II. He hailed the king: "Not Turnus stops the way;
No cause have these their challenge to forego,
Poor Trojan cowards; I accept the fray,
Sire, be the compact hallowed; be it so.
Or I, while Latins sit and see the show,
Will hurl to Hell this Dardan thief abhorred,
This Asian runaway, and on the foe
Refute the common slander with the sword,		10
Or he, as victor, reign and be Lavinia's lord."

III. Then, calm of soul, Latinus made reply,
"O gallant youth, the more thy heart is fain
In fierceness to excel, the more should I
Weigh well the risks and measure loss with gain.
To thee belong thy father Daunus' reign
And captured towns. Good will have I and gold,
And other maids our Latin homes contain,
Of noble birth and lovely to behold.		19
Hear now, and let plain speech the thankless truth unfold.
IV. "To none of former suitors was I free
To wed my daughter, so the voice ordained
Of gods and men consenting. Love for thee,
And sympathy for kindred blood hath gained
The mastery, and a weeping wife constrained.
I robbed the husband of the bride he wooed,
Took impious arms, and plighted faith disdained.
Ah me! what wars, what bitter fates ensued,		28
Thou, Turnus, know'st too well, who first hast felt the feud.
V. "Scarce now, twice worsted in the desperate fray,
Our walls can guard what Latin hopes remain,
And, choked with Latin corpses, day by day,
Old Tiber's stream runs purple to the main,
And Latin bones are whitening all the plain.
Why shifts my frenzied purpose to and fro?
Why change and change? If, maugre Turnus slain,
I deign to welcome as a friend his foe,		37
Why not, while Turnus lives, the needless strife forego?
VI. "What will Rutulian kinsmen, what will all
Italia say, if (Chance the deed forefend!)
I leave thee, cheated of my care, to fall,
The daughter's lover, and the father's friend?
O, weigh the risks that on the war attend;
Pity the parent in his sad, old age,
Left at far Ardea to lament thine end."
Thus he; but naught fierce Turnus can assuage;		46
The healing hand but chafes, and words augment his rage.
VII. Then he, scarce gathering utterance, spake again,
"Good Sire, thy trouble for my sake forego;
Leave me the price of glory—to be slain.
I too can hurl, nor feeble is my blow,
The whistling shaft, that lays the foeman low,
And drinks his life-blood. Vain shall be his prayer.
No goddess mother shall be there, to throw
Her mist around him, with a woman's care,		55
And screen her darling son with empty shades of air."
VIII. The Queen, with death before her, filled with fears,
Wept sore and checked the fiery suitor's way.
"O Turnus! if thou heed'st me, by these tears;—
Hope of my age, Latinus' strength and stay,
Prop of our falling house! one boon I pray;
Forbear the fight. What fate awaiteth thee,
Awaits me too. If Trojans win the day,
With thee I'll leave the loathèd light, nor see		64
Æneas wed my child, a captive slave, as she."
IX. With tears Lavinia heard her mother speak.
A crimson blush her glowing face o'erspread,
And hot fires kindled on her burning cheek.
As Indian ivory, when stained with red,
Or lilies, mixt with roses in a bed,
So flushed the maid, with varying thoughts distrest.
He, wild with love, upon Lavinia fed
His constant gaze, but maddening with unrest,		73
Burned for the fight still more, and thus the Queen addressed:
X. "Vex me not, mother, marching to the fray,
With these thy tears and bodings of despair.
'Tis not in me the fatal hour to stay.
Thou, Idmon, to the Phrygian tyrant bear
The unwelcome word: to-morrow let him spare
To lead his Teucrians to the fight. Each side
Shall rest awhile; when morning shines in air,
His blood or mine the quarrel shall decide,		82
And he or I shall win, whose prowess earns, the bride."