ed to face Aeneas, resolved to bear
what bitterness there is in death; nor shalt thou longer see me shamed,
sister of mine. Let me be mad, I pray thee, with this madness before the
end.' He spoke, and leapt swiftly from his chariot to the field, and
darting through weapons [682-718]and through enemies, leaves his
sorrowing sister, and bursts in rapid course amid their columns. And as
when a rock rushes headlong from some mountain peak, torn away by the
blast, or if the rushing rain washes it away, or the stealing years
loosen its ancient hold; the reckless mountain mass goes sheer and
impetuous, and leaps along the ground, hurling with it forests and herds
and men; thus through the scattering columns Turnus rushes to the city
walls, where the earth is wettest with bloodshed and the air sings with
spears; and beckons with his hand, and thus begins aloud: 'Forbear now,
O Rutulians, and you, Latins, stay your weapons. Whatsoever fortune is
left is mine: I singly must expiate the treaty for you all, and make
decision with the sword.' All drew aside and left him room.

But lord Aeneas, hearing Turnus' name, abandons the walls, abandons the
fortress height, and in exultant joy flings aside all hindrance, breaks
off all work, and clashes his armour terribly, vast as Athos, or as
Eryx, or as the lord of Apennine when he roars with his tossing ilex
woods and rears his snowy crest rejoicing into air. Now indeed Rutulians
and Trojans and all Italy turned in emulous gaze, and they who held the
high city, and they whose ram was battering the foundations of the wall,
and unarmed their shoulders. Latinus himself stands in amaze at the
mighty men, born in distant quarters of the world, met and making
decision with the sword. And they, in the empty level field that cleared
for them, darted swiftly forward, and hurling their spears from far,
close in battle shock with clangour of brazen shields. Earth utters a
moan; the sword-strokes fall thick and fast, chance and valour joining
in one. And as in broad Sila or high on Taburnus, when two bulls rush to
deadly battle forehead to forehead, the herdsmen retire in terror, all
the herd stands dumb in dismay, and the heifers murmur in doubt which
shall be [719-752]lord in the woodland, which all the cattle must
follow; they violently deal many a mutual wound, and gore with their
stubborn horns, bathing their necks and shoulders in abundant blood; all
the woodland moans back their bellowing: even