Turnus, being beside himself, after a last superhuman effort, is struck down.

AEneas is about to spare his life, when he sees upon his shoulder the spoils of Pallas, and kills him (1027-1107).
I.

When Turnus saw the Latins faint and fly, Crushed by the War-God, and his pledge reclaimed, Himself the mark of every scornful eye, Rage unappeasable his pride inflamed.
As when a lion, in the breast sore maimed In Punic fields, uprousing, shakes his mane, And snaps the shaft that felon hands had aimed, His mouth all bloody, as he roars with pain, So Turnus blazed with wrath, as thus in scornful strain II.

He hailed the king: "Not Turnus stops the way; No cause have these their challenge to forego, Poor Trojan cowards; I accept the fray, Sire, be the compact hallowed; be it so.
Or I, while Latins sit and see the show, Will hurl to Hell this Dardan thief abhorred, This Asian runaway, and on the foe Refute the common slander with the sword, Or he, as victor, reign and be Lavinia's lord." III.

Then, calm of soul, Latinus made reply, "O gallant youth, the more thy heart is fain In fierceness to excel, the more should I Weigh well the risks and measure loss with gain.
To thee belong thy father Daunus' reign And captured towns.