you, too, proud Turnus, would be standing at this moment,
a giant trunk hung round with armour, had your age been
but as his, the vigour of your years the same. But why 15
should misery like mine hold back the Teucrians from the
battle? Go, and remember to bear my message to your
king. If I still drag the wheels of my hated life now my
Pallas is slain, it is because of your right hand, which owes
the debt of Turnus’ life to son and sire, yourself being witness. 20
This is the one remaining niche for your valour and
your fortune to fill. I ask not for triumph to gild my life: