And now what god will tell me all those horrors and relate for me in verse the several scenes of slaughter, the 30 deaths of the leaders whom Turnus here, the Trojan hero there, is chasing over the plain? Was it thy will, great Jove, that nations destined in time to come to everlasting amity should first clash in such dread turmoil? Æneas confronted by Rutulian Sucro[o] (that combat first brought 35 the Trojan onset to a stand) after brief delay catches him on the side and drives his stubborn sword death’s nearest way through the ribs that fence the bosom. Turnus in foot-encounter slays Amycus, whose horse had thrown him, and his brother Diores, striking one with the spear ere he came up, the other with the swordblade, lops the heads of both, hangs them from his car, and carries them dripping with blood. That sends down Talos to death 5 and Tanais and brave Cethegus, those at one onslaught, and hapless Onytes, of the house of Echion, brought forth by Peridia: that kills the brethren who came from Apollo’s land of Lycia, and young Menœtes the Arcadian, who shrunk from war in vain; he plied his craft and lived 10 in poverty by the fishy waters of Lerna, a stranger to the halls of the great; and his father tilled land for hire. Like two fires launched from different quarters on a dry forest with bushes of crackling bay, or as when two foaming rivers pouring from lofty heights crash along and run 15 towards the ocean, each ploughing his own wild channel: with no less fury rush through the fight Æneas and Turnus both: now, now the wrath is boiling within them: their unconquered bosoms swell to bursting: they throw their whole force on the wounds they deal. This with 20 the whirl and the blow of a mighty rock dashes Murranus headlong from his car to the ground, Murranus who had ever on his tongue the ancient names of sires and grandsires and a lineage stretching through the series of Latium’s kings: the wheels throw forward the fallen man under the 25 reins and yoke, and he is crushed by the quick hoof-beat of the steeds that mind not their lord. That meets Hyllus as he rushed on in vehement fury, and hurls a javelin at his gold-bound brows: the spear pierced the helmet and stood fixed in the brain. Nor did your 30 prowess, Cretheus, bravest of Greeks, deliver you from Turnus, nor did the gods Cupencus worshipped shield him from the onset of Æneas: his bosom met the steel, and the check of the brazen buckler stood the wretch in small stead. You, too, great Æolus, the Laurentian 35 plains looked on in death, spreading your frame abroad over their surface: fallen are you, whom the Argive bands could never overthrow, nor Achilles the destroyer of Priam’s realm: here was your fatal goal: a princely