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Notes Display Latin text | translated by Theodore C. Williams Book XII Chapter 2: Latinus wants to stop him | Next chapter Return to index Previous chapter |
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To him Latinus with unruffled mind thus made reply: O youth surpassing brave! The more thy sanguinary valor burns beyond its wont, the more with toilsome care I ponder with just fear what chance may fall, weighing it well. Thy father Daunus' throne, and many a city by thy sword subdued, are still thy own. Latinus also boasts much golden treasure and a liberal hand. Other unwedded maids of noble stem in Latium and Laurentine land are found. Permit me, then, to tell thee without guile things hard to utter; let them deeply fill thy listening soul. My sacred duty 't was to plight my daughter's [Note 1] hand to nonesoe'er of all her earlier wooers -- so declared the gods and oracles; but overcome by love of thee, by thy dear, kindred blood, and by the sad eyes of my mournful Queen [Note 2], I shattered every bond; I snatched away the plighted maiden from her destined lord, and took up impious arms. What evil case upon that deed ensued, what hapless wars, thou knowest, since thyself dost chiefly bear the cruel burden. In wide-ranging fight twice-conquered, our own city scarce upholds the hope of Italy. Yon Tiber's wave still runs warm with my people's blood; the plains far round us glisten with their bleaching bones. Why tell it o'er and o'er? What maddening dream perverts my mind? If after Turnus slain I must for friendship of the Trojan sue, were it not better to suspend the fray while Turnus lives? For what will be the word of thy Rutulian kindred -- yea, of all Italia, if to death I give thee o'er -- (Which Heaven avert!) because thou fain wouldst win my daughter and be sworn my friend and son? Bethink thee what a dubious work is war; have pity on thy father's reverend years, who even now thy absence daily mourns in Ardea, his native land and thine. But to this pleading Turnus' frenzied soul yields not at all, but rather blazes forth more wildly, and his fever fiercer burns beneath the healer's hand. In answer he, soon as his passion gathered voice, began: This keen solicitude for love of me, I pray, good sire, for love of me put by! And let me traffic in the just exchange of death for glory. This right hand, O king, can scatter shafts not few, nor do I wield untempered steel. Whene'er I make a wound blood follows. For my foeman when we meet will find no goddess-mother [Note 3] near, with hand to hide him in her woman's skirt of cloud, herself in dim, deluding shade concealed. Note 1: daughter = Lavinia Events: Turnus speaks with Lavinus and Amata, The Duel of Turnus and Aeneas |
18-53 Olli sedato respondit corde Latinus: 'o praestans animi iuuenis, quantum ipse feroci uirtute exsuperas, tanto me impensius aequum est consulere atque omnis metuentem expendere casus. sunt tibi regna patris Dauni, sunt oppida capta multa manu, nec non aurumque animusque Latino est; sunt aliae innuptae Latio et Laurentibus aruis nec genus indecores. sine me haec haud mollia fatu sublatis aperire dolis, simul hoc animo hauri: me natam nulli ueterum sociare procorum fas erat, idque omnes diuique hominesque canebant. uictus amore tui, cognato sanguine uictus coniugis et maestae lacrimis, uincla omnia rupi; promissam eripui genero, arma impia sumpsi. ex illo qui me casus, quae, Turne, sequantur bella, uides, quantos primus patiare labores. bis magna uicti pugna uix urbe tuemur spes Italas; recalent nostro Thybrina fluenta sanguine adhuc campique ingentes ossibus albent. quo referor totiens? quae mentem insania mutat? si Turno exstincto socios sum ascire paratus, cur non incolumi potius certamina tollo? quid consanguinei Rutuli, quid cetera dicet Italia, ad mortem si te (fors dicta refutet!) prodiderim, natam et conubia nostra petentem? respice res bello uarias, miserere parentis longaeui, quem nunc maestum patria Ardea longe diuidit.' haudquaquam dictis uiolentia Turni flectitur; exsuperat magis aegrescitque medendo. ut primum fari potuit, sic institit ore: 'quam pro me curam geris, hanc precor, optime, pro me deponas letumque sinas pro laude pacisci. et nos tela, pater, ferrumque haud debile dextra spargimus, et nostro sequitur de uulnere sanguis. longe illi dea mater erit, quae nube fugacem feminea tegat et uanis sese occulat umbris.' |