AEneas paused, behind his buckler bent.
On came the javelin, and the cone was shorn From off his helmet, and the plume was rent.
Foiled by this treachery, as he marked with scorn The steeds and chariot from the combat borne, He blazed with ire, and, calling on again Jove and the altars of the truce forsworn, Rushed on, thrice terrible, and o'er the plain Dealt indiscriminate death, and gave his wrath the rein.
LXIV.

What heavenly muse can sing, what god can say The scenes of horror wrought on either side, The varied slaughter of that fatal day, What chiefs were chased along the field, and died, As Turnus now, and now the Trojan plied His murderous sword?
Jove, could'st thou deem it right So dire a broil such peoples should divide, Two jarring nations met in deadly fight, Whom leagues of lasting love were destined to unite?
LXV.

AEneas first (that fight 'twas first that stayed The Teucrian rout) caught Suero on the side.
Where death is quickest, 'twixt the ribs his blade, Deep in the framework of the breast, he plied.
Then Turnus slew Diores; close beside, His brother Amycus from his steed he tore; One by the spear, one by the sword-cut died.
Their severed heads the ruthless victor bore, Fixt to his flying car, and dripping with the gore.
LXVI.

Talus, and Tanais, and Cethegus there AEneas smote, and poor Onytes slew, Whom Peridia to Echion bare.
Turnus two Lycian brethren next o'erthrew From Phoebus' fields, and young Menoetes too From Arcady, who loathed the war in vain.
Poor was his home, nor rich men's doors he knew.
By fishful Lerna he had earned his gain, Hired was the scanty glebe his father sowed with grain.
LXVII.

Lo, as fierce flames drive in from left and right Through woodlands parched and groves of crackling bay, As sweep impetuous from a mountain height Loud, foaming torrents, that withouten stay Cleave to the sea their devastating way: So, while in each full tides of anger flow, Rush Turnus and AEneas to the fray: Their tameless breasts with bursting valour glow, On, on they speed amain, nor fear the opposing blow.
LXVIII.