Turnus's Last Stand and the Dawn of Roman Destiny

Turnus Hears the City's Grief (Lines 614–625)

Meanwhile, in the outermost plain, the warlike Turnus followed a few men of his wondering force, now slower and less happy with the approach of the horses. The breeze brought a mixed shout to him, filling him with blind terrors. The sound of the confused city and the joyless murmurs struck his ears, having been heightened.

“Alas for me! Why are the walls distributed with so much grief? What great clamor rushes from the far-off city?”

Thus he spoke, halting, distracted, with the reins drawn up. His sister, Juturna, turned into the appearance of his charioteer Metiscus, controlling the chariot, horses, and reins, replied to him with such words:

Juturna's Deception and Turnus's Recognition (Lines 626–649)

“Turnus, let us follow the Trojans in this way, which the first victory reveals. There are others who are able to defend their homes with their hands. Aeneas rushes on the Italians and stirs up the battles. Let us send fierce deaths upon the Trojans with our hands. You will leave neither inferior in number nor in honor of battle.”

Turnus replied to these words:

“Oh sister, I recognize you just now, when you first disturbed the agreements through your skill and gave yourself into these wars. And now, goddess, you deceive in vain. But who wanted you, having been sent from Olympus, to bear such great labors? Or that you might see the cruel death of your poor, miserable brother?

What should I do now? Which fortune promises our safety? I myself saw Murranus calling me with his voice before my eyes—no other more dear to me survives. I saw enormous Murranus die, conquered by a terrible wound. Unhappy Ufens fell so he might not witness our shame. The Trojans took his body and armor.

Should I endure the razing of our homes? And not refute Drances’ words with my sword? Should I turn back and this country see Turnus fleeing? Is it so bad to die? Oh, be good to me, you Shades, since the gods above have turned their faces from me. I will descend to you, a virtuous soul, innocent of blame, never unworthy of my great ancestors.”

The City Falls: Saces' Urgent Plea (Lines 650–664)

Scarcely had he spoken these words when, look! Saces flies through the middle of the enemies, carried on a foaming horse, wounded towards the face by an arrow, rushing and begging Turnus by name:

“Turnus, the last hope lies in you! Pity your people! Aeneas terrorizes us with weapons; he threatens that he will burn the highest tower of the Italians and give them to destruction. And now the fire flies towards the homes. The Latins turn their faces and their eyes on you. King Latinus himself hesitates whom he may call son-in-law or towards which alliances he may turn himself. Moreover, the queen, most loyal to you, killed herself with her own hand and, terrified, fled the light.

Only Messapus and alert Latins support the battles in front of the gates. The dense phalanxes stand around these men on both sides, and an iron grain field bristles with swords drawn together. Yet you maneuver the chariot in deserted grass!”

Turnus Accepts His Fate (Lines 665–683)

Turnus, confused by the varied image of things, stood in awe and silent expression. Shame burned in his heart, mixed with grief and madness, and love agitated by rage and conscious virtue. First, as the shadows were dispelled and light returned to his mind, he turned towards the walls with the burning orbs of his eyes and looked back from the great wheels of the great city.

But look, the tornado of flames was moving towards the sky, rolling between the boards, holding the tower—the very tower which he had placed with compacted timber and spread over the high bridges.

“Now the Fates conquer! Now cease to delay, sister! Let us follow where god and where cruel Fortuna calls. It remains to bring together the hand of Aeneas, whatever there is of cruelty/bitterness. It remains to suffer in death, nor will you see me ashamed any longer. I beg you, allow me to rage before this madness!”

He said this and gave a jump out of the chariot onto the plains. He rushes through the enemies, through the weapons, and deserts his sister. With rapid speed, he breaks down through the middle of the lines.

The Single Combat Begins (Lines 684–714)

Just as when a rock rushes down from the top of a mountain, torn apart by the wind or washed by a violent storm, or loosed by old age slipped away by the years; the destructive mass is brought into the abyss with great force and bounces back on the ground. Thus Turnus rushes through the military lines, dispersed towards the walls of the city, where the great land is soaked by shed blood and the winds hiss with spears. He signifies with his hand and begins with a great speech:

“Now, Rutulians, stop! And you all, Latins, stop the spears! Whatever fortune there is, it is mine. It is more fitting for me to free the alliance on behalf of you all and to settle this with a sword. All depart and give surrender to the middle space.”

