And the winds bore it off, and Juno parried The threat of the coming wound, and it fastened, harmless, Stuck in the wooden gate. “And here’s a weapon That will not miss, seeing my right hand swings it,” And with his answer Turnus rose full height To the sword upraised, and brought it down, and the steel Split the head clean apart between the temples, And Pandarus came crashing down, and the earth Shook underneath his weight, and he lay there, dying, Limbs buckled underneath him, and his armor Spattered with brains, and the head’s halves, divided, Dangling on either shoulder. And the Trojans Ran every way, in rout and sudden terror. That day might well have been their last, that battle The end of war, had Turnus ever bothered To break the bars of the gate, let in his comrades. But no: his fury and mad desire of slaughter Drove him one way, and one way only, forward. He caught Phaleris, and he hamstrung Gyges, And snatched their spears and flung them at the Trojans Who fled with nothing but their backs for target. Juno supplied him fire and strength. He added Halys to the dead roster of his comrades, Pierced Phegeus through his shield and mail. Four others, Alcander, Halius, Prytanis, Noemon, Ignorant of his presence, roused the fighters Along the walls, and fell before they knew it. Lynceus, calling his comrades, came to meet him, And Turnus, standing higher, slashed and swung, Close in, and the flashing blade swept head and helmet Together from the shoulders; then he slaughtered Amycus, hunter of beasts, a clever craftsman In arming darts with poison; and Aeolus’ son, Clytius; and Cretheus, the Muses’ comrade, Lover of music and song, whose theme was always Warfare and warhorse, arms of men, and battle. And the Trojan leaders heard about the slaughter, And met, Serestus, keen in arms, and Mnestheus, And saw their comrades wheeling and Turnus welcomed, And Mnestheus tried to halt them:--“Where do you aim That flight?” he cried, “What other ramparts have you? What walls beyond these walls? Shall one man, circled, Hemmed in on every side, deal out destruction Unscathed through all the city? Will you let him Send down to Hell so many brave young fighters? What kind of cowards are you? Have you no pity, No shame at all, for your unhappy country, Your ancient household gods, and great Aeneas?”