LXI. Like a black swallow, as she flies among A rich man's halls, or in the courts is found In quest of dainties for her twittering young. And now in empty cloisters, now around The fishpools circles, while the shrill notes sound. So now Juturna, through the midmost foes, Whirled in the rapid chariot, scours the ground; Now here, now there triumphant Turnus shows, Now, flying, wheels aloof, nor suffers him to close. LXII. So wheels in turn AEneas to and fro, And tracks his man, and through the war's wild tide Calls him aloud. Oft as he marks his foe, And, running, tries to match the coursers' stride, So oft Juturna wheels the team aside. What shall he do? While wavering thus in vain, As diverse thoughts his doubtful mind divide, A steel-tipt dart Messapus--one of twain-- Aims true, and hurls it forth, uprunning on the plain. LXIII. AEneas paused, behind his buckler bent. On came the javelin, and the cone was shorn From off his helmet, and the plume was rent. Foiled by this treachery, as he marked with scorn The steeds and chariot from the combat borne, He blazed with ire, and, calling on again Jove and the altars of the truce forsworn, Rushed on, thrice terrible, and o'er the plain Dealt indiscriminate death, and gave his wrath the rein. LXIV. What heavenly muse can sing, what god can say The scenes of horror wrought on either side, The varied slaughter of that fatal day, What chiefs were chased along the field, and died, As Turnus now, and now the Trojan plied His murderous sword? Jove, could'st thou deem it right So dire a broil such peoples should divide, Two jarring nations met in deadly fight, Whom leagues of lasting love were destined to unite? LXV. AEneas first (that fight 'twas first that stayed The Teucrian rout) caught Suero on the side. Where death is quickest, 'twixt the ribs his blade, Deep in the framework of the breast, he plied. Then Turnus slew Diores; close beside, His brother Amycus from his steed he tore; One by the spear, one by the sword-cut died. Their severed heads the ruthless victor bore, Fixt to his flying car, and dripping with the gore. LXVI. Talus, and Tanais, and Cethegus there AEneas smote, and poor Onytes slew, Whom Peridia to Echion bare. Turnus two Lycian brethren next o'erthrew From Phoebus' fields, and young Menoetes too From Arcady, who loathed the war in vain. Poor was his home, nor rich men's doors he knew. By fishful Lerna he had earned his gain, Hired was the scanty glebe his father sowed with grain.