But in meanwhile the Trojan folk the city draw anigh,
The Tuscan dukes and all their horse in many a company
Well ordered: over all the plain neighing the steed doth fare,
Prancing, and champing on the bit that turns him here and there,600
And far and wide the lea is rough with iron harvest now.
And with the weapons tossed aloft the level meadows glow.
Messapus and the Latins swift, lo, on the other hand;
And Coras with his brother-lord, and maid Camilla's band,
Against them in the field; and lo, far back their arms they fling
In couching of the level spears, and shot spears' brandishing.
All is afire with neigh of steeds and onfall of the men.
And now, within a spear-shot come, short up they rein, and then
They break out with a mighty cry, and spur the maddened steeds;
And all at once from every side the storm of spear-shot speeds,610
As thick as very snowing is, and darkens down the sun.
And thereon with their levelled spears each against each they run,
Tyrrhenus and Aconteus fierce: in forefront of the fight
They meet and crash with thundering sound; wracked are the steeds outright,
Breast beating in each breast of them: far is Aconteus flung
In manner of the lightning bolt, or stone from engine slung;
Far off he falls, and on the air pours all his life-breath out.
Then wildered is the war array; the Latins wheel about
And sling their targets all aback, and townward turn their steeds.
The Trojans follow; first of whom the ranks Asylas leads.620
But when they draw anigh the gates once more the Latin men
Raise up the cry, and turn about the limber necks again;
Then flee their foes, and far afield with loosened reins they ride;
As when the sea-flood setting on with flowing, ebbing tide,
Now earthward rolling, overlays the rocks with foaming sea,
And with its bosom overwhelms the sand's extremity,
Now swiftly fleeing back again, sucks back into its deep
The rolling stones, and leaves the shore with softly-gliding sweep.
Twice did the Tuscans townward drive the host of Rutuli;
Twice, looking o'er their shielded backs, afield they needs must fly;630
But when they joined the battle thrice knit up was all array
In one great knot, and man sought man wherewith to play the play.
Then verily the dying groans up to the heavens went;
Bodies and arms lie deep in blood, and with the men-folk blent,
The dying horses wallow there, and fearful fight arose.
Orsilochus with Remulus had scant the heart to close,
But hurled his shaft against the horse, and smote him 'neath the ear;
The smitten beast bears not the wound, but, maddened, high doth rear
The legs of him and breast aloft: his master flung away,
Rolls on the earth: Catillus there doth swift Iolas slay;640
Yea, and Herminius, big of soul, and big of limbs and gear,
Who went with head by nothing helmed save locks of yellow hair,
Who went with shoulders all unarmed, as one without a dread,
So open unto fight was he; but through his shoulders sped
The quivering spear, and knit him up twi-folded in his pain.
So black blood floweth everywhere; men deal out iron bane,
And, struggling, seek out lovely death amid the wounds and woe.
But through the middle of the wrack doth glad Camilla go,
The quivered war-maid, all one side stripped naked for the play;
And now a cloud of limber shafts she scattereth wide away,650
And now with all unwearied hand catcheth the twi-bill strong.
The golden bow is at her back, and Dian's arrow-song.
Yea, e'en and if she yielded whiles, and showed her back in flight,
From back-turned bow the hurrying shaft she yet would aim aright.
About her were her chosen maids, daughters of Italy,
Larina, Tulla, and Tarpeia, with brazen axe on high,
Whom that divine Camilla chose for joy and fame's increase,
Full sweet and goodly hand-maidens in battle and in peace:
E'en as the Thracian Amazons thresh through Thermodon's flood,
When they in painted war-gear wend to battle and to blood:660
Or those about Hippolyta, or round the wain of Mars
Wherein Panthesilea wends, when hubbub of the wars
The maiden-folk exulting raise, and moony shields uprear.
Whom first, whom last, O bitter Maid, didst thou overthrow with spear?
How many bodies of the slain laidst thou upon the field?
Eunæus, Clytius' son, was first, whose breast for lack of shield
The fir-tree long smit through and through, as there he stood in face;
He poureth forth a sea of blood, and, falling in his place,
Bites the red earth, and dying writhes about the bitter bane.
Liris and Pagasus she slays; one, catching at the rein670
Of his embowelled steed rolls o'er, the other as he ran
To aid, and stretched his swordless hand unto the fallen man,
Fell headlong too, and there they lie: with these Amastus wends,
The son of Hippotas; her spear in chase of men she sends,
Harpalycus, Demophoön, Tereus, and Chromis stout
As many as her maiden hand the whirling darts send out
So many Phrygian falls there are. Far off, in uncouth gear,
The hunter Ornytus upon Apulian steed doth fare,
Whose warring shoulders bigly wrought with stripped-off bullock's hide
Are covered; but his head is helmed with wood-wolf's gaping wide,680
A monstrous mouth, wherein are left the teeth all gleaming white:
A wood-spear arms the hand of him, he wheels amid the fight,
And by the head he overtops all other men about.
Him she o'ertakes, no troublous deed amid the fleeing rout,
And, slaying him, from bitter heart this word withal she spake:
"Tuscan, thou deem'dst thee hunting still the deer amid the brake;
The day has come when women's arms have cast thy boasting back:
Yet going to thy fathers' ghosts a word thou shalt not lack
To praise thy life; for thou mayst say, Camilla was my bane."
Orsilochus and Butes next, two huge-wrought Trojans, gain690
Death at her hands: Butes aback she smit through with the spear
Betwixt the mail-coat and the helm, wherethrough the neck doth peer
As there he sits, and on his left hangs down the target round;
But from Orsilochus she flees, wide circling o'er the ground,
Then, slipping inward of the ring, chaseth the chaser there,
And, rising high, her mighty axe driveth through bones and gear.
With blow on blow, mid all his prayers and crying out for grace,
Until his hot and bloody brain is flooding all his face.
A man haps on her now, and stands afeard such sight to see;
Of Aunus of the Apennines the warring son was he,700
Great of Ligurians, while the Fates his guile would yet allow:
But he, since fleeing out of fight, would nought avail him now,
Nor knew he how in any wise to turn the Queen away,
With rede of guile and cunning words began to play the play:
"What deed of fame, for woman's heart to trust a horse's might?
Wilt thou not set thy speed aside, and 'gainst me dare the fight
On equal ground, and gird thyself for foot-fight face to face?
See then to whom the windy fame shall bring the victory's grace!"