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Notes Display Latin text | translated by Theodore C. Williams Book XI Chapter 14: Turnus speaks | Next chapter Return to index Previous chapter |
By such discourse he stirred the burning blood of Turnus, who groaned loud and from his heart this utterance hurled: O Drances, thou art rich in large words, when the day of battle calls for actions. If our senators convene thou comest early. But the council hall is not for swollen talk, such as thy tongue in safety tosses forth; so long as walls hold back thy foes, and ere the trenches flow with blood of brave men slain. O, rattle on in fluent thunder -- thy habitual style! Brand me a coward, Drances, when thy sword has heaped up Trojan slain, and on the field thy shining trophies rise. Now may we twain our martial prowess prove. Our foe, forsooth, is not so far to seek; around yon wall he lies in siege: to front him let us fly! Why art thou tarrying? Wilt thou linger here, a soldier only in thy windy tongue, and thy swift, coward heels? Defeated, I? Foul wretch, what tongue that honors truth can tell of my defeat, while Tiber overflows with Trojan blood? while king Evander's house in ruin dies, and his Arcadians lie stripped naked on the field? O, not like thee did Bitias or the giant Pandarus misprize my honor; nor those men of Troy whom this good sword to death and dark sent down, a thousand in a day, -- though I was penned a prisoner in the ramparts of my foe. |
376-398 Talibus exarsit dictis uiolentia Turni. dat gemitum rumpitque has imo pectore uoces: 'larga quidem semper, Drance, tibi copia fandi tum cum bella manus poscunt, patribusque uocatis primus ades. sed non replenda est curia uerbis, quae tuto tibi magna uolant, dum distinet hostem agger murorum nec inundant sanguine fossae. proinde tona eloquio (solitum tibi) meque timoris argue tu, Drance, quando tot stragis aceruos Teucrorum tua dextra dedit, passimque tropaeis insignis agros. possit quid uiuida uirtus experiare licet, nec longe scilicet hostes quaerendi nobis; circumstant undique muros. imus in aduersos—quid cessas? an tibi Mauors uentosa in lingua pedibusque fugacibus istis semper erit? pulsus ego? aut quisquam merito, foedissime, pulsum arguet, Iliaco tumidum qui crescere Thybrim sanguine et Euandri totam cum stirpe uidebit procubuisse domum atque exutos Arcadas armis? haud ita me experti Bitias et Pandarus ingens et quos mille die uictor sub Tartara misi, inclusus muris hostilique aggere saeptus. |