Father Aeneas, having heard the name of Turnus, deserts the walls and the tallest city walls. He throws down all delays, breaks through all efforts, jumping out of joy, and thunders horribly with his weapons. He is as great as Athos, or as great as Eryx, or as great as Father Apenninus himself, when he rages with his vibrating oak trees and rejoices, lifting himself with his snowy top towards the skies.

Now indeed, both the Rutulians and Trojans in rivalry, and all the Italians, turned their eyes—they who were holding the high walls and who were breaking the inner part of the walls with a battering ram. They put down their arms from their shoulders. Latinus himself was amazed that the huge men, born from different parts of the world, came together among themselves and fought with a sword. Those men went into war with rapid speed, shields clashing, spears thrown from a distance, and with resounding iron as the fields were opened in the vacant space. The earth gave a groan. Then they doubled their frequent blows with their swords, and the army mixed into one.

The Clash of Heroes (Lines 715–727)

Just as on huge Cilia or higher mountain ranges, when two bulls run into hostile battles with their foreheads turned, the alarmed masters withdraw. The herd stands with all fear and cows mutter, wondering who may command the sacred forest, whom the whole herd may follow. Multiple wounds occur between that force itself, and, pressed against each other, their horns and the wounds bathe their necks and shoulders in abundant blood. The cluster of trees bellows back every groan.

Not otherwise, the Trojan Aeneas and the Daunian hero clashed their shields, and the mighty crash filled the sky.

Jupiter himself held up two evenly balanced scales before him and placed in them the diverse fates of the two, to see whom the effort doomed, with whose weight death sank down.

The Broken Sword and the Chase (Lines 728–755)

Here, Turnus, thinking he was safe, dashed out and stood up onto the sword, lifted with his whole body, and he struck. The Trojans and nervous Latins exclaimed, and both battle lines were upright. But the false sword broke to pieces, and in the middle, it deserted him with a blazing hit. Flight did not move in support. Turnus fled swiftly when he caught sight of the strange hit and his defenseless right hand.

There is a rumor that when he climbed onto the horses in the first battle, having abandoned his father’s sword, he had seized the weapon of the charioteer Metiscus. It was sufficient for a long time while the Trojans were giving their backs in wandering flight. But after it came into contact with the Vulcanian armor of the god, the mortal sword shattered just like brittle ice upon impact. The fragments glittered on the yellow sand.

Therefore, foolish Turnus aimed for the plains in a different flight, and now here, next here, he encircled uncertain circles. In fact, on all sides, the Trojans confined him in a tight ring. Aeneas followed closely, although he was slowed by the arrow; at times, his knees hampered him and refused speed. He urged forward, foot by foot, chasing the terrified one.

Just as if at anytime the hunter dog came across the stag having been obtained a deer trapped by a river or enclosed by fear of a purple feather, presses in with pursuit and with braking. Moreover, that deer, terrified by snares and by a steep river bank, flees and flees again a thousand ways, but the lively Umbrian clings on, his jaws gaping now and again. He has him, and similar to one holding, he snaps with his jaws, and he was eluded by an empty bite.

The Divine Intervention and the Sacred Olive (Lines 756–790)

Then indeed, a shout rose up, and the river banks and lakes around them replied, and the sky thundered with all commotion. That man, fleeing, at the same time protested against all the Rutulians, calling any by name, and demanded the notorious sword. Aeneas, in person, threatened death and destruction if anyone approached, and frightened the trembling man, threatening that he would destroy cities, and wounded, pressed on.

They completed five circles by running; just as many times they reversed here and to that place. Neither light nor unimportant rewards were being sought, but they fought on account of the life and blood of Turnus.

By chance, an olive tree sacred to Faunus, with bitter leaves, had stood here—a tree once revered by sailors, having been rescued from the waves, when they used to be accustomed to hang up offerings for the divine Laurentiis and to suspend the clothing having been promised. But the Trojans had lifted up the sacred tree with no distinction so that they might be able to unite in the clear fields.

