CXXI. "Stern foe! why taunt and threaten? 'twere no shame
To slay me. No such covenant to save
His sire made Lausus; nor for this I came.
One boon I ask—if vanquished men may crave
The victor's grace—a burial for the brave.
My people hate me; I have lived abhorred;
Shield me from them with Lausus in the grave."
This said, his throat he offered to the sword,		1081
And o'er his shining arms life's purple stream was poured.

BOOK ELEVEN

ARGUMENT

Æneas erects a trophy of Mezentius' arms, and sends the body of Pallas with tears and lamentations to Evander ([1-108]). A truce for the burial of the dead is asked by the Latins, and sympathy with the Trojan cause finds a spokesman in Drances ([109-144]). The sorrow of Evander and the funeral rites of Trojans and Latins ([145-262]). The ambassadors return from the city of Diomedes and report that he praises Æneas and counsels submission ([263-336]). An anxious debate follows: Latinus suggests terms of peace: Drances inveighs against Turnus, who replies, protesting his readiness to meet Æneas in single combat, and presently seizes the opportunity afforded by a false alarm of impending attack to break up the council. The Latin mothers and maidens offer gifts and litanies to Pallas. Turnus arms for battle ([337-576]). Camilla and Messapus command the Latin horse; Turnus prepares an ambuscade ([577-612]). Diana tells the story of Camilla and charges Opis, one of her nymphs, to avenge her should she fall ([613-684]). Opis watches the battle before the city of Latinus ([685-738]). The deeds and death of Camilla are recounted: Aruns, her slayer, is slain by Opis ([739-972]). The Latins are routed, and Turnus, learning the news, abandons the ambush and hurries to the city, closely followed by Æneas ([973-1026]).

I. Meanwhile from Ocean peeps the dawning day.
The Dardan chief, though fain his friends to mourn,
And pressed with thoughts of burial, hastes to pay
His vows, as victor, with the rising morn.
A towering oak-tree, of its branches shorn,
He plants upon a mound. Aloft, in sight,
The glittering armour from Mezentius torn,
His spoils, he hangs,—a trophy to thy might,		1
Great Mars, the Lord of war, the Ruler of the fight.
II. Thereon he sets the helmet and the crest,
Bedewed with gore, the javelins snapt in twain,
And fits the corslet on the warrior's breast,
Pierced in twelve places through the twisted chain.
The left arm, as for battle, bears again
The brazen shield, and from the neck depends
The ivory-hilted falchion of the slain.
Around, with shouts of triumph, crowd his friends,		10
Whom thus the Dardan chief with gladdening words commends:
III. "Comrades, great deeds have been achieved to-day;
Let not the morrow trouble you. See there
The tyrant's spoils, the first-fruits of the fray.
And this my work, Mezentius. Now prepare
To king Latinus and his walls to fare.
Let hope forestall, and courage hail the fray,
So, when the gods shall summon us to bear
The standards forth, and muster our array,		19
No fears shall breed dull sloth, nor ignorance delay.
IV. "Our co-mates now commit we to the ground,
Sole honour that in Acheron below
Awaits them. Go ye, on these souls renowned,
Who poured their blood, to purchase from the foe
This country for our fatherland, bestow
The last, sad gift, the tribute of a tomb.
First to Evander's city, whelmed in woe,
Send Pallas back, whom Death's relentless doom		28
Hath reft ere manhood's prime, and plunged in early gloom."
V. He spake, and sought the threshold, weeping sore,
Where by dead Pallas watched with pious care
Acoetes; once Evander's arms he bore,
His squire; since then, with auspices less fair,
The trusted guardian of his dear-loved heir.
A crowd of sorrowing menials stand around,
And Troy's sad matrons, with their streaming hair.
These, when Æneas at the door is found,		37
Shriek out, and beat their breasts, and bitter wails resound.