Home Introduction Persons Geogr. Sources Events Mijn blog(Nederlands)
Religion Subjects Images Queries Links Contact Do not fly Iberia
This is a non-commercial site. Any revenues from Google ads are used to improve the site.

Custom Search
Quote of the day: Nay, rather, that you may know what has
Display Latin text
The Aeneid by Virgil
translated by Theodore C. Williams
Book XII Chapter 3: Amata's ideas
Next chapter
Return to index
Previous chapter
But now the Queen, whose whole heart shrank in fear
from these new terms of duel, wept aloud,
and like one dying clasped her fiery son:
O Turnus, by these tears if in thy heart
thou honorest Amata still -- O thou
who art of our distressful, dark old age
the only hope and peace, the kingly name
and glory of Latinus rests in thee;
thou art the mighty prop whereon is stayed
our falling house. One favor I implore:
give o'er this fight with Trojans. In such strife
thy destined doom is destined to be mine
by the same fatal stroke. For in that hour
this hated life shall cease, nor will I look
with slave's eyes on Aeneas as my son.
Lavinia heard her mother's voice, and tears
o'erflowed her scarlet cheek, where blushes spread
like flame along her warm, young face and brow:
as when the Indian ivory must wear
ensanguined crimson stain, or lilies pale
mingled with roses seem to blush, such hues
her virgin features bore; and love's desire
disturbed his breast, as, gazing on the maid,
his martial passion fiercer flamed; whereon
in brief speech he addressed the Queen: No tears!
No evil omen, mother, I implore!
Make me no sad farewells, as I depart
to the grim war-god's [Note 1] game! Can Turnus' hand
delay death's necessary coming? Go,
Idmon, my herald, to the Phrygian King,
and tell him this -- a word not framed to please:
soon as Aurora from her crimson car
flushes to-morrow's sky, let him no more
against the Rutule lead the Teucrian line;
let Teucrian swords and Rutule take repose,
while with our own spilt blood we twain will make
an end of war; on yonder mortal field
let each man woo Lavinia for his bride.

Note 1: war-god = Mars

At regina noua pugnae conterrita sorte
flebat et ardentem generum moritura tenebat:
'Turne, per has ego te lacrimas, per si quis Amatae
tangit honos animum: spes tu nunc una, senectae
tu requies miserae, decus imperiumque Latini
te penes, in te omnis domus inclinata recumbit.
unum oro: desiste manum committere Teucris.
qui te cumque manent isto certamine casus
et me, Turne, manent; simul haec inuisa relinquam
lumina nec generum Aenean captiua uidebo.'
accepit uocem lacrimis Lauinia matris
flagrantis perfusa genas, cui plurimus ignem
subiecit rubor et calefacta per ora cucurrit.
Indum sanguineo ueluti uiolauerit ostro
si quis ebur, aut mixta rubent ubi lilia multa
alba rosa, talis uirgo dabat ore colores.
illum turbat amor figitque in uirgine uultus;
ardet in arma magis paucisque adfatur Amatam:
'ne, quaeso, ne me lacrimis neue omine tanto
prosequere in duri certamina Martis euntem,
o mater; neque enim Turno mora libera mortis.
nuntius haec, Idmon, Phrygio mea dicta tyranno
haud placitura refer. cum primum crastina caelo
puniceis inuecta rotis Aurora rubebit,
non Teucros agat in Rutulos, Teucrum arma quiescant
et Rutuli; nostro dirimamus sanguine bellum,
illo quaeratur coniunx Lauinia campo.'