No more he said, but, looking round, espied a weighty stone, An ancient mighty rock indeed, that lay upon the lea, Set for a landmark, judge and end of acre-strife to be, Which scarce twice six of chosen men upon their backs might raise, Of bodies such as earth brings forth amid the latter days: 900 But this in hurrying hand he caught, and rising to the cast, He hurled it forth against the foe, and followed on it fast; Yet while he raised the mighty stone, and flung it to its fall. Knew nought that he was running there, or that he moved at all: Totter his knees, his chilly blood freezes with deadly frost, And e'en the hero-gathered stone, through desert distance tossed, O'ercame not all the space betwixt, nor home its blow might bring: E'en as in dreaming-tide of night, when sleep, the heavy thing, Weighs on the eyes, and all for nought we seem so helpless-fain Of eager speed, and faint and fail amidmost of the strain; 910 The tongue avails not; all our limbs of their familiar skill Are cheated; neither voice nor words may follow from our will: So Turnus, by whatever might he strives to win a way, The Dread One bans his hope; strange thoughts about his heart-strings play; He stareth on his Rutuli, and on the Latin town Lingering for dread, trembling to meet the spear this instant thrown: No road he hath to flee, no might against the foe to bear; Nowhither may he see his car, or sister charioteer. Æneas, as he lingereth there, shaketh the fateful shaft, And, following up its fate with eyes, afar the steel doth waft 920 With all the might his body hath: no stone the wall-sling bears E'er roars so loud: no thunderclap with such a crashing tears Amid the heaven: on flew the spear, huge as the whirlwind black, And speeding on the dreadful death: it brings to utter wrack The hauberk's skirt and outer rim of that seven-folded shield, And goeth grating through the thigh: then falleth unto field Huge Turnus, with his hampered knee twi-folded with the wound: Then with a groan the Rutuli rise up, and all around Roar back the hill-sides, and afar the groves cast back the cry: But he, downcast and suppliant saith, with praying hand and eye: 930