Here, the spear of Aeneas was standing, the attack had brought down that spear, fixed, and it was holding from the sticky base. Turnus pressed and wanted to destroy the weapon with his hand and to follow with a weapon, which he was not able to catch by running. Then, crazy Turnus, with fear, cried out:

“Faunus, I pray you, pity me, and you, the greatest Earth, hold the spear if I have always cared for your honors, which the Trojans made profane in war!”

He said this, and he called the power of god into the vows not in vain. Indeed, Aeneas, struggling for a long time and delayed on the clinging root, was hardly strong enough to pluck out the spear from the bite. While he struggled eagerly and worked hard, Juturna ran forward, changed back into the form of the charioteer Metiscus, and the Daunian goddess gave the sword to her brother. Venus, annoyed that this was permitted to the audacious nymph, approached and pulled out the spear from the deep root.

Those lofty men, having been restored in their weapons and spirits—this one trusting in his sword, this one fierce and tall with his spear—stood, panting, facing the contest of warfare.

Jupiter and Juno: The Pact of Destiny (Lines 791–840)

Meanwhile, the king of all-powerful Olympus spoke to Juno, watching the fights from the golden cloud:

“Spouse, what will be the end now? What remains at last? You yourself know and admit to know that native Aeneas was destined to heaven and to be lifted towards the stars by the Fates. What are you planning? Do you remain on the frosty clouds with hope? Was it fitting that the deity be violated by a mortal wound? (For what would Juturna be able to do without you?) Or was it fitting for the snatched sword to be returned to increase his power to those having been conquered? Now, at last, give up and be influenced by our requests. May pain so great not consume you silently, and may sad cares not be recurring from your sweet mouth to me often. It has come to an end. You have been able to harass the Trojans on either land or sea, to incite unspeakable war, to wreck a household, and to mix marriages with grief. I forbid you from attempting anything further.”

Thus Jupiter began; thus the Saturnian goddess spoke in response with face lowered:

“Indeed, because your will is known to me, great Jupiter, I unwillingly leave behind the earth and Turnus. Nor else would you see me alone in my lofty chair, suffering worthy and unworthy things, but I would stand on the battlefield itself, girded with flames, and I would draw the Teucrians into hostile battle. I admit it, I persuaded Juturna to go to her miserable brother, and I urged her to dare great things on behalf of his life, not nevertheless so that she would fight with spear or bow. I swear by the inexorable fountainhead of the river Styx, which is the one superstition restored to the gods above. I beseech you this, for Latium, for the greatness of yours, which is being held by no law of fate:

When they put together peace with happy marriages (let it be so), when they will join laws and treaties, do not order the native Latins to change their ancient name, nor to become Trojans and to be called Trojans, or for the men to change their voice or to alter their clothing. Let Latium be, let the Alban kings be through the ages, let Roman offspring be powerful with Italian virtue: It died, and may you allow that Troy has died together with its name.”

Smiling at her, the creator of humans and all affairs replied:

“You are the sister of Jupiter and the other offspring of Saturn, you who turn such great waves of anger beneath your heart. But come on, and let down your rage, having begun in vain. I give what you want, and I, both willingly and having been conquered, give myself. The Ausonians will have their native customs and languages, and the name will be as it is. The Trojans, integrated with the mass, will settle down so greatly. I may insert custom and a rite of a holy object, and I will give all the Latins one language. From there, a race will rise which has been mixed with Ausonian blood. You will see that the race will go beyond men, beyond the gods with piety, nor will the people celebrate your honors equally.”

The Fury and Turnus's Paralysis (Lines 841–886)

Juno nodded to these things and, having rejoiced, changed her mind. Meanwhile, she departed from the sky and left behind the clouds. With these things having been done, the creator himself thought of another plan, and he prepared to send Juturna away from the arms of her brother.

The twin plagues are called the Dirae, whom the dead of night bore, Tartarean Megaera, and at one and the same birth, Night bound the babies with equal coils of serpents and added swift wings. These women appeared at the throne of Jupiter and sharpen the fear in sickly mortals. If, when the king of the gods exerts horrendous grief and diseases or terrifies the guilty cities with war, he sends down the fast one of the goddesses from the highest heaven and ordered her to meet Juturna about an omen.

