, pitching on his head,
His lord's encumber'd shoulder overlaid.
From either host, the mingled shouts and cries
Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies;
Æneas, hastening, waved his fatal sword
High o'er his head, with this reproachful word :—
"Now! where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain
Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain ?"
Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies
With scarce recover'd sight, he thus replies :-
"Why these insulting words, this waste of breath,
To souls undaunted, and secure of death?
'Tis no dishonour for the brave to die:
Nor came I here with hope of victory;
Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design:
As I had used my fortune, use thou thine.
My dying son contracted no such band:
The gift is hateful from his murderer's hand.
For this, this only favour let me sue,
If pity can to conquer'd foes be due,
Refuse it not; but let my body have
The last retreat of human kind, a grave.
Too well I know the insulting people's hate;
Protect me from their vengeance after fate:
This refuge for my poor remains provide,
And lay my much-loved Lausus by my side."
He said, and to the sword his throat applied.
The crimson stream distain'd his arms around,
And the disdainful soul came rushing through the
wound.
A choir of Nereids, &c.-P. 73.
These were transformed from ships to sea-nymphs. This is almost as violent a machine, as the death of Arruns by a goddess in the episode of Camilla. But the poet makes use of it with greater art; for here it carries on the main design. These new-made divinities not only tell Æneas what had passed in his camp during his absence, and what was the present distress of his besieged people, and that his horsemen, whom he had sent by land, were ready to join him at his descent; but warn him to provide for battle the next day, and foretell him good success: so that this episodical machine is properly a part of the great poem; for, besides what I have said, they push on his navy with celestial vigour, that it might reach the port more speedily, and take the enemy more unprovided to resist the landing: whereas the machine relating to Camilla is only ornamental; for it has no effect, which I can find, but to please the reader, who is concerned that her death should be revenged.
Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring!
The Tuscan leaders, and their army, sing.-P. 71.
The poet here begins to tell the names of the Tuscan captains who followed Æneas to the war; and I observe him to be very
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