Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/371

Rh With brandished sword he storms along,

And hews a passage through the throng,

Still seeking Turnus, newly red

With slaughter of the mighty dead.

Pallas, Evander, all, they stand

Like life before his sight,

The board that welcomed him, the hand

In warm affiance plight.

Four hapless youths of Sulmo's breed

And four who Ufens call their sire

He takes alive, condemned to bleed

To Pallas' shade on Pallas' pyre.

At Magus then his spear he threw;

But Magus from the death withdrew,

Came crouching up, while o'er his head

The quivering lance through ether sped,

And clasped the victor's knees and said:

'By your great father's shade I pray,

By young Iulus' dawning day,

In pity deign my life to spare

For my gray sire, my youthful heir.

A lofty house is mine: a hoard

Of silver in its vaults is stored,

And piles of wrought and unwrought gold

Are treasured there, of weight untold.

Not here the crisis of the strife,

Nor victory hangs on one poor life.'

He ceased: immoveable and stern

Æneas thus made brief return:

'Nay, spare your gold and silver heap:

Those treasured hoards your heirs should keep.

Since Turnus shed out Pallas' gore,

The bartery of war is o'er:

So deems my gallant son, and so

My father's spirit down below:'