Aeneid 12.791-796, 803-812, 818-828, 919-952 Translation

Iunonem interea rex omnipotentis Olympi

adloquitur fulva pugnas de nube tuentem:

‘Quae iam finis erit, coniunx? Quid denique restat?

Indigetem Aenean scis ipsa et scire fateris

deberi caelo fatisque ad sidera tolli.

Quid struis? Aut qua spe gelidis in nubibus haeres?

Meanwhile the king of all-powerful Olympus addresses Juno, watching the battles from a golden cloud: “What will be the end now, wife? What, at last, remains? You yourself know that Aeneas [is] a deified hero, and you admit that [you] know that [he] is owed to heaven and is raised to the stars by the fates. What are you building? Or with what hope do you cling in the icy clouds? 

Ventum ad supremum est. Terris agitare vel undis

Troianos potuisti, infandum accendere bellum,

deformare domum et luctu miscere hymenaeos:

ulterius temptare veto.’ Sic Iuppiter orsus;

sic dea summisso contra Saturnia vultu:

‘Ista quidem quia nota mihi tua, magne, voluntas,

Iuppiter, et Turnum et terras invita reliqui;

nec tu me aeria solam nunc sede videres

digna indigna pati, sed flammis cincta sub ipsa

starem acie traheremque inimica in proelia Teucros.

It was come to the end. You were able to stir up the Trojans on the lands or on the waves, to inflame an unspeakable war, to disfigure a home, and to mix the wedding hymns with grief: I forbid [you] to try further.” Thus Jupiter began; thus the Saturnian goddess, with her face having been lowered, [spoke] in return: “Because that will of yours indeed is known to me, great Jupiter, I, unwilling, leave behind both Turnus and the lands; nor would you see that I alone now in my airy seat am suffering worthy [and] unworthy things, but having been encircled with flames, I would stand under the battle line itself, and I would drag the Teucrians into hostile battles.

Et nunc cedo equidem pugnasque exosa relinquo.

Illud te, nulla fati quod lege tenetur,

pro Latio obtestor, pro maiestate tuorum:

cum iam conubiis pacem felicibus (esto)

component, cum iam leges et foedera iungent,

ne vetus indigenas nomen mutare Latinos

neu Troas fieri iubeas Teucrosque vocari

aut vocem mutare viros aut vertere vestem.

Sit Latium, sint Albani per saecula reges,

sit Romana potens Itala virtute propago:

occidit, occideritque sinas cum nomine Troia.’

And now indeed I yield, and I, detesting, leave behind the battles. I beseech you that thing, which is held by no law of fate, on behalf of Latium, on behalf of the majesty of your people. When they soon will construct peace with happy marriages (let it be), when they soon will join laws and treaties, do not order the indigenous Latins to change their old name nor to become Trojans and to be called Teucrians or [do not order] the men to change their voice or to turn their clothing. Let Latium be, let the Alban kings be through the ages, let the Roman offspring be powerful with respect to Italian valor: [Troy] has fallen, and please allow [that] Troy fell with its name.”

Cunctanti telum Aeneas fatale coruscat,

sortitus fortunam oculis, et corpore toto

eminus intorquet. Murali concita numquam

tormento sic saxa fremunt nec fulmine tanti

dissultant crepitus. Volat atri turbinis instar

exitium dirum hasta ferens orasque recludit

loricae et clipei extremos septemplicis orbes;

per medium stridens transit femur. Incidit ictus

ingens ad terram duplicato poplite Turnus.

Aneas brandishes his fatal spear [to him], hesitating, having selected fortune with his eyes, and he hurls [his spear] at a distance with his entire body. Rocks, having been violently moved by a wall catapult, never roar in such a way, nor do so great crashes burst apart from a thunder bolt. The spear, like a black whirlwind, bearing dire destruction, flies and exposes the edges of the cuirass and the outermost circles of the seven-fold shield; hissing, it pierces through the middle of his thigh. Huge Turnus, having been struck, falls to the ground with his knee having been doubled.

Consurgunt gemitu Rutuli totusque remugit

mons circum et vocem late nemora alta remittunt.

Ille humilis supplex oculos dextramque precantem

protendens ‘Equidem merui nec deprecor’ inquit:

‘utere sorte tua. Miseri te si qua parentis

tangere cura potest, oro (fuit et tibi talis

Anchises genitor) Dauni miserere senectae

et me, seu corpus spoliatum lumine mavis,

redde meis.

The Rutulians rise up with a groan, and the whole mountain bellows back around, and the high groves send back the voice widely. He, on the ground, as a suppliant, stretching forth his eyes and his praying right [hand], says: “I, for my part, deserved [this], nor do I pray against [it], use your fortune. If any care for my sad parent is able to touch you, I pray (Achises was also such a father to you), pity the old age of Daunus, and return me, or if you prefer my body, having been plundered from light, to my [people]. 

Vicisti et victum tendere palmas

Ausonii videre; tua est Lavinia coniunx,

ulterius ne tende odiis.’ Stetit acer in armis

Aeneas volvens oculos dextramque repressit;

et iam iamque magis cunctantem flectere sermo

coeperat, infelix umero cum apparuit alto

balteus et notis fulserunt cingula bullis

Pallantis pueri, victum quem vulnere Turnus

straverat atque umeris inimicum insigne gerebat.

You have conquered, and the Ausonians saw that [I], having been conquered, stretched my palms; Lavinia is your wife, do not stretch further in hatreds.” Aeneas, rolling his eyes, stood fierce in weapons, and he restrained his right [hand]; and now and now the speech began to turn [him], hesitating more, when the unlucky Baldric appeared on his tall shoulder, and the sword belt of the boy Pallas gleamed with well-known studs, whom Turnus, having been conquered, had laid low with a wound, and he was wearing the hostile emblem on his shoulders.

Ille, oculis postquam saevi monimenta doloris

exuviasque hausit, furiis accensus et ira

terribilis: ‘Tune hinc spoliis indute meorum

eripiare mihi? Pallas te hoc vulnere, Pallas

immolat et poenam scelerato ex sanguine sumit.’

Hoc dicens ferrum adverso sub pectore condit

fervidus; ast illi solvuntur frigore membra

vitaque cum gemitu fugit indignata sub umbras.

He, after he drank in with his eyes the reminders of his savage grief and the spoils, having been inflamed by madnesses and terrible with anger, [said]: “Should you, having been clothed in the spoils of my [people], be snatched away from me from here? Pallas, Pallas sacrifices you with this wound and exacts a penalty from blood, having been defiled.” Saying this, he, fiery, buries the iron under his facing chest; but the limbs for him are loosened with cold, and his life, having been deemed unworthy, flees with a groan under the shades.