And now his goddess-mother sent Aeneas A change of purpose, to direct his column More quickly toward the town, confuse the Latins With sudden onslaught. He was tracking Turnus Here, there, all up and down the columns, watching, Shifting his gaze, and so he saw that city Immune from that fierce warfare, calm and peaceful. The vision of a greater fight comes to him: He calls Sergestus, Mnestheus, brave Serestus, And takes position on a mound; the Trojans Come massing toward him, shield and spear held ready. And as he stands above them, he gives the orders:-- “Let there be no delay: great Jove is with us. Let no man go more slackly, though this venture Is new and unexpected. That city yonder, The cause of war, the kingdom of Latinus, Unless they own our mastery, acknowledge Defeat, declare obedience, I will topple, Level its smoking roof-tops to the ground. Or should I wait until it suits prince Turnus To face the duel with me, and, once beaten, Consent to fight again? This is the head, O citizens, this the evil crown of warfare. Hurry, bring firebrands, win from fire the treaty!” His words inflame their zeal, and, all together They form a wedge; a great mass moves to the wall, Ladders and sudden fire appear from nowhere; The guards at the gate are butchered; steel is flying, The sky is dark with arrows. Toward the city Aeneas lifts his hand, rebukes Latinus, Calling the gods to witness that his will Was not for battle, it was forced upon him By the Italians, double treaty-breakers, His foes for now the second time. The townsmen Quarrel among themselves: “Open the town!”, Cry some, “Admit the Trojans!” and would drag The king himself to the ramparts. Others hurry With arms, man the defenses. When a shepherd Trails bees to their hive in the cleft of a rock and fills it With smarting smoke, there is fright and noise and fury Within the waxen camp, and anger sharpened With buzzing noises, and a black smell rises With a blind sound, inside the rock, and rolling Smoke lifts to empty air.
Now a new sorrow Came to the weary Latins, shook the city To its foundations, utterly. The queen Had seen the Trojans coming and the walls Under attack and fire along the gables And no Rutulian column, nowhere Turnus Coming to help. He had been killed, her hero, She knew at last. Her mind was gone; she cried Over and over:--“I am the guilty one, I am the cause, the source of all these evils!” And other wilder words. And then she tore Her crimson robes, and slung a noose and fastened The knot of an ugly death to the high rafter. The women learned it first, and then Lavinia: The wide hall rings with grief and lamentation; Nails scratch at lovely faces, beautiful hair Is torn from the head. And Rumor spreads the story All up and down the town, and poor Latinus, Rending his garments, comes and stares,--wife gone, And city falling, an old man’s hoary hair Greyer with bloody dust.