ceus advanced to meet him, calling up his
comrades; from the rampart the glittering sword sweeps to the left and
catches him; struck off by the one downright blow, head and helmet lay
far away. Next Amycus fell, the deadly huntsman, incomparable in skill
of hand to anoint his arrows and arm their steel with venom; and Clytius
the Aeolid, and Cretheus beloved of the Muses, Cretheus of the Muses'
company, whose delight was ever in songs and harps and stringing of
verses; ever he sang of steeds and armed men and battles.

At last, hearing of the slaughter of their men, the Teucrian captains,
Mnestheus and gallant Serestus, come up, and see their comrades in
disordered flight and the foe [781-814]let in. And Mnestheus: 'Whither
next, whither press you in flight? what other walls, what farther city
have you yet? Shall one man, and he girt in on all sides,
fellow-citizens, by your entrenchments, thus unchecked deal devastation
throughout our city, and send all our best warriors to the under world?
Have you no pity, no shame, cowards, for your unhappy country, for your
ancient gods, for great Aeneas?'

Kindled by such words, they take heart and rally in dense array. Little
by little Turnus drew away from the fight towards the river, and the
side encircled by the stream: the more bravely the Teucrians press on
him with loud shouts and thickening masses, even as a band that fall on
a wrathful lion with levelled weapons, but he, frightened back, retires
surly and grim-glaring; and neither does wrath nor courage let him turn
his back, nor can he make head, for all that he desires it, against the
surrounding arms and men. Even thus Turnus draws lingeringly backward,
with unhastened steps, and soul boiling in anger. Nay, twice even then
did he charge amid the enemy, twice drove them in flying rout along the
walls. But all the force of the camp gathers hastily up; nor does Juno,
daughter of Saturn, dare to supply him strength to countervail; for
Jupiter sent Iris down through the aery sky, bearing stern orders to his
sister that Turnus shall withdraw from the high Trojan town. Therefore
neither with shield nor hand can he keep his ground, so overpoweringly
from all sides comes upon him the storm of weapons. About the hollows of
his temples the helmet rings with incessant clash, and the solid brass
is riven beneath the stones; the horsehair crest is rent away; the
shield-boss avails not under the blows; Mnestheus thunders on with his