What singer or what god could tell the story Of all these deaths? Both Turnus and Aeneas, In turn, drive victims over all the plain. Jupiter willed it so, that mighty nations, Destined, in time, for everlasting friendship, Should meet in that great struggle. A Rutulian, Sucro, held off Aeneas for a little, And died more quickly, with the sword-point driven Through ribs’ protecting framework. Turnus met Amycus, and unsaddled him; his brother, Diores, fought on foot, and Turnus killed them, The one by spear, the one by sword; his chariot Bore off their severed heads, blood dripping from them. Aeneas, in one charge, brought down three warriors, Talos and Tanais and brave Cethegus, And then one more, the sorrowful Onites, Whose mother was Peridia; and Turnus Killed brethren, Lycian born, and young Menoetes Who hated war, in vain, and once loved fishing In Lerna’s rivers; his Arcadian dwelling Had been a cottage, and his father planted Land that he did not own. Like fire through forest When underbrush is dry, and laurel crackles, Or like two mountain-torrents roaring seaward, Each leaving devastation, so Aeneas And Turnus swept the battle, anger surging, Surging in those great hearts, swollen to bursting, Not knowing how to yield, all strength devoted To death and wounds. There was a man, Murranus, Whose pride of ancestry was loud and boastful, Last of a line of Latin kings. Aeneas Brought him to earth and laid him low; a stone, A mighty whirling rock served as the weapon, And under reins and under yoke the wheels Rolled him along, and over him the horses Trampled in earth the lord they had forgotten. Hyllus rushed Turnus, and a javelin met him Through the gold temple-band, and pierced the helmet And lodged there, in the brain. A brave man, Cretheus, Had no defense against the might of Turnus, And no god saved Cupencus from Aeneas, No shield of bronze delayed the speeding weapon. Aeolus fell, stretched on the plains, a hero Too powerful for all the Greek battalions, Whom even Achilles, overthrower of Troy, Could not bring down. He reached his goal of death Here in Laurentum, a man whose home, Lyrnesus, Lay at the foot of Ida, but his tomb Was on Italian soil. So all the lines Turned to the battle, Mnestheus, Serestus, Messapus, tamer of horses, brave Asilas, Etruscan columns and Evander’s squadrons, Latins and Trojans, all of them contending With all their might, no rest, no pause, no slacking.