That Fury flies and is brought to the land by a swift whirlwind, just as a Parinthian or a Cydonian hurls an incurable dart—an arrow propelled through a cloud from a bowstring, which is armed with the bitterness of a savage poison, hissing and distinguished, passing through the swift shadows. Like this, she, having been born from the night, lifted herself and sought the lands.

Afterwards, she saw the Trojans and the formations of Turnus, suddenly having been compressed into the appearance of a small bird, which sometimes, sitting on the tombs or on the deserted rooftops late at night, ill-omened, hoots through the shadows. The plague, having been turned into this form, both brings and brings back herself in front of the face of Turnus and, hooting, beats the shield with her wings. A strange numbness weakens his limbs with fear, and his hair, raised with horror, and his voice struck in his throat.

Juturna's Lament and Retreat (Lines 869–886)

But at the same time, just as she recognized the shrill sound and the wings of the Fury, unhappy Juturna tore out her freed hair, having been loosened by her fingernails, and the sister disfigured her face and chest with her fists.

“Now, Turnus, what is your sister able to help you with? Or what now overcomes stubborn me? With what skills may I delay the light for you? Am I able to oppose myself to such a monster? At last, I leave the battle. Do not terrify me, fearing indecent birds! I recognize the lethal sounds and strokes of the wings. Above, the wings, having been ordered, fall for magnificent Jupiter. He sets back these things for my virginity? Why does he give eternal life? Why has the contract of death been taken away from her? Now certainly, if only I were able to limit the same pain and be the companion to go through the shadows to the misery of my brother! Why am I immortal? And will there be anything of mine to be sweet to me without you, brother? Oh, which lowest Earth parts enough for me! And what sends the goddess towards the lowest remains?”

The leader, lamenting so greatly, hid many things having spoken with a grey-green cloak, and the goddess established herself on the high stream.

The Final Blow (Lines 887–927)

Aeneas threatens against him, and he, mighty, brandished the weapon of the trees, and this he says with a fierce heart:

“Then what now is the delay? Or why now, Turnus, are you reluctant? Not by running must it be fought, but with savage weapons hand to hand. Turn yourself into all appearances and draw together whatever things you are strong in, whether in your spirits or from your skill. Desire to chase the high stars by wings and to keep yourself enclosed in the hollow earth!”

He (Turnus), shaking his head, replied: “Your seething words do not scare me, fierce one. The gods and enemy Jupiter frighten me.”

Nor having spoken more things, he inspected the enormous stone—the ancient, huge rock, having been placed in the field as a boundary, which by chance was lying on the field so that it might decide the dispute in the fields. Twelve chosen men could barely support it on the neck—men of such physique as the earth now produces. That man, rising up high and excited as a hero on his course, was attempting to hurl it with his trembling hand against the enemy. But he did not recognize himself, neither running nor going, or raising or moving the enormous rock with his hand.

His knees gave way, his blood was frozen cold. The stone itself, whirled by the hero through the empty space, failed to travel the whole distance or drive home with force. Just as in sleep, when serene rest closed the eyes in the night, in vain we seem to wish to stretch out eager steps, and we fall in the middle of the weak attempts. Our tongue is not strong, nor are the voices sufficient to learn by the known body; neither the words nor voice follows. Thus the dire goddess denies success to Turnus, wherever he sought the path with virtue.

Then, the various senses changed in his heart. He looked at the Rutulians and the city, and he hesitated towards the city with anxiety. Neither by any means did he pull himself out, nor did he extend with power towards the enemies. Neither did he see anywhere the charioteer sister or chariot.

Aeneas, brandishing the fatal spear for the delaying Turnus, selecting fortune with his eyes, and at a long range, he hurled the spear with all his body. Thus the stones, having been hurled from the wall-destroying catapult, never resound, nor have such great loud noises burst from thunder. Carrying cruel destruction, the spear flies like a black whirlwind and opens the edges of his breastplate and tears out the bottom of the seven-layered shield. Hissing, it pierces through the middle of the thigh. Mighty Turnus, having been hit, fell towards the ground with bent knees.