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The Aeneid-Part52_Virgil(70-19BC)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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Then, as the wingedweapon whizz'd along,



"See now," said he, "whose arm is better strung."

The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay'd



By plates of ir'n, which o'er the shield were laid:

Thro' folded brass and tough bull hides it pass'd,



His corslet pierc'd, and reach'd his heart at last.

In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood;



The soul comes issuing with the vital blood:

He falls; his arms upon his body sound;



And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground.

Turnus bestrode the corpse: "Arcadians, hear,"



Said he; "my message to your master bear:

Such as the sire deserv'd, the son I send;



It costs him dear to be the Phrygians' friend.

The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow,



Unask'd, to rest his wand'ring ghost below."

He said, and trampled down with all the force



Of his left foot, and spurn'd the wretched corse;

Then snatch'd the shining belt, with gold inlaid;



The belt Eurytion's artful hands had made,

Where fifty fatal brides, express'd to sight,



All in the compass of one mournful night,

Depriv'd their bridegrooms of returning light.



In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore

Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore.



O mortals, blind in fate, who never know

To bear high fortune, or endure the low!



The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain,

Shall wish untouch'd the trophies of the slain;



Shall wish the fatal belt were far away,

And curse the dire remembrance of the day.



The sad Arcadians, from th' unhappy field,

Bear back the breathless body on a shield.



O grace and grief of war! at once restor'd,

With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor'd!



One day first sent thee to the fighting field,

Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill'd;



One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield.

This dismal news, not from uncertain fame,



But sad spectators, to the hero came:

His friends upon the brink of ruin stand,



Unless reliev'd by his victorious hand.

He whirls his sword around, without delay,



And hews thro' adverse foes an ample way,

To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud:



Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow'd

To large deserts, are present to his eyes;



His plighted hand, and hospitable ties.

Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred,



He took in fight, and living victims led,

To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire,



In sacrifice, before his fun'ral fire.

At Magus next he threw: he stoop'd below



The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow;

Then, creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and pray'd:



"By young Iulus, by thy father's shade,

O spare my life, and send me back to see



My longing sire, and tender progeny!

A lofty house I have, and wealth untold,



In silver ingots, and in bars of gold:

All these, and sums besides, which see no day,



The ransom of this one poor life shall pay.

If I survive, will Troy the less prevail?



A single soul's too light to turn the scale."

He said. The hero sternly thus replied:



"Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside,

Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke



All rules of war by one relentless stroke,

When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone



My father's shadow, but my living son."

Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft,



He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left;

Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath'd,



Up to the hilts his shining fauchion sheath'd.




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